Chapter 19 — The Trial Before the Golden Land
"Ultimately, the path home is one you must walk yourself."
Denken said this, but he didn't set down his teacup.
"Before that, however, there's a more practical matter."
He lifted his eyelids, and a sharp gleam appeared in his cloudy eyes. "Mahart's Transmutation Magic—turning all things to gold—do you have a way to counter it?"
"That… is a magic that cannot be defended against, evaded, or even comprehended. The moment Mahart decides to turn you to gold, you will be transformed in an instant. This is not something your willpower or swordsmanship can overcome."
"I do have a way."
Lain's tone was serious. "I possess a special constitution—you could think of it as curse-nullification magic. It's similar to spell reflection magic. Any form of curse cast on me becomes ineffective."
Denken furrowed his brow at this.
A constitution that nullifies curses? Unheard of.
He did know about spell reflection magic, since that was what he acquired from Serie after becoming a First-Class Mage.
But Denken was a practical man. Having clawed his way through the muddy waters of power for decades, he only trusted what he could see with his own eyes.
"Let's get to the point."
Denken stood, straightening his slightly wrinkled robes. "I am the caretaker of the Veizer Barrier. It is my responsibility to prevent any fool from running headlong to their death—especially a talented swordsman like you. It would be a shame if Mahart killed you."
He grabbed the staff leaning against the wall and walked toward the door. "Come out. Let me first see if you have the strength to stand against Mahart."
…
Outside, the clearing around the cabin was swept by cold wind that twisted through the dry grass.
In the distance, the golden city still glittered under the sun, like a silent observer.
Lain and Denken faced each other, separated by a hundred meters—a relatively safe distance for a mage.
Kraft leaned against the cabin doorway, looking on like an amused old gentleman.
"Go, Lain!"
Elily climbed onto a nearby boulder, waving a scrap of cloth she'd grabbed from inside the cabin.
Laufen sat on the threshold, resting her chin in her hands, her gaze anxious.
"Grandpa is serious," she said to Kraft. "I've only seen him like this when dealing with Freiren's replica before."
---
In the clearing.
Denken spoke not a word of unnecessary chatter.
The moment Lain's hands touched his sword hilts, Denken activated flight magic, slowly ascending in defiance of gravity.
Five meters… ten meters… twenty… thirty.
He finally stopped thirty meters above, looking down at Lain from a commanding height.
"Despicable!"
Elily shouted, "If you've got the guts, come down and duel Lain! Flying up there is nothing special!"
Denken glanced at the girl from afar. "Using every advantage to crush your opponent—that is the survival principle of a mage."
Against a warrior, maintaining distance is iron law.
As long as he flew high enough, Lain's swords were useless. Denken knew this well; he would give Lain no opportunity to engage up close.
"Begin."
Denken flicked his staff.
Vwoom—
The air trembled.
Several jet-black beams of magic instantly formed, screaming through the air as they shot straight toward Lain.
These were standard offensive spells—murderous magic.
Though ordinary in nature, in the hands of a mage of Denken's caliber, their power rivaled siege cannons.
Lain didn't draw his sword. He merely tapped the ground with his toes, and his body slid three meters to the left like a falling leaf.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The ground where he had stood was blasted into craters, stones flying in every direction.
"Fast reflexes," Denken analyzed calmly from above.
This young man made no extraneous movements and sensed the flow of magic with keen awareness.
But it wasn't enough.
Denken tapped his staff repeatedly.
The number of beams increased, from the original three to over a dozen, blocking all of Lain's evasive paths.
"How will you dodge this time?"
Denken's eyes narrowed.
Lain didn't dodge. Instead, he placed both hands on his sword hilts.
Clang!
The twin swords were drawn.
Silver light traced perfect arcs in the air.
The black beams that collided with the blades were forcibly deflected, scattering across the ground and setting off a series of dust clouds.
"Blocked?!"
Laufen was dumbstruck.
These were pure magical attacks, not physical arrows. Blocking them with swords was like trying to catch a waterfall with a spoon—normally, both person and sword would be blasted to bits.
"Not blocked," Kraft squinted. "They were cut."
"Cut?"
"He injected magic of the opposite frequency at the moment his blades contacted the spells, disrupting their structure."
Kraft marveled. "A true master swordsman."
Above, Denken raised an eyebrow.
Such an illogical combination of brute force and skill—could a human warrior really do this?
"Very well."
Denken raised his staff, summoning the surrounding wind elements.
A violent gale erupted.
A massive turquoise storm formed instantly, ripping up stones from the ground and shredding them into powder.
"That's Grandpa's tornado-based magic," Laufen said. "He manipulates the air currents to create a high-pressure storm. In open ground, if you run fast enough, you can avoid it."
"Then why isn't Lain running?"
Elily gripped her rag, forgetting to wave it in her nervousness. "Is he paralyzed with fear?"
In the center.
Lain did not move.
The wind battered his face, stinging painfully.
He lowered his center of gravity, feet rooted to the ground, right sword reversed, left sword extended.
Future vision flashed in his mind.
Three seconds—the storm center would shift five meters left.
Five seconds—Denken would unleash a burst of flame.
"Now."
Lain charged into the storm.
"Insane!"
Laufen leapt from the threshold. "He'll be shredded!"
Just as he neared the wind wall, Lain slid sharply to the right, cutting into the storm's edge at an impossible angle.
That spot was a node of magical flow.
Zheng!
He swung his swords—the silver light exploded.
A neat slit appeared in the high-speed wind wall.
Using the current, Lain surged forward like an eagle on the wind, crossing dozens of meters instantly.
"Cut through it?"
Denken saw it clearly from above, feeling a slight shock.
This sensitivity to magical flow was hardly human.
Since the wind couldn't stop him…
Denken rotated his staff, and the turquoise storm instantly turned crimson.
Wind becomes flame.
Scorching heat swept through the area, warping the air.
Fire rode the wind, instantly forming a raging inferno that engulfed Lain.
"Lain!"
Elily screamed.
"Don't panic," Kraft laughed. "It's not over yet."
In the heart of the flames.
Lain held his breath.
The high temperature seared his skin; the edges of his clothes began to blacken.
His resilient body withstood what would instantly burn a normal person—this was just hot to him.
As a Fifth-Class Mage, he could have used defensive magic, but casting without a medium would disrupt his focus.
He fused his swords and swung forward.
Boom!
The flames were split open, forming a path.
He stepped across the still-burning ground and charged out, leaving only about thirty meters between him and Denken above.
"Warriors don't fly."
Denken's face remained calm as he pointed his staff downward. "As long as I don't touch the ground, you'll never reach me."
In the next instant, dozens of golden light swords appeared behind him.
Judgment of Light.
Pure magical bombardment, one of his commonly used spells.
Shhh! Shhh! Shhh!
Countless light swords rained down like a storm, sealing off all of Lain's paths forward and back.
Lain looked up at the torrent of light.
Future vision activated again.
Three meters to the left—a dead zone.
Two meters forward to the right—another dead zone.
All dead zones.
Apparently, this attack covered every available evasive space.