Before Mars could even attempt to draw another breath, let alone summon another devastating spell, Lencar went on the offensive. He wasn't about to give the Diamond General a single second to regain his footing or process the absolute impossibility of what had just happened. In this world, hesitation was death, and Lencar was determined to stay ten steps ahead.
He didn't use the terrifying, corrosive black-red aura of the anti-magic. That took too heavy a toll on his stamina, and he was already running on fumes. Nor did he use the newly acquired, impossibly dense crystal magic he had just stolen. No, for this specific situation, Lencar reached deep into his vast, endlessly copied arsenal within the Logoless Grimoire for something highly specific, profoundly insulting, and utterly debilitating.
He raised his right hand, his fingers spread wide. The aura of Stage 3 Peak mana swirling around his body underwent a drastic, visceral shift. The pristine, structured, pale pink glow of the crystal attribute bled away, replaced in a split second by a dull, heavy, rusted metallic brown. It smelled faintly of oxidized iron and old blood.
"[Chain Magic]: Dance of the Nameless Serpent."
The incantation left Lencar's lips as a low, rumbling command.
Instantly, the slick obsidian plateau directly beneath Mars's heavy boots shattered outward. Dozens of thick, heavily rusted iron chains erupted from the solid rock with the explosive force of a geyser. They didn't just shoot straight up; they moved with the eerie, unnatural speed and serpentine fluidity of a nest of striking vipers that had just been disturbed.
Before the bewildered Diamond General could even think to leap away, before his battle-hardened instincts could prompt him to summon even the thinnest crystal shield for defense, the chains were upon him.
They whipped viciously around his ankles first, pulling taut with a sickening clack of metal against crystal armor, instantly robbing him of his mobility. Like living, hungry things, the rusted links snaked rapidly up his muscular legs, spiraling around his thighs and waist. They lashed forward, wrapping his arms tightly to his torso before he could raise his hands to cast. In less than two seconds, they had coiled around his newly forged pink crystal armor in a suffocating, incredibly heavy, unbreakable cocoon of rusted metal.
Mars struggled violently. He was a beast of a teenager, his muscles forged in high-gravity training and relentless death matches. He roared, his veins popping on his pale neck as he strained against the iron with raw, unadulterated physical strength.
But the chains only pulled tighter. The magical constructs reacted to his resistance, the rusted links grinding loudly against the beautiful pink crystal plates Lencar had made for him, letting out a terrible, screeching sound. The sheer, overwhelming weight and downward force of the chains dragged Mars completely off balance, forcing him down to his knees on the freezing, wet rock with a heavy, humiliating thud.
"What is this?!" Mars demanded, his voice cracking with a mixture of rage and absolute confusion. He threw his head back, his pale eyes wild. He didn't understand. Iron shouldn't be able to hold him. He was a Stage 3 mage! He was the ultimate weapon!
Desperate, Mars reached deep inside himself, desperately struggling to draw upon his vast, oceanic mana reserves to simply detonate the bindings with an explosive burst of crystal magic. He visualized the spell, he felt the familiar pull in his chest—
But as he reached for his magic, he hit a terrifying, impossible wall.
It was as if someone had abruptly turned off a valve inside his soul. The vast ocean of mana he was so accustomed to feeling—the pressure that was as natural to him as the beating of his own heart—was simply... gone. He couldn't feel the ambient mana in the air. He couldn't feel the spark in his core.
"Don't bother trying to cast," Lencar said, his voice echoing calmly over the howling mountain wind.
Lencar began to walk slowly, deliberately toward the kneeling, chained boy. His heavy boots clicked softly, rhythmically on the wet stone, sounding like a ticking clock marking the end of Mars's world.
Beneath his splintered wooden mask, Lencar allowed himself a small, private smirk. He thought back to the very first day of his journey in this world, to the dusty Grimoire Tower in Hage village. The man I stole that spell from was a pathetic, arrogant wretch, Lencar thought to himself, remembering the greasy-haired chain mage, Revichi. He was a weakling who relied on ambushing fifteen-year-olds. But his magic? His underlying attribute? It was incredibly, unbelievably useful if you actually had the raw mana capacity to back it up.
"Those chains aren't just heavy metal, Mars," Lencar explained aloud, stopping a few feet away and looking down at his captive. "They are specifically designed to violently suppress and absorb the flow of mana. The harder you push, the tighter they get. As long as those rusted links hold you, your pathways are effectively clamped shut. You are completely, unequivocally cut off from your grimoire and your core."
Mars's pale eyes widened so far they threatened to pop out of his skull.
For a fleeting, terribly human second, raw, unfiltered panic flashed across his scarred face. To a mage of his high caliber, a boy who had been literally bred and tortured to be a living conduit of magical destruction, being entirely severed from his mana wasn't just scary. It was the psychological and physiological equivalent of having his lungs surgically removed while he was still awake. He was suffocating. For the first time since he was a small, shivering child in a laboratory cage, he was utterly, completely defenseless.
He was just a boy trapped in heavy metal on a freezing mountain.
But true to the horrific, mind-breaking conditioning of the Diamond Kingdom, the panic was brief. The survival programming overrode the human terror.
Lencar watched, fascinated, as Mars forced his ragged breathing to slow. He watched the boy's chest heave once, twice, and then settle into a shallow, controlled rhythm. Mars deliberately stopped struggling against the rusted iron, realizing with cold logic that expending physical energy was a waste of resources. He raised his chin proudly, refusing to bow his head. The wild, terrified light in his eyes vanished, replaced instantly by the cold, dead, apathetic stare of a veteran killer.
He locked his gaze onto the dark, empty slits of Lencar's wooden mask.
"What do you want?" Mars asked.
His voice was entirely flat, a dead monotone completely devoid of the suffocating terror he had displayed mere moments ago. There was no tremor in his jaw. If he was going to be executed here on this desolate peak, if this masked phantom was going to take his head, he would face the executioner's blade exactly like a soldier of his Kingdom.
Lencar stopped his slow approach, standing just out of striking distance, looking down at the bound, kneeling general.
Despite the situation, despite knowing all the horrific things this boy had done and would do if left unchecked, Lencar couldn't help it. He let out a low, genuinely impressed chuckle that vibrated in his chest.
"Oh, as expected of the vaunted God of War of the Diamond Kingdom," Lencar praised, and to his own surprise, his tone was genuinely respectful. He wasn't mocking the boy.
In his past life, reading the manga, Mars had just been a stepping stone for the protagonists, a cool boss fight to show off new powers. But standing here, in the flesh, witnessing the sheer, unbreakable willpower required to shove down that level of primal panic? It was terrifyingly impressive.
"You adapt to the reality of the situation incredibly quickly," Lencar continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "Most mages, even Captain-level ones, would be screaming, crying, or violently thrashing around like trapped animals right now. But you? No begging for your life. No pointless, empty threats about your kingdom's retaliation. Just a cold, calculating assessment of the board. You realize you are in checkmate, and you adjust your parameters. I can certainly see why Morris and the scholars invested so much time, blood, and money into you."
Mars remained absolutely silent. He didn't confirm or deny the praise. He just waited, his eyes unblinking, conserving his energy.