Magnus’s left fist shot forward, aimed straight at Gerald’s abdomen. The larger man pivoted on his uninjured foot, narrowly dodging the strike. In the same motion, he carried the momentum up his body into a counterattack, his fist swinging straight for Magnus’s head. Without hesitation, Magnus raised his right hand, deflecting the blow off to the side as he stepped in and bent his left arm at the elbow. In an instant, his previous punch transformed into an elbow strike, driving toward Gerald’s solar plexus with the force of his own counter behind it.

“Good!” Gerald’s voice rang out, laughter laced behind his words. At the last moment, he stiffened his lower body just before Magnus’s elbow could connect, canceling his forward momentum and keeping the elbow strike from striking him. Despite the intensity of their fight, neither of them relied on aura or magic—Gerald didn’t enhance his speed or strength, and although Magnus did use [Self Body Puppetry], he didn't use it to muster up any speed from his movements beyond what would be his bodies natural limits.

Even so, they clashed without pause, each move flowing into the next.

Strikes and kicks were blocked or redirected in an instant, counterattacks launching just as quickly. The space around them echoed with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, feet skidding across dirt, and fabric shifting with every motion. Their relentless exchange left trails in the ground, a testament to their sheer speed.

Off to the side, the gathered soldiers who had initially watched in passing now stood transfixed. Even those with no prior interest in the match had begun to gather, drawn in by the spectacle. Some even started cheering.

A soldier who had just arrived frowned in confusion.

“Wait, isn’t Magnus supposed to be a mage? How the hell is he keeping up with a knight in hand-to-hand combat?” Another soldier, arms crossed, glanced at him before answering.

“Oh, you just got here? Gerald’s been training him for a while now.”

The first soldier blinked in surprise.

“Really? I’ve never seen them out here before.”

The other shook his head.

“Not before today. I mean, they’ve been going at it for six hours now—give or take. At first, the kid could barely last five exchanges before slipping up or getting caught off guard. But now...” He trailed off. There was no need to finish the thought.

The match spoke for itself—Magnus and Gerald were still locked in combat, attacking and countering at a near-constant pace.

The spectacle had drawn such a large crowd for a reason. If the two had been using magic or aura, it would have been just another supernatural fight—something beyond the reach of normal soldiers like them. But this? This was pure skill. Raw combat ability on full display. And there was nothing the soldiers loved more than seeing a battle fought with nothing but one's own body.

“Wait, wait. Six hours?! You’re telling me a mage got this good in six hours? That’s not even possible.” The soldier who had just joined the group stared in disbelief. His words made the other soldier standing nearby pause, thinking it over for a second.

“Huh. Yeah, I guess he has improved pretty fast. But the captain and the others have called him a genius a few times, so I guess that applies to more than just magic.” He shrugged.

“Anyway, don’t think too hard about it. Just enjoy the show.” Hearing how casually the other soldier brushed it off, the first soldier, still full of questions, decided to follow his advice. He turned his attention back to the fight.

Six hours.

That was how long Magnus had been letting [Combat Assistant] control his body while compiling data. For the first two hours, it had only executed the most optimal moves Gerald had personally demonstrated. After another hour, Magnus and Basker—who were essentially just passengers at that point—began deconstructing Gerald’s movements just by watching him. In other words, they figured out how to integrate his fighting style into [Combat Assistant]’s move library.

Of course, Gerald’s fighting style wasn’t designed for [Self Body Puppetry], which left gaps they had to fill in themselves—or ask Gerald to help with. But Magnus’s brain worked fast, especially when he didn’t have to focus on controlling his own body. It was like he was operating a machine, analyzing every punch Gerald threw, every shift in his stance, every slight adjustment in his attack trajectory. Then came the optimization—removing unnecessary movements meant for acceleration and deceleration, stripping it all down to something basic yet efficient. With a little help from the Command Console, he streamlined and sped up the thinking process.

Then he sent it off to Basker, who archived and compiled it for [Combat Assistant] to use.

The process wasn’t perfect, of course. There were flaws. But they weren’t big enough flaws to cause the fight to end either. They sat somewhere in between leaving just enough room for further improvement.

That was the best part about [Combat Assistant]. Since it handled the fighting, Magnus was free to focus entirely on refining and upgrading his technique. That’s why the fights kept lasting longer, even though Gerald wasn’t stopping to teach him as much. He had turned himself into a self-improving combat machine.

The only thing I’m still lacking is the ability to create moves from scratch.

If he had more real combat experience, he could brute-force the process—designing new techniques and optimizing them for peak efficiency using the Command Console. But right now? He just didn’t have the skill. Whatever he created, whether with or without the Command Console’s help, looked good on paper but fell apart in an actual fight.

In the end, though, that was just a temporary issue. The more he fought and analyzed different opponents, the more experience he would collect. Eventually, he wouldn’t need to rely on assimilating other people’s techniques or being taught. He would be able to build his own foundation from the ground up and adapt on the fly.

Until then, he would settle for what he could do now.

Magnus’s expression remained neutral, almost deadpan, as Gerald launched a frontal kick straight at him. Without hesitation, he leaned back, his body's enhanced flexibility kicking in as he flipped into a handstand. One of his legs shot out, deflecting Gerald’s kick mid-air with a kick of his own. Then, maintaining his balance on his hands, Magnus moved forward, gripping the earth beneath him before launching a counter-kick.

Gerald responded instantly, stepping back just enough to avoid the brunt of the blow before reaching out and grabbing Magnus’s shin. He knew better than to try and stop Magnus’s attacks head-on. But once the absolute force behind a strike was gone, that was a different story. The moment Magnus’s momentum died down, Gerald grinned and yanked on his leg, ripping him off the ground and swinging him through the air.

“You better grit your teeth!” He bellowed, excitement flashing across his face as he prepared to slam Magnus into the dirt.

But just as he went to finish the move, something caught around his neck, and he felt his arm halt in mid-motion. He barely had time to glance down before realizing what had happened—Magnus’s other leg had hooked around his throat. In an instant, both of Magnus’s legs wrapped around Gerald’s neck, trapping the arm that had grabbed him while simultaneously locking him in a chokehold.

“Oh, he’s got him!” One of the soldiers yelled from the crowd.

“Told you the kid was gonna win one of these rounds!” Another called out, excitement breaking through in their voice as Magnus’s grip around Gerald’s neck tightened.

Gerald quickly realized he couldn’t brute-force his way out of this one. Instead, he fell forward, toppling Magnus down with him, aiming to slam him hard against the ground. But Magnus reacted instantly. His legs unhooked from Gerald’s neck in a blur of movement, and before they even hit the ground, he twisted his body, slipping behind Gerald mid-fall. The moment they landed, Magnus hooked an arm around Gerald’s throat from behind, locking in a chokehold while keeping himself out of reach of Gerald’s hands.

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“I win this time, Gerald. Just give up.” A small grin crossed Magnus’s face as he leaned back, increasing the pressure of his hold. His arms, controlled entirely by [Self Body Puppetry], wouldn’t loosen no matter how much Gerald struggled. Even if Gerald unleashed his aura as a Master-level knight, Magnus had complete control in this position. It was an extreme example—one he wouldn’t actually act on—but if he wanted to, he could snap Gerald’s neck right then and there.

Perhaps realizing this, Gerald finally stopped struggling and tapped Magnus’s arm in submission. Magnus immediately let go, rolling off Gerald’s back and landing flat on the ground as Gerald rubbed his throat, coughing a few times.

The moment the match ended, the surrounding soldiers erupted into cheers. This was it—Magnus’s first real win over Gerald in six hours.

“D-Damn, kid, you really don’t hold back, huh?” It almost sounded like a complaint—if not for the wide grin on Gerald’s face and the hint of pride in his eyes. It was hard to put into words just how much he enjoyed fighting Magnus, but the reason was simple enough.

This kid’s like a sponge—takes everything you throw at him, and it just sticks.

Gerald finally understood why people took on disciples. Watching someone improve in real-time, knowing you helped shape that growth, was satisfying.

He wasn’t blind. He knew Magnus was integrating his own techniques, optimizing them for efficiency, and refining them as they fought. Even the most offhanded suggestions Gerald had made earlier would somehow come full circle, showing up in Magnus’s movements later on. After six hours, calling his improvement fast would’ve been an understatement.

Thinking of Magnus as a disciple didn’t feel quite right. No, it was more like Gerald was building up the perfect opponent—one who was getting better by the second. But before he could dwell on the thought, a voice cut through the chatter of the gathered soldiers.

It wasn’t loud, but somehow, everyone heard it.

“All right, I hope you all enjoyed the show.”

The crowd turned as Mia approached.

“Captain!” The soldiers straightened, greeting her in unison.

Mia waved a hand dismissively.

“Relax. You’re not in trouble—just get back to your duties.” At once, the group scattered. The soldiers on the wall quickly turned back to their patrols, while those near the storage resumed counting supplies and organizing. Satisfied, Mia shifted her attention to Magnus, who was still on the ground, and Gerald, who now had a visible mark on his neck.

“So… what exactly have you two been doing?” she asked, a curious glint in her eyes.

“I’ve been stuck finishing up reports for the Major General, and for the past few hours, all I’ve been hearing is cheering out here.” Magnus sat up, shifting to a cross-legged position.

“We were just sparring. I asked Gerald to help me improve my close-quarters combat.”

“Really?” Mia raised a brow.

“Is that even necessary? With your level of magic, I doubt most enemies could even get close to you.” Before Magnus could answer, Gerald cut in.

“Knowing more is always better than knowing less. Besides, the kid’s good. He just beat me, though we weren’t using aura or magic.” That last part made Mia’s eyes widen slightly. She glanced between the two of them in surprise.

“Seriously?” She knew how skilled Gerald was. His fighting style might seem aggressive and unrefined, but in terms of raw combat ability, she had never met anyone who could match him—not even herself or Marcos.

“That’s right,” Gerald confirmed.

“And get this—he got this good in just six hours! I’m telling you, the kid’s insane. Picks up anything you teach him in seconds. If he were a knight, he’d be unstoppable.” His grin widened.

Magnus shrugged.

“Eh, I just have a good memory. Besides, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my willpower isn’t exactly knight material.” Hearing that, Mia shook her head slightly before offering him her hand.

Magnus took her hand and pulled himself to his feet, dusting himself off as he heard Mia say, “I wouldn’t sell yourself short, Magnus. You- Huh…”

She suddenly cut herself off, her gaze fixed on him causing Magnus to frown lightly.

“What? Is there something on my face?” He asked wiping his face with his hand.

Mia shook her head slowly.

“No, it’s just… you’re not sweating. Not even a little. And you’re not out of breath either.” Gerald, who hadn’t been paying much attention to Magnus’s condition, turned to look at him after hearing that. Sure enough, Mia was right. Not a single drop of sweat clung to Magnus’s skin, even after six straight hours of fighting. His breathing was just as steady as when they had started. If not for the dust on his clothes, no one would have guessed he had just been sparring with a trained knight moments ago.

Even Magnus seemed slightly taken aback. He hadn’t noticed it himself—he felt fine, perfectly comfortable. So much so that he hadn’t even realized how unnatural that comfort was.

Right... Between the modifications I made to my body’s structure and the magic I use to regulate my internal temperature, overheating is basically impossible for me now. I don’t think I can even sweat anymore, not after the changes I made to my skin. And getting out of breath? That’s not happening either.

As those thoughts ran through his mind, he turned back to Mia and Gerald, looking slightly lost.

“Oh, right. Since I’m at the Pseudo-Master level, I realized I can keep spells running twenty-four-seven. I kind of forgot about them since they just make it hard for me to get tired and all that.”

“Seriously? Your mana capacity is already that high?” Gerald muttered, half-impressed, half-jealous as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Mia, however, studied Magnus with a hint of skepticism.

Even now, I can’t sense any shifts in the mana around him. Either he’s hiding it extremely well, or his mana core isn’t drawing in any energy from his surroundings. But… I can tell he’s using magic. There are clear signs of spells at work inside his body based on the subtle fluctuations in mana flow…

It was something she had noticed for a while now. The others probably had too, but no one openly questioned it. It wasn’t a big enough issue to raise alarms—yet. But there was another oddity.

His body.

Magnus had undergone physical changes, ones that couldn’t be explained away by a simple spell. Magic that altered the body was dangerous, requiring incredibly high levels of mana control. One mistake and a mage could end up mutilating themselves.

But why would-

Before she could finish the thought, Gerald’s voice cut in.

“Mia, you there? What’s up? Is it the after-effects of spirit communication?” Mia blinked before shaking her head with a small smile.

“Oh, no, I was just lost in thought. Sorry, what was it, Gerald?”

“Not me—the kid was asking if he could grab something to eat from the storage room before heading out.” Hearing that, Mia turned to Magnus with a slightly puzzled expression.

“You’re going somewhere?”

Magnus nodded.

“Yeah, I was planning to check on the area where I collapsed the magma chamber. Last time I saw it, it was basically a volcanic eruption, so I wanted to see if I could smooth out the terrain a bit.” Both Mia and Gerald froze, staring at him blankly.

“…What?” Gerald finally said, completely baffled.

Magnus tilted his head.

“I mean, I did blow up a massive section of the valley as part of the plan to deal with the Nullfang. So I figured I should clean it up a bit. What? Do you think that’s weird?” Mia and Gerald exchanged looks—then burst into laughter. Mia shook her head, trying to stifle her amusement.

“No… No, that’s not weird, Magnus. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard of a mage—or even a knight—cleaning up after themselves. But I’m sure the villagers in Larter Village will appreciate it if they ever venture to that part of the valley.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea,” Magnus said, nodding.

“So... no problem with me grabbing something from storage?”

“Oh, of course not,” Mia replied.

“Just try to take from the already opened boxes and let the soldiers doing inventory know what you’re taking. That way, we don’t have to recount anything.”

“Got it. Oh, but I’ll probably need to take a few days’ worth since I have to get back to Arlciff City soon,” Magnus added as the thought occurred to him.

“Huh? You’re not planning to travel back with us, kid?” Gerald asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Magnus nodded, offering a small, downcast smile.

“I would, but... there are some things I need to take care of in Arlciff City. I can get back faster on my own. Plus, I’m technically still on an assignment from the academy, so I plan on heading back a day before you guys leave.” Mia didn’t look too happy about that, but after a brief sigh, she relented.

“I see. Well, you’re the one who brought the supplies in the first place, so take as much as you need. It’s a shame you won’t be traveling with us, though. A lot of the soldiers have gotten pretty fond of having you around.” She glanced toward the nearby soldiers, who were still eagerly discussing Magnus and Gerald’s match.

Magnus chuckled.

“Well, it’s not like I’m leaving without saying goodbye. Besides, we’ll all meet back in Arlciff City anyway.” His smile brightened slightly, and Mia’s expression softened in response.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” she replied. As Magnus started toward the storage room, Gerald let out a sigh.

“That kid really is an oddity. And here I was looking forward to sparring with him all the way back to the city.”

Mia rolled her eyes.

“Really? That’s the only reason you wanted him to come along? You battle junkie.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you and Marcos never want to spar with me,” Gerald shot back.

“That’s because you have no concept of restraint and end up breaking things—even when we use aura,” Mia retorted.

“Bah.” Gerald waved a hand dismissively, not exactly arguing the point.

Before long, Magnus reemerged from the storage room, nodding in thanks to one of the soldiers keeping inventory. Then, without another word, he floated up into the air before blasting off in the direction of the part of the valley he had destroyed. His figure streaked across the sky, vanishing within seconds. The only thing left behind was the echo of his initial burst of speed, ringing through the valley and outpost.

Watching him disappear, Gerald crossed his arms.

“Well, I guess traveling on foot must sound pretty boring when you can fly everywhere.”

“True,” Mia agreed with a brisk nod.