Mightiest Melee Magician Chapter 103

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Mightiest Melee Magician

Chapter 103: The All-Powerful Mage

It is common for many knights to spend their career between the ranks of 4-stars and 5-stars. Mages aren’t much different in that regard. So, one might wonder, just how formidable is a ‘6-star’ knight?

In the mighty Rainak Empire, brimming with strength, 6-star knights are in abundance. But within the kingdom, there are officially only three such individuals, a summit that ordinary people could only dream of reaching. The even more elusive 7-stars are those born with innate talent, a select 0.1% that emerge into the world. And those who reach 8-stars have transcended human limits, becoming ‘existential boundaries’.

With 7-star and 8-star knights numbering fewer than fifty across the entire continent, it’s fair to say that practically, 6-stars are the limit.

To receive a sword strike from a 6-star knight…

And then, “Look at this fellow. Now he even manages to retaliate?”

To be able to spar at a reasonable level with a 6-star knight, exchanging blows back and forth – even I was astonished. Perhaps it was because I had practiced sparring with formidable opponents like Count Bolvar from the beginning; the way Sir Gultair’s sword moved seemed within the realm of being avoidable.

My rate of growth was significant enough to warrant Sir Gultair’s keen interest.

“What befell you during the holidays? Tell me, who did you learn from?”

Of course, this is not to say that I possess the sword skills of a 6-star knight. Far from it – not even close to being 5-star or 4-star. I’m well aware that the moment Sir Gultair wields his ‘Aura Blade’ and employs his ‘Sword Energy,’ my wooden sword would be shattered into pieces, unable to even come close.

For now, my edge lies in having movements and reflexes superior to the training knights, and leveraging my overwhelming strength to close the gap.

Suddenly, I became curious.

‘If it weren’t just sparring, but a serious fight, what would happen?’

Putting down my wooden sword, using magic, and if Sir Gultair were to imbue his real sword with Sword Energy…

Could I possibly win against him?

However, such thoughts had to be briefly shelved.

“What are you thinking about?”

“…Ah!”

There was no room for such distractions while facing Sir Gultair.

Swish!

Sir Gultair’s wooden sword danced through the air.

Indeed, just like dancing, it moved nimbly, relentlessly exploiting my weaknesses.

“The sword, it’s bending? How can a wooden sword bend like that? It’s like he’s using a whip sword…”

“No, it’s not bending. It’s just moving so swiftly it appears that way.”

To an ordinary person, it could seem as though he’s using a whip sword, given the curvature of the rapid strikes. But I was able to follow, dodge, and even block those movements, making it akin to a miraculous feat.

“Wow, he dodged again!”

After several exchanges with no clear outcome, Sir Gultair casually suggested, “I think we’ve seen enough for today, don’t you think?”

“…Shall we?”

As I agreed and lowered my wooden sword, a thunderous applause burst forth. But Sir Gultair stopped the applause with a word.

“You lot. Is this really the time for applause? Do you have no pride?”

“In only a month’s time, a mage has progressed this far. And these so-called training knights…”

My sword skills are without elaborate form or technique. Because I cannot handle aura, it isn’t ‘destructive’ enough for real combat. In short, it’s only suitable for sparring.

Sir Gultair knew this but still chose to lift me in esteem in front of the trainee knights. Why? Because in just one month, the foundations I had built were more than solid enough.

“Ruin, where are you going?”

“Huh? Just going to get some water.”

“You seem to be avoiding my question…”

“What question?”

“Who taught you the sword? Is it… a name you cannot reveal?”

Gulp, gulp.

I took a drink of water and looked up at Sir Gultair with a nonchalant expression. His eyes… they looked expectant, like a child waiting for a birthday present – an odd look for someone with his imposing bear-like appearance, but somehow… I felt compelled to reveal the truth.

The name of Bolvar Fenton was no top-secret, nor was he hiding out in Ardell…

And so, with a casual expression, I said, “Sir Bolvar Fenton.”

Bolvar Fenton.

Those words, like a bombshell from siege weaponry, exploded on the spot.

“…Who?”

“Bolvar Fenton? The legendary spear knight written about in the Knight Chronicles?”

“Lies! I heard that Bolvar was certainly dead.”

“That’s impossible. Bolvar Fenton? A name that disappeared long ago?”

The students of the academy were making faces like, ‘Who’s that?’ But among the trainee knights, the name was legendary enough to stir everyone into a frenzy.

The same was true for Sir Gultair.

“Oh, this…”

Struggling to contain his excitement, he asked again, “Are you sure you’re not mistaken? Are we talking about the Bolvar Fenton I know?”

“I’m not sure which Sir Bolvar you’re familiar with… If you mean the spear knight from the Order of the Golden Knights, then yes, that’s him.”

Sir Gultair’s expression turned grave.

It’s as if his face was displaying a blend of joy and admiration, excitement and curiosity, over the shockingly unexpected news.

“This feels like a blow to the head. Could you elaborate a little more?”

“Sir Bolvar retired and has been residing in Ardell all this time. Since I was young, he has been like family… Honestly, I had no idea he was so renowned. I only recently learned of his alias, ‘Spear Saint’.”

“…So Bolvar Fenton is in Ardell?”

Just then, an angry shout broke the hush.

“Stop lying!”

The source was none other than Maltyb Gegen.

“You… stop lying.”

“…Lying?”

For some reason, Maltyb lost his composure and shouted again.

“My father said that Bolvar Fenton is dead!”

“…Dead? No, he retired.”

“He’s been retired with no word for decades! Everyone thought he was dead!”

“Please stop saying things like he died multiple times. It’s in poor taste.”

“Can you prove it?”

“Why should I need to prove something like that?”

It was baffling why Maltyb was reacting so sharply, but it was not hard to identify the reason. Maltyb Gegen was not particularly sharp, and it seemed he inadvertently exposed his ‘inferiority complex’ for all here to see.

“…Even if what you say is true, there’s no need to fret. The strongest in the kingdom is still my father.”

Yes.

The kingdom’s officially recognized strongest knight was Maltyb’s father, the commander of the Order of the Golden Knights, Sir Bengrass Gegen.

But if Bolvar Fenton – a knight of such legendary stature that his name was ensconced in the Knight Chronicles – proved to be alive?

I can’t profess to know the extent of Sir Bengrass’s abilities, but perhaps the official rankings might indeed be reversed.

Maltyb seemed anxious about this possibility. The ‘Gegen’ surname had long stood dominant in the world of knights like a shining star, with Bolvar Fenton’s dreaded name looming above it.

Would their substantial position be rattled, much as ‘Geryhill’ is with my presence?

With a sly smile, I said to Maltyb, “Think what you want.”

“…What?”

“Whether it’s the strongest in the kingdom or whatever, you’re free to think as you like. Do you know why Sir Bolvar retired? He had no interest in such childish squabbles.”

“Childish squabbles? Did you just say it was childish?”

“Isn’t it quite childish to strut around as if your father’s renown is your own?”

“You little…”

“Enough!”

As Maltyb heatedly reached for his scabbard, Sir Gultair shouted once again. But Maltyb, feeling deeply insulted, gritted his teeth and retorted.

“How dare you insult me and my father… Draw your sword. I challenge you to a duel.”

A duel, seriously?

“Do you even know what a duel entails?”

“A life-or-death fight, that much I know.”

“A duel is a matter for ‘sworn knights’. But I’m neither a knight, nor are you a training knight who has taken any oaths.”

“It doesn’t matter! Fight me! I say we fight… Ugh!”

Crack!

Mid-rant, Maltyb was abruptly silenced by a swift smack to the back of his head, dealt none other by Sir Gultair Pirante.

“Damned trainee knight who doesn’t even know what a duel entails, always running your mouth… Quiet down. You just want to fight Ruin, don’t you?”

“…Yes.”

“Fine. During tomorrow’s group dueling class, the first match will be between Group 1 and Group 31. Any objections?”

A dueling square was hardly the place, and a duel was out of the question.

Indeed.

We are students, and this is a school.

There’s the excuse of a class – a perfect reason for a healthy bout, isn’t it?

“No objections here.”

In response to my words, Maltyb Gegen, grinding his teeth, declared,

“You’re really annoying… I’ll beat you senseless tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I look forward to it.”

The confrontation between Group 1 and Group 31 was set – a match I had not intended, but perfectly aligned with my wishes.

My gaze shifted to the Zekil and Mikel brothers behind Maltyb. Zekil’s face, tensely swallowing his dry saliva from afar, betrayed his apprehension.

It seemed he had not expected such an early encounter.

Approaching Zekil, I dropped a hint.

“Tomorrow it is. Have you prepared yourself well?”

In response, Zekil Geryhill, feigning his usual leisurely attitude, uttered the predictable line without missing a beat.

“Preparations? For mere juniors? Ha, I’ll take it easy.”

He was laying the groundwork, suggesting he’d go easy on us.

How textbook.

I pressed him further.

“You’re going to take it easy? For someone renowned as the ‘Youngest Top-ranking Court Mage’… You should show your juniors what you’re capable of.”

“If you think the lesson will be done half-heartedly, you’re mistaken. Give it everything you’ve got… Because if not…”

I finished with a light chuckle.

“…It’ll be quite the embarrassment for you.”

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