30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue

34 – 8. Night of Counting Stars (8)

*

A streak of light flashed. Ernest deftly turned his head, avoiding the projectile.

It was a precise strike aimed at his temple. Damn it, Ernest bit his lip and stepped back.

“For the love of all that’s holy, seriously? You dare to assassinate a captain within Calion’s warship? Commit acts that can be reckoned with, soldier!”

“Do I have to reckon with it?”

Ivan approached, twirling his axe. He didn’t hastily close the distance.

He slowly assessed the guy’s condition. A mage-soldier. Proficient in swordsmanship.

Elves, for the most part, don’t wield swords. Especially if they are officer-ranked.

Elven officers are all high-ranking nobles, and elven nobles consider sweating beneath them as beneath contempt.

However, among them, there are those who wield swords. This is where things get a bit complicated.

Despite the disdain from others, being skilled in swordsmanship, along with the long life typical of their kind, implies remarkable potential.

Most elves abhor close combat, but paradoxically, the best swordsmen in the world were elves. She was known as the mentor of a past warrior.

So, here it is.

The fact that Ivan was a magic-wielding elven officer with a sword was hindering him. Even if he had broken one leg in the initial attack.

“Elisabetta sent a formidable hunting hound. What’s your name, soldier?”

“Do you think delaying will work in your favor?”

Ernest frowned at Ivan’s words. The guy catches on quickly.

He briefly stuck out his tongue.

He couldn’t hastily weave spells. In dealing with those classified as ‘supernatural,’ the distance between him and Ivan was insurmountable even by a single step.

They were within each other’s attack range.

After a brief standoff, the elf sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Surrender. I’ll spare the soldiers.”

“Throw down your sword.”

“Join the surrender document altogether? But there’s no guarantee you won’t strike my neck right away.”

Not a false statement. However, Ivan narrowed his eyes.

The elf surrenders this quickly? Without even putting up a fight? Especially an officer of noble rank?

That’s impossible.

Ivan silently raised his axe. Surrender could be declared even after neutralizing resistance.

Watching that, Ernest clicked his tongue.

“Geez. Got it. Here it comes.”

And with the sword held high, he threw it with all his might toward Ivan.

-Clang!

As Ivan deflected the flying blade, Ernest was already leaping backward, hands reaching into his pockets.

Ivan leaped towards Ernest, lowering his stance. Under his tightly cinched uniform, the silhouette of a sergeant’s insignia was not visible.

If we consider what could come out from there, it could be a pistol, a dagger, or an explosive magical weapon.

Among these, the last one seemed the most probable and the most troublesome.

“Veolgren Kyeong!!”

“…?”

Why did that noble’s name suddenly come up…?

Ivan shook off the momentary confusion. Now was not the time to ponder such things.

Shouting out a technique name or the name of a prominent figure was a very foolish tactic.

Ivan pounded the ground and leaped, swinging his axe. There was no time to delicately time the strike with the axe’s blade. He raised it straight and brought it down towards Ernest’s forearm.

Dealing with a suspicious magical device of a wizard required constant vigilance.

-Click.

As expected, what Ernest pulled out from his pocket was a small iron bead-shaped magical device. It had a densely packed violet inscription, looking incredibly ominous.

Just before Ivan’s axe could cleave through Ernest’s forearm, his thumb pressed firmly on the top of the magical device.

And then, a shockwave erupted.

-Kwaaah!!

Ivan was sent flying by the violent shockwave, thinking.

Mission failed. Self-destruct, of all things.

The mission assigned by Elizaveta was to secure the captain of the warship and the meeting place with Alexander.

Who would have thought the captain would casually press the self-destruct switch? How could anyone anticipate and prepare for that?

Ivan felt the ringing in his ears as he tumbled into a corner of the corridor.

“Ugh.”

Moans escaped him as the shock squeezed his lungs. However, his complexion remained calm.

He immediately checked the condition of his limbs and then examined if the tips of his fingers and toes were functioning normally before dusting himself off.

It was a well-practiced ‘equipment check,’ honed through years of training. The body of a seasoned agent was a kind of equipment too.

“For being caught in proximity to an anti-personnel explosive, I’m surprisingly intact, aren’t I?”

Ivan thought as he picked himself up amidst the lingering aftershocks. As the ringing in his ears gradually subsided, the wailing sound of sirens echoed again in the corridor.

It was a good omen. Even his hearing was normal.

“This is unexpected.”

And at the sound that soon followed, Ivan stiffened. A voice too familiar. And a voice that shouldn’t be heard here.

At the voice heard for the first time in four years, Ivan had to momentarily suspect mimicry. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a mistake.

Characteristic emerald flames visible through a hazy field of view.

Two eyes, reincarnated from beneath the eyelids.

Even the too-familiar magical array.

“Really… Beolgreen…?”

“Yeah. Why are you here? Were you alive?”

The uniform in tatters, the physique and height visible beneath it, and even the appearance. All of it belonged to Ernest…

Ivan realized reflexively. This guy’s ‘soul’ had changed.

“Possession?”

“Interesting choice of words. This is called the [Soul Transfer Spell].”

A mage of the hero party. Beolgreen, the fortress destroyer.

Filled with familiar magic, a familiar voice, and an overwhelming arrogance. One of the current greatest mages opened his mouth.

“Where’s Alexander, and why are you here?”

“…”

Beolgreen appearing here was unexpected. Because it was something that couldn’t be expected in the first place.

But even before that, Ivan recalled the nature of this mission.

‘Confirm the connection between Prince Alexander and the Elven Commander. And investigate.’

‘Elven Commander… No, this airship is probably experiencing a malfunction.’

‘Elisaveta designed it so that the only option for the captain of the airship would be Prince Alexander.’

‘And Beolgreen’s words.’

“Where’s Alexander, and why are you here?” In this dry question, Ivan sensed a deep implication.

From the beginning, Beolgreen handed the captain a magical device containing the [Soul Transfer Spell].

Why? To confront Alexander.

Then… why?

Because he shook hands with Alexander.

“Was it planned from the beginning?”

“Yeah. The Kalion airship is a concentration of military technology. It’s unlikely to suddenly malfunction. It only sailed for about two weeks, right?”

Even the reason this warship set sail was to safely escort Beolgrin’s daughter, Elphehehera.

As one of the strongest elves and the mage of the warrior party, she holds a unique position even among the numerous high nobles of the Kalion Archipelago.

A vessel set sail to guard against such factors shouldn’t malfunction within a mere two weeks.

Unless someone intentionally caused the malfunction.

A shiver ran down his spine.

“Yes, that’s right. It was meant to provoke Princess Elizaveta from the beginning. When that little one gets angry, Alexander will surely make contact.”

“Why? Why would they do such a thing?”

“Well…”

Beolgrin chuckled. He flicked his fingertips to weave magic and suddenly asked.

“Where does your loyalty lie, Ivann?”

“To our great sovereign, of course.”

“As always. Admirable. If only you could show that you’re alive while at it. Our camaraderie hasn’t reached that level, has it?”

Ivann listened to Beolgrin’s words and tightened his grip on the axe.

Fortunately, his physical condition was normal. The shockwave he had been hit with wasn’t an offensive spell in the first place.

Could Ivann win facing Beolgrin head-on?

The moment he pondered, he knew. It was impossible.

But could Beolgrin truly bring out all of his own power?

Probably not. The sensed amount of magical power was only a fraction of the captain’s.

“Oh, planning to fight, are you? Well, you’ve always been like that, ‘Little’ Ivann.”

“Is there any other choice?”

“Of course. But it doesn’t seem like you’d make that choice. Come then. Let’s see your skills after a long time.”

The captain’s magical power was indeed greater than that of a human, but the disparity wasn’t at a despairing level.

In other words, it was a difference worth trying to exploit.

However… even if he possessed that level of magical power, could Beolgrin, controlling his own body, really have a chance?

‘No.’

Ivann was well aware of his own limits. It was the most important virtue of a trained agent.

Since he also had to perceive himself as a tool for mission execution, he had to accurately understand his own catalog specs.

Therefore, Ivann knew that he had no chance against himself. Beolgrin would effortlessly carve him up with only half the magical power at that level.

But, but…

The odds didn’t matter.

“Learn a move.”

Ivan gripped the axe with deeply sunk eyes, repairing it.

The outcome is not important.

Can you do it or not. He had never considered such things important.

Should you do it. If you must, somehow. Do your best in any situation.

If you’re a trained agent, you should fear not failure but giving up.

*

Resolve in the shortest moment possible, and act as swiftly as you can.

The moment Ivan decided to attack, he lunged forward. Straight towards Veolgreen.

A sense that divides time, breaking it into fragments, in the blink of an eye.

The sensation of the air resistance slowing down the flow of time as it collided with the body.

The ‘superhuman’ sense that kicks in at the moment when magic is forcibly activated by pounding magic into every nerve.

A moment dissected and explained. This moment is the battlefield of the superhumans.

In this time where even breathing is fragmented, Ivan’s axe flowed through the air like a hovering specter. Smoothly, sharply, yet powerfully.

-Whooooosh—

Directly aiming for that moment when emerald magic is woven.

The axe, enveloped in magic, itself has the function of dispelling curses. It interferes with the completion of magic by fragmenting the space between the weaving of spells.

Therefore, the natural enemy of a wizard is a close-range warrior. As always.

-Kwaaah—

The impact came straight away, but the noise followed a beat later. This discrepancy between sound and reaction occurs when approaching the speed of sound.

A layer of magic was torn away.

He hit it. Veolgreen.

Ivan, with his eyes, conveyed that message and prepared for the next move.

Considering the time it would take to cast the next spell after stripping away the almost completed magic, his axe would undoubtedly be faster.

So, he hit it. In the place where the giants had walked moments before.

“Excellent.”

A voice mixed with laughter echoed softly.

-Twooong—

A slight resistance blocked his path. Ivan immediately responded, twisting his waist. Through that opening, five sharp icicle lines pierced.

Speed surpassing diagonal detection. The moment he was aware of the spell, the completed magic.

Halfway through readjusting his stance and raising the axe again, only a fleeting moment had passed.

However, at the end of that brief clash,

“Ha.”

In a single glance, more than forty variously woven magics hovered in the air, each bearing a different structure.

Beolgreen chuckled softly and flicked his wrist.

“Show me more. How much have you grown?”

Ivan, his teeth gritted, lunged forward.

*