Chapter 58 — True Ether

Alternate Title: [Super-Charged: Primeval Reversal]

“C’mon, Sir Duibhne, finish him!”

“Wipe the floor with him!”

“KILL HIM!”

‘Whoever that last guy was, dude needs to chill.’

I think, wincing internally at the bloodthirsty roar from the crowd.

“Almost time, Hangman,”

A voice calls from beneath the platform.

My opponent, the knight-wannabe, mirrors my own position, leaning against a support beam.

“Need a few more minutes to catch your breath? Wouldn't want anyone saying I took advantage.”

He sounds almost… Bored. 

As if this whole duel is just a minor inconvenience.

“I’m more than warmed up,” I shoot back, rolling my shoulders. “See those guys cheering for you? I already beat them. All of them. You are the one with something to prove.”

A low chuckle echoes from below. “So, you’re ready then?”

Straightening, I stretch my legs, feeling the satisfying pop of my neck and back as I return to my corner of the platform. “Let’s get this over with. What was your name again?"

Moving with fluid grace, the Knight leaps onto the platform beside me as two spears materialize in his hands.

One crimson, one a vibrant gold.

[Structural Grasp] activates instinctively, flooding my mind with knowledge. Unlike Shirou, I’ve not mastered [Trace]—it turns out replicating equivalence of built-in Magecraft takes a Hell of a lot more than a few lines of text.

Still, I can tell his Noble Phantasms are authentic goods even from a distance away. Senza Esitazione thrums in its Astral Form, as if eager to test itself out against genuine Noble Phantasms, yet I reign the urge back in.

The Mystic Code Is too conspicuous. Anyone observant enough could quickly connect my personas, which I cannot allow until my plans are solidified.

With a flourish, the Knight tears off his extravagant robe to reveal the beehive-patterned suit underneath.

Connor has opted for a deep, ocean blue instead of his ancestor’s earthy green, tapping a rhythm with his feet as he tosses the remains robe to his ‘adoring fans.’

“Are you sure you’re not Cu Chulainn’s descendant instead?”

The Knight chuckles as he spins his spears, generating a gust as powerful as an airplane engine. ‘F Plus, if not more…’ And it seems he hasn't even used [Reinforcement] either.

“I’ve heard you’re quite strong yourself… Strong enough to overpower Sven’s [Minotaur Form] without Magecraft.” A cocky grin on his face; cockier than mine even. “Still, I shall not face a foe unarmed.”

I smirk and glance at my now healed fist. “Never unarmed.”

“I beg to differ…”

Tooting like a bird, the Knight points the [Yellow Rose of Mortality] at me.

“I recognize a fellow spearman when I see one. Will you deny me the honor of seeing for myself your Spearmanship?”

I narrow my eyes at him, ready to curse up a storm. “How the fu—” 

Then, realizing where I am, I stop myself and—not in the mood to hear more bragging, I correct myself. “Never mind,”

Unfortunately, it’s already too late.

“The way you were fighting! Your stances, even while using Bajiquan to disguise it—”

Forced to listen to his ramble for a minute straight, I sigh and—

“In conclusion: You can only be a spearman!”

“What’re you, a Knight or a detective?”

Connor flashes a smirk that makes the women below swoon. “Why can’t a man be both?”

“It’s just a strange combination.”

“You realize we Knights were more than just sellswords, don’t you? We’re trusted advisors to our Lord and Lady; we were strategists, law enforcers, detectives, servants… Knighthood encompasses so much more than most people remember.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, I guess?”

“Will you really not draw your weapon?”

My response comes in a silent shake.

“Then, I apologize—!” The earth groans in protest as the Knight ‘materializes’ before me, the ‘Yellow Rose’ a hair’s breadth from my one good eye.

My own Spell explodes into existence, a raw outpouring of power rivaling that of a low-ranking Noble Phantasm.

The ‘Crimson Rose’ lances outward, clearing a path for its gleaming twin.

It shears through [Apollo’s Glare] with contemptuous ease, cleaving the searing laser beam in two.

I could have imagined it, but Connor’s advance hitched for the briefest moment, granting me a window to retreat.

It was subtle, fleeting, a courtesy to avoid public embarrassment for me no doubt.

The Knight rests his forearm casually on his Noble Phantasm, a glint in his eyes.  “Convincing enough for you?”

Senza Esitazione shimmers restlessly between my palms, its frigid metal shaking with anticipation.

Those who bore witness to its power are either pushing up daisies or lost to the Outworlds. Besides, Diarmuid’s Noble Phantasms are a Magus’ worst nightmare. The ‘Crimson Rose’ can sever the very threads of magical energy, rendering Spells inert, while the ‘Yellow Rose’ can halt all ‘Supernatural Healing’ which I will assume includes High-Speed Regeneration as well until proven otherwise, and I’m not testing it naturally.

With [Shield] all but neutralized by the first and Regeneration useless against the latter, it’d really be suicide to fight him unarmed.

“What a beauty… Does she have a name?”

The Knight gazes at the Mystic Code, eyes wide with covetous hunger. If his composure were even slightly less steely, I have little doubt he’d be drooling.

“Senza Esitazione.”

“A family heirloom?”

“No. A gift from a dear… Friend.” 

Gil, at the mention, puffs up like a preening peacock, a smug grin plastered across her face.

“Quite the ‘friend’ she must be,” The Knight pauses, glance flickering between the Queen and I. “Tell me, why agree to the marriage with Lady Barthomeloi then?”

“She offered great perks and benefits,” I reply casually. The real prize, however, are the Barthomeloi’s [Blueblood] and [Almighty] Sorcery Trait. 

Details on both are practically nonexistent, lost to whispers and speculation.

But they are the ‘Myths’ of this era; ‘Myths’ that have driven thousands Magi to murder in hope of integrating them into their own Bloodlines.

Of course, I have no doubt Lorelei’s… Character plays a part in her fame, but the most important thing that ultimately decides the fate of Magus is: Inherent Talent.

Hers is not only potent but entirely heritable—a veritable goldmine in the World of Magi.

“And Sorcery Traits?” As if having read my kind, the Knight muses.

“And that.” Seeing no reason to lie, I admit.

That’s what people want, right, an honest politician?

“So you admit it… You feel no love for Milady, yet you still call her your wife? You are even more despicable than I first believed.”

Oh, look, a ‘white knight’ in the fucking flesh!

Gods, what a sanctimonious ass.

“Your Lady chose me for the same reasons.”

As if on cue, a servant jogs on the platform.

With her shock of white hair, eyes like twin drops of blood, and the Einzbern crest displayed prominently on her chest, the Homunculus steps towards me, proffering a box. “This is the new Model for [Mimir’s Eye], integrated as per your instructions, sir.”

“My thanks to John. He has my gratitude.”

I reach out to take the box, only to find it unexpectedly difficult to pry from her grip.

A frown quickly settles on my face. “Explain yourself.”

“You must sign here first, sir.”

“… Are you serious?”

“Very, sir.” She nods, pulling out a pen from her breast pocket. “If you do not, the box will not open. Any attempt to forcibly pry it will result in the destruction of the Mystic Code inside.”

Behind, the Knight hollers. “Are you two quite done?”

“Just a moment.” Quickly writing my name on the piece of paper, covering the writing so no Magus will spot my real name, even putting in effort to fake a dozen lines.

Immediately, the box snaps open, revealing a new [Eye] encased in a hexagonal protective glass.

Carefully, I cut the connection between [Mimir’s Eye] and my Circuits, ejecting the implant with ease.

“That’s cheating!”

“This bastard!”

“Sir Duibhne, please stop him!”

With a flick, I remove my glasses and cough as a loud chorus of gasps sound; some feminine… Others… Not so much.

“You’re like me.”

Connor Ua Duihbne mumbles, his voice too small for most, but deafeningly loud to my ear still.

“Is that what it was? Did you use the [Love Spot] on Lady Barthomeloi?!”

“I did not.” I growl. “You’re the one parading your [Love Spot] around.”

Despite its effects being significantly weakened, likely due to a Mystic Code, I can still sense the potency of the [Love Spot] from here. 

“I can’t entirely suppress my Curse… What’s your excuse?!” 

“I have to remove my glasses to swap out my synthetic eye?”

Without the illusion from [Mimir’s Eye], the scars on my eyelid and cheek are laid bare for all to see; harsh marks that stretch down to my chin where my skin was torn open by Kirei’s punches. “Or would you rather face me like this?”

The insinuation instantly stills his tongue.

Picking the new [Eye] out, I scowl. “He used it, didn’t he?”

Ciri’s Blood… The Elder Blood was incorporated in the Mystic Code’s Creation alongside the Fiend’s Third Eye.

“His Lordship named it the [Elder Fiend’s Eye]. According to the Tower’s ranking, it’ll fall into the Gold, if not Jewel Rank.”

“Cool.”

I return [Mimir’s Eye], then insert the [Elder Fiend’s Eye] where my empty socket rests. “What does it do?”

“I can’t say for certain, sir. While the significance of the Eye is immediately apparent, the Blood appears to hold some connection to the Fae realm.”

“So I’m the damn test subject then?”

“… I don’t comprehend your meaning.”

The hesitation in her voice betrays her words.

“Enough talk. Are we fighting or not?” The Knight hurries behind us.

“You’ve waited for half an hour, what’s a few more minutes?”

Joking, I begin to flood the Elder Fiend, the synthetic eye seizing the opportunity to hardwire itself to my nerves—both the physical and spiritual set.

One blink later, and I’m fighting the urge to puke as my brain splits the incoming sensory data into two distinct sectors, struggling to form a cohesive picture.

My good eye shows the world as I’m used to seeing it, but the Elder Fiend floods my senses with a complete 360-degree panorama.

Reconciling the two is like trying to fit two Universes into one skull.

Shrugging off the throbbing headache, I give the Homunculus the box and caution.

“Keep [Mimir’s Eye] out of harm’s way.”

I’ll need it, since [Elder Fiend] doesn’t seem to arrive with the illusion installed.

“Will there be any interruption going forward? Or is that all, Hangman?”

“That is all.” Hopefully.

Then, I notice them – holographic figures moving around us, spectral projections of every possible action the Knight could take. Every Magus in sight has the same ghostly models swirling around them, except for Gil and the Queen of the Clock Tower. 

Seconds later, Connor Ua Duibhne makes his move. Instantly, his actions sync with one of the models, the others dissolving like smoke as new projections take their place.

‘Foresight?’

I’m still furious that he disobeyed me, but I can’t deny John’s craftsmanship.

[Elder Fiend] is a masterpiece, and unlike [Mimir’s Eye], it’s more geared towards combat.

With [Super-Charged: Fire Burst] drained, I quickly spam [Reinforcement] and save it in the spare slot until it reaches the 10th stack.

“Alright, we can continue—"

The Knight lunges at me with speed that surpasses even a typical E-Rank.

E+ or even ++, my mind supplies, struggling to categorize the sheer velocity.

Our weapons meet, a clash of steel that pulverizes the platform beneath us.

For a fleeting moment, it seems our first exchange will end abruptly. Then, subtly, almost imperceptibly, the trajectory of the 'Crimson Rose' shifts.

It veers, a hair's breadth from spearing my stomach. 

Connor hasn’t allowed for any adjustments mid-strike; his wrist is locked in an angle designed to deliever the maximum damage.

He couldn’t have possibly manipulated the blade’s path from that position.

That’s when I notice it—a slight glint in his right eye. ‘Causality Reversal, perhaps?’

It’s more Cu Chulainn’s territory, admittedly, but who knows with these Demigods and ancient Heroes?

Their bloodlines could be intertwined for all I know.

But I have no time to contemplate the inner workings of his Mystic Eye.

With a motion, I flood the air with [Vibration], achieving an effect similar to [Prana Burst].

It throws the Knight off balance, sending him sprawling to the side; blood pouring out his ear.

Yet, instead of giving up on offense as most woupd have, Connor seems to get more excited.

The ‘Crimson Rose’ cleaves through my [Shield] as the ‘Yellow Rose of Mortality’ grazes my face, whispering the cold beckon of Death. Fortunately, his movements while fast have been revealed to me beforehand by [Elder Fiend].

‘Speaking of which—!’

Connor Ua Duibhne has his Dojutsu; I have mine.

A smirk twists my lips as I unleash [Elder Fiend] for the very first time.

A veil of darkness descends upon the floor, a shadowy shroud that only the strongest in the room can presumably see through. The other Magi erupt in panicked cries, but I ignore them. This is my chancez after all.

I lunge forward, aiming to end the fight prematurely, but then, unexpectedly, the Knight plunges his own NP, the ‘Crimson Rose,’ deep into his own flesh and instantly dispel the magical effects of my Mystic Code.

As the encroaching darkness recedes for him, my advantage also vanishes with it.

Still, I manage to spear the side of his stomach. It’s not a deep wound, but it’s enough to activate Senza Esitazione’s effects.

This time, it’s Ares who answers my call.

But before the passive effect of my Mystic Code can achieve anything of note, Connor stabs himself again. ‘What an annoying fighting style…’ Especially against Magi.

Bursts of green flash follow his actions.

‘Healing Spells?’ I conclude as his wounds mend and we widen the space between us. ‘A Lancer who can heal himself and dispel Debuffs?’

Forget annoying.

This shit is straight cancer.

I can’t even reactivate Senza Esitazione either.

Its Debuff only triggers once per target and resets every day.

“You’re incredibly irritating.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“It’s not meant to be.”

“Coming from you? It is.”

An explosion of motion rocks the space between us as we clash—blurs within a whirlwind of blows exchanged so quickly they become nearly indistinguishable. 

Neither of us is willing to give the other an inch. 

Every attack I launch is healed instantaneously; every Spell ripped apart by the ‘Crimson Rose.’

Meanwhile, he’s bound by [Elder Fiend]’s passive Foresight, caught in the same conundrum I am in.

As the shroud of darkness lifts for the observing Magi, our frenzied, fleeting battle too comes to an abrupt end. 

We stand frozen, violence compressed into humanoid Vessels, heaving like dogs under the intense heat of Summer.

The poor Magi are left puzzled, most likely trying to piece the fight together via [Structural Grasp].

The platform is no longer the pristine, milky white, marred with deep scars from our swings. 

Splashes of blood, still steaming from the intense heat generated by our unleashed Od, decorate the stage. 

There is a beat of stunned silence before the whispers start.

“What just happened?”

“How did they end up like that?”

“Did you see anything?”

Chuckling at their confused babbling, I suggest. “I say we reenact the fight for them… What say you?”

Letting his actions speak for themselves, Diarmuid’s Noblr Phantasms clashing with my Mystic Code until my palms feel raw and slick with blood.

It takes some time, but the disparity between us finally starts to show. 

It’s not just skill, though that is evident in his every move—it’s the sheer difference in raw power and experience.

Even with [Reinforcement] bolstering my strength, the gap remains, wide as ever. Connor has spent a lifetime honing his body into a weapon. Against that, my year and a half of rushed training seems almost laughable in comparison.

Trying to buy myself time, I unleash all the charges from [Apollo’s Glare] at once, the force just enough to fling him across the room even with the ‘Crimson Rose’ nullifying my Spell.

Pouring an ungodly amount of kinetic energy into Senza Esitazione, the spear blurs as I hurl it forward.

It slices through the air, aimed at a point that would have pierced the Knight’s chest were it not for the last-minute intervention of ‘Yellow Rose’.

The Noble Phantasm shudders, barely managing to deflect the blow.

A part of me, a calculating, pragmatic part, screams to end this charade. 

It urges me to ‘Pilfer’, to rip away the source of his power and claim victory. But that would feel… Hollow.

I want to face him at his prime, not a pale imitation stripped of his most potent weapon—those irritatingly persistent Healing Spells he seems so fond of.

Bracing myself, I charge at the recovering Knight, allowing the ‘Roses’ to pierce my palms, [Vibration] violently wrenching Noble Phantasms from his hands. With our weapons tossed to the side, we move to a more brutal form of combat, which is when teeth go flying and blood splattering everywhere. Even the Magi underneath can only watch in horror as [Shield]s are shattered like cheap mirrors and injuries healed in an instant.

Even then, I still fall short.

Fatigue might not be my enemy, but concussion most certainly is and given how impactful his punches and kicks have been, it’s only a matter of time before I’m KO’d. Left with no other option, I pray, ‘Don’t fail me, [Super-Charged]!’

Though protected by Lorelei, I doubt she’ll be too happy if I use [False Sun] indoor, hence I turn to [Reinforcement] instead, activating all 10 charges which causes the Spell to… Evolve into something else… Something more.

Golden lines, stretching like living serpents, flare across my skin as my fist connects with his chest.

I’d expected resistance, but the force of the blow rips through his defenses.

A gasp, a spray of blood, then the Knight is flying backwards as though launched from a cannon.

Only the timely intervention of the Protective Enchantments saves him from a bone-jarring impact.

The lights abruptly cut out, plunging the room into darkness for a heartbeat before a crimson red washes over everything. 

A female voice then booms from speakers.

“True Ether Source detected! All personnel are to evacuate the premise immediately! True Ether detected! All—"

Nasu is nourished by three distinct forms of Mana, each a reflection of its source and potency.

First, there is the Lesser Source: Od. This is the energy produced by the Soul residing within its Vessel, a personal wellspring fueling the simplest of Spells.

Then comes the Greater Source: Prana.

It is the lifeblood of the planet itself, an omnipresent energy permeating every rock, every tree, every breath of air. Magi, through their Magic Circuits, can filter this ambient Prana to replenish their reserves faster or fuel Spells and Rituals they alone can never enact. Example: The Holy Grail Ritual.

And then there’s the True Greater Source.

It is not the diluted Prana of the modern age.

It is primal energy, a relic of a bygone era when Gods walked among men.

It is a force of unimaginable power, yet toxic, even lethal, to Magi of today.

“True Ether Source detected! All personnel—"

Doesn’t take a fucking genius to know who the ‘True Ether Source’ is.

My first instinct is to look at Gil who, for the first time since we met on that fateful night, stares at me with utter shock on her face.

“Shit… What a mess…”

At least now I know [Super-Charged] doesn’t discriminate against Non-Offensive Spells.

The evolution to [Reinforcement]…

‘[Super-Charged: Primeval Reversal].’ That shall be its name from henceforth.