Chapter 149

Blue Blood (3)

Lichtenauer, the man who documented the stages of Aura, had once become obsessed with an intriguing idea.

What if an Aura user could cast magic?

Conversely, what if a mage could use Aura?

Would that not open a realm never before seen?

Would it not create a new kind of superhuman?

A mage used their will to produce phenomena.

An Aura user used their will to construct their body.

If someone could do both, what would happen?

Would they alternate between magic and Aura?

Or would magic and Aura fuse together to create something entirely new?

Lichtenauer became deeply fascinated by this captivating question.

After establishing his theories regarding the stages of Aura, he sought out learned mages and asked for their advice.

He even attempted to learn magic himself.

But every time, he hit a wall before he could even begin.

He failed to create a mage's vessel.

The mages unanimously told him:

While training the body at least offered a chance for an Aura vessel to form in the heart, a mage's vessel was different.

Training the brain would not create one.

That was an innate domain.

Lichtenauer wanted to refute them.

The body grew stronger when subjected to overload.

Then why would the brain not grow under overload as well?

With that belief, he immersed himself in every field he had never explored and every difficult discipline he could find.

Ancient languages.

Poetry.

Literature.

Rhetoric.

Musical performance.

Dance.

Painting.

Sculpture.

History.

Astronomy.

Alchemy.

Theology.

Philosophy.

Magic theory.

Ethics.

And countless others.

Yet even after ten years, he could not fully grasp even Chapter One of Introduction to Magic Studies.

Intellectually, he understood it.

But he could never internalize it.

First Principle: Mana flows from areas of high density to areas of low density.

The first chapter of magical theory established this fact and proposed methods to prove it.

Crystal sphere experiments using mana stones.

Mana compass experiments.

Mana ink experiments.

All of them required the ability to sense and control internal and external mana through the pineal gland.

It was the first step.

Lichtenauer despaired.

The pineal gland within his own head could not influence the world by even a speck.

In the end, the mages had been right.

A mage's vessel was something one was born with.

After wasting more than ten years, Lichtenauer changed his approach.

If a mage's vessel was innate, then why not teach Aura to mages instead?

Using his reputation as a master swordsmanship instructor, he recruited five First-Class mages.

They possessed some talent for magic but not enough to promise brilliant futures.

Under the condition that he would teach swordsmanship, provide room and board, and regularly pay them, they began learning martial arts.

Another ten years passed with astonishing speed.

By then, eight mages remained in Lichtenauer's estate.

Many others had come and gone.

More than a hundred in total.

Some had even chosen to return fully to the path of magic, weaving another ring—or even two more rings—into their magical circuits.

And ultimately, Lichtenauer's attempt failed.

All those mages trained their bodies to create Aura.

Not a single one succeeded in forming an Aura vessel in the heart.

Some lacked motivation.

Others devoted themselves so completely they risked their lives.

The result was the same either way.

Not one of them awakened Aura.

The only person who ever became an Aura user was a drifter who had pretended to be a mage despite not actually being one.

After nearly twenty years of effort and enormous expense, Lichtenauer reached a conclusion.

Magic and Aura cannot coexist.

It was an utterly disappointing answer.

Yet he had gained something.

He had discovered why.

The reason two vessels could not exist simultaneously.

The brain.

Or the heart.

Once either became the primary circuit, mana flow naturally followed that center.

And the directions of mana flow were completely opposite depending on which vessel served as the core.

Mana flowed in reverse directions.

A mage imbued gathered mana within their rings with will and released it through the pineal gland.

That became magical power and produced phenomena.

An Aura user imbued the mana gathered within their vessel with will and spread it throughout the body through the heart.

That became Aura and reconstructed the body.

Within a single body, the mage's vessel sought concentration.

The Aura vessel sought expansion and circulation.

Because of this, once one vessel formed, the other could never emerge.

Even if both somehow existed simultaneously for a brief moment, it would only bring disaster.

The opposing forces of attraction and repulsion would collide.

Mana circuits would rupture.

The vessels would shatter.

One would become crippled.

Or insane.

Or die.

Lichtenauer both admired and lamented this wondrous principle.

Because it proved that his ideal could never be achieved.

In his final years, while finishing Thoughts on the Dual Vessel, he left behind these words:

If you who read this possess the following qualities, you may become a superhuman beyond compare.

First, you can construct independent circuits in both the heart and the brain.

Second, your mana circulation speed and mana density are extraordinary enough to support both circuits.

Third, you possess transcendent regenerative abilities capable of restoring damaged circuits and vessels simultaneously.

Fourth, you can connect consciousness and body, mind and concept, without distinguishing between them.

Fifth, you instinctively understand and experience magic and Aura without viewing them through a dualistic framework.

Then strive forward.

For you were born destined to become a superhuman unlike any before.

You may enter a world where Aura and magical power are no longer separate.

Yet I am certain.

Even in this age, where magitech advances at a terrifying pace because of war...

Such a superhuman will never appear.

For his very existence would be a contradiction.

***

“This... actually works?”

Isaac stared at the sword in his hand.

The violet flames wrapped around the blade were fading away.

It was not merely a matter of creating a flame.

He had produced and controlled a blaze large enough to engulf the entire sword.

And it had been accomplished through triple-layered compression—a spell that consumed mana at an absurd rate.

It was not something he could sustain for long.

It had merely been an improvised solution.

The impulsive desire to show his mother how much he had grown while she was watching.

“Son, shall I see what you can do?”

The enemy commander, Karl, was not someone who could be killed simply by cutting him apart with Aura.

Isaac held the advantage in physical ability thanks to the Wolf King's Legacy, but in pure swordsmanship Karl was a step above him.

That did not mean Karl's physical abilities were lacking, either.

Crack.

Crack.

Whatever had been done to his body, Karl attacked in ways the human body should never have been capable of moving.

His movements were a continuous stream of irregularities.

Feints and deceptions Isaac had never encountered before.

Normally, one predicted an opponent's next move by reading the direction of their feet, knees, shoulders, and gaze.

None of it worked.

Karl loosely held his longsword in his right hand, letting the tip sway.

His left arm hung limply at his side.

He appeared ready to leap forward with his left foot.

Instead, he pivoted on it, spun with his right foot, and lashed his sword like a whip.

Crack.

Isaac evaded while gauging the proper distance for a counterattack.

Yet Karl's Aura-infused blade still brushed the back of his neck.

A strange cracking sound accompanied Karl's every movement.

He was deliberately dislocating his joints.

Using movements beyond all prediction to throw his opponent into confusion.

Distances that should have been impossible became reachable as shoulder joints shifted out of place.

Ankles and knees bent at angles they were never meant to bend.

Movements that defied common sense flowed naturally from them.

Like a snake.

Like a vine.

Whether it should be called flexibility or grotesqueness, Isaac could not tell.

The unpredictable trajectories of Karl's sword left him rattled.

“Want some help?”

“No, I'm fine.”

“Do your best. He isn't an opponent you can't defeat.”

Adele spoke calmly as more cuts accumulated across Isaac's body.

While casually cutting down approaching enemy soldiers, she protected the stage upon which Karl and Isaac fought.

To her, watching Isaac's battle seemed more important than the outcome of the war itself.

The more their blades crossed, the more Isaac was forced to acknowledge the gap between them.

Karl was superior in both swordsmanship and Aura mastery.

It was not a difference that could be overcome through the Wolf King's instincts or inherited abilities.

Karl maintained an extremely aggressive offense, exposing even his vital points without hesitation.

Isaac succeeded several times in stabbing or slashing Karl's weak spots.

It accomplished nothing.

Karl's bizarre movements never presented an opportunity to completely sever his neck.

And even when Isaac landed a deep cut, Karl would merely choke a few times before recovering.

He had already transcended the realm of humanity.

Just as with Chevalier and Evervine, black veins protruded across Karl's face.

If only I could set him on fire.

Isaac was being driven onto the defensive.

Only one method came to mind.

Just as he had dealt with Chevalier—

Burn Karl with flames of extremely condensed magical power.

The problem was that he no longer had the Ghost Squad to buy him time or restrain Karl's movements.

They were fighting elsewhere on the battlefield.

Enette, who could manifest magic on his behalf, had been left behind in the Vinfelt camp.

And even if he managed to cast the spell, he had no confidence he could actually hit Karl.

No matter how skilled he was with phase-shift magic, he could not manipulate a projectile precisely enough to track Karl's movements.

Only one option remained.

Take advantage of Karl's overconfidence in his regenerative abilities.

Karl ignored injuries.

He recklessly exposed his vital points while attacking.

A fatal opening was extremely difficult to find.

But if Isaac could accomplish one thing—

One strike would be enough.

Whoosh—

Not from his fingertips.

From the edge of his sword.

A flame.

An inextinguishable violet flame.

The same flame that had transformed Vincenzio into a Saint.

“GRAAAAAAAAH!”

The Flame of Purification that burned away sin.

Now that Vincenzio had become a Saint, that was what the violet flame was called.

Within those flames, Karl burned while unleashing screams no human should have been capable of producing.

“How ironic.”

Isaac muttered.

For some reason, Vincenzio had come to mind.

Then the meaning of the violet flame.

And now Karl was burning.

His life refused to fade easily.

His monstrous regenerative ability wrestled against the violet fire.

He looked almost like a demon being purified.

Of course, that was only an impression.

There was neither good nor evil upon this battlefield.

“How in the world... did you do that?”

Adele asked while staring blankly at Karl's thrashing figure.

Isaac shrugged.

“It just... happened before I realized it.”

Bwooo— Bwooo— Bwoo-Bwooo—

Bwooo— Bwooo— Bwoo-Bwooo—

At last, Falkenwald saw Karl reduced to ashes and sounded the horn.

He had judged it too late to save him.

“Retreat! Retreat!”

“Fall back!”

The knights of Botmer, realizing Karl's death, immediately amplified their voices with mana and relayed the order.

“Should we pursue them?”

“No. We already know where they'll gather.”

Isaac answered Adele's question.

***

Compared to the fierce resistance at the beginning of the siege, Winterband's fall had come far too easily.

Throughout the inner and outer fortresses hung banners bearing the Swan Crest.

Soldiers gathered around bonfires, drinking and eating meat.

Most of those not participating in the fighting were busy standing watch atop the walls, burning corpses, maintaining equipment, or constructing defensive barriers in preparation for the Royalist advance.

Laughter and lively conversations echoed throughout the fortress.

That atmosphere continued for several days.

“Damn it. This place gives me the creeps every time I come here.”

A soldier assigned to watch duty atop the outer wall muttered as he adjusted his trousers.

He had just returned from relieving himself in a secluded corner.

The inner walls were thick, but at least they looked like walls.

The outer wall, however, sealed off a steep canyon.

Below it lay only endless darkness.

Had it not been for the moon hanging above the White Serpent Mountain Range, the pale outlines of the surrounding landscape would have been invisible.

“God, it's fucking cold. Feels like even my piss is freezing. Can't wait to get back and hold a woman. Right, Ron? Ron? This bastard falling asleep again?”

The soldier grabbed his companion's shoulder and shook him.

The man stood staring toward the north.

He was pressed up against the battlements as though leaning against them.

Yet no matter how much he was shaken, he neither turned around nor reacted.

He simply swayed with the motion.

Creeeak...

“What the hell? Was that you? Not funny, asshole.”

The soldier grumbled at the strange sound.

Then something odd caught his eye.

A large hand covered in white fur was gripping both of his companion's legs.

“Did I drink too much?”

The instant he noticed it, the strange hand vanished through a gap in the battlements.

The companion who had been standing rigidly suddenly collapsed.

“...!”

For a moment, the soldier forgot how to breathe.

His companion's entire face had been torn away.

Not just the skin.

The jawbone and facial muscles as well.

Creeeak...

A creature with pure white fur appeared above the battlements.

A male Horn Ape.

The moment the soldier recognized it—

Crack.

His face was twisted backward toward his spine.