CHAPTER 18 – BARYON BLAZE
HIRAYA MISTELTEIN
Lysander's reckless charge into danger sent a chill down my spine, but it was his self-destructive act, casting two fireballs onto himself, that truly unsettled me. The flames danced perilously close to his body, scorching both his jacket and his skin with merciless 1st-degree burns. Astonishingly, he appeared utterly indifferent to the pain he was inflicting upon himself.
In the midst of the chaos, Lysander's bravery shone through. The determination in his azure blue eyes revealed a relentless pursuit of his goals, a characteristic that, while commendable, also made me acutely aware of the impulsive streak that could lead him to harm.
As he summoned a second barrage of fireballs, enveloping himself in an inferno once more, my emotions surged uncontrollably. The rapid thud of my heart echoed in my ears, and when my trembling hand met my chest, I could almost feel my heart skip a beat.
"Lysander!" The cry escaped my lips, a desperate plea for him to reconsider the perilous path he had chosen.
The fiery vortex surrounding Lysander gradually dissipated, unveiling his right arm transformed into a formidable semblance of a dragon's claws. A dark obsidian crystal coating adorned his arm, adorned with mesmerizing blue neon circuits that flowed with an otherworldly energy. His fingers had morphed into razor-sharp karambits, an ominous transformation that left me in awe.
"If you're too eager to die, allow me to do the honors!" The enemy Dragon Knight leaped forward, longsword poised for a lethal strike against Lysander. Yet, to my astonishment, Lysander effortlessly intercepted the descending blade with his dragon claws. The steel weapon strained against his grip, nearly bending under the immense force.
Fixing the rogue Dragon Knight with a deathly stare, Lysander tightened his hold on the sword and posed a question with unwavering determination, gritting his teeth, "Before I dispose of you, I would like to ask a question. Are you willing to create a path of carnage just to create a better world?"
Defiance burned in the Dragon Knight's eyes as he vehemently declared, "There is no better world for the Empire of Alterra. It shall crumble and burn!"
Lysander's response was an enigmatic smile as he closed his eyes, an eerie calm settling over him. When he reopened them, the azure blue had transformed into a piercing crimson, a sign of the unleashed power within. His dragonic right arm, once adorned with blue circuits, now pulsed with a sinister red glow, emanating an overwhelming aura.
The shift in his eyes signaled a change in the very nature of his magical abilities. The blue circuits on his dragonic arm morphed into a fiery red, and from this transformation, an immense concentration of crimson mana erupted. The magical energy coalesced, forming a blazing crimson magical circle, reminiscent of the destructive power comparable to an atomic bomb.
"Baryon Blaze!" Lysander's voice echoed with a commanding force, and in an instant, a crimson wave of nuclear energy surged forth. The Dragon Knight and the Arctic Dragon, caught in the unforgiving path of this arcane onslaught, were immediately reduced to subatomic particles. All that remained in the aftermath were scattered ashes, a testament to the devastating power unleashed by Lysander's formidable magic.
With the renegade Dragon Knight and the Arctic Dragon eradicated, the once-imposing ice walls that encased the campus melted away like ice cream on a scorching summer day. The buildings, once frozen in time, thawed, and Tasty Town's Magic High School emerged from its icy prison, liberated once more.
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The incredulity of the situation struck me. Lysander, a mere high school student, wielded a diverse arsenal of spells. From nimble speed incantations to an enigmatic flight spell that manifested as ethereal blue photon wings, and culminating in the unleashed power of nuclear magic—the most destructive spell imaginable—he displayed a range of abilities that surpassed conventional expectations.
His prowess in combat drew an uncanny parallel to the fabled Erudites, legendary mages who dedicated their lives to the relentless pursuit of magic. Erudites were renowned for memorizing over a thousand spells, an accomplishment achievable only through a decade of intense education and training.
However, the impossibility of Lysander joining the esteemed ranks of the Erudites became apparent. At eighteen, he was too young to embark on the exhaustive path laid out for them. Becoming an Erudite required graduation from both a Magic High School and a Magic University—a logical impossibility for someone of his age.
Lysander touched down on the ground with a heavy sigh, a momentary vulnerability evident in his demeanor. Seizing the opportunity, I leaped off the balcony, using a gentle gust of wind magic to slow my descent before sprinting towards him, a surge of urgency propelling me forward.
Lysander, engrossed in contemplation over his now-human hand, seemed troubled by the aftermath of the intense battle.
"Lysander!" I called out, launching myself onto him, catching him off guard. I enveloped him in a tight hug, his head nestled against my chest. My excitement at his incredible display of battle prowess and unwavering bravery overflowed.
"Mmmph! Mmmph!" Lysander struggled to respond as my exuberance unintentionally pressed his face into my ample chest.
"That was amazing, Lysander! And that was reckless! Don't do it again!" I exclaimed with joy, tears of relief and admiration welling up in my eyes. I patted his head affectionately, treating him like a younger brother, my gesture a silent acknowledgment of appreciation for the perilous feats he had just accomplished.
"Mmmph! I can't breathe!" Lysander protested, his voice muffled against my chest.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" I quickly withdrew, concern etching my features. Taking hold of his skinny arms, I assessed his condition. First-degree burns marked his forehead, left cheek, right shoulder, and left wrist. Channeling mana into my fingertips, a soft green glow emanated as I cast the Heal spell to tend to his injuries. Lysander visibly relaxed as the healing magic took effect, and we settled on the grassy soil.
"Hiraya... I mean, Vice Prez... We did it, didn't we? We saved the school," Lysander asked, still grappling with the reality of their triumph.
"Yes," I affirmed with a caring smile, tears of joy escaping my eyes. "We won."
A genuine smile played on Lysander's lips as he clenched his fists, a visible effort to contain the overwhelming joy welling up inside him. In that moment, the weight of their victory and the relief of the ordeal seemed to wash over us, leaving us sitting on the grass, savoring the hard-fought triumph.
As we sat on the floor, the school's students began streaming out of the buildings, a diverse mix of humans and dragonoids. Their expressions bore traces of relief, happiness, and gratitude as they converged towards us. Soon, we found ourselves at the heart of the growing crowd, enveloped in applause and cheers of joy. Even President Gregory and my special dragonoid agents joined the celebration.
"Thank you for saving us, Vice Prez!" exclaimed the students from Class 2-D.
"That was awesome, Lysander-senpai!" cheered the girls from Class 1-A.
"We owe you our lives! You guys are the best!" expressed members of the Swimming Club.
Kate, her sword now hanging casually on her shoulder, approached Charlotte and Gaeun, stating with a smile, "Looks like he's one of us now. He's now one of The Boys." Both Charlotte and Gaeun nodded in agreement, though I don't think they agree with the name.
“You two make quite a team. Hiraya for the brains, and Lysander for the brawn,” President Gregory remarked with a smile.
Lysander and I exchanged glances, a mix of joy and embarrassment coloring our expressions. The overwhelming praise and cheers from the crowd elevated us to cloud nine, and the shared moment of victory with the school community became a memory to cherish.