Rylan stepped forward, bloodied sword in hand. The scarlet dripped down the edge, falling upon the soft grass. It was obvious what this was about. In the end, Evenon had chosen to act first; Rylan’s death would mean the loss of his most valuable customer, but there were plenty more to be roped in. The man needed to get rid of a possible liability. As they had promised to kill each other, this situation wasn’t surprising at all.

It's also a way of gauging my power.

If these men killed him, that would be that. If they failed, however, it would mean that he was capable of defeating fifteen of Evenon’s Mages. This first movement was only made possible because Evenon didn’t care about the lives of his underlings in the least. He had gladly offered them to end up as sacrifices, and they had unknowingly accepted.

He spoke in a calm voice.

“That was fast. Are all of you ready to die here?”

There was no reply. His senses perceived the men’s mana surge.

I should keep them alive.

They could be used as weapons against Evenon. This was an opportunity. If he managed to convince these men to turn against their boss, the City Guard would gain access to some of Evenon’s trusted subjects, who could testify against him.

He heard the black-haired masked man scoff. The man’s voice was low and deep.

“Kill him.”

Rylan cracked his neck. His mana circulated throughout his body, following his bloodstream. Both his heart and Mana Core beat powerfully. The grip around his sword’s handle tightened. No more words were exchanged. The masked Mages started chanting at the same time that he shot forward. Using Drifting, he moved in a straight line, closing the distance between himself and the enemies in the shortest time possible. The black-haired leader barely had the time to raise his staff before Rylan’s blade reached it.

The collision made the man’s entire body shake as he was pushed backwards. The voices of the other Mages resounded as they finished their chanting.

“Magic Missile!”

“Firebolt.”

“Earth Grasp!”

Rylan lowered his center of gravity. The black-haired man fell backwards, sliding on the ground, granting the other men a clear line of attack. Projectiles flew at him, while the earth beneath his feet moved. He was familiar with all of the spells that they used thanks to his training with Gerard. He knew what to expect and how to deal with them.

Falling Snow Steps: Floating.

He jumped, reaching more than two meters high in an instant. The projectiles flew by underneath him uselessly, while the earthen hands grabbed nothing but air. The black-haired man dragged himself to his feet as Rylan was in mid-air, chanting while he did so.

He can move while chanting?

Rather surprised, Rylan touched the ground and dashed towards him, swinging the sword. As the flat of the blade was about to slam into the man’s mask, a layer of mana took shape above the man’s skin. The collision threw the Mage to the ground, sliding for almost two meters. It was as if time had stopped. He heard one of the masked men mutter.

“…What the fuck?”

Rylan pointed his sword at the black-haired leader, who was on the ground, holding his head. He spoke.

“You’ll be the last one.”

He then dashed towards the nearest enemy. The masked Mage flinched, but unlike the leader, couldn’t react in time. Rylan unceremoniously slammed his sword’s pommel on his temple, making the man drop to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Without bothering to remove the mask, he immediately turned to the next opponent.

At the edge of his vision, the other enemies ran and spread out. He grinned. The enemies kept their eyes on him alone. If the soldiers were here, this battle would have become much more complicated, since he would need to protect them as well. But that wasn’t the case; he could go all out. All masked men started chanting.

Falling Snow Steps: Drifting.

Rylan closed the distance between himself and the next enemy in a heartbeat. A Magic Shield formed above the man’s skin.

Oh?

The enemy had known that he would be the next target and, as such, had decided to cast Magic Shield instead of an offensive spell. Had he expected the other Mages to be the ones to attack Rylan? It was a good plan, especially because this Mage in particular had been the first one to shake off the shock, but Rylan saw it coming.

Instead of continuing to attack the Shield and wasting time trying to break it, he dashed to one of the other Mages as their chanting finished. His priority was to knock out as many enemies as he could before they started flinging spells around and changing the environment.

He tilted his body and sidestepped, avoiding the small sphere of fire that was flung at him. Then, he spun and jumped, dodging both a Magic Missile and the earth that rose and sought to grab his feet. He shot forward as he landed. In an instant, he arrived in front of the enemy. His sword’s pommel sunk into the pit of the man’s stomach, making the Mage drop to the ground. He immediately turned to face the nearest foe.

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He dashed from enemy to enemy, dodging their attack spells.

Falling Snow Steps: Wind

It was a technique that combined Drifting’s speed and flexibility and Floating’s explosive movement, but only to a lesser extent. Still, it would do. He jumped, avoiding two more spells, and hit the mask of the nearest Mage with the flat of the blade. The mask cracked and fell apart, revealing a broken nose. He spun while moving forward, avoiding the Magic Missiles that aimed for his back, then kicked the man’s chest. He heard the air leave his lungs. He immediately retreated. A heartbeat later, the earth where he had just been standing rose in the shape of hands.

For a few seconds, he alternated between Wind and Drifting to avoid the storm of spells that came at him.

There are too many enemies.

Since they were after his life, it would be over if he got seriously injured. It was a battle where he needed to make the correct choice every time, while his enemies only needed to hit him once. His mana pool continued to decrease as it empowered his body. There was no way around it; he needed to take a few risks to win.

Good.

Rylan moved as fast as he could. It was as if he were dancing to a song that only he could hear. He whirled in the middle of the clearing, dashing from enemy to enemy in a dazzling display. However, he was no longer unharmed. Magic Missiles had grazed him and drawn blood, while part of his clothing was scorched because of the Firebolts. The earthen hands kept missing him, as getting grabbed would mean his death. He heard the black-haired leader’s voice.

“He’s slowing down!”

The surrounding Mages cast their spells with renewed enthusiasm. Minor injuries continued to accumulate, but because Rylan had chosen to withstand them, he had managed to seek riskier paths. One after the other, the masked Mages kept dropping to the ground, either knocked out cold or incapacitated.

A few of them gave up on offensive spells and cast Magic Shield. Instead of trying to pierce through the Shields, Rylan simply attacked the others. He heard the black-haired leader scream from behind him as his senses captured a shift in the surrounding mana.

“What the fuck are you all doing!? Kill him!”

Rylan took a large step to the side, avoiding the leader’s Magic Missile that aimed straight for his heart. It pierced through a tree on the opposite side of the clearing, failing to achieve anything. His expression got colder. The enemy had already shown his clear willingness to kill Rylan; leaving him alive would be weakness, not mercy. He could obtain information from the others. He turned around, staring straight at the masked Mage. The man waved his staff, chanting and hurriedly stepping back.

His mana coalesced into a sphere and ignited. Rylan watched the process with some interest. As the Firebolt shot towards him, he merely stepped to the side. His ears twitched as he heard a few of the other Mages finish their casting. Three more projectiles flew at him from different angles while the earth beneath his feet rose, grasping at his boots. The Falling Snow Steps rendered the coordinated offensive useless.

More attacks continued to come at him. The earth turned into spikes while Magic Missiles pierced the atmosphere. He used Floating to jump to the closest tree, then bounced off it with his full strength. As he flew through the air, he twisted his body to dodge the incoming attacks with just the right timing. Landing on the second tree’s trunk, he leaped again, lightly landing two meters in front of the black-haired leader. His sense of balance hadn’t wavered even once.

He recognized the chanting of Magic Missile; it was the only spell he knew, after all. He intentionally moved as the chanting reached its end, using Drifting. The Missile shot out of the staff, grazing Rylan’s cheek and ear as it passed by and severing a few strands of hair. Blood flowed down his cheek. Unhesitatingly, he slashed the man’s thighs, making him kneel.

“I said you would be last.”

He turned around as a drop of blood fell from the small wound. He sighed inwardly, touching his face and wiping off the blood. He looked at his body’s state. Cuts and burns covered him, though none were serious. He had managed to cut the Firebolts with his sword. It was the only reason why his skin wasn’t completely charred.

There’s still a long way to go.

All the masked Mages still standing were covered in a Magic Shield. He stood tall, unmoving. Upturned earth and scorched grass all around him, he spoke.

“I thought this would have been harder.”

It wasn’t a mere comment. He was trying to provoke at least one of the masked Mages into lowering their Shield to attack. The more enemies he managed to knock out, the easier it would be to end the battle. And, naturally, it would mean more enemies to question. One of the masked men spoke with a shaking voice.

“You… What the hell are you!?”

He tilted his head. Before he could reply, he heard the black-haired leader’s voice.

“I said kill him! We’re dead if we go back empty-handed!”

Still kneeling behind Rylan, the man started chanting. Rylan looked at him. He stepped closer to the man, speaking.

“From the start, you were the one who wanted to kill me the most. I’ll answer in kind.”

It happened in an instant. As the kneeling man raised his wooden staff, Rylan’s sword flashed. Blood fell upon the blades of grass as the leader’s head dropped to the ground. The decapitated body collapsed.

Silence.

Rylan was the only one who moved. He pulled the mask off the head on the ground. The face revealed was one that he recognized. As expected, the men worked for Evenon.

He heard one of the masked men mutter with a shaking voice.

“…We can’t win this.”

He turned and nodded matter-of-factly.

“You can’t. Which is why I’ll grant you a choice. Willingly comply and follow me back to Cantavega and your punishment will be lighter. I already know who you work for. Work with the Guard to take down Evenon, and your crimes might be forgiven.”

The Mages looked at one another. One of them spoke, still hiding behind the Shield.

“And if we refuse?”

Rylan shrugged.

“You will die here. I have no need to be merciful with people who tried to kill me.”

His heart was completely unshaken. The black-haired man had been his first kill, but there was no way for him to be thrown off-balance because of this; not when he had Roland’s memories. At the same time, he knew that the masked men were more valuable alive; they were the missing piece of the puzzle that could make Evenon’s house of cards crumble the moment they decided to talk and testify. He was simply putting pressure on them with practiced ease.

The soldiers threw one another strange looks but said nothing. One of the Mages slowly brought their hand to their face, then removed the mask. The others turned to look at him. He had an average face, brown hair, and brown eyes.

“I’ll do it. Nothing is worth more than my life.”

Rylan nodded.

“I’ll give you to the City Guard. Just cooperate.”

It was the best alternative. He wasn’t too familiar with interrogation techniques, unlike the Guard. They would be able to obtain the greatest amount of information in the shortest amount of time. These men were what the Vaard family wanted all this time: a way to tie the crimes to Evenon himself.

The Mages looked at one another with dejected expressions before dismissing their Shields, one by one, and removing their masks. Truthfully, they had no choice. Evenon would kill them if they returned empty-handed, and they couldn’t beat Rylan even if they joined their forces. Their lives had ceased to be theirs the moment this battle started. The only scenario in which they lived was if they cooperated, even if they had to deal with punishment for their actions, and survival was the single most powerful driving force behind one’s actions.

I think the Vaard family will like this.

Now with more than a single member, the party got ready to set out back to Cantavega. They only needed to wait for the unconscious Mages to wake up.