The mist atop the roof was thick, swirling around Lencar's boots like cold, spectral water. At his feet lay Fluss, the mist mage of the Eye of the Midnight Sun. The cultist was unconscious, his face smashed into the clay tiles from Lencar's earlier strike.
Lencar stood over him, his breath hidden behind the wooden mask. The battle below in the village square was raging—a chaotic symphony of screaming ice and roaring fire—but up here, it was quiet.
He looked at Fluss. This man had tried to suffocate him. He had helped Heath Grice execute a countdown to massacre innocent villagers.
"You chose your side," Lencar whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind.
He didn't draw a weapon. He simply knelt and placed his hand on Fluss's throat. He channeled a spike of [Wind Magic] directly into the windpipe. It was quick. Clinical. A necessary subtraction from the equation. Fluss's body jerked once, then went still forever.
Lencar stood up. He felt a twinge of something in his gut—not guilt, exactly, but the heavy reality of taking a life that wasn't fighting back. He pushed it down. This was the world of magic. Mercy to an enemy was cruelty to oneself.
He stepped back into the shadows of the chimney. He re-activated his [Composite Magic]: [Phantom Walker].
He didn't have Mana Zone. He was Stage 5—a strong commoner, but still bound by the limits of his internal reserves. He couldn't command the mana in the air around him; he could only wrap himself in a thin, tight layer of Mana Skin to protect against the cold, while weaving Illusion and Wind magic to bend the light and mist around his body. To the world, he was a smudge on a lens, a trick of the eye.
He looked down into the square.
The fight was intensifying. Heath Grice stood in the center, an avatar of winter. He wasn't even moving his feet. He just checked his pocket watch, his expression one of bored irritation.
"Thirty seconds behind schedule," Heath muttered. "Ice Magic: Icicle Barbs."
A torrent of ice shards rained down on Asta.
"GAAAAH!" Asta screamed, swinging his rusted Demon-Slayer Sword with a speed that defied physics. Clang! Clang! Clang! He shattered the ice, but for every shard he broke, two more took its place. He was being pushed back, his skin sliced by grazing blows.
"Don't give up, Asta!" Magna Swing yelled from the flank. The delinquent mage was battered, his mana running low. He swung his flaming bat. "Fire Magic: Exploding Fireball!"
The fireball streaked toward Heath.
Heath didn't even look. His remaining subordinate, Abari, stepped forward. "Earth Magic: Mud Wall."
A thick slab of mud rose from the ground, swallowing the fire.
"Futile," Heath stated. "You are insects flailing against a storm."
Lencar watched, analyzing the combat data. Heath is conserving mana. He's fighting efficiently. Magna is exhausted. Asta is... Asta.
Then, he saw the villagers. They were still huddled in the center, exposed. A stray volley of ice shards ricocheted off a building and arched toward a group of children.
"No!" Chief Seihi screamed, shielding them with his body.
But before the ice could hit, a new mana signature flared. It was erratic, terrified, but massive.
Noelle Silva, the royal failure, stepped forward. She was shaking. Her wand was trembling in her grip. But she threw her hand out, screaming not a spell, but a plea to protect.
[Water Creation Magic]: [Sea Dragon's Nest]
A massive dome of swirling water erupted around the villagers. It churned with incredible force, adorned with the crest of the Silva family. The ice shards slammed into the water and were ground to dust instantly.
"What?" Heath blinked, finally showing surprise. "A defensive spell of that magnitude? From that girl?"
Lencar's eyes widened behind his mask. That isn't just mana capacity. That is the subconscious manifestation of a desire to protect. I can copy the spell structure... but can I copy the heart that drives it?
With the villagers safe, the dynamic shifted.
"ALRIGHT!" Magna roared, grinning despite his bleeding forehead. "Good job, little miss royalty! Now we don't have to hold back!"
Magna looked at Asta. "Oi! Asta! Are you ready to die yet?"
"NOT YET!" Asta bellowed, blood dripping from his chin. "I'M NOT DONE!"
"Good," Magna spun his bat. "Then take this!"
Magna didn't aim at Heath. He aimed at Asta.
"Fire Magic: Prison Kill Scattershot!"
He launched three fireballs directly at his teammate.
"Oh so he is using the same strategy as in the original huh" Lencar muttered under his breath.
But Asta didn't dodge. He grinned. He gripped his sword with both hands, the anti-magic metal humming. He swung the flat of the blade like a bat.
"HOME RUN!"
Asta hit the fireballs. The anti-magic didn't erase them; the physical force of the blade redirected them, while the anti-magic coating prevented them from detonating on impact.
The fireballs accelerated, wreathed in black sparks, turning into erratic, curving projectiles.
"What?" Heath's eyes widened. He raised an ice wall.
BOOM!
The fireballs smashed through the ice, catching Heath off guard. The explosion threw the leader of the Midnight Sun backward. His pristine tunic was scorched. His pocket watch cracked.
"You..." Heath stood up, his face twisting into a snarl. "You broke my watch. You disrupted the schedule."
"We're just getting started!" Asta yelled, charging through the smoke.
Heath lost his composure. "Ice Magic: Absolute Zero Tomb!"
He unleashed everything. The ground froze. Massive pillars of ice shot up, aiming to impale Asta.
Asta didn't stop. He jumped, bouncing off the ice pillars, moving with the chaotic agility of a wild animal.
"My magic is..." Asta screamed, winding up for a slash. "NEVER GIVING UP!"
He closed the distance. Heath tried to summon a shield, but he was a fraction of a second too slow—his rhythm broken by the chaos.
The heavy, rusted blade slammed into Heath's torso.
CRACK.
It wasn't a cut. It was a blunt force impact that shattered ribs and dispelled the active magic around Heath's body.
Heath Grice, the Stage 3 mage, was launched across the square. He smashed into the stone fountain, cracking it in half. He slid to the ground, groaned once, and went limp.
Silence fell over the square.
Magna fell to his knees, panting. Noelle dropped her wand, the water dome collapsing into puddles.
"We... we did it?" Noelle gasped.
"YEAHHHHH!" Asta raised his sword in victory. "WE WON!"
From his vantage point on the roof, Lencar let out a long breath.
"Textbook," Lencar murmured. "Messy, inefficient, emotional... and effective."
He looked at the unconscious forms of Heath and his two subordinates (Abari and another grunt). They were scattered, beaten, and defenseless.
The Black Bulls were busy celebrating and checking on the villagers. Their guard was down.
"Now," Lencar whispered, his eyes narrowing. "The protagonist has had his glory. It is time for the audit."