Grey
I stood in front of Corvis, Tessia, and the rest of their team in the grassy courtyard where Professor Glory had directed us for our mock battle.
I should have protested when I saw that Corvis had been dragged into this, but it was too late now. While I was sure Tessia wouldn't let anything serious happen to him, I still couldn't help but worry.
From the side, Sylvie stretched lazily across a sunlit rock, her voice slipping into my mind through our mental connection.
'Papa, you're not going to hurt Mama and Uncle, right?'
I blinked, briefly caught off guard.
Uncle? So now Corvis is Uncle, huh? I asked Sylvie back.
I chuckled softly at the thought, realizing just how much I had come to cherish my relationship with both Tessia and Corvis. They were the closest people I had to what Sylvia and Sylvie had been for me.
Still, my mind drifted to Professor Glory's intentions.
Was she trying to test Corvis' magic capabilities? That tattoo of his—strikingly similar to Agrona's markings—did an incredible job at masking his core level.
If I didn't know any better, I would have thought he was somewhere between dark and red stage, yet with absurd mana reserves for that level.
My thoughts were interrupted by Professor Glory's command that sliced through the charged air by students' cheering for my defeat:
"Let the battle begin!"
If this were a real fight, I would have activated Static Void and rushed directly for Corvis, ending it within seconds. Or, I could have used Blood Iron to pin down the other three while I charged straight at Corvis.
But I had already agreed with Cynthia—while at Xyrus, I would limit myself to wind and earth attributes only.
It would slow my training, but at least I had the private training room Cynthia had given me to go all out when I needed to.
The world around me narrowed to the four figures arrayed against me. Sunlight glinted off Tessia's wand-sword as she moved first, a blur of her school uniform and focused intent.
Her attack came swift and ruthless, a testament to her training and the knowledge she likely shared to the others: a concentrated gale shrieked across the courtyard, its leading edge shimmering with compressed wind, sharp enough to cleave stone.
The grass flattened violently in its wake, torn blades swirling in its turbulent heart. I felt the pressure wave hit my skin a fraction before the cutting force arrived.
My instinct, honed across two lifetimes, took over. Dawn's Ballad, a sliver of teal steel in the midday sun, moved in a short, blindingly fast arc. The sensation was unique, almost effortless—not shattering the spell, but parting it in two clear parts.
The gale split cleanly around the blade's edge with a sound like tearing silk, the two halves roaring past me to buffet the watching students, ruffling hair and robes before dissipating against the far walls.
Cutting magic so easily, the thought echoed, tinged with grim awe. No wonder an Asura crafted this sword. And if Corvis could reverse engineer these… The tactical implication flickered—Dicathen's armies armed with such weapoms? A small yet important advantage against Agrona's legions.
A thought surfaced in my head, Corvis knew magic and related craftsmanship... like Nico with Ki item.
But the lull was brief. Claire, the fire augmenter I had underestimated, exploded into motion. Her rapier became a conduit, not just a weapon. Fire mana spiraled violently around the slender steel, condensing into a spearhead of pure, roaring flame. "Burning Lance!" Her voice was sharp, a commander's bark.
She covered the distance with startling speed, her boots churning the turf, the heat of her attack washing over me like the breath of a forge. The air crackled and warped around her rapier.
My answer was instinctive again—pure, unadorned wind magic. I didn't shape it, didn't form a shield; I simply released a concussive burst of raw, disruptive wind from my body outwards.
It slammed into the spiraling fire with a thunderous WHOOSH, scattering the concentrated flames into harmless, hissing embers that rained down onto the scorched grass. The disruption staggered Claire mid-lunge, her momentum broken.
Our blades met a heartbeat later—the ancient, unyielding chill of Dawn's Ballad against the lighter, faster steel of her rapier. CLANG! The impact jarred up my arm, a solid, metallic shock. Claire's eyes, wide with surprise and adrenaline, locked onto mine over the crossed steel. Something felt immediately off.
Why engage me directly? Tessia and Corvis knew better that I had the upper hand in close combat.
The answer came from behind, a subtle shift in the air, a whisper of earth and chlorophyll. I twisted, ripping my blade free from Claire's guard, pivoting on the ball of my foot. Tessia stood ten or so meters back, her wand-sword tracing a complex motion in the air.
From the disturbed earth at her feet, thick, thorn-studded vines erupted, snaking towards me with unnerving speed and purpose, coiling like emerald serpents.
They were almost upon my ankles. Reacting purely on ingrained reflexes, I slammed my free hand down towards the ground. Earth mana surged, not with finesse, but raw force.
A crude pillar of compacted dirt and stone, roughly a foot thick, burst upwards directly between me and the grasping vines. They slammed into it with a wet, heavy THUD, wrapping furiously around the earthen obstruction, thorns scraping uselessly against stone. A sigh escaped me, not of exertion, but of weary realization.
Thry were fighting naïvely.
They moved with textbook coordination but lacked the desperate, brutal efficiency forged in true conflict. They were just teenagers after all, I reminded myself, the gulf of experience yawning wide.
The respite vanished instantly. A guttural roar shook the ground as Prince Curtis Glayder, on top his magnificent World Lion bond, charged. The beast's muscles bunched and released with terrifying power, claws tearing deep gouges in the turf. Its golden eyes fixed on me, radiating primal fury.
The crowd erupted: "Show him who's boss, Your Highness!" The noise was a distant buzz, irrelevant.
Years of Paragon Duels—the ultimate test of single combat in my old world—had ingrained movements into my very mind making me the best fighter in one on one fights on Earth.
Then when I was reincarnated by Agrona the training I have gone through, brutal conditioning under the Scythes Melzri and Viessa, facing hordes and monstrous charges, had layered instinct and technique when facing multiple opponents.
The World Lion lunged, jaws gaping wide enough to engulf my torso, fetid breath hot on my face. I swung Dawn's Ballad with deceptive calm. Not a wild swing, but a precise, economical parry. The flat of the blade met the bony ridge above the beast's muzzle with a solid CRACK.
The impact vibrated through the sword, the sheer weight and momentum of the creature staggering me back half a step, boots grinding into the earth. Using that momentum, I augmented my legs and sprang backwards in a controlled arc, putting distance between Curtis, Claire, and myself. My focus snapped back to Tessia—the lynchpin, the one who knew my capabilities best.
She stood ready, wand-sword held steady, her expression intense. Then, she did the unexpected. Her free hand dipped into a pouch at her belt, pulling out a small, unassuming seed. She brought her adventuring equipment? A flicker of surprise. Tessia's swordsmanship was passable—it lacked experience—but her true strength laid in her conjuring capabilities.
This seed was a wildcard. Strategy shifted instantly. I had to neutralize the variable. I surged forward, Dawn's Ballad aimed not at her, but at the pouch itself—a quick slash to sever the strap to scatter her resources.
I had to dorce a retreat and disrupt her plan. But Tessia smirked. A familiar, vibrant green aura erupted around her, swirling like captured sunlight, coalescing into a visible corona. Recognition slammed into me.
She absorbed her Beast Will already?! Me and Corvis purified it just yesterday! The process should have taken days, maybe weeks, for safe integration.
Her voice, laced with playful challenge, cut through my astonishment: "Surprised, Grey?"
The seed in her hand pulsed with sudden, violent life. It wasn't just vines that erupted; it was an explosion of verdant energy. Thick, cable-like tendrils shot from the seed, wrapping around her limbs and torso with incredible speed, forming plates of living wood over her tunic and bracers—a crude, rapidly grown suit of botanical armor.
Simultaneously, a dozen other vines, thicker and faster than before, whipped out from her position like angry lashes, aiming to entangle, pierce, crush. The air filled with the sharp scent of crushed leaves and damp earth. Even caught off guard by the speed of her assimilation, my blade was a silver blur.
Dawn's Ballad lived up to its name, shearing through the onrushing vines as if they were cobwebs. Thick cords parted with wet SNAPS, spraying sap that smelled faintly of pine and loam. The severed ends writhed on the ground like headless snakes. But the distraction had served its purpose.
Tessia's command rang out sharp and clear: "Prince Glayder!" I pivoted, the world seeming to slow. Curtis, pale but determined, had guided his mount into position. The World Lion crouched, its massive chest expanding, a deep, resonant growl building in its throat that vibrated in my own ribcage.
Raw, primal mana gathered before its open maw, swirling into a visible orb of destructive energy. World Howl. I had killed many World Lions during my training in the Beast Glades, but I never fought one like this. Against onebound to a human, the dynamic changed.
This was a controlled artillery piece. The orb coalesced, then detonated outwards in a devastating wave of concussive force. It wasn't fire or ice; it was pure, focused kinetic energy. The ground rippled as it tore forward, a visible shockwave cracking the turf, hurling clods of earth and shredded grass into the air in its wake.
The air itself screamed. Dodging was the only option; blocking it head-on with earth magic in my current limited state would be catastrophic. I threw myself sideways, the wave's leading edge missing me by inches. The displaced air punched me like a giant's fist, threatening to tear me off my feet.
The wave slammed into the courtyard wall a dozen kf meters behind me with a thunderous BOOM, shaking dust from the stones.
Before I could regain full balance, the hairs on my neck stood on end. Another wave was already incoming, its telltale shriek building.
Impossible! The World Lion needed recovery time after such a blast as it consumed loads of mana! My eyes darted. There stood Corvis. He had closed the distance to Curtis during the chaos to not let me notice it, his right hand resting firmly on the other prince's shoulder.
His face was a mask of concentration, his intricate tattoo on his right forearm flaring with a subtle, internal light.
He's siphoning mana directly into Curtis! Corvis is acting like a mana gas station! Sylvie's amused chirp echoed faintly in my mind, a counterpoint to my internal shout.
The second World Howl was already halfway across the courtyard, aimed precisely to intercept my landing zone. I twisted mid-air, augmenting my body desperately, landing hard in a roll that sent jolts up my spine. The second wave roared past, close enough to buffet me violently, tearing at my clothes, missing by a terrifyingly narrow margin.
I scrambled upright, gritting my teeth against the jarring impact. Dust and grit coated my tongue. The tactical picture crystallized with chilling clarity. They weren't trying to hit me directly—not primarily. This was zoning.
The World Howls were massive area denial tools, their concussive blasts and ground-shaking impacts designed to herd me, to deny me the open ground I needed to close the distance on Curtis and Corvis, the source of their sudden artillery barrage.
They were pinning me down, forcing me into a reactive stance. And it was working. While I was dodging earth-shattering blasts, Tessia and Claire had fluidly repositioned.
Claire, wisely conserving mana after her initial fiery assault, had shifted tactics. Her rapier became a precise instrument. Smaller, focused lances of red flame, no thicker than my thumb, shot from its tip with alarming speed and accuracy, forcing me into constant micro-adjustments, searing the air near my face, forcing my blade to deflect or disperse them.
Each parry sent a wave of heat washing over my knuckles.
But Tessia… Tessia was the true hammer now, their main attack source. The Beast Will's energy flowed through her, enhancing her connection to the ambient mana.
I could feel the power swirling around her, a vortex of green energy. More vines erupted from the churned earth, not just from her position now, but snaking towards me from multiple angles, seeking purchase.
Gusts of wind, sharper and more controlled than her opening move a minute prior, sliced through the air, timed to disrupt my footing or deflect my blade as I dealt with the vines or Claire's fire.
She knows Mana Rotation. She could sustain this, drawing in ambient mana to fuel her relentless assault even while fighting.
She was their main attacker now, unleashing a storm of botanical and aerial fury, punctuated by the terrifying, ground-shaking BOOMs of the World Howls Corvis kept fueling. Explosions of displaced earth and concussive force bracketed my position constantly.
I wove, parried, cut, and dodged, Dawn's Ballad a constant silver flicker in the sunlight, severing vines, dispersing fire lances, deflecting wind blades. Sap spattered my face, smelling earthy and green. The acrid tang of ozone and scorched earth filled my nostrils. Sweat stung my eyes despite the cool breeze.
The grass beneath my boots was a ruined morass of mud, ash, and shredded vegetation. If this dragged on, attrition favored me. Even alone against four, my reserves, honed by Vritra physiology and relentless training, dwarfed theirs.
Corvis's siphon had limits; Curtis's body and core could only channel so much borrowed power before he risked to suffer serious damage. Claire's precise flames were draining. Tessia's Mana Rotation was impressive, but not infinite—the atmospheric mana would end eventually and my own reserves were much larger than theirs. Eventually, they would falter.
But Tessia and Corvis knew that too. The certainty was cold. Their strategy wasn't built for endurance. This was a blitz. They wanted a quick end.
But how? I clicked my tongue in frustration, a stark contrast to the symphony of magic around me. A harsh truth surfaced amidst the chaos: stripped of my regalia, my decay mana arts and confined to only wind and earth… I was weak.
My elemental control for those two elements felt clumsy, brute-forced.
Yeah, Corvis was right, I admitted grudgingly. How did I even imagine defeating a Retainer like this? The limitations chafed, a cage around my true power. Yet, paradoxically, a fierce grin spread across my face.
The challenge, the sheer unexpectedness of their coordination and Corvis's clever support, ignited a spark. This would be funnier than expected. The thought was exhilarating.
A plan sparked, born of necessity and a flicker of reckless cunning. Instead of weathering the storm, I would charge it.
I feinted towards Tessia who drawing a fresh volley of vines and a slicing gust. Then, pivoting on a dime, I poured augmentation into my legs and exploded towards Corvis and Curtis.
The ground tore beneath my boots. I became a blur, weaving through the churned earth. A World Howl detonated to my left, the shockwave rattling my teeth, showering me with dirt. Another screamed towards my path—I had no time to dodge fully. Planting my feet, I roared, channeling earth mana downwards.
A thick, crude shield of compacted rock and soil erupted from the ground directly in front of me, shaped by sheer will rather than artistry. The World Howl hit it like a runaway boulder.
CRUNCH-BOOM! The shield shattered into a thousand jagged fragments, the concussive force slamming into me like a wall, driving the air from my lungs and sending me stumbling back several steps. But it held long enough. The spell was spent.
Dust and debris filled the air in a choking cloud. I could use it to my advantage. Still moving forward, coughing, I swung Dawn's Ballad not as a blade, but as a conductor's baton.
Wind mana surged, not to cut, but to gather and launch. Dozens of the shield's shattered remnants, fist-sized rocks now polished and aerodynamic by the blast and my wind, lifted into the air around me. With a final, sweeping motion, I infused them with wind, accelerating them into lethal projectiles that screamed through the haze towards Curtis, Corvis, and the World Lion.
WHOOSH! The sound was similar to a swarm of angry hornets.
The World Lion reacted with astonishing agility, Curtis clinging tight. It bounded sideways, muscles bunching, avoiding the brunt of the stony hail. A few rocks pinged harmlessly off its thick hide.
But the barrage achieved its main goal: the relentless artillery fire ceased. The path was momentarily clear. Claire materialized out of the dust like an avenging spirit, rapier leading.
Our blades clashed again and again—CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!—a rapid staccato of steel on steel. She was grinning fiercely, eyes alight with the thrill of crossing blades with a real challenge.
"No wonder you defeated a professor," she panted between parries, sweat streaking her face, "you are scarily good with the sword." The compliment was genuine, edged with adrenaline. Her skill too was remarkable for her age, fluid and aggressive.
I had an entire lifetime dedicated to the blade, mastery etched into my soul. In pure swordsmanship, I knew I had no rivals in skill alone.
"You are not bad either," I conceded, the words clipped as I deflected a lightning thrust aimed at my throat.
But my advantages were overwhelming. Superior physique, an unbreakable blade, and refined technique. I saw an opening, a fraction of a second where her guard faltered under the force of my parry. My free hand shot out, a blur, clamping like a vise around her sword wrist.
I felt the fine bones beneath my grip. Simultaneously, I twisted my body, letting her momentum and my pull carry her forward. Her rapier tip whistled past my ear, missing by a hair's breadth.
Using her own force against her, I pivoted and heaved, channeling the Vritra strength Agrona had woven into this body. Claire cried out in surprise as she was lifted bodily off her feet and flung through the air like a ragdoll, straight towards Tessia who was already summoning more vines to avoid Claire's fall.
"Thanks, Princess!" Claire managed to shout as she tumbled. Tessia, momentarily distracted, gave a quick thumbs-up, her vines shifting to catch rather than attack.
I had a heartbeat of space. I saw Tessia and Claire regrouping, both breathing heavily, robes stained with dirt and sap. A glance confirmed Curtis slumped slightly in his saddle, face pale and strained. The World Lion's flanks heaved.
Corvis's refueling had limits; channeling that much power risked damaging Curtis's core. The barrage threat was neutralized. I smiled as I realized that J had shattered their primary strategy. Tessia, seizing initiative, thrust her wand-sword forward.
A compact miniature tornado, swirling with grass and dust, roared towards me. Reacting instantly, I stomped. A cube of solid earth, six feet across, erupted from the ground directly in front of me. The tornado slammed into it with a grinding roar, tearing chunks from the rock face but ultimately dissipating harmlessly.
Without pause, I leaped onto the cube's flat top. Channeling earth mana, I kicked down hard at its front edge. The section shattered, collapsing forward in a mini-avalanche of dirt and rock aimed squarely at Tessia's position.
She reacted with impressive speed, darting backwards, the cascade of earth missing her by a centimetre, kicking up a fresh cloud of dust.
We faced each other across the ruined courtyard once more. The severed vines Tessia had conjured earlier began to twitch. Sap bubbled from the cuts as green light pulsed along their lengths. They writhed, mending, the severed ends reaching blindly towards each other like seeking worms.
Tessia raised her wand-sword, her expression one of fierce concentration. The vines rose like a hydra's heads, ready to strike again, directed by her will. The princess I had traveled with a month ago was evolving rapidly into a formidable combat mage, her connection to nature deepening.
But her fundamentals—footwork, action economy, tactical patience—still lagged behind her prodigious talent.
My eyes flickered to Corvis. He was beside Claire now, leaning close, whispering urgently into her ear, his gaze fixed on me. I strained to hear, but Tessia, anticipating, swept her wand-sword in a wide arc. A localized gust of wind, sharp and sudden, roared directly past my ears.
It wasn't an attack, but a sonic screen—a deafening rush of white noise that drowned out all other sound for crucial seconds. Corvis has a plan. The certainty was chilling. From the little I knew of his quiet, analytical mind, it wouldn't be straightforward. It would be unexpected, leveraging rules or loopholes. I had to end this now for both of our sakes.
I surged forward, abandoning defense. Dawn's Ballad became a whirlwind of destruction aimed solely at Tessia's regenerating vines. I moved like a farmer scything wheat, blade flashing in horizontal, vertical, and diagonal arcs, a relentless silver storm.
Thick cords parted with wet THWACKS, sap flying. The air filled with the sharp, green scent of butchered vegetation. The regenerating mass of vines was reduced to nothing more than stumps in seconds.
Claire lunged at my exposed flank, rapier a streak of silver aiming for my ribs. My focus was absolute. I saw the thrust coming in my peripheral vision. Instead of parrying, I moved inside the thrust, my left hand snapping out with viper speed.
My fingers locked around her wrist again, halting the rapier's deadly point inches from my side. Using her momentum against her, I pivoted, my body becoming the fulcrum, and hurled her with all my augmented strength towards Tessia.
"I didn't think you would really do it, Grey," Corvis's voice cut through the din, calm, almost conversational.
I turned, my breath catching. He stood alone now, slightly apart. His right index finger was tracing a specific, intricate pattern across the swirling lines of the tattoo on his forearm. The tattoo reacted. Where his finger passed, the ink seemed to writhe, glowing with an intense, internal white light. It wasn't fire, or lightning, or any conventional element.
It was pure, condensed mana, drawn from whatever reserves the tattoo siphoned and stored, shaped by the pattern he traced. The surface of his Ineptrune sizzled, crackling with unstable white sparks that spat tiny bolts of energy into the air around his arm.
Before I could react, he thrust his finger forward. A thin, blindingly bright beam of pure white energy lanced across the distance. It hissed like molten metal dropped in water, leaving a faint ozone trail.
I brought Dawn's Ballad up in a diagonal parry, aiming to intercept the beam before it struck my center mass.
The blade moved with great speed. But at the last possible millisecond, mere inches from the shimmering silver edge, the beam bent. Not much, just a subtle, impossible curve. Instead of hitting the blade or my chest, it streaked past my guard and struck with pinpoint accuracy the thick, padded safety gear protecting my left knee.
A sharp, localized BZZZT! A jolt, not painful, but intensely startling, shot through my leg. The gear's embedded spells flared a brilliant, universal red, a beacon signaling a disabling or potentially lethal hit within the rules of the mock battle.
"The match is over!" Professor Glory's voice boomed from above, amplified by magic, cutting through the sudden silence that followed the beam's hiss and the gear's alarm.
I stood frozen, Dawn's Ballad still raised mid-parry, staring at my knee where the harmless red light pulsed. The courtyard was utterly silent except for the heavy breathing of the combatants and the faint crackle of dying embers from Claire's earlier attacks.
Dumbfounded simply didn't begin to cover it. Corvis hadn't been attacking me; he had been attacking the rules. He had exploited the safety mechanisms, using a precision-guided pulse of raw energy to trigger the gear. That was… anticlimactic.
'Papa is only jealous because he got outsmarted!' Sylvie's voice was a bright ribbon of amusement amidst my bitterness. No, I am not jealous… I protested weakly, even as the thought formed: if that was a real battle it wouldn't have worked! But the immediate counter-thought was brutal: If it was a real battle, I would have won immediately.
Corvis had played the scenario perfectly—knowing he couldn't win against me he decided to fight the system itself.
"What's with the long face, Grey?" Professor Glory landed lightly beside me, her flare hawk bond circling high above. Her expression was a mix of professional assessment and genuine surprise.
"You are surprised too, Professor Glory." My voice sounded flat to my own ears. The tactical ingenuity, the sheer audacity…
"You can bet I am!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she looked from me to Corvis, clearly impressed by the unconventional victory.
The heavy silence was shattered by a solid THUD. Not the crash of magic, but the dull, heavy sound of a body hitting the ground.
"Corvis!" Tessia's scream was pure, undiluted panic. She sprinted past me, skidding to her knees beside his prone form. The shock of the ending evaporated instantly. Everyone surged forward, a wave of confused concern.
Glory's professional mask slammed back into place, her voice cutting through the rising murmur like a blade.
"Call the infirmary and bring him there! Now!" Her command brooked no argument, the authority of the battlefield veteran snapping everyone into action.
The mock battle was forgotten; a different kind of urgency gripped the courtyard. That was why I wanted to end that quickly.