< 111. Wildcast (4) >
*
After showing off his presence to the strong ones of the wilderness, hiding in a base would be contradictory.
Fernandez slowly moved towards Tutankhamun Gartep’s city, constantly leaving traces of himself.
-Crackle.
Without prior preparation, the number of spells one could use in a day was limited to a few, depending on their scale.
The Bronze Throne was slowly recovering its functions, but the damaged circuits were now only at the level of a novice mage.
On the other hand, even the simplest spells used by Fernandez far surpassed that level.
Therefore, even when using just one spell, he had to carefully reduce the burden on the Bronze Throne.
-Thud!!
In the vast wasteland, a bizarre structure rose in the remote land where there was no road.
A totem made of twisted skeletons, branches, and rusty scrap metal pierced through the dry ground.
[Idol of Evil Worship]. A totem with a simple curse that instills fear in those with weak minds.
It also has the effect of driving away wild beasts and insects, and the traces of magic clearly indicate that someone has passed by.
Thus, it was one of the very useful spells for Fernandez, who slept on the streets. It was a spell that lured enemies and drove away annoying beasts. After all, there were many fierce wild beasts in the Great Wilderness.
-Will you rest here today?
‘The expression “resting” is a bit funny.’
Diemonica’s body can maintain its functions without sleep for three days. After two nights, sleepiness torments and fatigue accumulates, but it was enough to maintain minimal activity.
The fatigue complained by the body is an illusion that can be healed with time. Fernandez closed his eyes, blackened by fatigue, and sat cross-legged beside the totem.
-Slurp.
He closed his eyes and drew the Dagger of the Necropolis from his bosom. Without hesitation, he sliced his arm. A tingling pain ran down his forearm.
-Slurp…
Blood was sucked into the dagger. The curse of the dagger was injected through the wound, and he felt his soul slowly shattering. As much as the soul disappeared, his mind gradually approached the Soul Realm.
‘Take care.’
-What, shyly.
His left arm escaped his control, and Faijashi’s soul embraced him. The left arm smoothly grasped the beastman, and chains wrapped around the arm.
While he was deep in meditation, Faijashi would protect his body and manipulate the Control Chains. Through the Control Chains entwined with Neferka and Partak, he could monitor their actions.
“Hoo…”
Fernandez’s right arm grasped the mantra, slowly, slowly sinking into the deep depths of his mind.
It was a moment when memories of the past were needed.
*
Who was the strongest warrior he could recall? Until recently, he thought it was King Dain.
Since his soul was melted into his body, in the process of inheriting King Dain’s karma, resentment, and madness, his experiences and senses were also melted into his body.
He thought that King Dain’s swordsmanship, though not yet mastered, was already inherent within him. However, after crossing numerous battlefields and actually dying and resurrecting, his swordsmanship remained only as fragments flowing within his hands.
Fernandez calmly assessed his own condition. Restoring the magic of his prime was almost impossible.
Only by risking his life and fulfilling numerous conditions could he barely revive a few spells.
In terms of swordsmanship, he was by no means a hero with talent.
His talents and skills were specialized in strategy, tactics, schemes, and plots. His swordsmanship was merely a repetition of mechanically learned techniques.
Then what should he do? Fernandez decided to seek a master. Like heroes, if he couldn’t gain enlightenment and break through walls with flashes of wit, inspiration, and talent, he would follow and master the techniques of those heroes.
With insufficient magic and lacking swordsmanship, all he had in abundance was divinity and lifespan. He decided to seek a master through meditation, investing his spirituality without reserve.
Not King Dain. His swordsmanship was in the realm of instinct and talent. It was more like implementing miracles or magic rather than swordsmanship. It wasn’t something that could be learned by seeing and imitating.
However, he had once seen a warrior who had reached the pinnacle of martial arts in his previous life. His nemesis.
The strongest warrior he had ever faced.
He decided to take Daryan Schryke in his prime as his master.
*
-Slurp.
A wind mixed with magic brushed past his ears. Fernandez slowly opened his eyes. A familiar space.
The Crimson Tower, his hall, and if excluding the High Council of Aseas, it belonged to the ranks of the greatest towers in the Material World.
“It’s been a while. The Amethyst Hall.”
The Amethyst Hall, a place where dozens of spells create illusions and confusion, with demons in spirit form lurking between them, targeting intruders.
During the Faijashi era, he wished that the first place heroes or assassins who challenged him would encounter would be their own limbs.
Foolish mages decorate their dungeons with traps and minions that grow progressively stronger. But true sages throw their strongest moves right from the entrance.
Those who can break through would be able to kill him anyway, and those who can’t won’t be given time to adapt.
Thus, the defenses of the Crimson Tower were always kept in perfect condition. Yet, there was a moment when Faijashi himself had to step into the Crystal Hall to stop an intruder.
It was when Daryan Schryke and his nine disciples sought his life.
Fernandez, dragging his splendid robe, walked to the center of the crystal hall. He could feel his minions in the mirrors lining the walls submitting to him.
“I don’t need you now.” Ignoring the growling demons, Fernandez waited for the visitor in the middle of the crystal hall.
-Whirr! Whirr! Whirr!
Soon, the alarm in the tower rang loudly. Ah, it was just like that day. Stimulated by the traumatic sensation, Fernandez chuckled.
Now, he’s going to smash the door.
-Kaboom!
A burst of intense light, like the sun pouring down, shattered the great door of the crystal hall into pieces.
Fragments scattered in the air, and the ornate brass door, adorned with demons and sacrifices, poured into the hall.
“Faijashi! Faijashi Wildcast!!! Today, I will set justice right!!”
“Predictable guy.”
A gruff voice echoed through the hall, and the familiar face appeared. Fernandez smiled warmly as he saw the burly old warrior striding towards him.
“Welcome, brother.”
“…What?”
“Didn’t we make a pact? Haha.”
“What kind of nonsense is this now!!”
At Fernandez’s words, Daryan frowned and swung his spear in a wide arc. The sacred artifact of Shield, the Sun Spear, crushed the spells hanging in the crystal hall with its power of destruction.
The intense light reflected off the hall, painting it in brilliant colors. Feeling the demons cower, Fernandez clicked his tongue.
“Useless things. All of you, step aside.”
At his command, the demons retreated. Fernandez tapped his staff and took a step forward.
Just a little closer, and he would be within Daryan’s range. Daryan, realizing this, looked somewhat tense.
He probably didn’t expect the scheming Faijashi to approach so defenselessly. Fernandez laughed and said,
“Sorry for the poor hospitality. You came unannounced, and I didn’t have much time. Please understand.”
“Since when did you and I make plans to visit each other?”
“That’s true. Haha.”
Daryan narrowed his eyes and slightly raised his spear. His thoughts were almost readable.
Whether it’s a trap or not, he’s thinking of making the first move. Fernandez tapped his staff and set it down.
“I don’t plan to use magic.”
“…What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
-Zap!!
Sparks flew from his hand. Thinking of the most familiar sword, the greatsword of King Dain appeared in his grasp. It was impossible to replicate the mysteries tied to the sword, but it was a satisfactory creation nonetheless.
Pointing the sword slightly, Fernandez smiled playfully.
“Let’s cross blades, brother.”
How frustrating it was that the warrior he fought most often in his life happened to be one of the strongest in the Material World.
But now, he was glad that his rival was Daryan Schryke of the Sun Spear. In his memories, he had clashed with Daryan so often that he could replicate every move and tactic.
Even if it was just a hallucination in his memory, Daryan would replicate the moves he would have made back then.
Back then, as a mage, he couldn’t understand those moves. But now, as a swordsman, Fernandez could understand them.
“Is this a new way to commit suicide?”
Daryan looked at him with a blank expression as he raised his sword.
*
“Ugh…!”
“…What? Did he really die?”
The first time, it was three strikes. Before the third strike, his heart was pierced. The first two strikes were just Daryan’s cautious probes, so it could be considered that only one real attack was made.
Fernandez swallowed blood as he etched the trajectory of the spear piercing his heart into his retina.
“Let’s do it again.”
Consciousness fades.
*
The spearhead, like a snake, pierced through his greatsword, cutting off the flow of power and deflecting the blade. Despite Fernandez’s grip, he couldn’t stop the blade from being lifted.
It was an extremely precise strike, cutting through the balance of power. Fernandez watched Daryan’s movements in the slowed time.
The spearhead, without stopping, pierced precisely into his chest. The impact shattered his heart, and he felt his insides churning.
‘He turned the direction of the force by spinning it half a turn to the lower right.’
That technique was the product of long experience and sensation. It wasn’t something that could be replicated immediately. It was a perfect counter at the perfect timing.
“Ugh…!”
“…What? Did he really die?”
Hearing Daryan’s dazed voice, Fernandez, bleeding and with bloodshot eyes, whispered.
“Let’s do it again.”
As many times as you want, teach me.
As his vision darkened, consciousness faded.
*
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