"Blade name: Starfrost?"
Miriam was well-traveled and had seen similar katanas before, but those were typically self-defense sidearms for sorcerers—tools to prevent panic when an enemy closed the distance. Even the Academy had specialized swordsmanship courses, but she had never heard of anyone using magic and the blade in such perfect synchronicity.
"Honestly, isn't it better to just cover the area in magic from afar? Even if you cut them down, getting blood splashed on your face is disgusting."
"I can't help it; I'm used to it. Besides, I lack the capacity to blast people from a distance," Don replied with stark self-awareness. To be honest, he didn't care about the process. If someone asked whether long-range "cheesing" or close-quarters slaughter was more important, he would answer without hesitation: I want it all.
"True enough. Once you experience the mystery and grandeur of high sorcery, you'll naturally stop taking risks." She raised her exquisite staff. The Carian sigil flashed briefly, and ten blades of light manifested, floating around her. Having learned from their last encounter, she saw Don't's serious expression and smiled. "Relax, I won't go all out. Come, let me experience this 'philosophy' of yours."
"Good!"
Don trailed his blade behind him and charged head-on, his eyes burning with excitement. This was his first time facing a prepared, high-level sorcerer. The power systems of the Lands Between were varied and strange; Ashina's experience was outdated, and the only path to growth was through such life-and-death struggles!
He sprinted at full speed, kicking up grass and dirt. The approaching azure glow illuminated Don's face as the glintstone blades fired in succession, controlled to seal off every possible path of evasion.
Variable sorcery?
The Carian Phalanx in the textbooks fired all at once. Clearly, Miriam's mastery and control had transcended the books; she could adapt the spell mid-combat.
He couldn't dodge.
Don skidded to a halt in an instant, raising his long blade. The glintstone at the pommel flared brilliantly.
Magic Downpour!
A mass of magical energy flew forward, then rained down a curtain of light droplets in mid-air.
Huh? That works? Miriam's eyebrows shot up. Magic Downpour was a low-tier spell in the Carian lineage, and the version Don released covered barely ten square meters. However, the dense, tiny magic spheres slammed into the Phalanx blades, the energy collision knocking them off course.
"Casting speed is adequate, and your imagination is impressive." Miriam turned her head, seeing a silhouette burst from the flank, legs moving in a rapid, alternating sprint.
So you really want to get close to me?
She didn't retreat. She raised her staff again.
Crystal Barrage!
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh...
A massive wave of teal crystals pierced the air, sweeping toward him like machine-gun fire. They were incredibly fast, reaching him in the blink of an eye.
This is the strength of a Preceptor?
Don held his breath. He stopped abruptly and rolled to the side. Looking back, the grass was a shredded mess, bristling with foot-long glintstone crystals.
"Watch yourself, Don."
It wasn't over. As the first volley ended, Miriam raised her staff again, and another wave of crystals screamed forth. Such mid-tier magic was no burden for her; she could cast it dozens of times. However, she saw Don—who had been half-crouching—suddenly leap up. He drove his blade into the soil and rotated his core, pulling up a wall of dust and debris.
The dust was instantly shredded by the crystals. Miriam narrowed her eyes; the flying dirt temporarily obscured her target. After a moment of hesitation, a light flared within the dust cloud.
A magic sigil? Hmm, using the dust to hide his slow casting speed?
A Glintstone Arc tore through the dust from the opposite direction. Miriam stepped lightly to the side to evade it. She was about to offer a critique when a chill ran down her spine. She scrambled to the side in an undignified jump.
Thud.
The Bloodhound's Fang flew past like a boomerang, burying itself in the ground where she had stood a second before, vibrating with force.
"I forgot this brat isn't really a sorcerer!" she cursed inwardly, scrambling up and performing an even more desperate backroll.
Thack-thack-thack...
A series of sharp thuds followed. Four or five throwing daggers were buried in the dirt with startling accuracy.
He uses everything!
Miriam jumped up, genuinely annoyed. This is too much! It's bad enough you use a sword, but now you're throwing tools too?
She saw Don had closed to within twenty meters, sword in one hand while the other fished more daggers from his belt. The light on her staff intensified.
Glintstone Cometshard!
The comet flew with a long tail, vaporizing the daggers mid-air. Don had seen this spell used by the lecturer before, but Miriam's comet was larger and significantly faster.
BOOM!
Dust billowed as a powerful gust of wind sent Don tumbling across the grass. He looked back to see a two-meter-deep crater. The commotion was so loud that the Glintstone Dragon in the distance lifted its head, let out a dissatisfied low growl, and went back to sleep.
These psychos... don't they have anything better to do than tear the house down?
Don didn't care about the dragon. He crouched, hearing the sorceress shout with a hint of triumph:
"Do you wish to continue?"
He patted the dust from his clothes and sprang up.
"Continue!"
"Tenacious, aren't you? Don't blame me if you die." Miriam swung her staff in a continuous motion, the erupting light turning the night as bright as day.
Comet... Rapid Fire!
In an instant, a barrage of comets screamed toward him. She was moving to total fire superiority.
Don didn't dodge—or rather, dodging was useless. He simply stepped off with his right foot and vanished.
Bloodhound Step??
Even if it was slightly unrefined, Miriam recognized the signature move of a Bloodhound Knight. The youth slipped through the gaps between the comets, closing to within ten meters.
She didn't panic. Retreating, she pulled her staff to her waist. As the sigil manifested, the short staff extended into a massive blade of light several meters long.
Carian Piercer!
It was sudden and incredibly fast. Because the greatsword was so large, it acted as an area-of-effect thrust. However, Don charged directly into the pierce. His long blade wreathed itself in a pale, freezing mist as he swung in a horizontal upward arc.
Hoarfrost Stomp... no, Frostblade Slash!
Wherever the blade passed, the scattered grass-shards froze in mid-air. The extended blade of Starfrost collided with the Piercer, and the two energies detonated upon impact.
"That old bastard Iji put an Ash of War on this blade too!?"
Miriam staggered back. She was a sorceress, after all; the energy collision left her wrist numbed. she stared into the mist of frost and magic before her. The moonlight reflecting off the floating ice crystals was breathtakingly beautiful. A heartbeat later, Don burst through the mist. He held Starfrost with both hands high above his head, and a magic sigil flashed briefly on the blade.
Slicer: Ichimonji!
This was a sword, filled with the intent of a warrior who would not be turned back. This was also a staff, mana gathering at the edge to extend the reach by half a meter. The fusion of the two was a ruthless lethal technique.
Slash—
The blade tore through a phantom image, leaving a long gouge in the earth. Don stood still, his chest heaving. After several seconds, he looked up.
"You lost."
Azure particles solidified into human form several meters away. Miriam looked at her severed hat brim, her eyelids twitching. Having been forced to use Mirage Rise (Starlight) to escape, she had indeed lost. Their raw power levels weren't on the same plane, yet he had forced her hand.
"Is this the... Ashina Style?"
"Yes. A style that synthesizes the strengths of a hundred schools, existing only for the sake of victory."
Miriam said nothing. For a brief moment, she had felt a terrifying killing intent. Recalling the fight, it was too bizarre to evaluate, yet the core was simple: every move was designed to kill.
"Fine, fine. I admit you are indeed a genius in certain respects." Miriam waved a hand and tossed a thick notebook to Don. "I'm leaving tomorrow to guard the Carian Study Hall. Though it is early, consider this notebook your trophy. Perhaps one day, you'll find a use for it."
Don caught it and flipped through. It was a research log. In the final chapter—
He looked up abruptly at the Preceptor.
"Starlight Movement?!"
While the two sorcerers were in the heat of battle, not far away, atop the Academy at the center of the lake, another group of powerful sorcerers sat around a circular table, looking at one another in silence.
Glintstone lamps illuminated the ancient meeting room. The decor was primarily wood tones, and the walls were lined with portraits of men and women in red and blue robes. In the center hung a portrait of a beautiful woman, silently watching over the room.
Perhaps out of a lingering respect for the Erdtree, even after overthrowing Carian rule, these people still wore the wide-brimmed robes of Preceptors, their masks stitched with gold thread across the mouths. The warnings of that person still echoed from yesterday.
There were five sorcerers at the table, representing the heads of the five Conspectuses. The Academy promoted democratic scholarship and collective decision-making, yet the high-backed chair at the head of the table remained conspicuously empty—the seat that rightfully belonged to a noble Queen.
The head of the Twinage Conspectus, Professor Oritiys, scanned the room. He tapped the table lightly. "In truth, gathering you all for a meeting is a difficult task."
As the rotating chairman, his voice held a trace of helplessness. He remembered the last agenda was deciding who to send to support the Cuckoos. It had been over half a month since the battle at the manor, and the Academy hadn't held a single strategy meeting until now.
"Enough talk. If you have something to say, say it. I'm busy with my puppet research." A grumpy voice rang out, fingers drumming impatiently on the table.
Oritiys turned, but he didn't feel like getting angry. He had grown used to the man's ways.
"Professor Seluvis, there are barely any people left in the Lazuli Conspectus. What could you possibly be busy with?"
"Heh. If I were efficient and capable, you'd likely have questioned my loyalty long ago. Are you going to speak or not? If not, I'm leaving." Seluvis crossed his arms, looking for all the world like a man who didn't care about the consequences.
The masks hid the professors' expressions, but they were undoubtedly disgusted. Yet, Seluvis wasn't wrong; his insufferable personality was precisely what made him "trustworthy."
Treating stars and the moon as equals, the Lazuli Conspectus—which studied Carian sorcery—was unlikely to ever recover. Even if Seluvis defected, no one cared; his personality was so toxic he'd likely cause a civil war within the Carian Royals just by being there.
"Very well. Everyone has their research. Let us move straight to the main topic." Oritiys leaned forward, speaking with deliberate emphasis.
"The most important agenda: shall the Academy seal its gates?"