Chapter 479: Ability
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 479: Ability
"Good evening, sir."
Through the faint night mist, Seniel watched as the figure tipped his top hat, offering a polite greeting.
The flickering candlelight from a nearby window faintly illuminated the man's features, revealing a face with deep, sharp lines.
"A Slav?" Seniel blurted out in surprise.
As the most prosperous city on the continent, Belland naturally drew people of all races, especially in the chaotic melting pot of the Lower District. Slavs from the north, Hermans from the south, ascetics from the west—people from every corner of the world gathered here, collectively weaving the city’s tapestry of splendor and darkness.
However, he hadn't expected to encounter a Slav here. Based on his knowledge of the Lower District, those clannish fellows usually kept to their own specific territories, and this wasn't one of them.
"I’ve heard that Slavs are nothing but martial-obsessed barbarians who love nothing more than dueling naked in the snow. I didn't realize there were those among you who were actually skilled in magic."
"...No, you misunderstand. I’m not particularly skilled in magic at all."
"Heh, a clumsy lie."
Seniel glanced at the cracked accessory at his waist, a flash of physical pain crossing his eyes at the loss. "To be able to empower a magic arrow to such an extent, and you still claim you can't use magic?"
"...If I may be so bold, that was merely a trivial little trick."
Muen gave a silent smile. "However, compared to me, a noble mage such as yourself wandering the Lower District in the middle of the night instead of sleeping is what’s truly unusual. What is it? Did someone hire you? Who was it, and what did they want you to do?"
"Do you think I'm an idiot?"
Seniel stared at the talkative eccentric as if he were a moron.
If such things could be spoken of freely, he wouldn't have bothered hiding every identifying mark on his person or using magic to conceal his face. His identity as a Royal Mage could never be exposed; otherwise, the consequences would be far more severe than a simple resignation.
"It seems that verbal communication is, at times, utterly futile," Muen sighed regretfully. "In that case, I am forced to resort to a few more little tricks."
Seniel’s expression turned solemn.
Dealing with this freak hadn't been part of his plan. But now that things had escalated to this point, there was no turning back. Without hesitation, he raised his long flute.
A massive surge of mana, accompanied by a melodic sequence of notes, instantly expanded around him.
Faint runes flowed across the white, bone-like flute. This was a "gift" from Robin, and it was an exceptionally powerful magic device. For Seniel, it was as vital as a perfect wand; with the bone flute’s empowerment, his magical chanting speed was a full thirty percent faster than usual.
But...
The moment the magic unfolded, Seniel realized to his shock...
The eccentric in the black formal suit had suddenly vanished.
Invisibility? An illusion? A sleight of hand?
Seniel’s mind raced. Simultaneously, he cast a detection spell, weaving it into his current chant with practiced ease. With the two spells firing in tandem, he finally managed to track that agile shadow through the darkness of the night.
And another incoming arrow!
Clang!
Seniel, having anticipated this, held his flute horizontally.
A third spell—one that required no chant—was triggered.
The air in front of him seemed to turn into a bottomless mire. The arrow was rapidly decelerated until, by the time it reached Seniel’s face, it had lost all kinetic energy. It came to a slow halt in mid-air, suspended. Even the explosive mana stored within it failed to react.
"As I thought. You're no common street-thug mage, are you?"
In the shadows, Muen adjusted the brim of his hat, feeling a bit troubled. He was using Time Dilation to move rapidly, preventing Seniel’s magic from fully locking onto him.
The difference between individuals could sometimes be greater than the difference between a human and a dog. This was especially true in the profession of magic.
A "wild" mage who relied on self-study and whatever basic manuals they could scavenge—barely able to scrape together the funds for experiments—could never hope to touch the coattails of an orthodox mage. Orthodox mages came from prestigious backgrounds, had conducted countless experiments, and were guided by experienced seniors.
This was exactly why the Tower of Origins had been able to grow to its current scale. Magic was a profession that required a massive accumulation of experience and knowledge. Rigorously edited textbooks, knowledgeable teachers, and countless tested magical materials allowed one to avoid innumerable detours.
Their combat power was simply not on the same level.
"My opponent is a seasoned, veteran mage, and I can't even draw my blade right now," Muen muttered under his breath.
To keep his identity hidden, there were many things he couldn't use. For instance, the conspicuous Elizabeth. At most, he could deploy her Alchemy Domain to insulate himself against the classic mage triple-threat: the Sleep Spell, the Stun Spell, and the Deterrence Spell.
But without being able to draw his sword, he clearly lacked the means to attack a mage. He couldn't exactly charge in and start swinging his fists; being that reckless against a mage who had already positioned themselves was a one-way ticket to being ravaged by a literal tide of magic.
"It seems that in this moment of crisis, I can only play to my strengths and showcase the fruits of my daily labors. I'll have to deal with you in a different way."
Muen dodged another of Seniel’s increasingly dense magical locks and raised his military repeating crossbow.
The roar of thunder faintly reappeared on the muscles of his arms, which were coiled like dragons. Then, with a flick of his wrist...
He swiftly swapped the standard bolt for a specialized, one-time-use magic bolt worth several million Emiels.
Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
"What?"
Seniel, who was still expanding his magical range, suddenly cut his flute-chant short.
He seemed to sense something. Without even taking the time to properly channel his mana, he made a violent sweeping motion, instantly triggering every remaining defensive magic device on his person.
BOOM!
This time, what he saw wasn't an arrow.
It was a goddamn light cannon fired from some unknown corner!
Blazing light and flame condensed into a massive, near-solid pillar, illuminating nearly half of the Lower District.
Seniel’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He watched helplessly as the defensive items he had painstakingly accumulated for life-saving moments shattered one after another under the assault.
The total value of these losses already equaled the very reason he had taken this job—that priceless magic flute.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! You bastard, you still say you don't know magic?!"
Seniel lost all his previous poise, letting out a roar of primal, beast-like fury.
"I'm sorry, sir. Though you seem quite angry, I must correct your error."
Through the night wind came the Slav's voice, sounding somewhat solemn.
"This isn't magic. It's the power of money."