Chapter 17: The Ultra-Difficult Magic—Crush
"Relax. It'll be fine."
Seeing Moen's wary expression, Gildarts could instantly tell what the kid was thinking.
"You won't die."
He grinned and reassured him—again and again. "Seriously. No harm."
"...Really?"
Moen eyed him suspiciously. His words still sounded full of doubt, but deep down, he trusted the man.
He knew—Uncle Gildarts would never actually hurt him.
Still... he couldn't help but ask:
"But how exactly do I 'experience' this?"
Was Gildarts really going to crush him and then… put him back together again?
If that's what Crush did, then this magic was way more broken than he imagined.
"You'll feel it for yourself."
Gildarts didn't elaborate. He simply focused, letting his magic surge to his fingertips.
A soft blue light lit up around his palm, then—he placed his hand gently on Moen's shoulder.
"WHMMM!"
In an instant, Moen's body was engulfed in magic, his form glowing brilliantly—before he suddenly burst into a glowing sphere of light.
When the light faded...
Over a hundred miniature Moens appeared in his place.
They were all stacked on top of each other in a chaotic little tower—like some kind of bobblehead action figures trying to do human pyramids.
Chibi Moen dolls with huge heads, tiny limbs, and the same loud voice.
"WHAT THE—?!"
"What just happened?!"
"Why am I so... CUTE?!"
A hundred voices spoke at once—all belonging to Moen.
"Ow... my ears..."
Gildarts rubbed his temple with a grimace.
This, without a doubt, was the worst part of using Crush like this—there was no mute button for the shattered victim.
When your target split into hundreds of tiny, fully conscious versions of themselves, all talking at once...
It. Got. LOUD.
If this had been a real battle, of course, the enemy would already be long gone—sent to the afterlife before they could even scream.
Right now, though, Moen was too stunned to care.
This... was wild.
He hadn't been "crushed" in the painful sense. Instead, he'd been... split.
Into a whole army of palm-sized, toy-like mini-Moens.
Even more amazing, he could still control them.
That connection—the sense of unity—remained crystal clear. A single thought from him, and all his mini-selves moved together.
He tested it:
One lifted its leg.
Another threw a punch.
A dozen started doing squats.
He couldn't stop grinning.
This was fun.
The little Moens were constantly chattering, shouting things, posing dramatically.
Moen himself didn't feel annoyed—but to anyone else, especially one specific uncle, it was migraine fuel.
And then, a thought occurred to him:
If I trained in this state... would I get hundreds of times the experience when I reformed?!
The idea was crazy. Wild.
Brilliant.
He turned excitedly to Gildarts.
"Uncle Gildarts—!"
But Gildarts cut him off with a raised hand.
Without a word, he waved, and magic surged again.
Bathed in the soft glow of magic, the swarm of mini-Moens slowly floated upward.
They began spinning in place, orbiting toward a single point—until they finally converged again, fusing back into one.
Moen's body had returned to normal.
And with that… the world finally went quiet.
"What were you about to say, Moen? Some kind of insight?"
Gildarts asked casually, as if he hadn't just pulled off one of the most ridiculous magic feats ever seen.
He made no effort to explain why he suddenly chose to end the transformation.
"Ah… yeah, I actually had an idea."
Moen nodded, still a bit disoriented from the experience, but he didn't dwell on it.
He explained the thought that had popped into his head during the split.
"Interesting idea. But… sorry, not gonna work."
Gildarts looked momentarily surprised—he clearly hadn't expected that question.
But his reply was firm and immediate.
"Huh? Why not?"
Moen's shoulders slumped. He had really thought he'd cracked some kind of XP farming loophole.
A hundred Moens training at once? That was practically cheating!
But—
"Re-merging your body isn't guaranteed to work properly."
Gildarts' expression turned serious.
He needed Moen to drop this idea immediately.
This wasn't a game.
Crush was a combat technique—not a training buff.
It was designed to destroy, not to optimize.
Short-term fragmentation was fine.
But once the duration got longer… the risks increased exponentially.
There was a real chance that the pieces wouldn't go back together properly.
Worst-case scenario? You stay in bits—forever.
"That's... disappointing."
Moen sighed in defeat.
Sure, the idea sounded awesome in theory—but the risk was way too high.
The return just didn't justify the gamble.
Still, the experience hadn't been a waste.
When the magic entered his body and took control of it, Moen had felt the flow of power with absolute clarity.
The sensation of those magical currents surging through his system—that was real.
He could almost picture the energy moving across his nerves and muscles like lines on a map.
"Man... this Crush magic is insane."
He muttered under his breath.
Despite having just experienced it firsthand, Moen had to admit—
He still didn't really get it.
The level of control needed to split a human body like that—without killing or even hurting them—was way beyond just smashing atoms apart.
Atom-level destruction sounded extreme, sure. But in comparison? That was the easy part.
You could just tear apart the molecular bonds.
But to break a person into chibi doll-sized clones—without mangling their biology or psyche?
That required ridiculous finesse.
And putting all those pieces back together again without a mistake?
Even harder.
"You're right. Crush is crazy difficult to learn."
Gildarts nodded in agreement.
This wasn't false modesty. He wasn't sugarcoating anything.
Crush was a Super Magic—one of the rarest, hardest magics in existence.
Most mages couldn't even begin to understand its principles, let alone use it.
And even if someone did manage to learn it… they'd never wield it like he did.
Magic had compatibility factors.
Each mage had their own affinities, their own style.
Some people were better with fire, others with barriers, some with illusions.
A lucky few even awakened spells that felt like they were born with them.
For Gildarts, Crush was that magic.
He didn't need long cast times or rituals—he just used it. Instinctively. Effortlessly.
It was practically his basic attack.
"Honestly," he added, scratching his chin, "I don't even use it that much. It's too… messy."
"Messy?"
Moen blinked.
"Yeah. Kinda brutal, y'know? Makes a huge mess. Blood everywhere. Not pretty."
Gildarts said it with the casual tone of someone talking about the weather.
This wasn't bravado—it was just the truth.
Most of the time, he preferred to rely on brute strength, good old-fashioned fists.
Only when facing a real threat would he unleash Crush.
Because when Crush hit its mark?
There wasn't anything left to punch afterward.