A Spacetime That Might Exist (8)

The forest was shrouded in thick fog.

Fern leaned against the trunk of an ancient tree, her breathing slightly heavier than usual. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, down her cheeks, gathered at her chin, and dripped down. Her hand holding the staff was steady, but her fingertips were slightly white from the continuous infusion of magic.

Another wave of attacks came from the left.

Without turning around, she held her staff to her side, and a pale purple honeycomb-shaped magic circle instantly unfolded.

"Bang!"

A dull thud. The defensive array flashed with light, taking the hit steadily.

Using the force of the impact, Fern slid two steps to the right and disappeared back into the mist. She could sense the attack coming from above, from the figure hovering above the sea of mist.

Magic, experience, and this fog are all advantages for the opponent.

Lady Frieren has also disappeared.

The thought flashed through her mind. There was no complaint, only confirmation. She moved again, hiding behind another, thicker tree, suppressing her magical fluctuations to a minimum.

The fog swirled slowly all around, like a milky white liquid, isolating everything.

In the forest, Nebel clasped his hands together, the hem of his robe fluttering slightly in the invisible air currents. His eyes were closed, yet he could "see" every ripple of magic in the sea of mist below.

"It's useless."

His voice pierced through the thick fog, descending smoothly and clearly as if it were right next to my ear.

"The fog was created by me using magic. I can sense any magical activity within it."

He was stating a simple fact, completely unaware that he was sending intelligence to the other side.

"There is no creature in this world that can completely conceal its magical power."

As he finished speaking, he pressed his left hand down in a downward motion.

Somewhere in the sea of mist, the corresponding magic node suddenly lit up. A solid, dark beam of light tore through the mist and shot toward the roots of the ancient tree where Fern was hiding! Its trajectory was straight and without any fancy patterns.

Fern leaped to the side and rear just before the beam of light hit his body.

"Boom!"

The roots of the ancient tree exploded, scattering wood chips and soil everywhere. The shockwave made her robe flutter.

She adjusted her stance, her staff already raised. No aiming was needed; the tip of the staff locked onto the blurry figure opposite her and struck repeatedly.

"Whoosh--!"

Three highly compressed white beams shot out in a triangular pattern, cutting through the mist and heading straight for Nebel's head and chest.

Nebel didn't move. A thick, dark magical shield silently unfolded before him, its surface rippling with water-like patterns.

The beam struck the shield.

"Puff puff puff."

Three muffled thuds, like pebbles falling into a deep pool, only caused a few ripples before disappearing without a trace. The shield remained completely still.

Fern landed lightly, her feet sinking into the humus without making a sound. She looked at the enemy's solid shield, her pale purple eyes calm.

Here, not only can you not see, but your attacks can also be completely seen through and blocked.

The other party completely outmaneuvered me...

She quickly came to a conclusion. There was no anxiety, just a confirmation of the situation. Her body retreated deeper into the fog once more.

High above the clouds, the fog was thin, and the pale moon could be seen.

Frieren sat on a semi-transparent platform temporarily conjured by magic, swinging her legs. The platform was extremely high, and the forest and sea of mist below shrank into a blurry gray-white. The cool night breeze stirred her silver hair.

She was engrossed in reading "The Magic That Prevents Eggshells from Falling In When You Crack an Egg," her fingertips occasionally tracing magical circuits in the air.

The faint sounds of colliding magic and beams of light piercing the air could be heard from below.

She raised her head, her emerald eyes glancing down, her gaze piercing through the thin clouds to land on the two tiny human figures in the sea of mist.

After glancing at it for a few seconds, she smiled slightly, then lowered her head and continued reading.

It's good to stay on the sidelines and take a break.

She turned another page.

Another place.

The sharp clang of metal colliding with magic was brief and then absorbed by the thick fog.

Methode floated backward, her toes lightly touching the wet, mossy stones to dissipate the force. She looked at the slender, graceful figure in the mist, her smile unchanged, her eyes calmly assessing the situation.

Zolida stood a few meters away, holding a long sword in one hand. The blade was wreathed in bluish-white energy and emitted a soft whistling sound. She wore an eye patch, revealing only half of her face with its distinct features and lips pressed into a line. Her other hand hung at her side, with tiny whirlwinds rising and falling from her fingertips.

Between the two, the mist, disturbed by their earlier exchange, began to swirl slowly.

Miss Fern seems to be facing a tough battle as well.

That's normal. Even among Demons, her opponents are unique... That fog was originally a domain created for hunting and killing.

What are you looking around for?

Zolida's voice interrupted her thoughts. The voice was somewhat cold, with the directness of a warrior, but also somewhat endearing.

"Your opponent is me."

The moment she uttered the last word, she moved. With a flick of her wrist, the longsword slashed upwards from below. The bluish-white aura swirling around the blade suddenly expanded, transforming into a crescent-shaped, door-sized, sharp wind blade that tore through the mist and slashed towards Methode at the waist! Where the wind blade passed, the mist was pushed aside, creating a brief vacuum.

Instead of retreating, Methode stepped forward, taking half a step and clasping her hands together in front of her.

"Buzz."

A complex, honeycomb-shaped Defensive Magic circle, shimmering with a pale golden light, unfolded before her, covering her entire body. Every rune connection point on the circle was bright and stable.

The wind blades slashed through the light array.

"Clang--!"

A piercing collision exploded, the airflow rippled outwards, and the fog within a radius of several meters was violently cleared away. The light array flickered violently, but it steadily blocked the attack. Methode's body swayed, and her foot slid back half a foot, leaving a mark on the ground.

Almost simultaneously with her defense, she extended her left hand from behind the light array, her five fingers spread wide. A point of blazing white light instantly condensed in her palm and burst forth.

Ordinary Attack Magic. The beam solidifies, moves extremely fast, and shoots directly at Zolida's face.

Zolida tilted his head slightly, and the longsword that had just dissipated from the wind blades retreated smoothly, the blade held horizontally in front of him.

"Laugh."

The beam of light struck the blade, but was deflected by the magical metal, shooting obliquely into the mist behind and disappearing. Zolida's hand holding the sword remained as steady as a rock.

Methode took this opportunity to widen the distance again.

My opponent, on the other hand, is the exact opposite.

His fighting style is extremely simple. Relying on his powerful physique, honed martial arts skills, and whirlwind magic that he can control with ease, he combines offense and defense in a terrifyingly solid foundation.

In close combat, I wouldn't gain the upper hand.

The best way to break the deadlock is to join forces with Miss Fern. But the problem is this fog...

Her gaze swept over the churning milky white mist around her. This mist not only obscured her vision but also powerfully interfered with her magical perception. If she continued fighting inside, Miss Fern's Concealment abilities, which she relied on for maneuvering, would become completely ineffective.

So, as long as this fog can be dispelled...

A knowing glint flashed in her eyes, and a confident smile, typical of a hunter locking onto their target, slowly appeared on her usually gentle and mature face.

Let's make a scene then.

Once she made up her mind, she acted without hesitation. She formed a strange hand seal in front of her and then pushed forward.

"Whoosh--!"

Instead of a single shot, four beams of Ordinary Attack Magic shot out in a net-like pattern, covering multiple directions from which Zolida could dodge. The magic output was significantly increased, and the beams were brighter.

Zolida's eyes narrowed, and his longsword danced in front of him, creating a screen of bluish-white light.

"Clang clang!"

Four explosions almost rang out in unison. The wind barrier and the magic beam collided violently, sending light fragments and turbulent air currents flying everywhere. The dust and magical remnants instantly created a small, chaotic area of smoke and dust.

"Saturation attack...?" She should know this won't work on me, no, this is...

Just as the last ray of light was shattered—

Methode's figure darted in from behind the smoke and dust like a ghost! Her speed was so fast that she left afterimages in the mist. Her right hand, fingers joined like a knife, with highly compressed pale golden magic power swirling around her fingertips, silently pierced Zolida's back like the sharpest dagger.

Zolida's reaction was lightning fast. The instant Methode made her move, she twisted her body and slashed back, her longsword whistling sharply behind her.

But Methode's speed was a fraction faster than she had anticipated.

"Sizzle!"

A pale golden, magical fingertip grazed Zolida's side, slicing through her magically formed clothing and leaving a charred mark on her skin. Wisps of dark magic seeped from the wound.

Zolida lightly touched the ground with her toes and retreated several meters, glancing down at the wound on her ribs. It wasn't serious, but she had definitely been hit. She raised her eyes to look at Methode, and for the first time, a clear emotional fluctuation appeared in those exposed eyes—a mixture of surprise and a sudden surge of burning fighting spirit.

"This fighting style... I remember it."

She spoke slowly, the coldness in her voice replaced by a certain interest.

" In the Northern Plateau, there is a legendary tribe that dedicates their lives to researching how to hunt Demons. Their fighting style is unpredictable and precise, skilled in stealth and delivering a fatal blow."

With a flick of her wrist, the whistling sound of the wind on the longsword became even louder and more rapid.

"A clan of madmen. How interesting... I never expected to meet them here."

She lowered her center of gravity slightly, adopting a more aggressive starting stance.

"Come on. Let's have a fair and square match."

Methode smiled without saying a word, her figure flickering away once more.

The next dozen or so rounds were so fast they were dizzying. Methode no longer focused on long-range attacks, but instead combined magic with close-quarters combat, sometimes using beams of light to restrain from a distance, and sometimes suddenly closing in to launch a dangerous thrust with a magic dagger. Zolida, on the other hand, used her solid swordsmanship and whirlwind magic to the fullest, seamlessly switching between offense and defense, and steadily parrying most of the attacks.

In an instant, golden light and bluish-white wind blades crisscrossed in the mist, accompanied by continuous explosions.

After crossing and separating once again, Zolida suddenly stopped moving.

"... wrong."

She stared at Methode, a few meters away.

"Your offensive looks fierce, but your heart isn't with me at all."

She used the word "heart," which, perhaps, is more of an intuitive judgment of a person's focus in battle, to the Demons.

Do you look down on me?

Upon hearing this, Methode's smile deepened, and she even raised her hand to gently cover her mouth.

"Oh dear, we've been found out?"

Her tone remained gentle, yet it conveyed a sense of composure as if the matter had been resolved.

"However, it's too late."

Zolida's pupils contracted.

"I've finished." Methode lowered her hand, and countless tiny, almost invisible strands of pale gold light flashed from her fingertips, disappearing into the surrounding mist. "Analysis of this mist."

"If my other clansmen were here, even if the analysis were completed, they would mostly know magic for killing enemies, which wouldn't be able to change the course of the battle."

She looked at Zolida with bright eyes, the kind of brilliance a scholar has when a complex puzzle is solved.

"But I know that magic... is inherently such an interesting thing."

She clapped her hands gently in front of her chest.

There was no earth-shattering fanfare, no dazzling magical brilliance.

Only a soft, popping sound, like a bubble bursting, emanated quietly from her.

Immediately afterwards, Zolida saw that the thick, swirling, milky-white mist around them seemed to be grasped by an invisible hand, and then—

It began to dissipate.

It wasn't blown away by the wind, but rather it crumbled and collapsed from the very foundation of the magical structure. The mist transformed into countless tiny specks of light, rapidly fading and becoming transparent, revealing the real world that had been hidden for so long. Moonlight spilled down, dappling the forest floor, and the outlines of ancient trees in the distance became clear again.

It covered a vast area, encompassing the entire combat zone.

[Mist-Dispelling Magic].

"--!?"

Zolida's astonishment lasted only a moment. Her warrior instincts made her swing her sword again without hesitation the instant the mist thinned. A wind blade, even more solid than before, flew out from her blade and slashed towards Methode seemed to have paused slightly due to casting a spell.

However, the wind blade was struck mid-flight by another incredibly condensed white beam of light that shot from a great distance.

"Bang!"

The two forces collided in mid-air, annihilated each other, and exploded into a small, chaotic mass of air.

Zolida turned his head sharply, looking in the direction from which the attack was coming.

There, there was only a vast, clear night sky and a pale moon.

The attack... where did it come from?!

She suddenly looked up, her gaze fixed on the higher, more distant horizon.

On the edge of the moon, a tiny, purple-haired figure, almost blending into the night, hovered there. The distance was beyond imagination, so far that even with her magical perception, she didn't notice it at all before the mist dissipated.

"It's... that far..."

The moment this thought crossed her mind, she felt a chill in her chest.

Head bowed.

A beam of pure white light, as thick as a bowl, had silently pierced through her chest without her noticing. The other end of the beam connected to the tiny figure on the horizon.

There was no pain, only the cold touch of magic escaping wildly from the wound.

She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but no sound came out. Her body swayed and she fell forward. Before completely dissipating, the last thing she saw was the steady, chilling trajectory of a long-range sniper shot under the cold moonlight.

One minute ago.

"Huh?"

Nebel uttered a short, questioning syllable.

The fog has lifted.

It didn't dissipate naturally, but was driven away from its source by some force. His control over the fog was instantly severed.

"Useless... I can make as much of this fog as I need..."

But he suddenly realized that, almost at the same moment the fog dissipated, the magical reaction of the little human mage in the forest, who had always been as clear as a candle flame in his perception, had vanished, as if he had never existed.

How could that be...?

Alarm bells rang in his mind, and he immediately pushed his magical perception to its limit, like an invisible radar wave sweeping across every inch of land and every tree below.

No.

It was completely empty.

Just as his mind was momentarily distracted by this sudden anomaly—

"Call out."

A faint, almost imperceptible sound of something cutting through the air came from the extremely high sky above.

Nebel tried to look up and defend himself, but his body reacted a fraction of a second slower than the deathly white light that had traversed an immense distance and been condensed to its fullest extent.

Just one line.

"Puff."

The beam of light precisely entered his forehead, exiting from the back of his head, carrying with it a small wisp of dissipated dark magic.

His body stiffened. His clasped hands trembled weakly as they parted. The hem of his robe stopped fluttering.

His vision began to blur and darken. In his last moments of consciousness, he "saw" the figure of a purple-haired girl on the distant horizon, overlapping with the bright moon, and the cold white light at the tip of the staff in her hand, which had not yet completely dimmed.

Beyond the limits of perception... and yet it can be so precise...

With this realization, his consciousness sank into eternal darkness. His body transformed into drifting black mist, merging into the cool night breeze, leaving no trace.

Frieren closed the book, stood up from the semi-transparent platform, and casually turned the platform into points of light that vanished.

She flashed and appeared beside Fern in the next instant.

Fern emerged from behind a large tree, her face pale and her breathing slightly rapid. The continuous high-intensity Concealment and movement, as well as the two precise attacks beyond the limit of distance at the end, had exhausted a great deal of her energy. She put away her staff, let out a soft breath, and raised her hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead.

"That's really good."

Frieren's voice rang out, carrying a clear approval. Her emerald eyes curved into a smile as she looked at Fern.

"At such a long distance, completely out of the enemy's perception range, and still so precise."

She nodded and gave her evaluation.

"As expected of you, Fern."

Fern turned to look at her master. A trace of tension lingered in her pale purple eyes, but more than that, she was exhausted. She pouted slightly and complained softly, her voice finally softening with relief.

"I never want to fight like this again."

The night breeze swept through the forest, carrying the faint sound of Methode approaching from afar.

As the fog dissipated, moonlight streamed in unobstructed, illuminating the forest clearing and the three people standing quietly within it.