Chapter 111: Frozen Resolve
Of course, it was easier said than done. He had a great tongue, he would give him that much, but when he said he was going to create his own, he actually meant it. The problem was that it was far more troublesome than it sounded and, above all, painfully time-consuming. He did not have even a single second to spare, and creating his own techniques, especially when it came to swordsmanship, required a solid foundation to begin with. The irony of it was that he didn't even know how to create one in the first place.
So, instead of wasting time thinking about the impossible, he decided to do something more realistic, something within his reach. He would try to surpass his own limits and sharpen his existing skills to a greater degree. He would make his body more flexible, turn his attacks into something unpredictable, and infuse each of his swings with a kind of precision and swiftness that made his movements flow as if they followed a rhythm of their own.
"Wait a minute... wouldn't that actually make these the foundation of my sword techniques?"
Indeed, the path he was taking was already forming the most basic outline of a technique, even if he had not realized it at first. Out there existed countless sword techniques, each one different from the others, but all of them shared one thing in common, and that was exactly what he was going to strive for. To reach that point, however, he had to first overcome his flaws... the small, hidden weaknesses in his swings and his attack patterns. Unfortunately, there was no one beside him to point those out.
But then again, who needed a teacher when he could do it himself? After all, the opponent standing before him was using a style that reflected his own, and that made it easier for him to observe and understand where his own weaknesses lay. For so many years, through countless battles against people and monsters alike, he had never managed to identify those flaws precisely because no one had ever shown them to him. But now, at this very moment, he could clearly pinpoint them on his own.
A faint smile crept beneath his mask as his body lunged forward, the air breaking apart under the sudden rush of his movement. His sword aimed to slice through her chest, but it cut through nothing but air, the blade sweeping past as the woman leapt backward with an almost effortless motion and landed a few meters away.
"Was she really that fast... or am I the one who has slowed down?"
Just then, in the deep stillness of the night, a sudden scream echoed from somewhere far away. Sound was a strange thing... when the night was quiet enough, even the faintest voice could travel far, and a scream, even more so.
"Well, it seems my beautiful wife isn't in the best of moods tonight. I wonder who was foolish enough to anger her besides me. Poor soul." His tone was half amused, yet behind the mask, his eyes darkened, and the crimson flames ignited within them. "That means her battle is over. But if that's the case, why is she still there? She should have come here by now. Wait... no, it couldn't be, right?"
He let out a small laugh, one that was both amused and relieved. "Could it be that she thinks Arwyn is the one fighting here? That must be it. She doesn't know Arwyn is asleep. How could she? Arwyn fell asleep in front of me, not her. I didn't even think about that possibility. I've been so occupied with my own situation that I overlooked something so simple. My tyrant of a wife must have too much faith in her subordinates. Which means she'll take some time before she comes here. That means I have a bit more time to finish this."
However, that thought felt a little too comfortable. Wasn't he getting too confident, too easily? Even if she came later, that didn't change the fact that she would come. Time was the only thing that had shifted, not the outcome. So he needed to end this fight quickly before she arrived.
But then his train of thought was interrupted when his opponent's expression twisted, her face shifting between anger and something close to madness. She suddenly let out a laughter that sent a strange chill through the air, and while still laughing she dashed backward, increasing the distance between them as she began to murmur something under her breath.
He readied himself to rush forward again, but a sudden sense of unease washed over him. "Is she running away? No... that's not it." His brows tightened beneath the mask, and he instinctively closed his eyes. "Wait... what is she doing? She wouldn't be... she isn't going to fight that way, is she? She was just complaining about her skirt earlier, but she can't possibly be planning to fight without it. How am I supposed to fight and keep my eyes off her? Ah, what's wrong with women these days... no shame at all."
Out there before him, Effie had torn apart her clothes completely with both hands, which explained why he had closed his eyes in the first place. However, curiosity won in the end, and he slowly opened them again. Behind the mask, his true eyes were hidden, replaced instead by the cold crimson glow that the mask projected, though he never quite understood how it worked. Not that it mattered to him right now.
And then, he saw it.
Effie stood there completely naked, although calling it naked would be disrespectful since her body was enveloped in what seemed like blue, glassy ice, shaped perfectly to her curves, revealing them perfectly, but at the joints, there was extra ice for movement and her head was free for movement. It was not armor in the traditional sense but more like a reflection of her own silhouette sculpted out of ice.
He had not expected anything like that from her. A whole armor forged out of her own mana. While such a feat was not entirely impossible, it was still something that demanded an extraordinary level of control. The very fact that she managed to form it meant only one thing... she had already taken the first step toward mastering her mana core.
There were indeed seven steps to mastering one's mana core, but Kael had no interest in any of them. To master those steps one had to fully saturate their core first, or in the Adventurer Guild's terms, reach S-Ranked mana core. The Guild measured a person's rank not by their experience or fame but purely by the refinement of their mana core.
Even though S-Ranked was the highest mana core one mage could achieve, it wasn't a dead end for earning true strength. In fact, it was just the beginning. After reaching S-Rank, no one is able to increase their mana core or contain more mana because it becomes fully stable, which couldn't be moved, thus turning into the highest rank. But, in truth, there was no pinnacle of strength.
Kael, however, could not even reach B-Rank because his mana core was unstable, so the idea of reaching S was nothing more than a distant dream. Regardless, it seemed Effie had already managed to master the first step, which meant that she was indeed S-Rank.
"No wonder I was having such a hard time against her," he thought with a low sigh. "Wait... how am I still this calm? I'm fighting against an S-Ranked mage... damn it! When was the last time I even fought someone of that level? No, I don't want to remember that fight. Never again. Not in this life."
The first step of mastering the mana core allowed the user to freely control their mana flow, to guide it throughout their body as they wished. Mana naturally flowed through every being, but not everyone could cast a spell from any part of their body. Only those whose elements allowed it could do so. The exception was found among mages who not only created spells through mana but could also command the natural element itself. Kael had thought to control the natural wind to fly, yet despite every effort, he had failed completely.
In truth, Kael could only cast magic from his palms. He could not channel it through his legs or any other limb even if he tried. That was one of the many disadvantages of having a C-Rank core. On the other hand, those who had reached S-Rank could refine their core further by unlocking those steps, each allowing deeper control and greater strength. Among these, the first step granted the ability to cast magic from every part of one's body.
Seraphina was a good example of this mastery. When she used her lightning element, she did not always need to move her hands to summon it. If she wished, she could let lightning course through her entire body and radiate outward, wrapping herself in an aura of thunder. The last time he saw her doing that was yesterday, and even then, he remembered how terrifyingly beautiful she looked when anger consumed her and her lightning became wild and furious.
"Cute," he muttered beneath his mask, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he recalled her expression. He then sighed softly, catching himself. "I got distracted again... didn't I? No, she's not cute, she's lethal. What am I even thinking about again... oh, right, the steps of mana core mastering."
Truthfully, Kael had been trapped in a dead end for a long time. He could not break the curse of his unstable mana core, he could not reach a new level of power, and he could not develop a proper sword technique that matched his style. Somewhere along the way, he had lost both the drive and the hope of becoming stronger. He did not even know why he was strong to begin with, but he understood that much... his past self had a reason for seeking strength, though this version of him only wanted to live quietly, to keep his life hidden and peaceful for as long as he could.
But now that fate had given him even a small chance to refine his skills, he was not going to waste it. His good luck had already run out, and after three years of peace, it seemed misfortune had finally found him again. And the proof was standing right in front of him.
He looked at the icy silhouette of Effie's figure as a rapier materialized out of thin air, this time completely formed of glimmering frost. Her earlier weapons must have been made of ice as well, though she had shaped them so perfectly that they looked like polished steel.
While she conjured her weapon, Kael did not remain idle either. The wound in his abdomen and the scratches across his body were already closing, healing rapidly without him speaking a single word of chant. Spell names were meaningless to him anyway, because magic had always been about imagination rather than words.
When both of them lunged at each other again, Kael caught a glimpse of something in her eyes... cold, furious, and utterly murderous intent. His lips curved upward behind the mask as he grinned slightly. "Finally decided to stop holding back, huh?" he thought. "Good. That suits me just fine. I guess it's my turn to go all out as well... though to be fair, I've been going all out since the start. So maybe I should say..."
Their blades collided with a sharp, ringing sound that echoed through the bridge, once, twice, again and again. Sparks scattered around them, each clash more violent than the last. The force of their fight made the bridge itself tremble beneath their feet as both fought with everything they had, no longer testing but seeking to crush one another.
Kael's longsword pressed against her rapier, his teeth gritted as he said through his breath, "You know, witch... I'm going to break through this dead end soon enough."
The battle became a storm of black and blue light, a dance of steel and frost that shook the air itself. Both of them moved at their limits, driven by desperation and raw determination. In mere seconds, Kael's body was covered in shallow cuts and streaks of blood, and despite his effort, he could not pierce her icy armor. It was just too damn tough.
But he would manage somehow. He was sure of it.
Time passed as their fight carried them off the bridge and toward the haunted house nearby. Their forms were like flickering silhouettes, shadows clashing beside the broken structure. Neither of them noticed that on the rooftop, Arwyn was still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the chaos beneath her.
Kael only realized where they were when Effie's furious strike pushed him back toward the riverbank. He blocked and deflected as best as he could, but his footing slipped, and soon he found himself standing at the very edge of the water. A single misstep would send him falling into the river below.
Effie did not miss the opportunity. Seeing her chance, she thrust her rapier straight toward his heart, her entire strength focused into that one fatal strike.
The tip of the rapier flashed in a blue silhouette and thrust toward his heart, or rather, it was going to, but at the last moment, he leaned slightly to one side, causing the blade to miss his heart by a breath. A terrible pain tore through his chest as the tip of the rapier sank deep into his flesh. He gritted his teeth tightly, but the tip of the rapier did not pull back.
His grip finally loosened, and his sword slipped from his hand, falling down, striking the wooden platform before sliding into the water below with a soft splash.
Instead, his eyes caught Effie's lips twisting upward, forming a cruel grin that deepened as she turned her wrist, twisting the sword inside him, sending another searing wave of agony through his body. In that instant, he let go of his own sword and moved his hand as fast as he could, grasping her blade tightly, refusing to let her twist it any further or pull it back even an inch.
His fingers clamped down with desperate force, the sharp edges slicing through his flesh, blood dripping down in thick red lines, but not too much, because his hands glowed faintly with a green radiance, his healing magic constantly mending the skin the moment it was torn.
Without that light, his fingers might have already been cut apart, but for now, he endured, clutching the sword with unyielding strength, not allowing her to drive it deeper nor to retreat it. He was in a desperate position, and it was only a matter of time before his small trick would fail, leaving him to either fall into the water or die impaled on her blade. Still, before that could happen, his thoughts were moving faster than his body, recalling every moment of their battle, every exchange, every movement she had made against him, trying to understand her completely in that fleeting span of time.
It happened faster than he expected, his mind weaving through fragments of memory until he suddenly grasped something... something he had realized earlier... about the way she fought. Even though she was copying his style, she had her own subtle variations that made her attacks unpredictable. That was the very reason why he had failed to understand her true nature until now.
"Ah, that's how you fight. I guess... I should've realized it sooner," he muttered quietly, the corners of his lips trembling in pain.
"Crap."
Even before he could fully straighten his back, he saw a leg gleaming faintly blue and translucent like sculpted glass cutting through the air toward his abdomen. He had already predicted this attack long before she moved, because that was exactly what he would have done in her place. So his body was ready.
Just before her icy leg could shatter his ribs, the air pressure around the sword hilt that he still held suddenly became dense and heavy, and in less than a second, the blade snapped apart where he had been holding it. The moment it broke, he ducked low, twisting to the side and leaping backward to create distance.
Her kick met only air, slicing through the space where his body had been a heartbeat earlier. She turned her gaze sharply toward him, a murderous light flickering in her eyes and a twisted smile curling her lips as if she were enjoying every moment of his suffering.
"Ah..."
A dull groan escaped him as he felt another surge of pain bursting through his chest. He reached down, gripping the broken icy blade still embedded in him, and tore it free with a rough pull.
Blood streamed from the wound like a small crimson fountain, splattering across the wooden floor. He pressed his palm over the wound immediately, muttering under his breath, healing it just enough to stop the bleeding, though not completely. It was enough to keep him alive a little longer. Lately, he had been bleeding far too often.
"I sure am... but how the hell am I still alive anyway."
How else could he be, if not through stubborn determination to survive, to win against those who stood against him, to cling to life even when the world wanted him gone. Once, he had wanted nothing more than to live peacefully, to have a normal life, and though that dream seemed distant now, he was not willing to let it die entirely.
His eyes widened suddenly as he noticed another glint of ice slicing through the air toward his head.
"Come to think of it, how am I supposed to deflect her attack without my longsword," he muttered in his mind, his tone a mix of irritation and disbelief. "Ugh... not again without a weapon. Why is my luck always this bad? Well, it isn't that bad, is it? Should I try this too? Can I even do that?"
A faint grin tugged at his lips behind the mask as he moved, barely slipping away from the flashing strikes that came one after another. He leapt backward, sidestepped, bent low, tilted his head, and twisted his shoulders, every motion fluid yet desperate. Her blade continued to chase him, but none of her strikes managed to reach him.
He was watching her intently now, his gaze fixed on the rhythm of her body, the movement of her hands, the shifting of her legs, the subtle flick of her sword. Without a weapon in his grasp, his senses had sharpened even more, his entire focus locked on predicting her next move. It was not easy, far from it, since every step required him to piece together her motions, anticipate her follow-up, and then calculate his evasions while enduring the burning ache tearing through his body. His mind was working relentlessly, his instincts and logic merging into one continuous stream of thought as he dodged again and again, all while his chest burned with pain and his breath grew heavier with every heartbeat.
As the tip of the rapier swept toward him in a wide arc meant to cleave him in half, he twisted his body aside with a sharp movement, avoiding the strike without much effort, and the moment the edge sliced through the air past him, he lunged forward, closing in on her blind spot where her defense was completely open.
Of course, finding that position had not been easy at all, since it required precise calculation and observation, yet through watching her movements over and over, he had discovered a small but clear pattern in her attacks. Every strike she made began and ended with the same rhythm, and in those brief moments when her sword was still in motion, her guard was wide open. It was as though her entire style was built upon repetition, and once that rhythm was understood, it was only a matter of time before it could be exploited. Well, of course, since she was using his style, it was his flaw as well.
That was why, the instant her sword passed by him, his body moved on its own, his fingers curling into the familiar shape of holding a weapon.
Though there was no visible blade in his hands, he was indeed holding one. It was a sword born from his mind, a shape carved out of pure wind, flowing and unseen, but carrying the same form and weight as his longsword. It was similar to the wind blades he had cast before, but this one was far more difficult to control because, unlike ice, which remains until the caster releases it, wind has no patience and scatters the moment focus wavers. He had to maintain its shape constantly through sheer concentration, binding it together with his will.
But that was just how he was... stubborn enough to bend the impossible into something that could exist.
As his body closed the distance between them, he noticed her gaze shift slightly, her lips curving into a faint smirk, and at once he realized she had already sensed his movement.
The air around her changed as before, growing colder, heavier, and filled with that familiar stillness that always came before she used her power. It seemed she had guessed his intention, though it was already too late for her to pull her sword back into position.
When the tip of his invisible blade was about to pierce through her, it suddenly shimmered faintly and became visible to the naked eye. The once unseen weapon now gleamed as a pale blue sword of ice, clear and glasslike, reflecting light like a shard of crystal. She had frozen it, turning his own creation into ice in an instant, stopping the invisible strike before it could reach her fully.
That, however, suited him perfectly, because this was precisely what he had been hoping for since the very beginning.
A slow grin formed behind his mask as he pushed his weight forward, driving the icy longsword toward her.
The frozen blade clashed against the armor that covered her abdomen, and in that same moment, a sharp cracking sound echoed through the air as the ice split open.
The armor fractured rapidly under the pressure, breaking apart until the blade pierced her flesh cleanly and emerged through her back in a single fluid motion.
His plan, against all odds, had worked exactly as he had imagined.
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(Chapter Ended)