The next morning, I sought out Mord. "Hey, Mord," I began, "feel like a sparring match?" My intentions were threefold: to hone my skills, to gauge Mord's abilities, and, most importantly, to devise a strategy for defeating him. To my astonishment, he readily agreed. Perhaps he hadn't fully grasped the implications of his impulsive acceptance.
We scouted the city for a suitable location, eventually settling on a level patch of grass—a perfect, secluded training ground, conveniently close to the inn. The terrain was ideal, the area sparsely populated, offering the quietude necessary for focused combat.
"Mord," I announced, adopting a deceptively friendly tone, "I'm going all out in this spar, so you should too." My words were a thinly veiled threat, a promise of an intense, no-holds-barred confrontation.
"Of course," he replied, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "I'm not just going to stand here and let you hit me, am I? Haha."
"Haha. Okay," I responded, concealing my anticipation. He'd better not hold back; otherwise, the entire exercise would be pointless.
I assumed a fighting stance, fists clenched, prepared to unleash my magic. I'd been diligently training my body over the past few days. While I hadn't achieved any significant muscle growth, my endurance had noticeably improved. The near-knockout blow I received from those bandits served as a potent reminder of my physical limitations.
Mord launched his attack, charging forward with his sword held firmly in both hands. I responded with a volley of small fireballs, but he deflected them with effortless grace, his movements fluid and precise. As he closed the distance, he swung his sword, but I anticipated his maneuver, closing the gap and feigning a palm strike to his face.
He reacted instantly, his reflexes sharp, taking a step back. But it was a feint. In a flash, a fireball erupted from my palm, hurtling towards him. He had barely enough time to react, forcing him to block the attack. Before he could recover, another fireball followed, catching him completely off guard.
This time, he managed to deflect the fireball, leaping back to create distance. I seized the opportunity to shift tactics, abandoning magic in favor of hand-to-hand combat. This was my chance to assess my physical capabilities. As he landed from his leap, I drove my shin into his ribs, sending him skidding backward.
He looked genuinely surprised. I couldn't help but grin. It was evident he'd been holding back while I'd thrown everything I had at him. Serves him right. But his expression shifted, his playful demeanor replaced by a focused intensity. The game had changed.
I charged, closing the distance. His sword was a formidable weapon, but only at a distance. Up close, his reach was significantly limited. He anticipated my advance, leaping back, then charging again, his sword pointed directly at me. I evaded the initial strike, but he cleverly adjusted his wrist, using the bottom of his sword to strike my stomach.
"Yes!" I thought, despite the sharp pain. This was precisely the opening I needed.
I seized his arms, his sword still embedded in my stomach, effectively immobilizing him. I aimed a punch at his face, but he blocked it with his left palm. However, he failed to anticipate my next move. My knee was free, and I drove it forcefully into his stomach.
He stumbled back, visibly affected by the blow. He released his sword.
"I think this is more fun," he admitted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"Indeed," I replied, though my breath was coming in ragged gasps. The infuriating thing was, he hadn't even broken a sweat, while I was already gasping for air. His superior stamina and resilience were undeniable.
I launched another attack, despite my exhaustion. I still possessed some residual energy, and I intended to utilize it to its fullest extent. I threw a punch, but he parried it with ease, then countered, striking my elbow with such force that it nearly dislocated.
The pain was excruciating.
Utilizing the momentum of his attack, I spun, delivering a sharp palm strike to his face, followed by a swift kick to create distance. I then leaped towards him, aiming a knee strike at his chest.
He blocked it with his forearms, but I could tell it caused him significant discomfort. We continued to spar, pushing each other to our absolute limits. The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the training ground. Finally, I had to admit defeat. I was utterly exhausted and battered.
The harsh reality was undeniable: I had no chance of defeating him in a fair fight. His superior energy reserves, physical strength, and aura control were simply too overwhelming. He operated on a different plane of combat proficiency.
I made my way back to the inn, completely drained. Mord, however, informed me that he was heading elsewhere. He was likely searching for a suitable location to perform the summoning ritual.
This raised a critical question that had been bothering me: how could they summon a D-rank demonic monster while still possessing aura and mana within their primordial vessel? Was I overlooking some crucial aspect of the summoning process? To the best of my knowledge, gaining demonic abilities required the complete expulsion of one's own aura and mana, replacing them with demonic energy.
This wasn't necessarily a setback; in fact, it was quite intriguing. But it did raise a significant question regarding the narrative's trajectory. Would the story adhere to its established path, or would it take a dramatic, unforeseen turn, introducing entirely new and unexpected events? While a change wasn't inherently negative, my existing knowledge of this world could become obsolete if the storyline deviated significantly.
The protagonist might not remain the protagonist. The power system, as I understood it, could be fundamentally altered. The original plot could be completely lost. The possibilities were both exciting and unsettling.
A knock came on my door. I opened it to find Lisa. She remembered our agreement: in exchange for saving her, I would receive a book to enhance my magical abilities. She'd already acquired one.
I was still a First Circle mage, my knowledge of magic far from complete, and many memories regarding magic remained hazy.
"Thank you!" I expressed my sincere gratitude.
"Welcome," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.
"Promise you'll save me, right?" she asked, her voice laced with apprehension.
I grinned. "Of course," I assured her.
It might have seemed selfish, but saving money was saving money. And it was for a good cause, after all.
I bid her farewell, closed the door, and immediately immersed myself in the book. It was a comprehensive guide to elemental magic, detailing the manipulation of the fundamental elements: earth, water, air, and fire. This differed from other forms of magic, such as time manipulation or telekinesis. Elemental magic focused solely on the manipulation of the earth's elements.
Understanding elemental magic would allow me to control and manipulate these elements at will, much like I had been doing with fire. It could be utilized for both offensive and defensive strategies, provided I possessed sufficient mana.
Combining the primary elements—earth, water, air, and fire—could create entirely new elements, and these combinations could, in turn, generate even more. For example, water and air combined to form ice. The possibilities were seemingly limitless.
I turned to the next page, which contained a wide array of elemental spells, both offensive and defensive. I spent the remainder of the day memorizing these spells, significantly expanding my magical capabilities.
The following day, I once again sought out Mord for another sparring session. I was eager to test my newly acquired skills while simultaneously continuing my subtle strategy of irritating him to the point of aggression. He hesitated, but eventually agreed, likely curious to witness my progress.
At our designated training ground, I immediately employed a memorized air magic spell to propel myself into the air, launching a surprise attack on Mord. He attempted to counter, but I swiftly unleashed a fireball, striking him at the precise moment.
Mord skidded back from the force of the explosion, while I utilized air magic to cushion my landing. His shocked expression was unmistakable. I had initiated the encounter aggressively, demonstrating a clear improvement in my magical proficiency. However, these were still merely basic spells. The true test lay ahead.
Mord drew his sword and charged. Instead of my usual fireballs, I opted for a lightning bolt. While less potent than a fireball, its speed was significantly greater, leaving Mord with minimal time to react. I leaped, employing air magic to enhance my kick, targeting his face. He managed to intercept my leg, but I used the momentum to evade his subsequent sword swing, receiving only a minor cut on my face. With a flick of my wrist, I summoned a fireball that struck his sword, forcing him to relinquish his grip.
Once again, it was bare-handed combat. We clashed, exchanging blows until my exhaustion became overwhelming, and he finally landed the decisive blow. I lost again, but this time, it felt different. I had demonstrably improved. And I knew, with continued training, I would eventually be able to stand toe-to-toe with him.
Our sparring sessions continued for several days, and Mord's demeanor underwent a noticeable transformation—from friendly to intensely irritated within a mere three days. My subtle strategy of provocation was proving remarkably effective.
"He needs to stop this," Mord grumbled to Sasha, his voice thick with frustration, "or I'm going to kill him." My plan was exceeding even my own expectations. The tension was palpable, the stage set for a potentially explosive confrontation.