Battle at the Nameless River

Facing the arrows, Rorschach drew in a massive amount of magic power and formed the strongest Mage Hand he had ever created, swatting them to the ground.

The fallen arrows liquefied into puddles of thick, inky-green slurry that splattered everywhere. Black Mist rose from the grass it touched.

Strongly corrosive?

Sing was a close-combat warrior and could only steer his horse away from the slurry, while Hill tried to return fire with her crossbow. But a little of the liquid splashed onto her mount's forehoof. The horse jerked about in pain, interrupting the ranger's movement. The knights immediately unleashed a second volley.

The arrows came again. Suddenly, a huge hand made of flame reached out in midair and clenched every poison arrow in its grasp. Thick smoke rose from its palm under the scorching heat, and when it opened again, not even ashes remained.

Burning Hand

Rorschach inserted "Elemental Conversion (Fire)" between the Mage Hand's "Mana Condensation" and "Repulsion," giving the magic-powered hand the form of flame. His temples now throbbed, and Rorschach felt that the two spells had consumed a considerable amount of his own magic power.

Did mages have mana bars? Even the current panel did not display one, but there truly was a limit to casting. The foundation of spellcasting was an individual's Internal Magic Power. Once a Spellcaster cast beyond a certain point, fatigue and phantom pain would accumulate.

It was like running. Someone who rarely exercised might find even a thousand meters agonizing, while someone who maintained a workout routine would fare much better. Professional marathon runners, meanwhile, differed enormously from ordinary people in both speed and endurance. The gap in Internal Magic Power reserves and casting speed between low-tier mages and legendary mages was even greater than that between ordinary people and athletes.

When a person ran to their limit, the muscles used for running, the chest and airways, and the diaphragm in the abdomen would all ache. When a Spellcaster reached their limit, the mental "lactic acid buildup" would hinder their thinking and concentration, plunging both brain and body into pain.

Rorschach had experienced magical overexertion on his first night after crossing over. Fortunately, he had passed out quickly enough that he had not felt the full extent of the pain. But now he felt exhausted. He could feel his limit approaching.

On the opposite bank, the knights' leader, Leopold, gathered his men. The seven riders turned their horses around.

"They're running?" Sing guessed that heavily armored warhorses would only sink into the mud if they tried to wade through the river. Had the enemy decided they could not cross and chosen to withdraw?

"No, they're circling around. They're opening distance to prepare for a charge." Hill's assessment made everyone else tense.

Rorschach forced himself to focus. He was preparing. He was aiming.

Hill pulled out a hand cannon, and the dwarf tightened his grip on his Warhammer.

Tap. Tap... Tap! Tap! Tatatatatatata!

They accelerated visibly. The knight drew his longsword, squeezed his legs at the riverbank, and his heavily armored warhorse leaped into the air. It was actually going to jump across the river! In the dim yellow light, Rorschach could clearly see a faint green glow seeping from the gaps in its barding.

Rorschach had been gathering magic power all along. At the instant the knights reached the highest point of their jump, directly above the river, he hurled a Fireball. His most powerful spell was not aimed at any particular knight. Instead, he smashed that condensed sphere of blazing energy into the river.

Boom!

The blast thundered, and steam slammed into the knights. Three slightly slower, unlucky riders were blasted back across the river, separated from their horses. One warhorse hit the ground and, like the arrows before it, melted into thick inky-green juice, leaving only its barding behind.

Despite such a commotion, the landed warhorses merely stamped their hooves, and their own horses did not panic or lose control.

They were all fine horses.

Forcing himself to look, Rorschach realized he had intercepted half the knights.

The good news: one shot had earned the highest KD of the battle. The bad news: it had been his last shot.

Rorschach nearly fell from his horse. A violent nausea surged up within him. He had reached his limit.

If he used Basic Decomposition, Rorschach could cast it all night without stopping. But the three spells just now had all been cast at maximum power, draining his Internal Magic Power dry.

Sing and Hill saw that something was wrong with Rorschach and guarded him on either side. Mister Arle, meanwhile, drew a straight-bladed sword and faced the enemy.

The ranger fired at one knight. The bullet struck the horse's head, shattering its armor plates and revealing a rotten wound beneath.

Aside from Leopold, the other two knights were not in great condition either. The steam had liquefied on contact with their skin, releasing tremendous heat. Every patch of exposed flesh had been scalded bright red.

"You're stronger than the innkeeper's report said." Leopold stood at the front of the charging formation and had suffered the least impact. He said in a low voice, "For the Great Mother!"

"For the Great Mother!" the two knights answered with difficulty. They grabbed handfuls of crushed herbs from their pouches, swallowing and inhaling them together. It was the same Powdered Medicine they had fed their horses before setting out.

The effect was immediate. The injured knights went from agony to delighted excitement. Drool ran from their mouths as they giggled uncontrollably, striking their mounts' armor with their longswords.

"They're attacking."

Without waiting for their leader's command, the two young men charged directly toward Rorschach. Though they had not had much room to accelerate, they were still incredibly fast, reaching them in a single exchange.

"Don't underestimate me!"

Singlev, who had not acted until now, suddenly exploded into motion. He squeezed his legs together, making his horse rear up, then swung his hammer and knocked aside the descending longsword. In the instant of his opponent's shock, he twisted and exerted force again, bringing the massive hammer down at the knight's face.

The knight twisted aside. The Warhammer smashed heavily into the horse's armor—and exploded. The dwarf was wielding an Explosive Hammer!

Using the recoil, Singlev swung again and smashed down once more.

Duang!

Metal struck metal. Leopold arrived in time, cutting between the dwarf and his subordinate, using the angle between his blade and guard to trap the hammer's handle.

"My explosive hammer doesn't just go off once!"

The dwarf exerted force again. A short swing, a clash—and the hammer exploded against Leopold's blade once more, nearly shaking it from his grip. Leopold yanked on the reins and withdrew.

On the other side, the rider fought Hill. The Half-elf dodged nimbly, knocking aside her opponent's blade with her dagger when necessary. The knight, having achieved nothing, grew increasingly irritated. Mister Arle, who had come to assist, seized the chance and raised his sword-cane to thrust at close range.

The knight easily dodged the merchant's attack, but at that moment, the ranger suddenly kicked off from her own mount. She stepped on the enemy warhorse's head, then swept her other leg across and slashed directly through the rider's neck, cutting the knight from his horse. Even Mister Arle, who stood nearest, could not see how she had accomplished that series of movements.

His companions had bought him a moment to catch his breath, but it was not enough. Rorschach now felt like a drowning man. The pressure, pain, suffocation, and inability to concentrate made it difficult to complete any more complex spell.

Should I try it?

Watching the dwarf gradually fall into a disadvantage against Leopold, Rorschach could clearly see that Singlev's hammer swings were growing slower and slower, while Leopold showed no sign of fatigue and only grew fiercer as the battle continued.

Try it. Rorschach decided to take the risk despite not understanding his condition.

Mana Drive, target: himself.

Magic power from the environment was forced into his body. Rorschach felt as though he had fallen into boiling water, the pain twice as intense as before.

But he was awake. Incomparably awake. Perhaps it had triggered his body's protective mechanisms, or perhaps it was the result of magic power rampaging through his body—especially his nerves. Rorschach only felt that his thoughts had become incomparably swift. With a single thought, he could cast a spell.