Chapter 214 - Mages Look Down on Swordsmen

Mages generally looked down on swordsmen.

Upon first setting foot in the spell world, a mage became aware of another sense. A new hand, something new, something beyond the sixth sense. Through it, they constructed a world within their mind, which they called their inner world, or spell world.

Reaching it required no key, no opening of doors, not even a single step. The spell world existed within them.

They gazed at the sky and honed their world. Gazed at flames and honed their world. Gazed at glaciers and honed their world. That was how mages practiced and trained.

The way they honed that inner world was one reason people so often called mages mad or deranged.

In the forty-eighth year of the Imperial Calendar, a mage who had built and furnished his entire inner world with flames burned down a city in pursuit of a new world. He sought to use the flames that consumed everything as a stepping stone into that new world.

It was the most horrific act of arson in the Empire's history. The death toll alone from what came to be called the Flood of Flames Incident ran into the thousands.

The mage who unleashed that flood of flames had not been seeking mass slaughter. He had already burned people to death several times; watching them burn no longer inspired him. So he burned a city.

Thus was born the Demon of Flames, the most terrible fire mage in history. Many knights and mages lost their lives trying to kill him, but in the end, he died.

Those willing to do anything for inquiry and inspiration became mad mages. Yet those with a talent for spells never hesitated to explore that world. Such was the nature of magic.

Driven by curiosity and a thirst for knowledge, they pursued truth and delved into it. Given the chance, they sought to possess it. People driven mad by the ecstasy of enlightenment: the world called them mages.

For these reasons and others, it was only natural that they looked down on swordsmen. Mages could roam a world those men could not even see.

For a mage who knew how to wield spells, especially one who specialized in this sort of work, killing a few swordsmen was child's play, however skilled they might be. So this would, of course, be easy.

"We do the job, collect everything we're owed, and leave."

There were several places on the continent that trained mages, but few that accepted commissions. Of those, the best known to the outside world was the Shadow Nest. These mages belonged to it.

They concealed themselves in black soot and overlaid the enemy's tent with their spells. They sent a potent sleeping fragrance through the air on a conjured wind and placed the entire tent under a perception-disrupting spell.

The spell was called the Dark-Painted Cover. Spells of its kind were collectively known as perception-disrupting spells. This one painted the whole tent black and pushed it beyond people's awareness.

Ordinary soldiers would never notice. Occasionally, someone particularly perceptive might sense something amiss. Someone born with a keen sixth sense.

"Doesn't something look odd over there?"

As it happened, there was one such fellow.

"What do you mean?"

They were soldiers on patrol. Three of them. The one on the far right worked his lips before speaking.

"Doesn't it look, uh, dark over there?"

It silenced sounds and hid things from sight. Those were the effects of the Dark-Painted Cover. To someone with good instincts, the area would merely look a little murky.

"Of course it's dark. It's night."

At night, it was easily dismissed as a trick of the eyes. That was the intention.

"No, I don't mean because it's night. It's a bit, you know? Isn't it darker? It looks murkier."

If suspicion got the better of them and they came over, the mages would simply kill all three and stow their bodies inside. Killing intent filled the mages' eyes.

SMACK!

No sooner had they made up their minds than the soldier at the other end smacked the perceptive one on the back of the head.

"You fucker, I can't sleep after hearing shit like that. Cut it out."

"You crazy bastard! You hit me in the head?"

"Hey, hey, stop it. We're on patrol."

The soldier in the middle tried to break it up while the other two argued, and the three patrolmen moved away. No problem.

Five mages had come in all. One handled the perception-disrupting spell, another spread the sleeping fragrance, and a third used a spell called Dream of the Bottomless Pit to render those inside unconscious yet again.

It might seem like excessive preparation, but they had already seen those five mad soldiers fight.

'We have no choice, in case one of them is a proto knight.'

Looking down on swordsmen was one thing, but those who had awakened Will were a headache. Will, or willpower, as it was also called. Awakening even a fraction of Will was the qualification for becoming a proto knight.

Did any of them wield willpower? It was difficult to tell just by watching. Still, one had shown signs of it.

'The blond one.'

One of them had thrown off his helmet during the fighting, perhaps finding it stifling. Blond hair, red eyes with clean-cut contours, and terrifying skill with a sword.

The leader had seen proto knight-level fighters several times before. His instincts as a mage told him that man was the most dangerous.

"It's done," a subordinate beside him said.

The leader lifted the tent flap and entered. Even someone at the level of a proto knight would be unable to fully regain their senses. Their preparations had been that thorough.

Even if someone remained unaffected, it would only be one of them. This hardly even qualified as a risk.

And so he opened the tent. Within, where the perception-disrupting spell made it seem no one was present, he saw two brilliant blue lights.

They resembled spirit flames, evil spirits made entirely of fire. Naturally, however, this was no monster.

"... A panther?"

A black panther was blazing fire from its eyes. The leader knew instinctively that those fiery eyes held spells and mystic power, or something akin to them.

The soot cloaking the leader and the mage beside him peeled away from their bodies. The two mages stood revealed, with a panther blocking their path.

No words. No sound. A heavy atmosphere filled the tent. Then...

"Achoo!"

The panther sneezed.

'... A sneeze? Isn't that a little out of place right now? It rather spoils the tension.'

So thought the leader.

* * *

Esther reflected on her past. She could sum up the most significant event of her life in a single phrase.

'The fucking curse.'

The curse had tangled up her life. Twisted it into knots. It was a real bitch, but that was all right. She could relax a little now.

Breaking a curse was like untangling a skein of thread. Twisted and knotted as it was, undoing it strand by strand took time. But once it began to loosen, the rest was only a matter of time.

Thanks to those loosening threads, Esther could now draw out and use part of her world again.

"Grrr."

The panther bared her fangs.

"... A familiar?"

A being a mage controlled through spells. Sometimes an animal, sometimes a spiritual entity. It was a mistake, but an understandable one.

Ignoring the remark, Esther looked at the two intruders. No, with mana circulating through her body and gathering in her eyes, she saw beyond them, too. She saw every trick they were using.

'Five.'

A perception-disrupting spell, a wind spell, and a sleep spell. They had used three spells to blind prying eyes, rob their targets of their senses, and knock them unconscious before coming inside? They weren't here for a friendly visit.

Encrid seemed sound asleep under the duet of sleeping fragrance and magic. Or had he simply been exhausted to begin with? Esther assumed the others were asleep as well. Did that leave her as the only one who could stop them?

"Kill it."

The male mage spoke. Esther immediately felt a spell world stir. It had been a very long time since she had seen a spell that even managed a decent imitation of the real thing.

A blade of wind appeared directly above her head and dropped straight down. A guillotine made entirely of mystic power, an executioner's blade, death fashioned from wind.

WHIIING.

Esther pushed off the ground. A quick leap to the side was enough. The wind blade sliced through the air, struck the earth with a thud, and vanished.

The curse was truly cruel. She could not cast proper spells in this body. Doing so always brought a backlash.

Then the other mage began waving his hands and muttering something. An incantation and gestures.

His muttering was little more than unintelligible babble. He would have devised his own version of the spell's runic language so his opponent could not understand it and prepare a counter. The gestures guided his mana along with the incantation.

Esther understood it all at a glance. As for the caliber of the spell he was casting, how should she put it?

'Pathetic.'

A shadow stretched out from beneath the male mage's feet and shot toward the panther at frightening speed, seeking to seize her.

Esther struck the ground with a forepaw. The transformation began the instant she struck. This was no inner change. Her physical appearance itself was changing.

The skein was coming undone, largely thanks to the strange power surrounding Encrid. In other words, she no longer needed to endure the backlash in a panther's body. It also meant she could return to her original form, if only briefly.

The spell now right in front of her was meant to bind her.

"Be intoxicated by my fragrance."

As she transformed, Esther spoke and extended a hand. A hand, not a paw.

Her claws retracted, revealing snow-white skin that almost seemed to glow. The enemy's approaching binding shadow turned into a black robe and wrapped around her entire body.

The panther's fur vanished, her body turning white and growing larger. Naturally, she soon took on a human shape. Thanks to her opponent's magic, she even avoided ending up naked. A black robe draped her pale skin.

A brief, heavy, cold silence pressed down on the tent. The two opposing mages' eyes went especially wide, and their shoulders tensed.

The woman who had changed from panther to human opened her mouth again.

"... It's been so long."

Human once more, Esther was overwhelmed with emotion. The curse had lasted so long. It was still not entirely broken, making this no more than a brief outing, but that was something.

She had nearly been imprisoned for life. Now she could step outside, if only for a little while. The air beyond her prison was fresh, clear, and clean. Even the enemy spells mingling with it did not bother her.

Long black hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. The nails on her outstretched fingers were pointed.

"Hello."

At the black-haired beauty's greeting, the two mages, leader included, were too stunned to speak. A panther turning into a person? What was this? How terrifying.

"Not a familiar, then?" said the mage beside the leader.

"... Get a grip!"

The leader raised his voice. He was rattled and shocked. She had taken his subordinate's spell, reassembled it into clothing, and put it on?

Did that make any sense? No, it did not. Some strange illusion technique? Illusion magic?

The pale swell of her breasts showed briefly between the folds of the robe she had made. There was no time to feel any arousal. The leader swallowed. His opponent was a mage. A high-ranking one, without a doubt.

"Well, shall we begin?"

Esther was delighted. How long had it been since she could properly cast spells and draw upon part of her world? That joy took form at her fingertips.

"Demuller's Scythe."

As the spell activated, a black scythe appeared in midair. It was similar to the wind blade, but an offensive spell one tier higher.

"O companion of life, cast darker than the deepest black!"

The leader shouted hastily, activating the defensive spell inscribed on his body.

Esther's eyes sparkled. It seemed a new form of spell had emerged while she was trapped by the curse. She had never seen this type before. It was a defensive spell, but it did not borrow power from another realm. And yet it manifested remarkably quickly.

She followed the flow of mana with her senses. Where did it originate? The skin beneath his robe.

'A tattoo inscribed with mana?'

It borrowed the form of a magic circle and manifested through an incantation. Put more simply, he had tattooed mana onto his body.

'Handy enough.'

Efficient, but high-level magic could not be activated that way in any case. It would be of no use.

CRAAACK!

The black scythe met a barrier in midair. The barrier tore and shattered, breaking part of the scythe with it. Black fragments scattered like glass and fell to the ground.

Esther snapped her fingers in the air.

SNAP!

At the snap, the scythe vanished.

"Hah, hah."

The leader gasped for breath. A single exchange told him all he needed to know. He was no match for her.

"Tell them all to get in here!"

The leader shouted. He had four subordinates. It was time for all five of them to join forces.

Esther, as it happened, was a mage who knew how to fight. She had faced mages many times before the curse. She had fought spell battles until she was sick of them.

"Begin as an ember, become a consuming inferno, and enfold them."

She never stopped chanting. In part, she was enjoying being human for the first time in so long.

A portion of her spell world opened, and flames leaped out. They rose beneath her opponents' feet.

"Block it!"

The mages who hurried inside hastily began waving their hands. A defensive barrier formed, but...

"Bzzzt. Wrong answer."

Esther spoke, twisting her red lips into a smirk.

At the same instant, she kicked off the ground. Perhaps it was thanks to her time as a panther, but she left an afterimage as she closed in beside one of the mages.

The spell: Burning Hand. Her palm glowed red. She closed it around a mage's throat.

"Aaaaaaargh!"

His flesh melted away until the bones of his neck lay exposed. The scream soon stopped. With his vocal cords and neck bones burning, he could no longer scream.

GURGLE. SSSS.

Only unpleasant sounds trickled from his throat.

"Next."

Esther smiled, baring her fangs. Her red lips stood out vividly.

"Fucking hell!"

The leader felt the gulf between their abilities. He could see no way to survive. An oppressive presence unlike anything he had felt even when facing his own master bore down on him.

His morale broke before he even began. He could not so much as contemplate running.

Esther caught two more with Burning Hand. The disparity in their physical abilities was clear as well. Then she severed the necks of the leader and the last mage with Demuller's Scythe.

There was no need for any impressive spells. She could not use truly profound spells in her current state anyway. But this was enough.

The severed heads flew into the air.

"Knew you'd be a beauty."

Rem's voice rang out inside the tent. He had been pretending to sleep. He lay lazily on his side, his chin propped on his fist.