Episode 41

Rare treasures like ancient relics were not easily obtained.
And now, half-destroyed by a previous attack, it was plain to see it would be completely shattered if struck again.
“Stop him! Protect the relic!”
“I go veiled by night!”
Ihan recited his spell.
As he vanished into the darkness, the attackers ground their teeth.
He’d blocked the attempt to kill the wizard, and now this priest brat was proving to be a real nuisance.
“He can fight. He must be a battle priest assigned to guard the mage! I’ll handle him myself!”
With a wild misunderstanding, the leader of the attackers dashed toward the relic.
He thought if he left it unattended, things would fall apart.
“Move!”
Running, Ihan threw the steel ball he’d received from Professor Voladi and chanted his spell.
Normally, for beginners who’d just learned magic, casting spells under such emergency conditions was taboo.
Even skilled mages untrained for combat often failed under pressure or excitement; for novices it was even more disastrous, sometimes causing magical backlash or harming themselves.
But Professor Voladi had never bothered warning Ihan about that.
—If you want to be a battle mage, you have to go through this. Why warn you? Overcome it yourself.
…Consequently, Ihan chanted the spell without even realizing he was taking a dangerous gamble.
And, amazingly, this gamble succeeded.
Just as Professor Voladi had judged, Ihan truly performed best when in danger.
Pop!
The steel ball under Low-level Manipulation floated up.
Ordinarily, it should’ve moved weakly and slowly, but powered by Ihan’s immense mana, it now moved with strength that surpassed a simple low-level spell.
‘Go!’
With Ihan’s intent, the steel ball shot forth like a bullet.
In the dark, from invisibility, it was nearly impossible to react to the oncoming attack.
With a ‘thwack’, the pursuing attacker was knocked back.
“Careful! He’s using weapons!”
“He’s good in a fight! Watch out!”
The attackers drew their swords, on high alert.
Ihan, retrieving the ball, felt his brain tingling and burning.
While his body kept running, he was mentally controlling the ball at the same time.
‘Focus… I need focus!’
As crazy as Voladi was, his words were true: real combat is what helps you grow.
…Ihan was experiencing firsthand what that meant.
Far more effective than spinning a ball in the classroom, fighting for his life was rapidly honing his skill.
With every shot, grab, spin, and release, he felt his control increasing!
‘!’
Suddenly, Ihan was surprised by the taste of blood. He licked his lips and realized his nose was bleeding.
His mana was fine.
He’d simply overstressed his mind.
Crack!
With a flash of swordlight, the steel ball split in two and fell.
The enemy leader had timed his swing perfectly.
“Follow the footprints! You’ll find him by tracking his steps!”
‘Damn. So close.’
Ihan gritted his teeth at the sight of the relic only a few meters ahead.
Just charging in, he could probably destroy it, but the three remaining attackers firmly blocked the way.
“I smell blood. Follow the scent!”
Hearing that, Ihan knew the longer this dragged on, the worse it’d get for him.
No matter how much sword practice he’d had, his real combat experience couldn’t compare to theirs.
He had to strike first, now, while he had the advantage.
Swords swung and blood spattered. One attacker, never expecting an ambush, collapsed in surprise.
“There!”
Shhwack!
The attackers pulled something from their sleeves and scattered it. Glittering powder. Even if he didn’t know what it was, Ihan could guess it’d mess with his invisibility if hit.
He rolled out of the way without hesitation.
“Damn it!”
Even after the glowing powder failed to reveal him, the attackers cursed. He was no ordinary nuisance.
“Stay calm. Don’t lower your guard and he won’t get you.”
The leader spoke cautiously.
No matter how much invisibility he used, moving and attacking would make sound.
As long as they focused, they’d pick it up.
‘Where’d he go?’
But there was no sound.
Even the blood scent was gone.
Thunk!
“?!”
“That bastard…!”
Approaching close to the downed attacker, another was caught off guard in a sudden ambush and fell.
Only then did the leader realize how Ihan had hidden his blood scent.
He’d pretended to move away, then actually hid by the puddle of the first attacker’s blood.
The leader forgot himself and honestly admired it.
Magic aside, this kid was truly clever in a fight. No amount of training helped if you didn’t have the brains for it.
“Move!”
“Guh!”
At the sound of spellcasting in the air, an attacker hurriedly ducked his head. The leader shouted sharply.
“Idiot! It’s a fake spell!”
Too late. The last minion fell.
Instead of getting angry, the leader simply grinned oddly and raised his sword.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen an opponent like you. My name’s Garakse.”
Ihan didn’t answer. The leader nodded as if to himself, not surprised.
Anyone who dropped their guard to answer questions like that wouldn’t have survived this far.
“You probably think I can’t see you. Relying on that paltry magic.”
Clang!
“But you’re already visible to me.”
He wasn’t bluffing. Ihan was amazed how accurately Garakse swung his sword in his direction.
“You may hide your scent, but you can’t hold your breath forever.”
“…!”
He was tracking his position by the sound of breathing?
Ihan was dumbfounded.
He had heard masters could exceed human limits, but this was beyond imagination.
Garakse’s swordwork started to limit Ihan’s movements, the strikes blooming out to fill the air.
The style wasn’t “phantom blade” (幻劍), but “fragmented blade” (渙劍)—the attacks scattered and pressed forward, chaining together to limit Ihan’s options.
Ihan responded with his own heavy-blade style, but Garakse’s swordsmanship was superior.
Each clash of blades made Ihan feel increasingly on the defensive. Without invisibility magic, he’d be overwhelmed instantly.
What’s more, the shock that came with each clash was enormous.
‘Is this a technique that Alarlong told me about?’
A veteran swordsman could channel mana into their blade, not just swing with strength, but surpass physical limits with magical power.
Garakse, too, seemed to be charging his sword with mana, sending shock through at every clash.
‘I’ll force my mana into the blade!’
With determination, Ihan drew out his mana.
After awakening to magic, he was much better at handling and moving his mana.
As if casting a spell, he channeled mana into the sword.
Bang!
“!?”
Garakse was startled by the sudden change in his opponent’s attack.
‘Who is this kid?’
Ihan’s swordsmanship was truly impressive.
Even Garakse, who had fought and defeated countless imperial swordsmen, had to admit it.
And it wasn’t just technique—his mindset was remarkable.
Those who fancied themselves decent with a blade often lost their heads when faced with a stronger foe, and fell quickly; but not Ihan.
Recognizing Garakse’s strength, he set aside any pride and went fully on the defensive.
That was not something just anyone could do.
In a fight for your life, who could give up trying to win and focus solely on not losing?
It could easily end with being cut down without ever doing anything.
But Ihan made that choice, and Garakse respected that.
But Ihan was still lacking power.
Even with good technique, against a swordsman like Garakse who could freely channel mana, he was outmatched.
Plus, Ihan’s style was for heavier blades—normally, that would overpower Garakse’s more agile style, but being unable to win in power left no chance for victory.
…But suddenly the force behind his sword increased.
So much that he began to overpower Garakse!
What was going on?
‘Was he holding back all this time? What’s his game? Why all the power now?’
For the first time, Garakse dropped his cool, becoming flustered.
A swordsman who could send mana into his blade had no reason to fake weakness.
Suddenly, the opponent he thought he’d easily defeat now felt distant.
‘Is this right?’
Even as he madly poured mana into his sword, Ihan doubted.
This attack pattern was the exact opposite of everything he’d learned in swordsmanship so far.
Swordplay wasn’t just swinging—he was supposed to be ready to parry instantly. The enemy wouldn’t just stand there and take a swing.
But now he was dropping every stance and focusing solely on attacking.
With so much mana flooding into the blade, he couldn’t manage more complex moves.
‘Is this really right?!’
And in fact, Ihan’s doubts were justified.
This wasn’t proper swordsmanship.
To channel mana into a blade wasn’t just about pouring it in and letting it explode—it was about circulating it, sending it through the blade and back through the body.
Even then, it caused considerable strain and fatigue, but to just pour mana in without cycling it?
He was basically using a self-destructive technique—it would be no surprise if he vomited blood and collapsed.
If he hadn’t been under invisibility, Garakse would have realized how extreme his tactics were.
Then Garakse would have figured out how reckless Ihan was being.
But with the invisibility spell, the unseen opponent shook Garakse’s resolve.
Impossible to judge!
Had he stayed calm, Garakse might have won, but instead he took each blow in panic and was pushed back.
Crrrack—
“?”
Just as Ihan overwhelmed his opponent, he heard an ominous sound from his sword.
He thought he’d misheard, but it was real.
‘…This is bad!’
The sword, unable to withstand the mana, was beginning to break.
‘Who uses such a cheap sword!’
The attackers’ swords were, in fact, high-quality imperial blades, but Ihan didn’t know that.
He just shamelessly complained without thinking about how much mana he was pouring in.
‘I’ll end it before it breaks!’
He couldn’t slacken now, or he’d be overpowered again.
Better to go all in and finish it.
Ihan resolved to end it in one stroke, pouring mana into the sword like mad.
Garakse, gritting his teeth, drew another blade.
Made of black-violet stone, it was a sword with mana-absorbing properties.
For a swordsman to have to draw this blade was a humiliation, but he could not lose.
‘I’ll subdue him with this!’
Suddenly, there was a sharp crack.
And now, the unseen sword appeared, its shape restored by wild surges of mana and sparks.
It wasn’t aura, nor was it magic—an odd, violent energy shaped itself into a blade in midair.
Boom!!!!
Even the mana-absorbing black-violet blade was useless.
Like a wave, Ihan’s attack smashed Garakse.