Vol 3 Chapter 23 – Boyhood: Autumn at Thirteen・Part 2

I couldn’t understand what had happened.

On countless battlefields, I’ve heard deafening sounds—the kind that pierce the ears, batter the brain, and scrape against one’s very consciousness. There are the booming explosions of siege spells unleashed by mages and even those so-called “cannons” (to topple castle walls without magic) that produce a tremendous racket. But this was something entirely different.

It wasn’t a deep rumble but a high-pitched noise that seemed to tear through my brain, shaking not only my sight but the entire world. Everything around me trembled violently, and it even felt as if the ground itself was rising up to slam into my face. No, perhaps it wasn’t such a grand phenomenon at all—had I merely fallen? I tried to turn my head while feeling another weight pressing on my back, yet even that effort failed. In any case, with these eyes rendered useless and bleached white by the light, I couldn’t confirm anything.

The view before me was like experiencing, many times over, the harsh brightness of stepping from a dim room into the midday sun—and no matter how often I blinked, the glare refused to fade. I recalled having stayed as an unwelcome guest in manors and villages in other lands, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they had ever endured such discomfort. Perhaps, having nothing else to do, my brain had altogether abandoned logical thought.

My stomach churned at the eerie trembling of the world, and I even returned the plunder I’d seized. Still, the echoes of that sound and light did not set me free—as if to say, “You were never the kind of man to beg for your life, were you?” Beyond the incessant ringing in my ears, I could hear the clash of swords. Were my subordinates still fighting? If so, I would have to ask later how to withstand—or counter—this sensation. Strangely enough, even my only remaining reliable sense of touch had begun to fail me. The wall of the grassy field, dotted with short turf-like plants (which was originally nothing more than the ground I’d fallen upon), began to loosen and turn to muck—as if churned up after a downpour and a march of hundreds. I struggled desperately, trying not to let my face be submerged and drowned, but someone tumbled right in front of me, burying my face in mud. Then, as if aimed deliberately, a searing pain shot through my thumb…

【Tips】 The thumb is the crucial starting point for grasping objects; losing it results in a significant penalty to any action checks. While you might still manage with tools like a plow or hoe, you would no longer be able to wield a sword. Moreover, the advanced regenerative techniques employed by sorcerers and priests cannot be used without permission from both the Magicians’ Guild and the Cathedral—they are exceedingly high-level and politically sensitive procedures.

Is it an age-old rule that troublesome events always occur during a simple errand? Some higher power must have rolled the dice, because once again my journey yielded poor results. I’m on a mere errand with no boss or grand objective, and I certainly didn’t sign up for a “middle battle.” What will they do if a “climax battle” erupts at this rate?

“Really, I wish that for once I could go out and return without any incident,” I muttered.

I shook off the blood and sheathed my “Dispatch Wolf.” At the same time, I dispersed the incantation—one that had been treating my swinging arm by combining the “Invisible Hand” with the techniques of “Multiple Concurrent Thinking” and “Far Sight.” Handling six extra arms along with my own was clearly too much; I felt a throbbing pain at the back of my head. Managing eight arms in total (including my natural two) in such complex maneuvers drained my stamina and magical power tremendously, and the efficiency was far from ideal. To endow my “hands” with the same skill as my own and to channel my “Elegant and Delicate Finesse” into my “Battlefield Sword Technique” with the sharp precision of “Exquisite Artistry,” I could only sustain about half-strength. If I were to hold back and simply perform straightforward thrusts and swings, or even just roughly employ my Shortbow Technique, I could endure for an hour or two. As expected, the drawbacks of a combo build manifest clearly in its low endurance—I wish there were a mechanism where shattering magical crystals would restore magic.

“Erich, after cutting down thirty men, if you say it was just a minor detour… I’m sorry, but even I find that a bit much,” one voice grumbled.

With the sound of hooves echoing, after I had leaped off, Mika—who had retrieved the Polydeuce from the safe zone—rode up on Castor. Their strikingly gallant yet invariably androgynous beauty was, strangely enough, still appealing even when marred by a troubled expression.

“No, that’s exactly what you said when you transformed the ground into ‘mortar’ using the combined incantations of Transmutation and Transition to set a trap for mice,” I retorted. Still, I must protest one thing—you were involved in that middle battle too, weren’t you? After all, it was you who, in high spirits, sent a raven to scout for bandits after recently creating a familiar, and you even got carried away declaring you’d take them down. I could have simply taken the path less traveled.

Well, in TRPG terms, defeating bandits for some extra coin—or rather, for a good deed—is a standard move for an adventurer. Somehow, Mika was unusually enthusiastic—perhaps flushed with adrenaline or stricken by that notorious ailment common around fourteen—and using the intelligence from the raven scouting our formation, the two of us devised a strategy and managed to capture all the bandits alive. That was my doing.

For now, having effectively severed their thumbs to strip them of combat ability and used magic to rapidly dry the muddy mortar, they should be incapacitated; the first eight I apprehended were pinned to the ground, with their necks buried so deeply they couldn’t escape. This stands as a testament to the prowess of a construction sorcerer. Originally, those responsible for public works—building structures, maintaining roads, handling sewers—would pivot on this very method once they turned their focus to conflict. It hardly surprises me that powerful sorcerers are recruited as bureaucrats and even raised to the nobility to bind them to the state.

Now then, as I was about to dispatch my familiar to call the patrol, a small metallic clink—like that of a fastener being undone—rang in my ears. Considering the source, its location, and all the details, I instinctively began to form a spell. I caught the sound of a bowstring releasing, the tearing of air, and then… an eerie noise as if space itself were opening up.

“What!?” I exclaimed.

I whipped around and reached out, snatching a dagger from a nearby man’s waist, and then slammed it into the hand of the man who had been aiming his crossbow at me. The blade, slipping between his metacarpals, struck his hand as if to chastise his feeble counterattack, and then it smashed into the ground.

“That was close, Mika.”

“Ah, ah… sorry, Erich,” he replied.

Glancing at the “spatial distortion” that had opened in my chest, Mika patted his own chest repeatedly, as if to check that he was truly unharmed. This, then, is the result of my growth—the acquisition of Space Transition.

That night, Lady Agrippina bestowed upon me the incantation for it—an art generally regarded as taboo, a technique now almost a lost technology. I nearly flew into a rage at receiving it on a scrap of paper, and when I protested the next day, I got a dismissively casual reply like, “No one understands it anyway, so it’s fine,” so I finally gave up fighting it. However, after learning it, I clearly understood why Space Transition has become like a lost art—the cost remains ludicrously high even after being taught. To fully master it would require amassing several skills and abilities up to levels such as the Divine Realm or Favorite. The reason is that even creating the “spatial distortion” needed for a Space Transition demands considerable proficiency—in fact, just learning it through practice drained nearly two-thirds of my reserves. With the countless add-ons required—like specifying coordinates and the objects to be transferred—one finally achieves a Space Transition suitable for biological passage. Moreover, the size and duration of the distortion depend on the rank of the Space Transition itself; needless to say, merely unraveling space and linking to an unknown locale is an incomplete technique. The very purpose of this art is to transport people instantly to distant places. Still, when considered from another angle, it has its uses—say, as a shield that can deflect a powerful attack by sending it into another dimension. I have no idea where this unraveling connects, though.

With future developments in mind, I set my “temporary perfect form” based on the display shown by Professor Reisen. Naturally, I plan to center my main weapon around swordsmanship—developing from Matured to Exquisite Artistry—and employ a technique that enables me to handle seven weapons simultaneously as a suppression skill against large groups. Moreover, as a countermeasure to spells that no ordinary barrier can stop, I opted for this Space Transition. In the future, I’d even like to be able to transport people with it.

“Alright, then. For now, shall we fire one more shot as a precaution?”

This is the little trick that fills those gaps. A powerful, directional beam of about 75,000 candelas and a roaring 150-decibel shock burst forth from my left hand, forcing the fallen bandits to writhe in agony. It was my second shot, so my eardrums might have taken a hit—but if the patrol eventually picks us up, I’ll be subjected to even harsher treatment. It’s just a matter of chance; don’t expect it to be as trivial as a slim booklet.

The principle is simple: with a basic Transmutation spell, I convert powdered dolomite ore wrapped in oiled paper and ammonia salt—both available from the capital mages’ workshops—into magnesium and ammonium peroxide, which then ignite and explode. In other words, I’ve used magic to produce the very elemental components employed in a stun grenade. Additionally, I integrated an auxiliary incantation that focuses the sound and directs the light solely forward—even though I couldn’t even observe the light—thus crafting a limited nonlethal spell.

The inspiration, of course, came from movies and games in my past life. Those works were truly marvelous—capable of handling everything from hostage rescues to enemy suppression without collateral damage. Though my output is somewhat inferior due to my own limitations, it is practical enough, and there’s little risk of misfires. Moreover, because the underlying magical principle is so simple, it can be cast in a single action and is extremely energy-efficient—in fact, even though I devised it, I can’t help but pat myself on the back and think, “Aren’t I a genius?”

Well, if anyone accuses me of simply copying the sorcerer I saw in my memories, I can say I upgraded it, so it’s all good. Sometimes it’s important to praise oneself.

“Alright, then, let’s look for the patrol. At this time of year, there should be sentries along the main highway.”

Mika took a piece of paper from his pocket and began scribbling. He was probably going to attach it to his familiar’s leg and have it deliver the message like a carrier pigeon. I wondered how much profit this would bring. Bandits at this time fetch a pretty good price even at the lower ranks. I recall that the ones captured the other day were displayed as a warning, with a bounty of one libra per head—and the captured leader was worth five drachmas. Moreover, bandit plunder isn’t punished (of course, the loot must eventually be returned), so there should be some coin in it. Their equipment is reasonably decent too; if purchased, it might fetch a substantial sum. Transporting it would be no problem—after all, they likely have at least one wagon, and if I hitch it to Castor and Polydeuce, I can easily haul everything away.

Oh, and I’ve heard there’s a bonus for capturing foes alive. Since I captured around thirty individuals, it should be very profitable. Even if we split the prize, along with our previous earnings, we might just manage to pay for Eliza’s tuition this year.

Layer upon layer, everything seems in order—as if the gods still watch over us from their lofty heavens today. Evil is vanquished, and adventurers smile with their achievements. Today, Henderson’s Scale appears favorably low. However, I must admit: using that enormously draining Space Transition barrier in two consecutive battles has utterly depleted my magical power. My headache has worsened, and I feel an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.

“My friend—”

“Huh? What’s the matter, Erich? Why are you speaking so formally?”

My youthful body still suffers from poor energy efficiency. It refills quickly, but its reserves are shallow—though, given my age, I’m doing quite well, aren’t I? Right?

“I’m a bit tired. How about we take a break?”

Perhaps a rest atop the hill won’t bring any misfortune…

【Tips】 Although the patrolling by the inspection units makes the highways exceptionally safe compared to other lands, if one is extremely unlucky, one may still encounter such ordeals.