Chapter 269

Chapter 269 – I Asked Who It Was

His bodily state had deteriorated past any prior threshold of agony.

Distorted pathways fractured across his flesh, causing mana to surge backward along his internal channels—the sole factor preventing total collapse was his low dependence on inner mana, a trait exclusive to his unique circles.

Crackle…

Without a second thought, Aster triggered a Collision Formula and propelled himself from the earth. A streak of azure brilliance trailed far behind his path.

Boom!

The resulting blast reverberated violently across the expanse.

It was a terrifying, gut-wrenching howl, beastly in its raw power, yet Aeviron stood unmoved at its epicenter, completely at ease.

“That displays a bit more promise.”

Lifting his aged wooden staff, Aeviron deflected the oncoming Collision Formula with a simple, effortless twist of his wrist. The deflected force sent Aster tumbling backward.

Splat—!

A dense cloud of debris and soil erupted into the air. Aster stabilized his posture by digging his fingertips deep into the dirt, forcefully swallowing down the metallic taste of blood welling up within his throat.

Engage.

And perish.

Such was his ultimate determination, yet he harbored no desire to simply throw his life away without purpose.

Hardening his resolve, Aster launched himself forward once more, closing the distance.

In the fleeting instant it took to close the gap to Aeviron, jagged lightning began to crackle around his clenched fist. It was a volatile fusion of raw mana and fundamental magical energy.

The sphere of concentrated force rapidly condensed, shaping itself into a piercing lance.

Right then, Aeviron’s own sorcerous energy began to permeate the burgeoning detonation.

Fizzle… fizz…

An abnormal distortion rippled against the gathering force, and the brilliant illumination dissolved into absolute nothingness.

By the moment Aster reached his target, his hands held no weapon at all.

…Once more. That infuriating method had happened again. He still lacked any understanding of the underlying mechanism behind it.

Yet there was no luxury to ponder the mystery.

Whoosh—!

Blazing heat burst forth directly from his knuckles.

His true desire was to incinerate Aeviron outright, but with that detestable elder systematically unraveling external spells, alternative methods were nonexistent.

Even if it drained his mana reserves dry, he possessed no choice but to manifest elemental forces instantaneously using his internal magical reserves.

Boom!

Yet another deafening explosion rang out. Aeviron maintained his relaxed posture once again. However, that tranquility lasted only an instant.

…!

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!

Just when it appeared Aster would hover defenselessly in the air after his initial strike was parried, a relentless barrage of fists suddenly descended right before Aeviron’s eyes.

No, it was far more than mere fists. Knuckles, knees, boots, elbows—even his forehead. Every single part of his physical frame targeted Aeviron’s vital vulnerabilities in a frenzied assault. The velocity matched that of a legendary warrior who had attained the absolute peak of martial prowess.

…Hah!

Aeviron, who had not once surrendered his calm demeanor, let out a sharp breath and took a step backward. It marked his very first retreat since the initiation of this brutal conflict.

Naturally, such a minor displacement was insufficient to alter the overarching momentum of the duel, but the nearly impossible display of close-quarters martial skill left even Aeviron genuinely startled.

In what manner could a practitioner of sorcery move with such physical grace? It was an unprecedented offensive that would catch any combatant off guard.

Yet the adversary he faced was the supreme leader of the Seven Mages, Aeviron himself.

“Extremely praiseworthy, to be sure. Yet that is the extent of your capability.”

…Thud!

An overwhelming gravitational field detonated outward with crushing velocity. Aster, who had been maintaining a terrifying speed with his continuous strikes, failed to adjust to the instantaneous environmental transformation.

“Guh!”

The localized gravity slammed him violently into the dirt below. Yet that placement lasted only a fraction of a second.

Whoosh!

Aster’s physical form dissolved into the ether, materializing directly above Aeviron’s head.

As he returned to reality, a swirling mass of his own shed blood gathered around him. Crimson Jade, the devastating incantation that had previously eradicated dozens of Decullan mages in a single flash.

Craaaack—!

A blinding flash of light illuminated the horizon, immediately followed by a shockwave that vibrated through the entire region. Even the spellcaster himself, Aster, coughed up a spray of crimson from the sheer force of the backfire, thrown backward across a wide arc through the sky before plummeting to the earth. Yet that pause lasted only a brief second.

Whirl!

Boom—!

Aster pivoted his body midair to regain balance, pushing off against empty space to hurtle back toward Aeviron. It was as though he refused to grant the old man even a moment to compose his defenses.

It was an overt, unorthodox disruption of the combat rhythm, designed to break any predictable pattern.

And as Aster cut through the billowing dust clouds generated by his spatial transition directly toward Aeviron, the elderly figure maintained a subtle grin.

“That maneuver possessed novelty as well. You are adjusting with every passing moment. What a terrifying capacity for adaptation.”

The sentiment was born of genuine respect, completely devoid of sarcasm.

And there was good reason for it. Merely a short while ago, Aster’s performance had been utterly miserable.

He had resembled an infant attempting to wield a massive broadsword, swinging aimlessly against an entity of transcendent power. It was an unfitting analogy for someone who was a transcendent mage themselves, yet his efforts were no better than those of a magical beginner.

There were occasional displays of genius—wielding specialized magical armaments on occasion, executing spatial transitions on another—but those were merely notable at best, never truly hazardous.

Yet at this current moment?

Boom!

“Hngh!”

Aeviron raised his staff horizontally to intercept the incoming punch, only for Aster to twist midair and drive his elbow downward with crushing weight. And that was merely the opening salvo.

Zing—!

The elder attempted to cast him aside using a kinetic counterforce, but a thin strand of magical energy pierced through the defense and dissolved the incantation from within.

Aeviron endeavored to initiate another spell, but an additional thread of energy darted outward to fracture the formation process. Simultaneously, Aster lunged forward, driving his forehead straight toward the elder’s face.

Aeviron retreated a second time. A sharp, echoing ring vibrated through the air.

Craaaack—!

Aster, having collided directly with Aeviron’s protective barrier, held his throbbing temples and staggered backward.

It took mere moments before seven distinct spheres of flame ignited into existence behind his back.

Whoosh!

Bam-bam-bam-bam!

The fiery spheres discharged in perfect unison, completely shattering Aeviron’s defensive ward. Aster grimaced at how effortlessly the protection gave way—it collapsed far too easily.

An unsettling feeling began to take root.

From the very inception of this engagement until this exact moment, he had been navigating a desperate chasm in raw capability, yet had Aeviron ever deployed a single genuine technique?

No. Not even once.

The entirety of his offensive output consisted of internal-rattling shockwaves and that peculiar manipulation of magical energy that neutralized incantations and armaments alike.

…For what purpose? The elder had possessed a multitude of opportunities to bring the conflict to an end.

Initially, Aster surmised it was pure condescension. The sadistic amusement of a twisted old man. But what if a different motive existed?

Aeviron’s voice cut through his internal monologue at that exact moment.

“Do you intend to simply stand there motionless?”

Aeviron took a deliberate stride in the direction of the Second Black-White Slums. Aster snapped out of his hesitation the moment he witnessed the movement.

Beneath the expansive, moonlit sky, Aeviron stood smiling. Aster propelled himself forward once more, resuming the assault.

His physical vessel was pushed to its absolute threshold. His consciousness wavered from the hazardous strain of employing transcendence well past safe limitations. Yet why did he persist?

…Perhaps.

He could perceive a potential path to victory.

An opening narrower than the eye of a needle, yet a sufficient opportunity to risk his entire existence upon.

In that case, what must he cast aside?

…Everything.

In that case, what stood to be gained?

…Everything, as a recompense.

The conflict that had commenced as a mere test of survival now possessed a definitive objective. To achieve it, Aster did not hesitate to sacrifice every single resource at his disposal. Not for a single fraction of a second.

The reptile equipped with miniature wings crossed the expansive midnight sky toward the Second Black-White Slums without a moment of rest, despite the agonizing sensations tearing through its wings.

It did not take long before the wyvern perceived the internal crisis.

‘…Companion.’

Was this awareness a consequence of becoming a familiar? Or perhaps because its very existence was intertwined with his. Regardless of the reason, the bond established by their pact felt infinitely more robust now, and through that connection, Aster’s vital essence flickered with intense urgency.

Whoosh…

Aster’s life force resembled a flickering candle on the absolute brink of total darkness. This was not the gradual depletion experienced during his previous encounter with the Seven Mages, but a raging inferno consuming its remaining fuel in a final, desperate burst.

‘Moving. Me. Mighty dragon.’

Detecting the impending doom, the wyvern pumped its wings with increased desperation. Crimson fluid seeped from the ruptured tissues of its wing membranes, yet it paid the injury no heed.

Its uncoordinated movements caused it to plunge heavily onto the terrain below multiple times, yet the wyvern refused to quit, scrambling forward across the dirt.

When flight became impossible, it traveled on foot; once sufficient momentum was gathered, it launched itself into the air once more. The creature resembled nothing more than an awkward bird fleeing a enclosure—and by the moment it arrived at the boundaries of the Second Black-White Slums, the intense agony forced its mind back into sharp focus.

However.

‘Me, moving.’

It refused to halt its progress.

An dimensional pouch tore open, allowing a moonstone to spill out and bounce into the darkness, but the wyvern did not grant the treasure a single glance as it pressed onward.

It was a degrading spectacle for an entity of dragon lineage, yet such pride mattered little. Only the safety of its companion held any significance.

The destination was near.

Just past this upcoming intersection—there resided an individual capable of providing assistance. Someone every bit as irritable and difficult as Aster, yet possessing a gentle nature buried deep within.

Without a shred of doubt, this person would provide aid to its companion. The wyvern maintained absolute faith in this reality.

That was the sole reason it had abandoned Aster’s side to journey here alone.

It darted through the clusters of intoxicated citizens like a sudden blur.

Regrettably, the fates were not aligned with the wyvern’s mission.

“Huh? What do we have here?”

“What are you looking at? Stop wasting time, let’s keep moving. Tonight’s your turn to pay for the drinks.”

“No, look. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

The wyvern flinched as a coarse hand clamped down tightly upon its wing.

The intoxicated man holding it aloft like a common fowl tilted his gaze, examining the wyvern from top to bottom, before shouting to his companion walking ahead.

“Get over here. What does this creature look like to you?”

“What is it now… Huh? What in the world is that thing?”

“Some kind of lizard?”

“Lizards grow to that size? And it has wings? Man… Am I seeing things? What is…”

The intoxicated men stared open-mouthed at the wyvern, shifting their heads in confusion. Its physical appearance conformed to nothing they recognized, causing them to scrutinize it with intense curiosity.

Right then, the wyvern, realizing how close it was to its ultimate destination, let loose a desperate, booming shout.

[Shi, shi, foodbug—!]

“…Wh-what!”

“Di-did that creature just speak?!”

Terrified by the thunderous vocalization, the intoxicated man released his grip on the wyvern, but the creature continued to wail despite the intense physical trauma.

[Foodbug! Me, assist! Companion, assist!]

…Yet was all of this effort entirely futile?

The desperate plea resonated uselessly through the air. The wyvern, panting heavily from its non-stop shrieking, lost the remainder of its strength and dropped its head limply against the stones.

[Foodbug, me, assist. Companion… assist.]

Just as utter hopelessness began to cloud the wyvern’s vision.

A sharp voice cut through the quiet.

“Who the hell is it.”

As though he had been lurking in the shadows the entire time, a concealed individual stepped out from Svetlana’s sanctuary.

The disguised man exuded an unmistakable aura of lethal intent, surveying the narrow street as though he were prepared to break every spine present on the spot.

“Ma-ma-mage!”

“…!”

The intoxicated bystanders scrambled backward in sheer terror, while Shain cracked his knuckles slowly, tilting his head to the side.

“I asked who the hell it is.”

To his surprise, the response originated from ground level.

[Me, me. Companion, assist. Foodbug, assist.]

“…?”

Shain narrowed his gaze in confusion.

What exactly was this entity?

It bore the likeness of a small reptile… Sniff sniff. The scent of its blood carried a distinct sweetness.

Saliva began to collect within his maw.

His eyes flared with a disturbing, predatory craving, yet the wyvern paid the danger absolutely no attention.

Shain’s consciousness was directly penetrated by the wyvern’s thoughts at that exact instant. This was distinct from vocal speech—it functioned identically to direct message magic.

The thoughts conveyed:

[A-A-Aster! Perishing! Assist! Required!]

“Who is perishing?”

[Wi-wicked one! Perishing! Fields! Assist, move quickly!]

The wicked individual was facing imminent demise.

…The subordinate of the vampire lineage was on the verge of death.