Archmage of Dawn: What Makes a Strong Mage?
What is a strong mage? Someone who rains down meteors like crazy? Someone who flings open the gates of truth? Someone who has reached the pinnacle of magic and sees through everything? None of the above.
The real answer is a mage who knows how to use magic exactly where and when it's needed.
So what if you can summon meteors? People want the light magic that illuminates dark streets, not falling rocks.
So what if you open the gates of truth? You'll just turn into a pompous old fart who thinks he knows it all.
In that sense, Cheon Ji-hoo was truly a powerful mage. The sheer number of spells and formulas he knew was overwhelming. And after obsessively pursuing efficiency, he could cast the same spell with twice the effect as anyone else.
Of course, it was a technique only he could pull off, with his body remodeled into mana veins. Why else would so many beings fear him? Why couldn't even the dragons, lords of magic, stand against him? It was because they feared the strength of a mage who had reached the level of a god.
Whatever magic you tried to cast, he'd counter with the perfect matchup. Even if you attempted Dragon Tongue, the only language dragons could use, your mouth would be sealed shut—what could you do then?
"When's he getting here?"
Hong Ji-hwa checked the time as she waited for Cheon Ji-hoo. It was four in the morning. Dawn was still far off.
She'd mobilized Hunter Association staff to control the area just as he'd requested. It wasn't hard anyway—there were hardly any people out at this hour.
"He's here."
"Whoa, holy shit!"
Hong Ji-hwa jumped in shock at the voice from right beside her. There had been nothing there a second ago, and he'd appeared without a sound. She'd seen it multiple times, but she still couldn't get used to it.
"Alright, let's get ready to—"
"Just one thing first."
"What?"
"My pay."
She'd been wondering when he'd bring it up. Hong Ji-hwa nodded and quoted the amount the Hunter Association had settled on.
"The Association has set the reward for this A-rank rift at 800 million won."
"And the core?"
"We'll buy the core from you. That brings it to 800 million total, after taxes."
It wasn't a bad deal. A-rank rifts were usually tackled by teams of A-rank and B-rank hunters. It took a decent-sized group, and the raids dragged on for a good while. If a guild closed it on Association commission, it might cost less than 800 million—but that figure already factored in the bonus for closing it early and the value to Hunter Way.
Cheon Ji-hoo nodded and headed straight into the rift.
Hong Ji-hwa watched his back and muttered, "At this rate, I'm not gonna outlive my damn self... fuck."
His aura was so murderous it was chilling, even from behind. She let out a deep sigh and shouted,
"Don't let your guard down!"
* * *
Cheon Ji-hoo stepped back into the rift. Damp, moss-covered stone walls greeted him, and thick darkness gathered as if welcoming his arrival.
But he cast Spatial Movement and teleported straight to the safe zone. Then he strode into the corridor thick with murderous energy, took a deep breath, and stepped forward.
Light overflowed from his feet along with his exhaled breath. Surging waves of light soon melted the undead swarming from every direction.
Holy magic: Flood.
The waves crashed. Waves of light filled the stone passage, spilling over walls and ceiling. Each time they hit a wall and rebounded, they blazed even brighter. The warm, physical force of the light waves spread into every corner, purging the unclean energy.
This labyrinth sloped ever downward. The light waves from Flood rode the winding stairs, infiltrating the depths.
It was a sight only a high priest of some religion could produce—and he'd created it with a single step. Without pausing, he followed the waves.
Where the waves had passed, a gently glowing surface of water remained at his feet. Each step sent ripples splashing against his ears.
"Hm."
Not quite enough. Flood was specialized for wiping out large groups of undead. A fantastical spell that channeled the power of the "Goddess of Light and Salt" through mana.
Unusually for holy magic, it had low computational load and mana cost, making it popular with priests. Of course, the version cast by ordinary priests was more like a trickling stream than a flood.
Anyway. Cheon Ji-hoo chained short-range Spatial Movements to reach the end of the Flood. It had swept the corridors clean of wandering undead, but hadn't reached the innermost chamber.
He saw why when he arrived.
"A door."
The core chamber was sealed tight by a door. He rapped it with his knuckles. It was designed not to yield to brute force. Smashing it with magic would blow it wide open, but that wasn't his style.
Better to unravel any enchantments. No rush here, so no need to waste mana blasting the door.
He placed a hand on it and sent mana flowing in, analyzing the structure. From the runes on the surface to the formulas embedded within.
In under three seconds, he'd grasped most of it. As he moved to open it, his hand shot to the side instead.
Three Holy Lances materialized in midair and streaked toward a target.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Sounds of piercing flesh echoed. He turned to see the boy he'd killed before shambling toward him, Holy Lances embedded in his body, a grin plastered on his face.
"Prepared for holy magic this time, I see."
Cheon Ji-hoo chuckled softly. After getting shredded by holy magic last time, he'd come back resistant—and grinning about it. Ridiculous.
He pulled his hand from the door and raised both toward the boy. Holy Chains in his right. Light Execution in his left.
White magic circles spun fiercely at each hand. More circles appeared around the boy, and gleaming chains of light shot out, binding his limbs.
Then Light Execution began. Countless magic circles filled the air. Axes, spears—dozens of holy weapons poured from them, riddling the boy.
But whether holy magic didn't work at all, or he'd resisted the barrage, the boy just kept grinning and casting.
Rusted spears erupted from the floor. They swarmed like a flock, shredding the holy weapons from Light Execution and snapping the chains.
Soon, the spears multiplied, forming a distinct shape.
He narrowed his eyes and realized what it was.
"...A snake?"
A snake made of rusted spears. Not just immune to holy magic—he'd learned a new spell too.
But that didn't give the boy a chance.
"■■■!!"
The boy shouted something. Cheon Ji-hoo ignored it and cast anew. A blue magic circle spun in his right hand, demanding results from reality.
Reverse Gravity followed. Mana shaped into the circle forced reality to comply. The boy and his massive spear-snake slammed into the ceiling.
Cheon Ji-hoo flipped his hand, threatening reality once more. Space warped again. Amid the ripples, the boy was crushed beneath the spear-snake's bulk.
Snap of breaking spears, crunch of bone and muscle—he was surely dead this time too.
The spears shattered and scattered. The boy didn't rise.
Cheon Ji-hoo dismissed his spells and reached for the door again—
Kagagagak-!!
A weird scraping from down the corridor. He turned to see the boy atop the snake's head.
Cheon Ji-hoo twitched an eyebrow and cast Reverse Gravity and Gravity Amplification. But nothing happened as intended.
Like he'd gained resistance to spatial magic, it just shuddered briefly without smashing into ceiling or floor.
More curious than surprised, a spark of interest lit in Cheon Ji-hoo.
Mages couldn't resist curiosity. The type to walk up to a nesting dragon and ask, "What'd you build your nest with?"
He was no different.
"This is a declaration of war, then."
He raised a hand, unfolding a new magic circle. A crimson one blazed red, spewing scarlet flames that burned the boy and spears to ash in a straight line.
The boy's third death. Followed by succession to the next backup.
The fourth boy appeared before Cheon Ji-hoo, body unburnable.
* * *
The boy was utterly flustered. He'd lost count of how many times he'd died. Fifty-five? Fifty-six? He didn't know exactly, but he'd died a shit-ton.
Yet his body grew tougher with each one. Holy magic didn't work. Fire and water failed. Ice and darkness bounced off. Wood and metal too.
Fifty-six deaths had forged this resilient flesh. The pinnacle of the black magic creation: Homunculus Hive.
When one generation died, the next inherited its knowledge and was born stronger. A system that grew ever closer to perfection with more data.
But the boy had never once beaten the mage before him. The man toyed with him like a lab rat, trying spell after spell.
"Hm, ice and poison don't work anymore, so how about ice, poison, and metal?"
A casual wave for triple casting. And so the boy met his fifty-seventh death.
Magic was profound. Even if immune to each element alone, combining them birthed something entirely new—rendering those immunities pointless in the most hollow way.
Impossible. How many types of magic did this mage even know?
Magic relied on talent; most stuck to a few compatible elements. But this guy wielded all five elements, light, darkness, even space like toys. Thousands of combinations possible.
The hive's stock was running low. Only seven eggs left in the nest.
Seven more deaths, and... true oblivion.
No. This was his perfect hive, his perfect labyrinth!
"Puhah!"
The fifty-eighth boy burst from an egg, wrapped himself in a sackcloth, and charged out. He had to find the intruder's weakness.
But that hope shattered.
"Here it is. Nice hiding spot—dodged my wide-area scan."
The man stood at the nest's entrance. Cheon Ji-hoo, white hair swaying, arms crossed, smiled at the boy.
"Come on, attack. I wanna test a new combo."
Muttering something incomprehensible, he raised a finger. Three overlapping magic circles appeared, spinning in different directions.
The boy knew then: this was a realm he could never reach. The combo looked too stable, the elegant formulas peak efficiency.
But he couldn't give up. Channeling all his mana, fueled by rage at this damned intruder defiling his nest, he summoned gloomy black power. He drew a circle on the floor to call his greatest undead.
In exchange, he met his fifty-eighth death.
Fine. The fifty-ninth would do it.
But the voice in the fifty-ninth boy's ears as he hatched was:
"A lich? That's the best you could pull out...? Pathetic level."