An adventurer is one who hunts demi-humans and monsters that pose a threat to people, and at times, explores the unknown.
Death always looms close, yet every year, people continue to flock to join the guild. As long as one has skill, wealth and fame could be obtained, and the world needed adventurers.
But of course, problems were bound to arise.
What if a powerful adventurer—honed by constant battles against demi-humans and monsters—were to fall into crime? What if that sharp blade were turned on innocent people?
Former gold-rank adventurers, Varja and Vilshen.
They were prime examples.
"Either they get hunted down by knights, or the ones I trained well get eaten by some damned orc. Is this place cursed or what?"
Varja scratched the scar on his face and looked around.
He had sent his subordinates to expand their territory and establish a new base, but they got caught and were all wiped out.
Even when he raided a village and took the useful ones after killing the disobedient, their numbers still dwindled.
Only about 40 subordinates remained.
And of them, less than half could be considered capable bandits.
Vilshen nodded.
"We underestimated the baron. Who would've thought he'd go that wild just to catch a few bandits?"
"Tsk. If I'd been there, I would've hung that knight from a tree while he was still breathing."
Suddenly, Varja found himself missing the life of an adventurer.
Even when he caused trouble, the guild would usually clean up after him because he was a gold rank. But it all came crashing down when the guildmaster caught him killing another adventurer.
Now a wanted man, he'd fled the kingdom and started a bandit's life. It had already been two years.
All that remained were his gear, his rations, and subordinates who were nothing but a drain. Sighing deeply at his pitiful state, Varja muttered,
"Vilshen, since we're leaving anyway, how about one last big hit? If we trash a decently sized town, we could make up for our funds and really get under the baron's skin."
"No. Thanks to you hanging bodies from trees last time, the baron's on high alert. If it weren't for my magic circle, we'd have been found out already."
"Hmph. Found or not, we just kill them all."
Half bluff.
Even as a former gold-rank, taking on more than one knight in direct combat was no easy feat. Still, Varja had confidence in himself.
When Vilshen glared at him, Varja turned his head away like he didn't notice. He then gestured to the loafing subordinates to pack up.
Where to next?
'Vilshen will figure it out.'
He'd always been the one doing the thinking anyway.
Just as that thought crossed his mind and he glanced up at the sky, his sharpened senses caught something.
Apparently Vilshen noticed too, as both turned toward the forest at the same time—just as five flaming arrows flew toward them.
"W-What the hell?!"
Varja shouted in shock, while Vilshen swiftly cast a magic barrier.
BOOM! BOOM! Explosions followed, and fire momentarily blinded their vision.
Then it happened.
Three knights, cloaked in red aura, burst from the forest like lightning.
Their magically reinforced steps left dents in the ground. Two knights, gripping longswords in both hands, struck the barrier at the same time.
CRACK!
The entire barrier fractured in an instant.
Before Vilshen could react, Enok unleashed a thunderous slash.
SHATTER, went the wall of magic.
At the same time, a backlash hit Vilshen's mana circuits.
"Urgh?!"
Such was the flaw of mana barriers.
They could be cast quickly, but couldn't absorb much impact, and if they shattered before being dismissed, the caster's circuits would suffer.
Then Verden appeared with his soldiers.
Exchanging a glance with Enok, he moved as planned and faced off with Vilshen—soon, a magic duel began.
Enok spoke to Harris,
"I'll take the scarred one. Please handle the men and make sure no one dies."
"You sure? You're not that young anymore, don't overdo it."
A not-quite-concerned remark, to which Enok smiled wryly.
"He's worth crossing swords with again. I'm not about to give that up. Still, if it looks like I'm about to die, I'd appreciate the backup."
Probably wouldn't come to that—but who knew?
CRACK, he loosened his neck and raised his blade, approaching Varja, who wielded twin swords. No need for small talk with a bandit.
CLANG! Sparks flew as their blades collided.
***
It's hard to gauge a mage's level by their mana unless there's a major difference.
To assess the bandit mage's ability, Verden cast a test spell.
Once again, the fire arrows flew. Linger in pain and you'll be roasted alive.
But Vilshen, having had his barrier broken before, quickly regained his senses.
BOOM! BOOM!
Fire and ice clashed, steam billowing in all directions. Holding his breath, Verden waited as a cold wind began to blow.
A third-tier ice spell. The mist dispersed, and ice began to cover the surrounding area.
Verden hastily threw up a barrier to fend off the cold. Frost formed on the wall of mana.
"Cough! Cough! Haa… Never heard there was a mage under the baron's command. I got careless and took a hit."
A staff had somehow appeared in Vilshen's hand as he caught his breath.
Considering the strain on his circuits, he seemed far more experienced than expected.
He glanced around and chuckled.
"Guess this is it for the bandit life. With three knights here, I doubt Varja's going to make it... Not that living alone sounds so bad."
"I don't recall saying you could go," said Verden.
To which Vilshen smirked.
"Second-tier at your age, huh? Academy graduate? Looks like someone who got by on talent alone. Let me give you some advice from a senior mage—guys like you are a dime a dozen, and I—"
Sharp shards of rock.
Cut off mid-sentence, Vilshen frowned in irritation.
A spell with the same structure but different element from Verden's. The icicles and stone fragments collided, scattering debris in every direction.
Unlike Verden, who wore no armor, Vilshen still used the gear from his adventuring days. It was natural that Verden fell behind in casting speed.
Soon, Vilshen summoned a massive sphere of ice and hurled it at Verden with tremendous speed.
'Can't match him in firepower—just have to deal with it.'
Then the only choice was to make up for the shortcomings with sheer mana.
As the mana within his circuits concentrated into both of Verden's hands, a wind of flame began to rise. BOOOOM! The fire arrow, carrying searing heat, collided with the sphere and incinerated it.
"Fire, earth, and even wind… Hah, to think you can control all three up to the second tier at that age—impressive. Must've been a shoo-in for valedictorian at the Academy. No doubt, you'll be a renowned mage in the future."
That's what made this so enjoyable. Killing someone with talent far greater than his own—there was no thrill like it.
That gray-haired mage was a genius, one beyond any human he'd killed so far. Would he beg in tears? Curse in rage? What would he say before dying? Vilshen was curious.
'But the knights are a nuisance.'
His subordinates were being slaughtered. Some were already throwing down their weapons and surrendering. And Varja, who had claimed to be so confident, was barely holding his own against a single knight.
If the other two joined in, he might miss the chance to escape. Blocking Verden's spell once again, Vilshen focused his mind.
His body began to rise.
Dodging magical arrows midair, Vilshen waved a finger at Verden.
Catch me if you can.
Leaving that message behind, Vilshen flew deep into the forest. The knight who had just slain a bandit shouted,
"All clear here! Don't worry, go after him!"
'I can't fly, though.'
Flight was the domain of third-tier mages. Even if he was on the brink of that tier, Verden couldn't use it.
But Verden wasn't the type to sit still while his enemy taunted him and even slowed down on purpose.
He raised a wall of earth, creating a steep ramp. Sprinting up it, he launched himself off the edge and cast a powerful wind spell with all his strength.
A thundering force that made it hard to breathe. Soaring into the sky, Verden spotted Vilshen.
"Got you."
"Wha—?!"
Vilshen, who had been watching the ground for signs of pursuit, was caught in the powerful wind. Spiraling down, he barely managed to avoid crashing by improvising a landing spell.
Verden slowed his own descent with magic and landed safely. Vilshen looked at him with disbelief.
"…Do they teach magic like that at the Academy now? Who casts spells that brutish—"
"You maniac!"
CRACK! A rock the size of a human head zipped past where Vilshen had been standing.
Second time already. Since when was hurling spells instead of replying considered polite?
No more holding back.
With lips pressed shut, Vilshen launched into a full-blown magic assault.
BOOOM! RUMBLE!
…The forest around them collapsed, burned, and was then frozen over.
A magical duel could end in just one move—but Verden and Vilshen were nearly evenly matched. No, Vilshen had the higher tier, but Verden made up for the gap with overwhelming mana.
Unaccustomed to such battle fatigue, sweat beaded at the tip of Verden's chin.
"Your face is stiff. Are you nearing your limit?"
Vilshen jeered, but truthfully, he was also at his limit. Short of mana, his breath had risen to his throat.
It had been years since he was expelled from the Academy and reached the third tier through adventuring. He never imagined he'd be evenly matched with some second-tier brat.
'But how does he have that much mana?'
He should've been drained long ago.
Could it be that he actually has more than I do? …Well, it doesn't matter now. That kid's going to die.
"..."
A pale breath escaped from Verden's lips.
Frost clung to the hem of his robe, and his body shivered at the cold pressing against his skin. The hand extended forward slowly drooped.
Seeing that, Vilshen struck with his final blow.
A frozen lance infused with deadly chill.
Death approached, but Verden made no move.
Victory was his.
Vilshen was certain he'd won.
But then, Verden lifted his head—and his eyes glowed an icy blue.
SHATTER! The spell was smashed apart. Shards of ice, lit by the sunset, sparkled in white. Eyes wide, Vilshen reflexively raised an ice wall.
────CRAAACK!
The sharp tip that pierced the wall halted just in front of Vilshen's nose. His thoughts froze along with it.
'Third tier…?'
But he was supposed to be second-tier?
The abrupt turn of events scrambled his mind. If he'd been a second slower, his head would've exploded—and that terrified him.
Then, the ground beneath his feet writhed.
He tried to fly again in a panic, but it was too late.
Spikes burst from the ground and pierced Vilshen's legs.
"Gyaaaaaaaaah!"
Bones shattered, flesh tore. An indescribable agony made him scream. His magic lost its anchor, and the ice wall collapsed.
Beyond it stood Verden. His hand carried the same bitter chill as Vilshen's own.
Thud. Vilshen's staff dropped into a pool of blood. He stared in disbelief and muttered,
"Third tier… and four elements…? Don't tell me, you were deceiving me from the start—"
As expected, the response was the same.
CRACK! The merciless chill drove through Vilshen's heart.