Chapter 523 – Superlative Magic
For a human Mage, the heart is the origin where magic power begins.
It is the same even for a Transcendent who has surpassed their race.
Jjjeoeeoeeong!
The metal pillar encasing the Orb of [Interis] struck against the skull.
A dull agony, enough to momentarily erase the searing pain squeezing his chest, surged from crown to toes.
Kwoong!
Dahit's pupils, sinking closer to the ground, shook violently. Blood poured down his collapsed knees and the hands bracing against the floor.
'Magic...!'
The more he tried to gather magic power, the more it dispersed in accelerated disarray. The flow of the mana circuits slowed, nearly stopping altogether.
An instinct sounding the alarm.
The staff was once again raised before the incapacitated Dahit.
Bbeoeeoeoeok!
The senses of his entire body shuddered.
The tide was reversed.
Seizing the chance, Verden pressed without pause, a relentless onslaught. He ignored the bleeding that flowed from his pierced abdomen.
Already, [Ainber]'s
If the impact lacked, he simply added rotation.
Kwaaang! Kwang! Jjeoeoeok!
Driven back by Verden's desperate chain strikes, Dahit staggered helplessly, unable to steady his body.
Impossible.
Who could have imagined such a sight, the Transcendent reigning over Black Hour, battered in this way.
Yet for Dahit Wethroel, his existence would not end simply because his heart faltered. He was not so frail.
Thump.
By force, he burdened his heart to restore the flow of magic power. Mado opened, and the flames of Deathflame gathered in his hands.
At once, he let the trajectory of [Interis] slip by and stepped forward.
Though weaker in destructive force than at first, it was enough to pry open ragged wounds.
Crack.
The injury worsened.
And the more it worsened, the more Verden clung to consciousness with fierce will.
Dark crimson lightning burst, striking Dahit's torso. His right ribs shattered, his form hurled away.
───Kwaaang!
By the manipulated earth Verden had shaped earlier, Dahit collided against a grotesquely jutting stone hill.
'Can't stop.'
Verden linked his magic.
Kwaaaarrrrrrng!
Dark crimson thunderbolts fell from the sky, scorching the entire field. The roar rattled eardrums, the light of ruin blazed brightly.
At the same time, Verden stretched his left hand.
Still lingering in the heavens above, the starry night of Spirit Star, Alhena.
Because he had countered Dahit's unique magic with a meteor shower, few stars remained.
Pouring magic to regenerate them placed a heavy strain on his body. Considering the 'last resort', there was no room for waste.
Thus he moved only the remaining stars.
A graceful circle traced in radiant afterglow.
The flow of stars became a torrent, became a radiant light.
Supernova.
As the lightning of ruin subsided, the stellar congregation rent the space. Burrowing into the thick dust, a gray light erupted within.
──────!
The star's explosion swept away Alhena's domain, consuming all before it.
***
Verden barely steadied his trembling body with his staff. Gripping his abdomen, a spray of blood burst forth.
Hududududuk.
The reckless movements and Dahit's counter left him with grievous injuries, nearly mortal.
Had [Ainber] been platinum, not obsidian, by now it would surely be crimson-stained.
'Emergency treatment is impossible.'
If it were merely a deep wound, he could have cauterized it with flame... But it was not only pierced through, the wound itself was laced with annihilation.
At this point, even if he consumed Isabella's special potion stored in subspace, the bleeding would not stop.
'Until I kill Dahit Wethroel, and erase the trace of Mado.'
Then, a voice came from ahead.
"...The world regards Transcendents as lofty and great beings. As if equating them to nature itself, inevitable and incomprehensible anomalies. Thus those who try to reason them with the mind, paradoxically disbelieve and deny them. The more ordinary do not even know of Transcendents at all."
The black robe cloaking Dahit was tattered and frayed. His torn wounds dripped with blood.
Plain as day.
He was closer to death than Verden.
Swiik.
Dahit wiped the blood from his lips, brushing up his disheveled ash-gray hair.
"But if one witnesses this magic battle, such rigid notions will be utterly demolished. And they will know, that this is what a true Transcendent is."
"..."
"Of course, there are no such ignorant ones here, thus there is no one to enlighten. Yet it matters not. This place has become another center. The world already is both spectator and stranger, observing."
And then.
"One of us will remember the beginning and end of this magic battle. Thus we define each other. In that sense, Verden, I ask you."
Dahit fixed his gaze on Verden.
"What is your ideal."
The foundation each Transcendent holds.
Verden, who usurped Black Hour from Dahit, who bears enmity toward Balrog Bessias, what vision does he seek.
The short question echoed quietly through the ruins, the Capital of Ruin.
Verden spoke low.
"I───"
That day, in the Blue Mountains, Verden chose. He declared he would no longer remain mere possibility.
Thus he tread upon Infinity, carving through ruin, surpassing the wall of awakening.
From that arose a single dream, a new ideal.
Hearing Verden's answer, Dahit chuckled, then laughed madly.
"That was your life's goal? Trite, yet novel. Yes, anyone might think it once, but none pursue it in deed. Hahaha, truly a madman's destination."
Dahit bared his teeth.
"But to reach that ideal, you must first surpass me."
He readied his stance.
"Usually beings like us refrain from carelessly casting Superlative Magic for two reasons. To counter the other's, or because its strength brings unbearable burden. It seems you are the latter."
He drew hard upon the magic within his damaged heart. The pain and blood were great, but he showed none.
"So let us test it. Which concept reigns supreme."
Dahit thrust forward his right hand, then clenched it tightly.
The pinnacle of Mado.
Fwooorrroooorrrrk!
The entirety of Amwol was engulfed in black flames, burning madly. The earth disintegrated. The flames seized exactly a twenty-meter radius.
The final clash.
In that same moment, Verden too drew his last hand.
Rising high into the sky, he used [Interis] as medium, combining Infinity and Destruction, and behind him a gray satellite emerged.
'When facing Arnak's sword, I named it
Now Verden forged a complete form of magic.
Whoooong.
A strange wave emanated wide from the satellite. The heavens flashed, nature stirred.
As though sucked in, clouds gathered at once, a colossal, dense, white maelstrom devoured the blue sky.
An overwhelming natural phenomenon wrought by magic.
Within the eye of the storm, the two Transcendents remained.
"Indeed."
Dahit's eyes gleamed as if he had expected it, the once-condensed power of annihilation slipping from control.
The erasure of reality.
Last year, it had clashed against Balrog Bessias's Superlative Magic,
From its aftermath, the Cliff of Eternity vanished from the continent.
This was one of the 'three' Superlative Magics Dahit conceived after setting foot upon the realm of Transcendence.
Blazing darkness surged.
Waves erased all things, even light, creating the illusion that the world itself was being burned away.
Though its range was far less than the Superlative Magic
Yet, in this moment, victory had already been decided.
Flash.
By Verden's will, the expended satellite shifted, its remaining light transferred beyond space into the high heavens.
The creation of a new concept, born by uniting two Mados.
Sound vanished.
Star of Annihilation.
The pure white ring of storm covering the skies radiated, from its center a colossal pillar of ash-gray light descended toward the earth.
Falling apocalypse.
Soaring black flame.
At the instant their ultimates collided head-on... Dahit widened his eyes, and did not withhold a smile.
Kwa-gwa-gwa-gwa-gwa-gwa-gwa-gwa───!
Dahit Wethroel's annihilation shattered to pieces, crushed utterly.
A gray flash destroyed the world.
***
Fleeing from a noble house exterminated by the nobles of Ailan Kingdom, he cast himself into the magic city, Virente.
There, while barely surviving day to day, he encountered Jeremiah Gawin, leader of Black Hour at the time.
A man brimming with yearning for magic and reverence for talent.
Thus, caught in Jeremiah's eye, he was half-forced to undergo an aptitude test, the result revealing him to be a seed of Transcendence.
For young Dahit Wethroel, with nowhere else to go, becoming disciple to the very first founders of Black Hour was a natural course.
Teachings and research.
With talent as a stepping stone, Dahit reached the 5th tier at an age far younger than most.
Yet though his rank rose smoothly... no matter how he struggled, he could not cross the Mage's wall to become a Magus.
His masters said it was due to a lack of magical enlightenment. Such a thing could not be solved by time or effort.
───Then...
After endless deliberation, Dahit's gaze turned toward his homeland.
The reason was simple.
The greatest driving force he had ever possessed was vengeance. Perhaps therein lay the answer.
Thus Dahit, without his masters' knowledge, went straight to Ailan Kingdom. He reunited with the city once governed by the Wethroel family, his house of birth.
Faded through time, his vengeance and hatred slowly revived.
He welcomed that change.
Dahit believed these burning emotions were the key to pioneering Mado, and so he roamed the city busily.
As a child, he had often visited these streets, but long since an adult, none could recognize him.
He mingled among people, asking after the Wethroel family.
Partly to dramatically reignite the rancor within, but also out of desire to hear tales of how his family had once ruled in prosperity and peace.
But.
───The Wethroel family? Uh... was there such a house? Not sure.
Contrary to Dahit's hopes, few remembered the Wethroel family. Too much time had passed.
Most of the young reacted as though hearing the name for the first time, while the elders denounced them as a vile house.
It was the residue of slander spread by Ailan's nobles during old power struggles.
Suddenly, Dahit halted in the middle of the city.
How much had his family bestowed upon this city, and yet not a soul remembered them.
No, if he searched through enough people, perhaps a few would.
───But, what's the use?
Citizens, city, domain, Ailan Kingdom, the world itself neither cared for nor remembered the Wethroel family.
After some decades more, even the name would sound utterly strange.
Vengeance.
Standing still, Dahit sank deep into thought on the meaning of vengeance.
How should he repay the grudge of a house executed to the last?
Should he kill all the nobles who waged those conflicts, then restore the name of Wethroel? Would that truly mean anything?
At that moment.
Ah.
Dahit recalled a memory he had forgotten, a feeling far stronger than vengeance ever was, one from his childhood.
Fear.
The dreadful journey of turning his back on his executed house, merely to survive.
───So that's it.
At last, Dahit understood himself.
The hatred he had carried toward his enemies was but a shell, a veil hiding his terror of death.
Indeed.
What he truly desired was survival. In the past, and still now.
But not merely to survive.
He wished to exist beyond the span of flesh, never to be forgotten.
Unlike his family, forgotten and distorted.
Then, how?
How could one live forever?
To be like those great figures who proved their existence beyond ages, and even surpass them...
The answer was one.
To be remembered.
Not as distortion or exaggeration, but as eternal, undying memory.
The enlightenment was simple, clear.
Thus Dahit Wethroel became a Magus.
***
The world fell silent.
Beyond the Capital of Ruin, a chasm vast as a great city yawned upon the earth, its depths unseen, filled with abyss.
Above it, one man floated.
"Impressive, enemy."
Barely surviving apocalypse, Dahit was utterly ruined. His left half nearly destroyed, he clutched the shoulder where his arm was gone.
Drip, drip... drip...
Blood streamed between his fingers, falling into the dark.
Even the homeostasis of a Transcendent body could not hope to heal such mortal damage.
Yet, he did not die.
The closer to life's end, the more his yearning for an ideal swelled.
Naturally.
For now, more than ever, he was closest to that ideal.
Beyond the Bounds, Ignacia.
Divinity, Verden.
Amwol, Dahit Wethroel.
'Almost there.'
All conditions were met.
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