Chapter 61: On the Art of Sarcasm
The words—"hasn't even reached beginner"—
landed like a bomb, detonating across the arena.
The spectators erupted, staring in disbelief.
That was the Joint Army's Chief Interrogator they were talking about—
a man whose thread magic they couldn't even see.
And yet it was being dismissed as not even entry-level?
Flamme stood calmly with her arms crossed, as if everything were proceeding exactly as expected.
Frieren, meanwhile, was busy giving Julie some basic treatment, teeth clenched in satisfaction as she muttered how good that felt.
Amid the uproar, General Yug—standing closest to the platform—cast a thoughtful, seasoned glance at Elias.
At the same time, Erwin's pupils trembled violently, his face twisting under the weight of utter disbelief.
The sight made Elias chuckle.
"Indulging nothing but your own perverse cravings," he said lightly,
"while remaining utterly ignorant of your magic's true level."
"Should I call it laughable…"
"…or pitiful?"
---
"You—bluffing bastard!!"
After a suffocating silence, Erwin finally snapped, his composure shattering completely.
"My thread magic has slaughtered countless demons on the battlefield!"
"Even generals of the Demon King's army were beheaded—horns and all—by my threads!"
"Every prisoner I interrogated revealed the most exquisite expressions and screams known to man!"
"Magic taken to such heights—how dare a nobody like you slander it?!"
Rage consumed him.
His ten fingers moved like a virtuoso playing an instrument, threads dancing to his will.
First—he bound Elias's hands at lightning speed, cutting off any chance of resistance.
Next—the threads wrapped around him layer by layer, like a silkworm spinning a cocoon.
Finally—Erwin targeted Elias's throat.
With a savage pull of the rings on his fingers—
Elias was hoisted into the air.
The crowd held its breath.
Had the battle turned once more?
But in the very next instant, Erwin sensed something was wrong.
"Hmph…"
"Hands restrained… so you're coating your body with mana to prevent the threads from cutting through?"
"Pathetic."
"That kind of desperate struggle will collapse eventually—
my threads are far too sharp!"
Suspended high above, Elias looked down expressionlessly.
Like a god gazing upon an ignorant mortal.
As the masses stared upward—
the god delivered his decree.
"Erwin," Elias said calmly,
"your imagination regarding threads is so narrow it's laughable."
"All you do is picture a line with a beginning and an end—
a segment stretched from one side to the other."
"To be precise: from the five fingers of your left hand to the five fingers of your right,
requiring tools just to form your spell."
"Yes, it's sharp—but every point between the two ends is a potential weakness."
"In the Mythic Era, the great sage Aivis once called this…"
"Linear Thread Magic."
"And I," Elias continued evenly,
"have a better name for it."
"Ramen Magic."
---
"—PUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
The arena exploded with laughter.
Even if they couldn't see the threads, everyone could vividly imagine Erwin pulling noodles between his hands.
Frieren jumped to her feet, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
«(｡>∀<｡)»
"That's right!!"
"That guy's using ramen magic!!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Flamme couldn't help but let a smile curl at the corner of her lips.
Linear thread magic—
like an over-stretched strand of ramen, snapped cleanly in the middle.
Honestly, when it came to the art of sarcasm, who could possibly rival Elias?
A monster who had lived for thousands of years—
and who had spent ages trading barbs back and forth with Serie herself.
Under the crowd's mocking gazes, Erwin clenched his teeth, fury choking his chest as his hands trembled violently.
—That damned bastard.
Erwin had already made up his mind.
The moment Elias's mana weakened, he would seize control of the threads and slice off that man's head in a single, unexpected strike!
As long as he could vent this hatred—
Even if it meant breaking the rules.
Even if it meant losing his qualification to become Lady Leia's guard—
He would gladly pay the price!
However—
The great demon of the Mythic Age had no intention of giving him that chance.
—Boing.
—Boing-boing-boing.
—Boing-boing-boing-boing-boing-boing-boing!
The instant Erwin felt the emptiness in his ten fingers—
the instant he saw Elias land safely on the ground—
Erwin's mind collapsed.
"How—how is this possible?!"
"Both hands were restrained!"
"My threads—"
"Your body—"
"No—what is this?!"
"Hah… huff… ha… AAAAH!!"
Driven into hysteria, Erwin could no longer form coherent sentences.
Like a terrified animal, he staggered toward Elias, panting violently.
"—Point-Based Thread Magic."
Elias raised his eyes calmly.
"Imagine countless points, linked together to form a line."
"No fixed endpoints. No need for anchors."
"A line that can freely change shape in space."
"That—
is what ultimate mastery looks like."
---
Erwin dug his twisted fingers deep into his throbbing temples.
"Point-based thread magic…"
"If something like that really existed, how could I not imagine it?!"
"—Because you're weak."
Elias answered without hesitation.
"And the weak…"
"…should be the ones begging me for mercy."
"—Hah… HAHAHAHAHA!"
Blood surged through Erwin's eyes, spilling into a crimson tide of madness!
His fingers contorted, his catalysts trembled, and the shattered threads surged forth once more!
Elias tilted his head slightly.
"So you're not going to beg?"
"—Beg?!"
"That word is reserved for the trash I interrogate!"
"And today—"
"I, Erwin, will make you taste pain that draws no blood—
yet tears the soul apart like an abyss!"
"—Pain without blood… yet as deep as an abyss."
"…Very well."
Elias nodded calmly.
"I understand."
A light breeze passed.
—Whoosh.
Elias did not move.
And in the very next instant—
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"
Erwin collapsed to the ground, rolling wildly, screaming in agony!
"…My hands!"
"My hands—AAAAAAAH!!!"
The Joint Army's Chief Interrogator—
his gold-rimmed glasses shattered—
screamed like a tortured prisoner, dignity utterly discarded.
A perfect embodiment of the words deeply cruel.
The crowd recoiled in shock, staring at Erwin in confusion.
"Is he injured?!"
"But there's no wound on his hands!"
"Not a drop of blood—why is he screaming like that?!"
This time—
Even Frieren couldn't see what had happened.
She could only look at her teacher in confusion.
Flamme smiled knowingly.
To protect Elias's image, she chose not to explain.
After all, only she had seen it clearly—
Elias had severed Erwin's hands using Point-Based Thread Magic,
then instantly reattached them with Stitching Magic.
So fast—
Not a single drop of blood was spilled.
Flamme took a slow breath.
So this was what he meant by—
"Using his own methods against him."
…Honestly?
It was immensely satisfying.