Chapter 107: What the Hell, Why Is It You?
“What?!” Kyle’s pupils contracted sharply, his face full of disbelief. He felt an indescribable chill travel up through the blade. It did not rely freeze his fire Mana—it even began invading the ridians in his arm, bringing a piercing cold and numbing stiffness that bored straight into the bone.
And Ryan moved the instant he blocked that supposedly lethal punch.
His wrist gave only the slightest tremor, so small it was nearly invisible.
But with that tiny motion, the tip of the deep blue sword seed to co alive. It traced a mysterious, frigid arc of light and slipped soundlessly through the gap in Kyle’s punch, a gap opened by his shock and montary lapse. With perfect precision, it struck toward the core where Kyle’s Mana was gathering in his chest—the central point of those dark crimson patterns.
Fast. Precise.
Every hair on Kyle’s body stood on end. The sense of mortal danger made him roar like a beast. Ignoring the numb stiffness in his arm, he retreated with all his strength while frantically gathering the remnants of his fire Mana to defend his chest.
But he was still a fraction too slow.
Pfft.
With a soft sound, the tip of the deep blue sword pierced through the hastily gathered flaming armor and sank half an inch into the dark crimson pattern on Kyle’s chest. No blood splashed out. Instead, an incomparably concentrated frigid sword aura slipped through the tip like a venomous snake and burrowed into Kyle’s body.
“Urgh—!”
Kyle let out a muffled cry of pain. His whole body flew backward as though struck by a heavy blow. The terrifying state of Flafiend’s Embrace around him collapsed at once like a candle guttering in the wind. The dark crimson patterns rapidly faded, revealing skin beneath that had already been frozen to a bruised bluish-purple.
He crashed heavily to the ground several ters away. He struggled to rise, only to feel a terrifying cold spread from his chest through every limb and bone. It was as if even his blood were beginning to freeze. The flow of Mana in his body had descended into complete chaos. Forget fighting—even staying conscious was becoming difficult.
Lying there on the ground, he stared ahead in utter horror.
Ryan had already withdrawn his sword and was standing still once more. The deep blue blade slanted toward the ground, unstained by even the slightest trace of blood. Only strands of frigid white mist rose slowly from it.
He stood there, his breathing steady, as though that astonishing sword strike that had overturned the battle had been no more than casually brushing away a fallen leaf.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves overhead and fell in broken patches across the deep blue blade and Ryan’s calm profile, outlining a beauty that was difficult to describe—cold and powerful.
Lillian and Rex had long since gone rigid with shock. Their mouths hung open, yet for a long ti not a single sound erged.
That last exchange—swift as a startled rabbit springing up, with ice and fire clashing wildly—especially the pressure and impact of that deep blue longsword appearing on the field, had carved itself deeply into their minds.
Ryan paid no attention to their shock, nor did he look at Kyle, who had collapsed and lost the ability to fight. His gaze had fallen on the rune that had rolled out from Kyle’s chest when his empowered state dissolved.
It was pure white from end to end, without a single marking on its surface, yet it emitted a strange fluctuation.
That fluctuation was completely different from the eleven kinds of runes he had collected before.
Empty, and yet seemingly capable of containing everything.
The twelfth rune.
The hum of the deep blue longsword being sheathed was especially clear in the silent forest.
Ryan walked over to the fallen Kyle and crouched beside him. He had secretly circulated his Mana and dispelled most of the frigid sword aura in Kyle’s chest, but the remaining frost injury and chaotic Mana still left the senior student from the Interdiate Departnt with a bluish face and trembling lips.
Without a word, Ryan took out a flat little tal box from his backpack and opened it. Inside was a semi-solid pale green ointnt that gave off a cool herbal fragrance.
He scooped out a small amount with his finger and held it out in front of Kyle.
Kyle coughed twice, coughing up a little white breath flecked with ice crystals.
He looked at the ointnt, then raised his eyes to Ryan’s calm, unreadable gaze that seed to see through everything. At first he was stunned. Then he bared his teeth in a sowhat helpless, awkward smile.
“So you saw right through it…” he muttered in a low voice. His voice still shook sowhat, but the earlier viciousness had completely disappeared.
He knew that the fierce, nacing act he had put on earlier had probably already been seen through completely by this third-year junior.
Ryan said nothing. He rely extended the ointnt a little closer.
Kyle stopped putting on airs, accepted the salve, and briskly applied it to the place on his chest where the sword tip had struck, as well as to several frostbitten patches on his arm. The instant the ointnt touched his skin, a gentle warmth spread quickly through him, driving away the cold, calming the disorder in his Mana, and allowing the wounds to begin closing and scabbing over at a speed visible to the naked eye.
The effect was astonishingly good. It was clearly high-grade stuff.
“Thanks, Junior.” Kyle felt much better and let out a long breath. Seeing the hand Ryan offered him, he reached out as well and used the support to stand up.
He brushed the dirt and bits of frost from his clothes and rolled his still sowhat stiff shoulder. His gaze toward Ryan had grown more complicated, but what showed through most strongly was relief at having completed his task… and lingering fear.
“You hit pretty hard… but your strength is the real deal.” Kyle looked Ryan over, especially the longsword that had already been wrapped back up behind him. “You almost really crippled . Junior, what’s your na? For soone like you to be in the third year of the Lower Division, it’s strange I’ve hardly heard of you.”
“Ryan Velt,” Ryan answered.
Kyle, who had just been smoothing out his sleeve, froze abruptly as though soone had hit him with a paralysis spell.
He slowly turned his head, eyes wide as saucers, his face full of disbelief. “…Who? What did you say your na was? Ryan Velt? That… Ryan Velt from the Lower Division?”
“Mm.” Ryan nodded, looking at the senior sowhat strangely as his expression changed so dramatically.
“No, wait—hold on!” Kyle felt as though his brain was no longer keeping up. “Didn’t you choose the Magic Tool Application specialization? Professor Ferguson’s one!”
“Yes,” Ryan confird again.
Kyle’s expression imdiately beca indescribably vivid, like soone who had swallowed a live frog whole, or who had suddenly learned that he had just tap-danced on the doorstep of the underworld.
His mouth twitched as he muttered to himself, “What the hell… this really is insane.”
Ryan Velt was the kind of monster who, back in the first year of the Lower Division, had already been able to pin down Eleanor Astrea and beat her senseless. And Eleanor was now publicly acknowledged as the strongest in the Interdiate Departnt. In other words, Eleanor could now beat the Interdiate Departnt flat.
He had chosen a Magi-Engineering specialization, yet his close combat was even nastier than Kyle’s own, despite Kyle being a dedicated magic–martial specialist. And on top of that, he had hidden away such a bizarre sword.
“…If I’d known it was you, why the hell would I have bothered acting at all? I should have just laid down and surrendered from the start!”
As he rembered all the rumors surrounding this junior—especially the recent one claiming he had pinned down the Sword Duke’s daughter and beaten her again—Kyle suddenly felt that the lingering chill in his chest was nothing compared to the fear now climbing rapidly upward inside him.
Fighting a monster like this and still lying here in one piece already counted as the other side showing restraint and, on top of that, seeing through the truth of the situation.
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