A line of fire flashed. Onest immediately turned his head to avoid the bullet.
It was a strike aimed precisely at the space between his eyebrows. Damn it, Onest bit his lip and stumbled backward.
"Damn it, are you serious? You dare try to shoot a captain inside a Kalion warship? Know your limits, soldier!"
"Should I be the one worrying about limits?"
Ivan approached while twirling his axe. He didn't rush to close the distance.
He slowly assessed the man's condition. A mage. Trained in swordsmanship.
Elves almost never wield swords. Especially not officers.
All field-grade officers among elven soldiers are high nobles, and elven nobles consider physical labor beneath them.
But there are some who take up the sword. This is where things get complicated.
The fact that he trained in swordsmanship despite others' contempt, combined with the longevity characteristic of long-lived races, implied significant potential.
While most elves despise close combat, paradoxically, the world's greatest swordmaster was an elf. She was known as the Hero's teacher.
So, in other words.
The fact that this elf was a sword-wielding mage officer gave Ivan pause. Even though he had already shattered one of his legs in the initial ambush.
"Elizabeta sent quite the hunting dog. What's your name, soldier?"
"Do you think stalling will help you?"
Onest frowned at Ivan's words. Sharp one, aren't you.
He clicked his tongue briefly.
He couldn't carelessly weave a spell. Against those classified as "transcendent," the distance between him and Ivan was less than a single step.
They were both within each other's attack range.
After a brief standoff, the elf sighed and slumped his shoulders.
"I surrender. I'll withdraw my soldiers."
"Throw down your sword."
"Why not ask me to sign surrender papers while you're at it? I have no guarantee you won't cut my throat immediately."
Not wrong. But Ivan narrowed his eyes.
An elf surrendering this quickly? Without even putting up a proper fight? A field-grade noble, no less?
That's impossible.
Ivan silently raised his axe. One can always surrender after being neutralized.
Seeing this, Onest clicked his tongue.
"Damn it. Fine. Take this."
And with that, he hurled the sword directly at Ivan with all his might.
-Clang!
As Ivan deflected the flying blade, Onest was already leaping backward and reaching into his coat.
Ivan jumped toward Onest, lowering his stance. No weapon silhouettes were visible beneath the tight uniform.
If so, what could come out of there would be a pistol, a dagger, or an explosive magical weapon.
The last option was most likely, and most troublesome.
"Beolgreen, sir!!"
"...?"
Why is that man's name suddenly coming up...?
Ivan shook off the confusion that momentarily washed over him. This wasn't the time for such concerns.
Originally, shouting technique names or powerful people's names was a very stupid tactic.
Ivan kicked off the ground and swung his axe. There was no time to strike delicately with the back of the axe. He held the blade straight and brought it down directly toward Onest's forearm.
One couldn't afford to be careless when dealing with a mage's suspicious magical device.
-Click.
As expected, what Onest pulled from his coat was a small iron ball-shaped magical device. Densely packed with purple incantations, it looked extremely ominous.
Just as Ivan's axe was about to slice through Onest's forearm, his thumb firmly pressed the top of the magical device.
And then. A wave erupted.
-KWAAANG!!
As Ivan was thrown back by the violent shockwave, he thought.
Mission failure. To think he would self-destruct.
Elizabeta's mission was to secure the meeting site between the ship's captain and Alexandr.
How could anyone predict or prepare for the captain suddenly pressing a self-destruct switch?
Ivan felt a ringing in his ears from the violent shockwave as he fell into a corner of the corridor.
"Ugh."
A groan escaped as the impact squeezed his lungs. Yet his expression remained calm.
He immediately checked the condition of his limbs, verified that his fingers and toes were functioning normally, and then collected himself.
It was "equipment inspection" honed through years of training. After all, a trained agent's body is a type of equipment.
'I'm too unharmed for someone caught in a close-range explosion.'
Ivan thought as he rose, his body still trembling from the aftershocks. The impact of the explosion made his vision slightly blurry. As the ringing in his ears gradually subsided, he could hear the siren echoing in the corridor again.
A good sign. It meant his hearing was also normal.
"This is unexpected."
At the voice that soon followed, Ivan froze stiffly. Too familiar a voice. And one that shouldn't be heard here.
Hearing this voice for the first time in four years, Ivan momentarily had to doubt if it was an impersonation. But it wasn't. He hadn't misheard.
The distinctive dark green flame visible through his blurry vision.
The ghostly fire burning from beneath the eye sockets.
Even the all-too-familiar magical pattern.
"Is that... really Beolgreen?"
"Yes. Why are you here? You were alive?"
The build, height, and appearance visible beneath the uniform ruined by the explosion were all Onest's, but...
Ivan instinctively realized. This guy's "soul" had changed.
"Possession...?"
"Interesting choice of words. This is called [The Art of Soul Transfer]."
The Hero Party's mage. The Fortress Destroyer Beolgreen.
With familiar magic, a familiar voice, and all-too-familiar arrogance, one of the world's greatest mages spoke.
"Where has Alexandr gone, and why are you here?"
"..."
Beolgreen's appearance here was unexpected. It was something that couldn't have been anticipated at all.
But before that, Ivan recalled the nature of this mission.
'Confirm and gather evidence of the connection between Crown Prince Alexandr and the elf captain.'
'The elf captain... no, this airship is presumably experiencing a malfunction.'
'Elizabeta designed it so the airship captain's only option would be Crown Prince Alexandr.'
'And Beolgreen's words.'
Where has Alexandr gone, and why are you here. Ivan frowned at the deep implications contained in this dry question.
Beolgreen had given the captain a magical device containing [The Art of Soul Transfer] from the beginning.
Why? To meet with Alexandr.
Then... why?
Because he had joined hands with Alexandr.
"Was this planned from the start?"
"Yes. The Kalion airship is the culmination of archipelago technology. It wouldn't suddenly malfunction, would it? After just sailing for barely over two weeks?"
Moreover, the reason this warship set sail was to safely escort Beolgreen's daughter, Elfihera.
The daughter of Beolgreen, one of the strongest elves and the Hero Party's mage. She holds an unparalleled position even among the many high nobles of the Kalion Archipelago.
A vessel that set sail to escort such an important figure wouldn't malfunction after just two weeks.
Unless "someone" intentionally caused it to break down.
A chill ran down his spine.
"That's right. It was to provoke Princess Elizabeta from the beginning. It was obvious that Alexandr would make contact if that little girl got angry."
"Why? Why did you do this?"
"Well."
Beolgreen chuckled. He wiggled his fingertips to weave magic, then suddenly asked.
"Where does your loyalty lie?"
"To His Majesty, the great late king."
"As always. Good to see. You might as well have sent word that you were alive. Wasn't our friendship worth at least that much?"
Ivan ignored Beolgreen's words and adjusted his grip on the axe.
Fortunately, his physical performance was normal. The shockwave that had thrown him back wasn't an attack spell in the first place.
Could he defeat Beolgreen in a direct confrontation?
The moment he considered it, he knew. Impossible.
But could Beolgreen truly exert all of his original power?
Probably not. The magical power he sensed was only that of the captain's.
"Oh, thinking of fighting? Well... you've always been that way. 'Little' Ivan."
"Do I have another choice?"
"Of course. But I don't think you'd make such a choice. Come on. Let me see your skills after so long."
The captain's magical power was certainly greater than a human's, but the gap wasn't at a hopeless level.
In other words, it was a difference worth attempting to overcome.
However... even with that level of magic, if it was Beolgreen himself controlling that body, would there really be any chance of victory?
'No.'
Ivan clearly knew his limits. That was the most important virtue of a trained agent.
Since he had to view himself as a tool for mission execution, he had to accurately understand his catalog specs.
Therefore, Ivan knew he had no chance against Beolgreen. Even with just half of that level of magic, Beolgreen would easily cut him to pieces.
But, but...
Winning doesn't matter.
"Let me learn a thing or two."
Ivan gripped his axe with deeply sunken eyes.
Because winning doesn't matter.
Can I do it, can I not do it. He had never considered such things important.
Should I do it? If I should, then somehow. Give my best in any situation.
For a trained agent, it's not failure but giving up that should be feared.
Decisions should be made in the shortest possible moment, and actions should be as swift as possible.
The moment Ivan decided to attack, he threw himself forward. Straight ahead, directly toward Beolgreen.
The sensation of breaking down and stripping away time that could be counted in seconds.
The feeling of air resistance against his body, slowly dissolving the flow of time itself.
This is the sensation of entering the realm of the "transcendent," where magic is forcibly activated by driving it into every strand of nerve.
A moment illustrated in a flash of time. This point is precisely the battlefield of transcendents.
In this time where even breathing is segmented, Ivan's axe flows through the air as if swimming. Smoothly, sharply, yet powerfully.
-Whoooosh—!!
Aiming precisely for the moment when the dark green magic was forming.
The axe, enveloped in magic, possesses the ability to dispel spells. It disrupts the completion of magic by segmenting it at the moment of its formation.
Therefore, a warrior at close range is the natural enemy of a mage. As it has always been.
-KWAAANG!!
The impact came immediately, but the sound was heard a beat later. This discrepancy between sound and reaction occurs as one approaches the speed of sound.
He tore away one layer of magic.
I hit him. Beolgreen.
Ivan was saying this with his eyes while preparing his next move.
Having stripped away magic just before completion, considering the time it would take to chant the next spell, his axe would clearly be faster.
So, he had reached it. The position of those giants who walked ahead in those days.
"Excellent."
A voice tinged with amusement resonated softly.
-Woong—!!
A light resistance blocks his path. Ivan immediately responded by twisting his waist. Five sharp ice awls pierced through the gap.
A speed that surpassed line-of-fire detection. Magic completed the moment the spell was conceived.
The time it took for Ivan to regain his posture and raise his axe again was still just a fragmented instant.
However, at the end of that brief clash.
"Ha."
More than forty differently structured spells, visible at a glance, were etched in the air.
Beolgreen smiled gently and flicked his hand.
"Show me more. How much you've grown."
Ivan bit down hard on his teeth and lunged forward.