Chapter 125
Chapter 125
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 125
Chapter Title: Butterfly's Dream (3)
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*
Fernandez swept his gaze slowly over the Inquisitors charging toward him, his face twisted in a grimace. The heightened senses right before battle. The sticky flow of hellfire mana coursing through the mana circuits in his forearms. And the spells beginning to activate within his flesh.
All of it mingled together, giving rise to an overwhelming sense of omnipotence. That arrogance unique to mages seeped into it, this feeling of total power. The corruption of hellfire mana sent his hormones raging, deluding his frontal lobe into believing he wielded invincible might.
-Crunch.
Fernandez bit the tip of his tongue to draw blood, focusing his mind. Countless warlocks, heretic sorcerers, and apostates had perished lost in the ecstasy and omnipotence their bodies exuded when wielding hellfire mana.
He had endured too many failures to commit such folly. He could not afford a novice mistake like that.
-Whoooosh!
A blade sliced toward his throat. It started as a light probe. But wielded by veteran Heretica agents who had danced on the edge of death through rigorous sword training, it was no light strike at all.
-Clang!
The basic protective spells embedded in both arms lightly deflected the blade. The Inquisitor who had struck first seemed to have anticipated the block, ducking his waist and unleashing two more strikes as fluidly as flowing water.
-Clang, clang, clang!
And simultaneously, slashes rained down on him from every direction. Greatswords, longswords, maces, hammers. Blows that would shred a frail human body into mincemeat poured over him. Fortunately, however, the protective spells held.
-Krunch!
His right hand, which had been forming seals, clenched and twisted the empty air. Then, as if drawing space itself outward, he began to pull. Lightning crackled through the gap, forging a long blade. A basic creation spell. A foundational incantation of the summoning school.
-Shing.
He lightly lifted the greatsword forged from mana with one hand while his other hand moved toward the sky. One motion, a seal formed, and spell knots connected in the air.
Reaction speed, reflexes, field of vision. None of it could compare to the body of a Demonica. So his opening move would be—
[Mystic Vision.]
Fernandez slowly closed his eyes. At the same moment, from beneath his eyelids, an emerald spark flared, and his eyes blazed with inner light. Now, he no longer viewed the world through mortal sight.
His eyes now beheld events unfolding within a certain radius. Like a prophet, he had become a sort of independent information reflex. He had gained a vision that directly observed the information born from event chaining into event.
-Whoooosh!
A sword flew at him. A highly focused strike from an exquisitely trained Heretica agent. With his current body, Fernandez could neither see it nor block it—he could only rely on the protective spells shrouding him—but—
-Krrrrunch!
He "perceived" the information of the sword descending. And in response, he maneuvered his body. Seeing was the domain of magic; acting was purely his senses' realm. Blade clashed against blade, scattering long sparks in all directions.
His greatsword, constructed from hellfire mana, held the advantage over the saintsteel longsword. The greatsword's edge shattered as the longsword ground forward, as if devouring his blade.
"Hmph..."
"What's so funny? Mage?"
Rage blazed in the Heretica's eyes. A mage daring close-quarters combat? The arrogance had passed beyond excess into the ridiculous. Nothing left but fury.
He was indeed outmatched in raw strength. This body of an old man past forty, neglected through long flight and wandering, fell short not only of a Demonica's but even a Heretica's physical prowess.
Considering Heretica agents were "normal" humans of exceptional talent and extreme training, his body didn't even measure up to an ordinary man's. So he simply had to walk the tightrope at his limits.
His right hand swung the greatsword wide to create distance. That single motion deflected three attackers' assaults with the precision of a chess piece's calculated move, buying a brief moment. He dropped to one knee, letting the impact's momentum flow backward, and raised his left hand to the sky.
[Frenzy]
-Thump, thump, thump!
As the spell formed, red mana burst from his fingertips like arrows, slamming straight into his own heart. In an instant, the spell raced through his bloodstream. His heart pounded madly, blood vessels threatening to burst as blood erupted.
-Thump! Thump! Thump!!
"Cough!"
Overpressured blood vessels in his eyes and fingertips ruptured with pops, turning his face entirely red. Thick blood sprayed from his throat. His body temperature spiked to extremes, his head growing foggy, his lungs expelling scorching gusts like burning coals.
"Hoo..."
But Fernandez was accustomed to such states. How many times had he forced a Demonica's blood into frenzy while wielding divinity? He smirked faintly and swatted away the charging Heretica's sword.
-Kclang!
"Urk?!"
He felt their eyes widen in shock. The searing body heat, the bloodlust numbing his reason. Yet fighting through such conditions with a threadbare grip on sanity was all too familiar!
-Kclang! Clang!
He deflected the onslaught of blades with now-relaxed gestures. Enhanced body and mystic vision. With this, his physical functions approached those of a Demonica.
'It's laughable. Put another way, matching even a Demonica's performance demands staking one's lifespan.'
Mystic vision overloaded the body with information. Prolonged use would invite excessive backlash. Frenzy? No need to elaborate. Only those desperate for compound cardiovascular disease would cast it on themselves.
Either way, he had wanted to try. For Fernandez now, it went beyond mere curiosity about his limits.
-Kaaaaang!
He swung the greatsword, shattering one Heretica agent's blade. Perfect power distribution exploited a gap in the enemy's assault—an exquisite technique.
"Urk!! What did you...!"
"Things like this."
-Krunch!
He placed his spell-ignited hand on the head of the momentarily stunned Heretica who had lost his sword. The agent, who wore a dazed expression for an instant, staggered and collapsed to the ground.
[Curse of Debilitation.]
A simple instant-cast curse, but driven directly into the skull at point-blank range, it would keep him unconscious for at least a day. Fernandez twisted his waist at once, dodging the hammer hurtling toward him.
"Brother Demeter!! Damn it, block the spells!"
"Fabiano..."
"Shut up, heretic!!"
-Whooooosh!!
The warhammer crashed down with immense force. Approaching Demonica level? No—even when Fernandez had worn a Demonica's body, it had been slender and fragile compared to true Demonicas.
This was a strike from such a "true" Demonica. There was no way for him to block it physically. He could only evade.
-Kabooooom!
The hammer struck the ground, echoing like an explosion. The earth shook like a minor quake, the hammerhead embedding deep into the dirt.
-Clang!
His foes weren't singular. At least three more remained. Fernandez focused on dodging Fabiano's attacks while neutralizing the charging Heretica agents one by one.
"Youuu scum!!"
"Oh, control your emotions, brother."
"Brother...? You, you, you—!!!"
-Kabooooom!!
The hammer rent the air as it descended. Fabiano pressed on like destruction incarnate, crushing mana and spells alike with sheer power.
A single hit from that hammer would end everything. Fernandez retreated repeatedly, forming seals.
-Krrrrunch!
"Oh, right. There's an Enmagicka too."
"That's far enough with your bullshit, heretic."
"Familiar words, aren't they?"
A young priest with a massive build and fierce scars etched across it was forming seals. A rosary dangled from his hand. It was a binding spell used by Beitasser's priests.
But such spells worked on equals at best. Along the chains of mana binding the spell knots on Fernandez's right hand, his mana surged!
-Krunch!
"Gaaah!!"
"Brother Carl!! Damn it, Beil! Gather the brothers and retreat!! To the 8th checkpoint, rally point!"
"Brother!!"
"I'll hold this one!"
-Kabooooom!
Fabiano swung his hammer to repel Fernandez's reaching hand. Seizing the opening, the young Heretica hoisted the fallen Inquisitors and bolted out of the village.
Fernandez fell back a good distance to watch. He grinned toothily at Fabiano, who panted with rage and shock.
"Well, Brother Fabiano. Isn't it time you realized?"
"Your death!!"
-Kabooooom!
The hammer came hurtling without warning. Fernandez clicked his tongue and swung his blade to deflect the haft. Greatsword fundamentals relied on rotational force from redirecting power. He had crossed countless death lines, reaching near-mastery in greatswordplay.
-Krrrrunch!
Perfect timing via mystic vision, perfect power via frenzy, perfect control via his senses. The ideal result of these three elements wedged his blade neatly into the hammer's haft end and flicked it upward.
-Krunch!
"Urk?!"
But the unexpected was Fabiano's excessive strength. Thus, the blade flew farther than anticipated—and—
"It's over, you heretic cultist apostate filth!!"
"Not quite yet!!"
-Kabooooom!
Fabiano's fist, hurled like a shot put, plummeted toward his head!
-Blam!!
Fabiano's fist pulverized layers of protective spells, barreling toward Fernandez's skull. Unstoppable, like death itself!
"Urk!!"
"Die!!"
-Splat!!
Fernandez released the upward-flinging sword and overlapped both hands into seals. Fabiano's triumphant face loomed inches away. The scarred knuckles hurtling to his forehead. The calluses on each knuckle joint looked brutal.
"Fabiano, you fool."
Fernandez smirked faintly and placed his hand on the charging forearm.
"When a mage proves adept even at swordplay, shouldn't you take the hint?"
"What...?"
At the moment of contact, that final instant when all seemed ended—Fabiano beheld Fernandez's smiling face. Gooseflesh erupted. This was—
"Time to wake up."
-Krrrrunch!
*
"...Hah."
Fabiano panted as he stared at his hand. No blood, no flesh, no saliva. Not even the sensation of striking the living.
With a blank expression, he gazed at Fernandez leaning against the alley wall. When? Since when? Traces of battle littered the surroundings unmistakably, and the other Inquisitors were gone. So the fight itself had been real.
"How did you cast an illusion on a Demonica?"
Yet the clash between him and Fernandez alone had vanished like a mirage. Dazed, he stared at his hammer embedded in the wall and floor. Even hurling that had been real...
"When you invade a prepared mage's defenses, you expect this much, don't you?"
"More than expected."
"Ready to talk now?"
"Maybe. Heretic."
He shook his hand lightly, sorting his thoughts. Ghostly swordsmanship, casually layered protective spells to neutralize the deployed Inquisitors, felled an Enmagicka, and toyed with him alone...
Was there a way to win? He couldn't picture himself defeating this mage. But surrender was impossible. He was an Inquisitor; courage and sacrifice alone would grace his epitaph.
Steeling himself, he clenched his fist and assumed stance.
"You know? If I'd meant to kill you, you'd be dead already."
"True."
"I'll spare you, you say?"
"Probably."
"Then why fight?"
"It's our mission."
Fernandez gave a wry smile and stepped slowly from the alley, bare-handed to match Fabiano's posture.
"That fight with your brothers just now, and with you—it wasn't entirely illusion. Funny as it sounds coming from me, I'm confident in both combat and magic."
"Looked that way."
"My goal isn't to break your will. Our purposes don't even conflict. Why fight? You sense it too. I harbor goodwill toward you."
"It's our mission."
Fabiano silently raised his fists. Frustrating. Fernandez scowled and took stance.
He had even responded to dialogue to buy time for strategy and recovery. That thick-headed Inquisitor's mind held only the will to burn heretics.
In truth, Fernandez hadn't sought to break him. But if he must... he'd respond in kind.