Ultra-Long-Range Magic
Knocking on the church's heavy central doors, an old priest struggled to open them just a crack—barely enough to poke his face through. He peered out, clearly displeased by the midnight disturbance.
"Come back at dawn."
"I've come seeking peace from the Lord, for the night fills me with fear," Isaac said, slipping two silver coins into the priest's hand.
The old priest's demeanor softened instantly. "The Lord does not turn away those who seek Him. May His peace be with you."
"Thank you."
Isaac and Bill entered the chapel and went through the motions of prayer.
"What now?" Bill whispered.
The priest stood at a distance, hands clasped in prayer. As long as he lingered there, their only option was to kneel and pray meekly. At least, as the largest church in the city deserved, there were pews where they could sit.
"Wait," Isaac replied curtly.
Bill wondered if Isaac had somehow learned dark sorcery—or perhaps his faith ran so deep that prayer alone could summon divine retribution on someone. But he shook his head. From Bill's perspective, Isaac was anything but devout. He'd slain Niers in a single blow and tamed a massive hellhound. No matter how you looked at it, that beast resembled a guardian of the underworld far more than anything heavenly. If God had reserved a place for Isaac, it was surely hell over heaven.
Time dragged on tediously, and even Bill, lost in idle thoughts, began to nod off. The priest, who had been pacing nearby, let out a long yawn and finally departed the chapel.
Isaac quietly opened his eyes. He saw no need to wake Bill, who had sprawled out fully on the pew. The two silver coins might as well have covered Bill's lodging fee.
Isaac began his slow ascent of the bell tower. The spiral staircase seemed endless. As he climbed, mana condensed and dispersed alternately at his fingertips—like a knight limbering up. It smoothed the rigid flow of his mana circuits and reconfirmed the basics of spell manifestation.
Isaac rarely needed such preparation, but it was wise to do it now.
Ninety-nine percent of chess is tactics, Yonas had once said. The words wouldn't apply literally to reality, but in this game, they rang true.
For Isaac, who knew fragments of the future, this board had rules. His victory condition: shatter the forces pushing for Bernsi's autonomy, then redirect their intended gains to Goethe in a stable, sustainable way.
There were rules, and there was strategy. The strategy: dismantle their alliance with an unforeseen variable. It began with the death of Baris, the market leader at Bernsi's core.
Now came tactics—the crucial part.
Baris had to die, but without any evidence linking it to Isaac. He'd instructed Carlson to deliver a parchment bearing his name, yet their foes must find no connection between Baris's death and him. Moreover, the death had to remain inexplicable, seeding paranoia that they could be struck down anywhere, anytime. That would tie the marquis's hands and provide the opening for the next move.
For that, this spell has to succeed.
Isaac's chosen tactic was magic. Not Carlson as assassin, nor a master archer for hire, nor bribing the chef with poison, nor the guards. It was the art he'd devoted most of his previous life to—the force that let him endure that agonizing existence.
Magic.
A spell he'd longed to attempt once he overcame his unique constitution. Of course, he'd never imagined using it quite like this.
Whiiish—
Atop the bell tower, fierce winds whipped about. Three massive bells of bronze and copper hung from metal beams.
Isaac doffed his hood. From here on, it wasn't just magic that mattered. Senses were key. Temperature, humidity, wind—he had to feel it all, calculate it, incorporate it.
His eyes gleamed with a brilliant yellow brighter than ever before. Without the wolf king's senses, he wouldn't have even dreamed of attempting this tactic.
At midnight, surging blue mana poured toward his right hand. Crack! Finally, an ice crystal formed at his fingertips.
Crack, crack!
Unlike when he'd slain Niers, Isaac layered the frost spell multiple times. But he'd overcooled it; the crystal shattered like flour and scattered.
"Needs a core," he muttered, scanning the tower top. He swept up dust, straw, and stone chips piled in the corner, then centered the cooling spell on them. Moisture in the air clung like iron filings and froze solid. A hard, pea-sized ice crystal now floated steadily at his fingertips.
Yet he did nothing with it. He simply perched on the railing, gazing out at the city lights below.
True to its status as Bernsi's grandest church, the bell tower soared to impressive heights—rumored to exceed dozens of meters. The dark street far below seemed vertiginous.
Perfect for Isaac.
From here, he could see Baris's mansion. Over a thousand paces in a straight line, but distance posed no issue. The wolf king's mighty senses pierced far-off objects, light or no.
Of course, it demanded total focus on his vision, leaving just enough for the crystal.
The mansion, leaking faint light, appeared as vivid as if it were next door. Guards patrolled as Bill had said—at least eight in Isaac's field of view, surely more on the far side.
The glass windows were masterfully crafted, pristine and transparent. Baris would never suspect they'd aid his demise.
Baris was enjoying a late supper. Servants came and went, and a middle-aged woman—likely his wife—kept blocking the view.
Isaac debated firing the crystal several times. It hovered faithfully in the air before him.
One chance. No margin for error to achieve his tactical goal. And it was a spell he'd never practiced.
In the futures Isaac knew, no records existed of magic striking true from over a thousand paces. This lay beyond conventional spellcraft.
Ultra-long-range magic.
It demanded not just superior magical prowess, but physical senses to match.
Care was essential. He had to invent a nonexistent spell, succeed without practice, without a single mistake.
No better opportunity seemed likely tonight.
"Hoo."
Isaac took a deep breath. His eyes stung and his head throbbed from the overexertion. He eased his focus, taking in the mansion's overall layout, and shifted to the crystal instead.
He applied phase change, twisting its trajectory this way and that. He envisioned the ideal strike.
What he wanted: the crystal piercing Baris's vital spot, ending his life—then melting inside, mingling with his blood.
The coroner would puzzle over traces of dust and straw in the body. Unraveling the why would prove impossible.
The crystal's state was paramount. Not too frozen, or it wouldn't melt properly. Not undercooled, or it'd lose power piercing air resistance en route.
The sweet spot. Plus, he needed to test how long it held post-release and how wind altered its path.
Isaac ceaselessly manipulated the crystal in midair, observing changes, never neglecting the mansion.
In total immersion, he lost all track of time. His sole concern: minimizing error from bell tower origin to Baris's fatal destination.
Dawn crept in dimly. Isaac's all-night error calculations weren't flawless but neared completion. Sleep-deprived and mentally drained, his mind fogged. Hours of rigid focus left his body numb, insensate—like an inanimate object detached from itself.
Hardly ideal for precision magic over a thousand paces.
But opportunities didn't wait for perfect readiness.
Suddenly, a robed man staggered into Baris's mansion yard. Isaac sharpened his vision: potbellied, smiling with satisfaction from the night before, he settled at a tea table in the garden.
A servant soon brought a tray with teapot and cups. The man lifted his, savoring the aroma.
Baris.
Isaac sensed no better chance would come. Baris wouldn't stir for a while. Calculations imperfect. Body imperfect. Failure possible.
But better than inaction. Alternatives existed, but none as effective.
"Siiiip, hoooo—"
Isaac drew and exhaled a long, meditative breath. The wind tickling his cheeks revealed air temperature, humidity, direction.
One more layer of frost on the crystal. It wouldn't melt on penetration but traded raw lethality for subtlety—still preferable.
Baris gazed toward the rising sun, lost in reverie as the sky flushed pink.
Mana surged violently through Isaac's six circulation paths.
Normally, one phase change per path sufficed for direct hits. But now, he unleashed four simultaneously across four paths.
Squeeee—!
His hair whipped wildly—not from wind, but recoil as the crystal launched.
It fled his control in an instant.
Unconsciously clenching his fist, Isaac poured his vision onto Baris.
A split-second passed—the moment his calculations demanded impact on Baris's skull.
Yet Baris still sipped leisurely, savoring the dawn.
Dozens of thoughts flashed through Isaac's mind. Miss? Did a guard sense it? Where'd it go? Total deviation? Why? Wind direction? Miscalculated force...?
Then Baris's head snapped sideways, his balance shifting. His chair toppled, hurling his body to the ground.
The startled servant rushed over, followed by guards encircling him, scanning warily.
Isaac summoned his last reserves of focus to assess Baris.
Baris's eyes bulged wide, body convulsing. The servant floundered in panic as the spasms ebbed.
His gaze fixed on nothing—not the sunrise, not the sky, nothing at all. He seemed blind to the world.
Strength fled his limp form, and from Isaac's angle, his profile revealed the truth: an empty eye socket.
A chill raced through Isaac's entire body, raising gooseflesh. A sudden cold pierced him—not the dawn air.
It was exhilaration.
The ultra-long-range magic had succeeded.