Chapter 356: First Battle

After Liya’s “cleansing” with holy light, the two of them probed this village once more.

They still did not find the slightest danger or anomaly. Rather, every single house enshrined a statue of the Goddess, from which the piety of the original inhabitants could be seen.

Aside from that, the long passage of time had already made it hard to discern the place’s original face; it was basically impossible to discover any useful clues.

After that, around the village, they found “chicken,” “fish,” and all kinds of meat-like fruits.

“No wonder there isn’t even the slightest trace of farmland. In a place like this, you simply don’t need to painstakingly plant anything.”

The sort of food that only the “rich” and “upper classes” could afford in the outside world could here be obtained with a mere stretch of the hand.

“Thinking of it that way, it really is happiness, but it’s the kind of happiness I don’t dare to try casually.”

Muen let out a weightless sigh, casually tossed aside those exquisite foods, and looked at Liya:

“Let’s go. There shouldn’t be any more useful gains here. We keep moving.”

“Okay.”

Liya nodded hard; from just now, she had seemed very happy.

...

Kanteville had no sun, and naturally no concept of hours.

In fact, from the moment Muen entered these ruins until now, the intensity of the light he felt had not changed at all.

Morning, noon, and dusk seemed simply not to exist here.

But when, for the sake of keeping time, the hand of the pocket watch he had zeroed upon entry had walked six hours, he finally saw, emerging from the other side of the open field, the outline of a town.

“As expected—since there are villages, there’ll be larger gathering points, namely, towns?”

The two came to the edge of the town and cautiously looked inward.

“But it’s abandoned again.”

Liya looked left and right. This town was likewise abandoned, overgrown with weeds; in the deep darkness, it was as if countless shadows lurked.

Aside from the strange graffiti on the walls that could still attract the eye, this town likewise showed nothing special.

Thus whether it was she or Muen, their gazes quickly left this silent town and fell upon what lay behind it... that enormous high wall.

“This is...the wall the Church mentioned that severs the inside, right?”

“Mm, it should be. The Saintess-teacher told me that the Church’s exploration only stayed in the outer region not only because the ruins are fragile, but because this wall cut off the road forward. If you want to enter, you have to open a passage.”

“A passage? Something like a gate? Using other methods...shouldn’t work, right.”

Muen lifted his head; his sight traced along the wall and he let out a sigh.

The higher the wall went, the more its color faded, and by the back half it had completely blended into the background of the sky.

So only now did Muen realize that this wall was terrifyingly tall—possibly directly connected to Kanteville’s “sky,” dividing this entire realm into inner and outer zones.

He didn’t know the purpose of this wall, but it was obvious that trickery would not work. If they wanted to make progress, they had to break through head-on.

“Looks like the area under this wall is the place where all the participants will contest the fiercest.”

Muen rubbed his chin, his eyes flashing slightly.

The vast outer region made it hard for participants to encounter each other; that he had not seen anyone else during these full six hours since entry showed as much.

But so long as there remained the intention to go deeper into the ruins, the participants would inevitably meet under this wall.

Including the saintess candidates and their knights.

“In any case, let’s go in first. While there’s no one else, we might seize the initiative.”

“Mm... eh? Muen, Muen, look there!”

Just as Muen was about to walk into the town, Liya at his side suddenly let out a soft cry and nervously grabbed his sleeve.

Muen followed the direction of her finger, and his gaze immediately tightened.

Right at the town’s outskirts, under the wall of a courtyard not far from Muen, a figure was sitting against the wall, utterly silent—so much so that Muen hadn’t noticed at first glance.

But on closer look, that was not a person—or rather, not a living one.

It was...

“A corpse?”

In the wall’s shadow, that pale face was full of terror; in the wide, lifeless eyes, the pupils were already scattered, yet still leaked a fierce, bitter hatred.

It was a male, seemingly dead not long ago; warm blood still flowed from the hole in his forehead.

“An original inhabitant?”

“No. From the clothing, he should be an outsider like us.”

Muen cautiously approached and examined the wounds on the body.

The man’s clothes were still neat, appearing to be some kind of uniform, and the only visible external injury was the hole in his forehead.

There were no traces of fighting nearby, either.

In other words... he was killed with one blow?

But anyone qualified to take part in this ceremony was no ordinary figure. What kind of enemy had he faced to be killed head-on in an instant with a single strike?

Liya’s little face tightened; she seemed to understand the terror within, and looked at Muen in alarm.

“What do we do?”

“I think...”

Zheng—

Before the words fell.

The question from a moment ago was answered in an instant.

A sharp tearing-of-air twang suddenly rang out, like a talon violently rending the air, aimed at the prey that had waited so long and finally stepped into the trap, exuding bone-chilling cold and killing intent.

“Muen, careful!”

Liya’s cry and the icy arrow arrived almost at the same time, but before that, Muen’s figure had already, as if pre-judging, moved a few centimeters to the side without leaving a trace.

The arrow easily tore open his battle-aura defense and scraped past his cheek; if not for those few centimeters, he would already be pinned through the skull like the corpse beneath the wall.

“An arrow that can easily pierce battle aura... a magic arrow?”

Muen’s gaze shifted slightly; he cast a grave glance at the arrow behind him that had in an instant shredded an entire house into pieces.

Huge power, swift assault. Based on what he himself could feel, that arrow had had many attributes placed upon it: anti-magic, concealment, armor-shattering, virulence, flame, and more.

Most importantly, before that near-at-hand tearing sound had risen, his death premonition... had failed again.

This was very rare. The last assassination had been an assassin masking killing intent at the cost of sealing his cultivation; but for a long-range sniping like this, who would be stupid enough to bind their own hands?

If they likewise sealed their cultivation, they probably couldn’t even draw the bow.

So, was it the arrow that was special... or the person?

Muen arched a brow and turned his head toward the depths of the shadows.

“To present such a precious gift right at the start—this truly leaves me flattered.”

“Flattered? I’m the one who should be scared.”

Out of the shadows walked a young man in a silver uniform with a beast emblem pinned to his chest. He held a longbow, looked at Muen, and showed a hunter’s cruel smile:

“To actually dodge this ambush, pretty-boy from Princess Celicia’s house... you don’t seem to be the harmless little rabbit of the rumors.”

“Pretty-boy...”

A vein twitched on Muen’s forehead:

“Sir, while I admit I possess a peerless handsome face that countless men envy, casually calling me by some hearsay nickname is very impolite, you know.”

“Is that so? Sorry—my rakishness.”

The young man nodded earnestly, as if recognizing the impropriety of his words: “Then please exit the stage together with your saintess-candidate miss, Mr. Scumbag-With-Your-Feet-On-Thirteen-Boats.”

“...That’s just the newspapers’ fabrication.” Muen gnashed his teeth.

“Is it?”

The young man blinked, fished out a small booklet from who-knew-where, and frowned:

“But the intel on you I bought from a weird mascot-bear records it in great detail. Every single battleship is recorded from start to finish—especially that segment about sinking a Dreadnought-class battleship. It’s the most ups-and-downs realistic emotional drama I’ve ever read!”

“Hah?... Mascot-bear?”

Muen’s eye twitched. In the corner of the booklet in the young man’s hand, that hand-drawn pink bear-face seemed to be laughing at him...

Pink Bear!!

Bastard!!

So you weren’t only slandering me in the newspapers, huh?!

If I don’t repay this, I’m no gentleman; I’ll make sure to spike one of yours later, hard!

“Forget it. Though it cost a full thousand Aemir, it’s not important at a time like this. Muen Campbell, your biggest mistake was that, for the sake of showing off, you revealed your strength early in front of others.”

The young man tossed the booklet aside, drew bow and nocked arrow, and sneered:

“Sometimes, weakness is an advantage. But no wild wolf will tolerate a sheep waggling its ass in front of it—let alone when what you represent is the Empire and the God-Servant Knight!”

The young man let go. The bowstring thundered. A second tearing wind howled again!

Unlike before, Muen this time felt a huge amount of mana on it!

“Liya, get down!”

Muen took the opening to let Liya evade for the moment—only, in the instant he turned his head, he met Liya’s tense and resentful gaze:

“Muen, c-could it be that having your feet on thirteen boats is true?”

“False!”

Muen roared, eyes stinging.

What the hell—didn’t you say you believed me before? Why waver at a time like this!

How could I be that capable? Up to now I’ve only had my feet on...

No—this isn’t the time to be thinking about that!

A violent explosion burst from the point of impact; scorching heat swept out like a flaming tornado.

Fortunately, although Liya asked that, her movements didn’t slow; relying on holy light, she smoothly avoided the attack.

But in the billowing smoke, an even denser and more terrifying surge of mana came again.

“To think you dodged again? Looks like I’ll have to be a bit serious.”

Not far away, came the young man’s regretful soft sigh.

This time, the source of mana was not the arrow, but... chanting!

“Muen, careful—the emblem on his chest just now... that’s the Summoning School...”

Liya’s voice cut off, drowned beneath a swelling chorus of high-pitched chant.

Muen’s pupils shrank; he swept aside the smoke—but the figure on the other side was not Liya, it was...

A pouncing monster!

Like a wild wolf, the monster rose on ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) hind legs; razor claws stirred a bloody wind that could rend steel!

This was...

A magical beast?

Muen’s pupils tightened abruptly; Shadow Step fired. His figure flickered and he slipped past the beast’s lunge.

But dodging the strike didn’t let him breathe easier; on the contrary, his mood grew heavier.

The smoke settled, and the surroundings entered his eyes.

One vicious magical beast after another was at this moment stepping out from the shadows of those desolate buildings, slowly encircling Muen.

Atop a tall building, a beast radiating a tyrant’s ferocity threw back its head and howled to the sky, deafening.

“Summoning School... you’re a summoning-type mage?”

Muen dodged another pounce and, in passing, thrust Elizabeth into its vitals.

But even with its neck pierced and blood gushing, the beast’s ferocity did not lessen; face twisted, it snapped at Muen.

Muen flashed again, frowning toward the uniformed young man.

“By yourself, you can summon this many magical beasts?”

Information on summoning-type magic surfaced in Muen’s mind.

He was no longer a magic blank slate; after cramming madly in this period, although in practice he could still only use one Illumination spell, his theoretical knowledge had made great strides.

Which was why he was surprised.

Summoning magic—what is summoned is either contracted beasts, or terrifying beings from the Abyssal Sea, or magical constructs.

But whatever the type, it is closely tied to the caster’s mana level.

Yet, with just the mana of a Third Rank mage...

Muen glanced across the numbers that were growing by the moment—he was already completely surrounded; there were roughly a hundred beasts.

That number... was too frightening.

“Heh, isn’t this the difference between genius and ordinary men?”

The young man flashed a wild, unrestrained sneer, as if looking down on a struggling ant:

“Keep struggling. I’ll enjoy it here.”

“Genius? Ordinary?”

Muen ignored him, only turned his head to look around:

“So, Liya too—did you make her disappear with your genius magic?”

“Heh heh, who knows...”

The young man cocked his head. Following his gaze, Muen saw that on the other side of the wall, there was likewise an area surrounded by beasts, from which holy light flickered from time to time, along with a maiden’s cries.

“Perhaps...”

Seeing this, the young man’s smile grew ever more arrogant, as if to turn into a knife to stab Muen’s heart:

“The one you protect is about to leave the stage in misery, Sir Knight.”

“...”

Muen’s expression sank at once. He glanced that way again and said nothing—only his speed suddenly increased!

A dozen beasts pounced together like a great net falling from the sky, leaving no space to dodge.

But Muen did not dodge. A sharp knife-light burst from the seams between flesh and blood.

In an instant, it opened a path.

Blood sprayed like a violent rain.

“Mm?”

For the first time, the young man showed a hint of surprise, but quickly calmed:

“You’ve surprised me again, Muen Campbell.”

He beckoned, and more beasts walked out of the dark to replenish that negligible loss.

Muen’s figure slid rapidly; his knife-light was keen, but the beasts seemed endless.

Encircled by beasts, Muen at this moment looked exceedingly small and fragile.

Like a little boat on the sea, liable to capsize at any time.

“Not bad, not bad. With the strength you’re showing now, you indeed had the courage to provoke that night. I just wonder, how long can you last? Or do you prefer listening to your saintess-lady’s screams?”

The young man laughed heartily. On the other side, the maiden’s cries had turned to shrieks; now and then flesh flew out from the beast-ring, dragging a corner of a white skirt with it.

“...”

But Muen still kept a blank face and said not a word.

He only made his body-shift faster and faster, swiftly dodging the beasts’ encirclement, and when he couldn’t avoid it, he opened a path with the knife-light.

Like a tireless machine.

Only, as he slid along, he suddenly lifted his head and looked at the young man.

“Mm?”

The young man, who was aiming Muen with a magic arrow to give him the final blow at any time, furrowed his brow slightly.

A strange feeling rose in his heart: Muen’s figure had blurred for a split second; but when he focused, Muen was still inside the beast-ring—only closer than before.

His illusion?

The young man banished stray thoughts and continued to seek a kill-shot.

And then, Muen looked at him again, very deeply.

This time, there was a strange expression on his face.

He looked again; Muen’s expression grew stranger, then he lowered his head slightly, as if thinking.

“So that’s how it is.”

As if he had figured it out, Muen suddenly stopped, to the young man’s surprise.

Stopped—inside the ring of savage beasts.

Muen casually twirled Elizabeth, made a flourish to flick off the beasts’ blood, faced the young man, and said unhurriedly:

“So you... are not a summoning mage at all.”

“What?”

“Rather...”

Muen thought again, then confirmed:

“Illusion?”

...

...

“Whoa? So lively?”

When Pink Bear, hugging an extra-large bucket of popcorn, came to the seats belonging to Saint Maria Academy, he happened to see two white-bearded old men not far away already red in the face and grabbing at each other.

“Huo Gu, you old dog, I’ve put up with your Illusion School long enough! Damn it—your students masquerading as my Summoning School to make trouble again! Our Summoning students can’t find wives—it’s all your fault!”

“Bullshit! Dodge, don’t you spit blood! Who the hell told you lot to be with those stinking beasts every day? You treat beasts more seriously than women! You can’t find wives and you blame us? You think we want to pretend to be you? It’s we who’d lose face!”

“Nonsense! What do you mean ‘stinking beasts’? That’s companionship and bonds! You lot who only grin at paper cutouts and fabricated beauties—what the hell do you understand!”

“You’re the one who understands nothing! We’re studying how to construct women perfectly inside illusions to achieve the effect of numbing the enemy!”

Pink Bear stuffed popcorn in mouthfuls. Lately flush with cash, he was so extravagant he didn’t care when popcorn spilled all over the floor. Eyes shining, he watched as these two elders—pillars of the magic world—went from cursing to rolling up sleeves to brawl... and the fallout of this “fierce battle” wasn’t even on the level of aunties selling vegetables by the roadside.

“Alright, you two.”

A voice as gentle as a spring breeze sounded, and in an instant the thick smell of gunpowder in the air eased a lot.

The Saintess still wore a smile as she looked at them:

“Please don’t let others become a laughingstock of us, okay? And... this is the Church.”

“Hmph!”

“Heh!”

The two blew whiskers and glared at each other, but in the end, for the Church’s sake, returned to their seats.

Whether by intent or accident, their seats had been adjacent all along.

“What’s this about? So exciting?”

Once the squabble calmed, Pink Bear wore an expression of regret that it hadn’t continued, and kept stuffing popcorn.

“Look there.”

Beside him, Marquis Angus of the Empire’s delegation pointed toward the center.

At this moment, in the middle of this not-large hall where seat after seat held figures of great renown, a light-screen was broadcasting a live feed of what was happening in Kanteville.

And on the screen right now, it was...

“That brat Muen?”

Pink Bear blinked.

“Already fighting someone?”

“Bored for hours—first battle.”

Marquis Angus took out a handkerchief and coughed once.

“So a lot of people are paying attention.”

“Is that so?”

Pink Bear stroked his chin. “But that kid doesn’t look good.”

On the screen, Muen’s figure was swift, his knife-light sharp.

But to these spectators, Muen was completely... hacking at air.

That’s right—hacking air.

At the moment there was no enemy at all before him, yet he was swinging the twin blades fiercely as if to chop something to pieces.

“Illusion? So that’s it.”

Pink Bear stroked his chin; he understood the reason for those two elders’ spat.

In the Origin Tower, the Illusion School and Summoning School had long-standing grievances.

The reason was that Illusion mages loved to masquerade as Summoners to make trouble. After all, if you’re talking about scary, few things beat being able to summon terrifying beasts or monsters at will.

Because of their style, the Illusion School had a notorious reputation, which indirectly made the Summoning School notorious too... and Summoners had long held a grudge.

Thus whenever the two schools met, they basically brawled.

But at this moment, few paid attention to the dispute between the schools; most eyes were on the screen before them.

“What a pity—stepping into a trap without the slightest wariness. Still too young,” someone sighed.

“He didn’t even realize it’s an illusion. It’s a dead end. The people the Leopold Empire sent this time aren’t as excellent as imagined.”

“I heard the very top Princess Celicia and a student named Ariel didn’t come.”

“Will the first eliminated saintess candidate be decided now? So fast.”

“This time the Illusion School’s student really is exceptionally outstanding.”

Some people turned to congratulate the elder named Huo Gu:

“His name’s Ailag, right? To lay out multiple illusions so proficiently—such talent is enviable.”

“Where, where. That brat Ailag is only so-so.”

Huo Gu waved a modest hand, but he had already straightened his back, stroking his beard, face radiant as he laughed:

“Some details still aren’t handled well; he needs more hammering. Heh-heh, ‘more hammering’—that’s to say only when facing a nameless opponent like this can he...”

“Eh?”

Suddenly, someone cried out.

More craned their necks and widened their eyes.

And at Huo Gu’s side, Dodge Slore—who had once represented the Origin Tower in that affair at Belrand—spat a mouthful of tea the moment Huo Gu said “nameless,” and looked strangely at Huo Gu.

“Mm?”

Huo Gu, thinking his own student held a sure win, finally noticed something; he couldn’t help but look toward the screen again.

His expression gradually sank, even turned incredulous.

“That brat...”

...

...

“You’re not a summoning mage at all.”

Facing Ailag—whose expression was as dark as his teacher’s—Muen smiled and said, word by word:

“What you cast... is illusion!”

“You...”

Panic flickered in Ailag’s eyes; he rasped:

“How did you discover it? Did my illusion show a flaw?”

“No. Your illusion is perfect.”

Muen’s fingertip brushed his cheek.

The sting of the arrow.

The menace of the beasts.

The stench of blood.

Everything was perfect.

“But.”

Muen toyed with the snow-white short blade, looked at that genius of illusion, and chuckled:

“I’ve clearly hacked you a dozen times, yet you didn’t notice at all—no pain, no blood...”

“Therefore, if it isn’t fake, what is it?”