Chapter 70

Chapter 70
Leetanka, a combatant of F-rank who had entered this free-for-all, genuinely believed he stood a chance against Count Palatio.

Naturally, this was not due to any disregard for Alon’s capabilities.

However ignorant Alon might be of worldly affairs, it was foolish to dismiss the now-notorious Count Palatio.

His reasoning was straightforward—the Count was a mage.

Fundamentally, magicians require a preparation period to invoke their arts.

The more advanced the spell, the quicker the incantation, yet a brief lag was always present.

Within the confines of this arena, Leetanka was sure this momentary delay would provide fighters an opening to attack.

This was why, despite his anxiety, he held onto the belief that an opportunity existed.

Once he verified Count Palatio was among the battle royale participants, Leetanka rallied the other fighters, certain they could overwhelm him collectively.

Yet, Leetanka’s overconfidence was demolished the instant Alon’s sorcery manifested.

“What in the— this is unbelievable—”

An involuntary cry escaped him as he stared dumbfounded at the sky.

Scores of ice pillars twisted together, forming a miniature mountain.

At its summit, the man stood, looking down upon the fighters with an emotionless, frigid detachment.

While all the combatants gripped their weapons, frozen and uncertain how to react, completely dominated by the vision, Alon released a misty breath into the freezing air and observed them.

‘So far, the plan is proceeding correctly,’ Alon reflected, his hands forming a seal.

In reality, prior to entering the battle royale today, Alon had struggled to decide which magic to employ.

Accustomed to facing more powerful foes, most of his spells were designed for single targets, not groups.

Aware he could only cast six times, he had anticipated this scenario and, after much thought, finalized his approach.

‘What is required here is a spell with the broadest possible area of effect, possessing sufficient force to incapacitate F-rank fighters.’

Having reached this decision, he prepared his sequence of spells.

*Wong—!*

“Enhance.”

Immediately, a barrier took shape at the core of the massive iceberg Alon had formed.

“Compress.”

At his command, the heart of the enormous iceberg condensed into the form of a great dome.

The center of the mountain instantly morphed into a spherical shape, leaving the entire structure looking precarious.

The audience watched in silent wonder.

The huge sphere hovering at the iceberg’s center, seemingly on the verge of disintegration, appeared a masterpiece of sorcery.

But then.

“Vacuum.”

The moment Alon spoke again, the barrier, which had just been compressed into an orb of magical energy, contracted further.

“Return to the Primordial.”

With Alon’s final utterance,

*Boooom!!!*

The iceberg detonated, washing over the fighters assembled around it.

The unstable mountain of snow collapsed with a thunderous crash.

A cloud of white powder billowed into the sky.

And when the pale haze cleared, the only one left standing on the battlefield was…

Alon. By himself.

The silence that descended was brief.

[Ah, ahem! The victor of the battle royale is Alon Palatio!!!!!]

The flustered commentator quickly collected himself and declared the outcome.

The roar of tremendous cheers began to fill his ears.

Alon pondered internally.

‘Had it not concluded with a single spell, it might have been problematic.’

He felt the mana reservoir inside him depleted, having expended more power than anticipated due to the spell’s extensive range, and a faint cold sweat broke on his skin.

‘It seems I will need to drill myself further on fine-tuning my spell sequences.’

Another item was added to his list of tasks.

***

Immediately after the battle royale concluded, Alon, who had been instantly elevated from an F-rank fighter to a D-rank fighter now eligible to issue challenges, was contemplating which C-rank combatant to challenge next.

“Count.”

“What is it, Evan?”

“…A gift has arrived from Yutia.”

“A gift?”

“Yes.”

Hearing this from Evan, who had been waiting at the guild, Alon hurried to his room and saw a staff resting on his desk.

It was the Sparrow Staff he had been seeking to obtain.

“She sent this as a present?”

“Yes. She stated you would appreciate it.”

Evan’s report left Alon bewildered as he inspected the staff. Even upon close examination, he verified it was unquestionably the Sparrow Staff.

‘…What is the meaning of this?’

His face became blank.

It was no surprise. Based on his knowledge, accessing the Colony’s treasure vault required demonstrating one’s qualifications as a fighter.

The Colony’s royal family had maintained this tradition since the kingdom’s founding, so Alon had never even entertained the idea of purchasing items from the vault with currency, knowing it was unfeasible.

This led him to wonder.

‘How did she accomplish this?’

Though curious about the method Yutia used to procure the Sparrow Staff for him, Alon temporarily set the question aside, choosing instead to feel gratitude toward her.

Because of her, he had acquired the item he originally intended to get.

‘Since I’ve drained my mana today, I cannot use it. I will test it tomorrow.’

Feeling as though he had received a present from a thoughtful daughter, Alon closed his hand around the Sparrow Staff.

The following day.

As Alon channeled mana into the staff, precisely as “it” had indicated,

[…Huh? Who are you? Why are you disturbing my rest?]

A rough, middle-aged man’s voice, brimming with general irritation, resonated in his mind.

“I am Alon Palatio.”

[So?]

“I was referred by the Dragonkin.”

[And?]

“…”

Alon felt a budding headache, intuitively sensing this discussion would be arduous, but he persisted.

“You appear to dislike lengthy talk, so I will be direct. I understand you are a mage.”

[…It seems this world of fools still has one idiot remaining.]

“…The Dragonkin informed me you would disclose your glyphs and phrases to me. Will you do so?”

[What purpose would you have for knowing them?]

“I intend to utilize them.”

At Alon’s reply, the voice within the staff released a deep sigh after a moment of quiet.

[I believed you were at least a fool with some understanding, but it turns out you are a total imbecile.]

The middle-aged voice continued, dripping with open contempt.

[Hey, idiot, do you genuinely believe that knowing my glyphs and phrases means you can wield them?]

“If I were incapable, I would not have asked. The Dragonkin said you would provide a full explanation.”

[Cease speaking of things you can never achieve. You haven’t even inherited my mental image, so how could you possibly employ my glyphs?]

The voice from the staff spat words of denial, as if writing off the entire exchange.

Just as Alon grew quiet, considering the circumstances.

“Count!”

Suddenly, Evan rushed in through the door.

“What is it?”

“You have received a challenge.”

“From whom?”

“From an A-rank fighter. The name is… ‘Philcion.’”

The Colosseum delivered the message. How should I reply?”

At Evan’s query, Alon thought it over briefly, somewhat puzzled.

‘An A-rank fighter, challenging me? …It is not out of the question, but…’

D-rank fighters were permitted to challenge those one tier above, but A-rank fighters could issue challenges to lower ranks freely.

However, it was rare for A-rank fighters to challenge those below them. If they didn’t compete against their peers, they risked their status, and a loss would mean demotion. The stakes were high.

But for Alon, this was a chance to ascend directly to A-rank without multiple battles.

After a short hesitation, Alon reached a decision.

“If you doubt me, why don’t we place a wager?”

[…Huh?]

Alon smiled at the staff.

***

One day later.

Philcion, the A-rank fighter who had challenged Count Palatio, emerged from the opposite side of the Colosseum arena, watching the man entering the battlefield.

‘Just as I expected.’

Count Palatio, stepping onto the arena floor amid roaring cheers, met Philcion’s gaze.

Philcion smirked inwardly.

Truthfully, this match was not advantageous for him.

As an A-rank fighter, defeating Count Palatio, a D-rank, would bring him no honor, and a loss would see him demoted from A-rank to D-rank.

Yet, there was one reason Philcion had issued the challenge to Count Palatio.

To create a spectacle.

It was true the man before him was D-rank, but his power had been repeatedly attested to by rumors.

Furthermore, his capability was definitively demonstrated in the recent battle royale, boosting his fame throughout the Colony.

In other words, what Philcion desired was to defeat Alon and take his spotlight.

He had heard rumors that the vacant position of Baba Yaga would soon be filled by one of the A-rank fighters, selected by the royal family.

In short, for Philcion, whose ambition was to become the next Baba Yaga, this event was a rare opportunity he could not miss. That is why he took the gamble, though he was sure he could defeat the Count.

Of course, Philcion was not underestimating Count Palatio.

As noted, numerous rumors circulated about his strength, and he had already demonstrated his power in the Colosseum.

Disregarding Count Palatio would be an act of stupidity, something no fighter should ever do.

Especially not for experienced fighters.

However, there was one reason for Philcion’s confidence.

‘Count Palatio employs only ice magic.’

Naturally, he knew magicians could use spells outside their primary element.

But he also knew that if it was not their specialty, the potency of such spells would be considerably reduced.

Moreover, before sending the challenge, Philcion had meticulously investigated and confirmed that Alon used only ice magic, which further strengthened his assurance.

And with good cause.

*Smirk*

His race, the Flameclan, was naturally gifted with fire, an element holding a strong advantage over ice.

No matter how potent Alon’s ice magic was, it would naturally be diminished by the high-temperature flames Philcion commanded, bringing a smile to his face.

[And now, let the match begin!]

The moment the commentator’s voice faded, Philcion released his fire.

*Whoosh!*

The flames erupted, making the already sweltering ground seethe further, eliciting gasps from the crowd.

Simultaneously, a chill began to emanate from around Alon, threatening to swallow the arena.

But.

“Humph—”

Unfortunately, Alon’s frost could not extend to where Philcion stood.

‘Just as I predicted!’

Philcion curled his lips into a grin and unsheathed his twin swords.

‘How should I end this? In a single move? Or should I let the Count attempt a spell before finishing him? No, I must not prolong this. Better to make it as dramatic as possible.’

Philcion, already thinking as if victory was his.

But, unfortunately for him, his blissful reflections were abruptly severed.

“Array of Thunder.”

The moment Alon uttered a new incantation, it was finished.

*Crackle!*

Vivid blue electricity began to dance around Alon’s form, clear for all to see.