The Last Mana
A fight between those who take up the sword is intuitive and equal.
That was why the profession of gladiator still endured in Serdes.
Intuitive, and therefore simple; simple, and therefore plain to the eye. Watching the feints and counters unfold within that clarity was half the pleasure of it.
The world of mages, however, was the opposite of the blade.
It was abstract, and the gulf between its ranks was absolute. The problem was how glaringly the gap between Circles showed itself. Climb even a single Circle higher, and the odds of victory tipped past ninety-five percent — such was the absurdly honest hierarchy of mages.
And yet the remaining five percent always held its irregulars.
Overwhelming talent that could, in a single day, erase what another had spent ten years building.
The man Bernel Marquis was watching now — Ferda Valdrova — was precisely that sort of person.
Magic Intercept?
The art of seizing a spell an opponent had manifested or loosed, claiming it by sheer will, and turning it back upon them. Among a mage’s contests, it was the rarest and most difficult technique of all.
Something only mages who have reached at least the Fifth Circle ever attempt… isn’t it?
It was a craft reserved for those who understood magic deeply and had mastered the handling of mana — for Master Mages of the Fifth Circle, and only them. That had always been the case.
And yet Ferda was a Second Circle mage, a rank Bernel himself could afford to dismiss.
No — I’ve heard that in theory, even a Second Circle can do it.
Second Circle: Spell Blower.
Named for the stage at which one began casting proper spells in earnest, it was the rank where a mage could weave magic by drawing threads of mana. The spells, however, were crude, weak, and imprecise — so much so that the name itself was a slight, as if one were merely “blowing” a spell.
So theory is only theory.
The magical world was littered with things that existed only on paper.
And he’s performing Magic Intercept? Truly?
It was possible. But no one had ever done it.
If what he was seeing truly was Magic Intercept, then Bernel was witnessing a new page being written in the history of mages.
Having returned to the past and attempting Magic Intercept for the first time that day, Ferda’s assessment was this:
As expected, it isn’t nearly as simple as it sounds.
If a Mana Walker mastered the point, a Spell Blower was the line. From that line, one could construct a plane — that is, weave a spell.
The only thing I still know how to cast is Magic Shot.
The spells of the Second Circle had slipped from his memory once he became an Archmage, and even now he had not bothered to relearn them.
But that one spell is everything.
Simple as it was, it was exactly what the present situation required. He did not need to convert mana into an element; pure mana alone was more than enough.
At least against a monster.
I’ve captured monsters more times than I can count.
Back when he had collaborated with the demon-worshipper Thessalos, the man’s demand had been the live capture of monsters. Killing them was easy; taking them alive was not. In the course of sharing knowledge with Thessalos, Ferda had also come to share an understanding of a monster’s nature.
And in the end, I found the answer.
It was the simplest conclusion of all.
A human exposed to corrupted mana for long enough would break down or die. Conversely, for the tumorous creatures that thrived on that corrupted mana, pure mana was poison.
Ferda meant to inject that poison straight into the heart.
Once the creature could no longer vent its mana, intoxication would set in, and for a brief span its regeneration and overwhelming strength would stall — like jamming a splinter of wood between the teeth of a spinning gear.
It will snap eventually. But for a moment, it can force a stop.
Ferda loosed his first sphere toward the bear-monster’s face. He fired it on a curve so the creature could not read the line of approach, and dropped it cleanly onto the crown of its skull.
Boom!
Had it been an ordinary man, the head would have been reduced to pulp.
—Grooooaar!
The bear-monster only roared and flung its head up. Mana intoxication had hardened its durability even further. The skull was dented, but the damage was not meaningful.
Ferda gave Bernel an order.
“Prepare a large one.”
“Yes, sir!”
While Bernel shaped a heavy sphere, Ferda immediately prepared a second shot. Another curve — not falling from above this time, but sweeping wide from the side.
Boom!
The bear-monster’s head snapped hard to one side.
—Grooooaar!
Properly enraged now, the creature bellowed and lifted its forepaws, searching for the enemy.
Ferda did not miss the opening. Four spheres took shape at his fingertips.
“Now.”
Bernel hurled his sphere along Ferda’s line of fire, and Ferda snatched it from the air. Together with the four spheres floating at his fingers, he sent it streaking in a straight line toward the bear-monster’s chest.
Boom!
One Mana Shot detonated mid-flight. The shove of the blast compounded, and the remaining spheres accelerated. The three smaller orbs Ferda had shaped spun in a spiral and struck the chest first.
KRA-KOOM!
Three explosions chain-fired. Continuous blasts tore the hide from the chest and laid the flesh bare. Then Bernel’s large sphere punched into the raw meat beneath.
Deeper.
Accelerated force and spin bored into the muscle.
Deeper still.
And at last, it burst.
KRAAANG!!
A vast explosion swallowed the bear-monster’s body whole.
“Hngh—!”
Bernel made an undignified sound of shock.
Did my mana sphere ever hold that kind of explosive force?
He knew the thing that had detonated was the sphere he had thrown. Fired by Bernel himself, it never could have produced such power. And yet Ferda — a Second Circle mage — was handling it as easily as if it were his own.
Ferda’s eyes fixed on the far side of the dust.
Show yourself.
The view cleared, and the target reappeared. As expected, the bear-monster’s body was a ruin. Black hide had been stripped away; dark-violet flesh had been savaged. The organs and bone within stood fully exposed.
Ferda’s gaze locked onto the heart.
Still beating.
The root of all its life force lay in that heart. With every powerful pump, the creature’s flesh was already knitting itself back together.
Hyper-regeneration, fully intact.
Not only was its durability exceptional — its recovery outstripped that of other monsters as well.
This has to end quickly.
The beast was helpless, unable to so much as twitch a claw. If it regained the ability to move, the fight would turn into Ferda’s defeat.
I’ll have to go rough.
Decision made, Ferda shaped spheres at his fingertips and shouted to Bernel.
“Bernel! The moment you finish a sphere, throw it!”
“Yes, sir!”
Ferda poured a merciless barrage into the heart.
—Grrk. Grrk.
Struck clean through the heart, the bear’s body convulsed and forced out ragged breaths. Ferda’s spheres hammered the organ, ripping open flesh that tried to close, over and over again.
Would Ferda’s mana run dry first, or would the bear’s regeneration give out first? The two of them were locked in a tug-of-war over a single wound.
The sheer mass of it… it’s not landing properly.
Victory was far from certain. Had he been a Fifth Circle mage, he could have finished this with ease — but with the mana reserves of a Second and a Third, he could not even get a clean read on it.
Ferda was in a difficult spot.
I feel sick.
Bernel thought he might actually vomit. His head swam as if he had been breathing the thick stink of oil for too long. The sensation of mana draining out of him clouded his mind and shattered his concentration.
Since becoming a scholar, have I ever burned this much mana?
Never.
A scholar needed strength only for what was necessary, and had to pour that strength into it completely. For that reason, Bernel had always kept more than half of his mana in reserve.
Ferda was hammering away with his barrage, and Bernel was wringing out mana to match the tempo. Only about twenty percent of his own remained. Three more spheres, and he would be dry.
The same question turned toward Ferda.
The Regent has to have spent far more mana than I have. How is he still casting?
Even by a rough count, Ferda had thrown more spheres than Bernel himself. Bernel lifted his head and looked at him — and his eyes went wide.
B-blood from his nose!
The meaning of a mage bleeding from the nose while casting was simple.
Overload!
An abnormality that appeared when every scrap of focus was poured into a single point — when one forced out more power than one’s capacity allowed.
If he keeps that up, he’ll hit mana burnout…!
In the worst case, a man could be left a cripple who would never perform magical calculation again for the rest of his life. It was the most dangerous state a mage could enter.
He came without even a staff, and of course…
A mage’s staff assisted in the formation of mana. Without any such aid, Ferda was calculating everything with nothing but his bare mind. Overload was the natural consequence. At the point of a nosebleed, someone had to stop him at once.
“Bernel.”
Ferda spoke his name in a calm voice.
“Y-yes?”
“Focus.”
Bernel’s confusion dissolved at the sound of that voice.
Right. Stay calm. What good is a man with a Blue Circle if he can’t keep his head?
It was a ridiculous picture. Ferda, who bore a Red Circle, was composed; Bernel, who bore a Blue Circle, was the one panicking.
I truly… never resolved myself at all, did I?
Bernel thought it through. He had refused to abandon the project — but had he ever been prepared to stake his life on it?
No. I hadn’t.
He had believed that research alone would be enough. That someone else would capture the monsters, that he would study them, and that peace would follow from that work.
Ferda was staking his life for Bernel’s research — even risking the burnout that could end a mage’s career forever.
I have to stake something too…!
Bernel faced the cowering figure of himself. And with that figure as a foothold, he leapt.
“Grrraaah!”
He wrung out his mana. He converted his own life force into mana and forced the exchange.
“Regent!”
He loosed a roar so bold that no one who knew the timid Bernel would have believed it.
“Take my last manaaaa!”
A massive sphere sailed toward Ferda.
“My thanks.”
Ferda claimed even that mana sphere as his own and hurled it into the bear-monster.
KRAAANG!
An explosion thundered from inside the creature’s body. Its thrashing and its regeneration both went utterly still.
The heart?
If the heart burst, everything would have been for nothing. Ferda focused and studied the chest.
Still beating.
The beast was hanging on by the barest thread of life. Its hyper-regeneration had finally been braked.
“Now! Sever the tendons and bind it!”
Arwen and his men charged in and set upon the bear-monster. It was as easy as setting a spoon to a meal already laid out on the table. Without a single casualty, they took the creature alive.
While they worked, Ferda checked on Bernel.
“Are you all right?”
Bernel was streaming blood from his nose and twitching with spasms. Mana burnout had set in. Even through the pain of organs tearing, he was smiling.
“Haha… h-how was it? M-my sincerity?”
Ferda answered coldly.
“A foolish thing to do. Risking your life like that.”
“I-if the Regent does it, how am I supposed to…”
…not?
He could not even finish the words before he collapsed unconscious. Ferda laid him down with care.
“Are you unharmed, Regent?”
“The monster?”
“Yes. Its condition… is stable. We’ll transport it to the castle as is.”
“Good. Before that, let’s handle the urgent matter. Is there a mage in your territory?”
“Yes, there is.”
Ferda pointed to the young man at his feet.
“I’d like you to take this fool and have some mana injected into him. The distance to our own castle is considerable, so I’ll leave it to you.”
Arwen set a hand to his chest and nodded.
“Understood. But Regent — do you not need emergency treatment yourself?”
“For what?”
Arwen pointed to his own nose.
“You’re bleeding.”
“A nosebleed?”
Ferda wiped his nose. Cooled, already-congealed blood came away on his fingers.
“So it is.”
Even Ferda, deep in concentration, had not noticed. Arwen drew a handkerchief from his coat and offered it.
“I’ve heard that overusing magic can cause a nosebleed. If you’re dizzy at all, shouldn’t treatment come first?”
“Ah, I’m fine.”
Ferda wiped his nose with the handkerchief. A few light taps, and the bleeding stopped at once.
“I may be reckless, but I’m not the sort of man who throws away his body in a fight.”
He would take necessary risks when he had to — but he never staked his life. In truth, he still had enough mana left to shape three more spheres.
“A pebble just flew up when the mana detonated and caught me in the face. That must have hit my nose.”
And so, to Ferda, Bernel — who had pushed himself into overload and abandoned his own body — seemed merely pitiful.