The veteran mage, Anton.
His magic was undoubtedly of exceptional caliber.
He was a prodigy who excelled in both the Mutation School and the Manifestation School, and his boldness in using magic on his own body without hesitation allowed him to achieve great results early on.
However, this was only when viewed in comparison to the average mage. In absolute terms, his magical talent was not at the level where he could be called an overwhelming genius.
What made him a master of magic was, in fact, his obsession.
An obsession with his targets, allowing him to use magic without regard for his own safety. A complete disregard for the usual constraints or limitations of magic, focusing solely on efficiency.
This is what made him a master of magic.
It was difficult to conjure an accurate image from mere descriptions, but it was unavoidable. After all, when observing what he did, one might even question if it had anything to do with magic at all.
For example, it went something like this:
In a fog-drenched forest, a martial monk startled by the sudden appearance of the woods rushed toward Anton.
The elderly figure also ran forward to meet the charging martial monk, moving legs that should have been weary with age while aiming a heavy mace held in both hands.
Thud-thud-thud-boom!
The mace continuously scattering death. The martial monk rushing through the forest held up their shield and crouched low to avoid the flying mace bolts.
Bam-bam-boom!
The deflected mace bolts rolled across the ground as the monk prepared to accelerate. At that moment, Anton smirked and muttered.
“INCENDENT.”
The incantation pronounced with emphasis. Soon after, the scattered mace bolts on the ground glowed red before exploding.
Ka-BOOM!
The thunderous explosion and flames engulfed one of the martial monks, who fell while emitting a pungent and unpleasant smell. Behind the falling monk, another rushed forward.
Anton didn’t hesitate. Immediately adjusting his grip on the mace, he fired it towards the ground.
Splinter!
Before the surprised monk could react to the bolt embedded at his feet, Anton stepped back, and from the spot where the bolt landed, a massive tree sprouted.
“Ugh!”
The rising tree kicked the monk into the air. Toward the insect-like monk, Anton knelt mid-retreat and pulled the trigger.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-boom!
Five shots in quick succession. Precise firing accurately pierced the gaps in the monk’s carapace. As the monk hit the ground spitting blood and tried to rise, Anton muttered again.
“INCENDENT.”
The single incantation, its meaning altered by emphasis, unique to Anton alone.
“Aaaarrrgh!”
Kraack!
Following the distorted reality perceived by Anton, the monk died as the mace bolt exploded.
“You son of a…!”
“Encircle him! Cut off his escape route! Charge all at once!”
Martial monks charged through the fragments of shattered carapace. Their blurred silhouettes were visible through the haze. Without hesitation, Anton hurled himself into action.
Kraack!
As Anton moved aside, an axe flew past where he had been standing, embedding itself deeply into a tree.
The eyes of the stealthily approaching monk widened, and Anton stopped rolling. He immediately aimed two handheld maces, each attached to his wrists, now brimming with death.
Kraack!
“Ugh…!”
Precise shots aimed directly at the knees. The moment the monk wielding the axe had both knees pierced by the mace bolts, Anton retrieved the discharged rapid-fire mace and muttered.
“INCENDENT.”
This time, he used an expansion spell. The mace bolt, nearly ten times larger in an instant, shattered the monk’s knees, causing them to collapse. Simultaneously, Anton’s rapid-fire mace pierced the monk’s head.
Boom!
The collapsing monk. Rising immediately, Anton aimed his mace and pulled the trigger.
Thus, the mace bolts he fired performed different actions depending on the emphasis he gave.
They would explode upon embedding themselves in carapace, grow larger, or catch fire.
At times, they would even sprout new trees when embedded in the ground.
The expressions on the faces of his companions watching from atop the magic tower varied—some filled with surprise, others with confusion, and yet others with interest.
But there was a common sentiment: they understood why Aslan wanted to recruit him.
In a sense, Anton was similar to Aslan. Though he hadn’t acquired as many means as Aslan, he was a more lethal figure.
And he was an old man who knew how to use these tools effectively.
His precise shooting skills, outstanding magical abilities, and a body enhanced through repeated modifications to surpass that of a seventy-year-old made him a weapon in his own right.
Blocking the martial monks’ attacks by summoning trees from mace bolts shot into the ground.
Firing bolts to pierce and detonate between carapace joints.
With the elder’s coat flapping dramatically amidst the scattered carapace, Angie muttered, “That old man is incredible.”
The martial monks shared similar sentiments.
They realized that dealing with the master of magic through straightforward tactics or encirclement was impossible.
They would all die if things continued this way.
Only then did they understand.
The forest where Anton’s tower stood was deliberately cultivated to prepare for potential intrusions, and within this area, capturing Anton without casualties was deemed impossible.
The superior marksmanship and magical prowess, combined with a meticulously calculated environment designed to enhance his strengths, had been carefully crafted.
The scarcity of traps near the forest also fit into this plan—it was clearly intentional.
If they thought they could lure Anton into this position, they could capture the monks easily.
Seeing Anton surrounded by towering trees, the monks assessed their situation and changed their strategy.
If getting close was too difficult, they would either create opportunities to approach or eliminate the need for proximity altogether.
With this mindset, they acted.
Their first move was as follows:
A martial monk charging forward, holding a shield high to block the mace bolts while advancing like a bull. In response, Anton muttered.
Kooowaaaaa!
The incantation pronounced with emphasis caused the mace bolts to glow red and explode, engulfing the monk in flames.
No matter how powerful the monk, vital points remained the same as any other living creature.
Since they embodied divine power as a means for martial arts, it couldn’t be helped.
Thus, the flames were fatal. Death came swiftly—in just a single breath, which the thick-bodied monk managed to endure.
Anton’s eyes met the monk’s, and he discerned their intent.
The monk sought to become a meat shield, buying precious time, obstructing Anton’s vision to split his focus.
Even a brief lapse was enough for the monks.
On the verge of death, the monk rushed forward to block Anton’s line of sight.
Other monks concealed themselves behind the giant body and charged, swinging their weapons toward the burning corpse of their comrade.
The crunching sound of chitin being crushed echoed as weapons swung toward Anton.
The grotesque axe blade aimed to cleave Anton’s head in two, but Anton twisted his body and thrust his arm forward.
Kraack!
The severed arm rolled away, drenching the ground with purple blood as Anton frowned. But seeing the charging monks, he smiled.
Even a mighty priest would scheme.
Anton couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the monks rushing forward, abandoning their comrades as part of their strategy.
Their determined charge seemed absurdly amusing to Anton, mirroring his own adversarial nature.
Their efforts, built on the sacrifices of their comrades to kill him, were utterly repulsive.
So Anton smiled, then gritted his teeth.
The severed arm fell, splashing the ground with blood, and the raised axe descended toward Anton’s head.
Anton looked away from the axe aiming to split his skull, quickly scanning his surroundings.
Five remaining monks. Their encirclement was tight due to the sacrifice of one comrade.
No reinforcements were coming.
There was no need to hesitate. Slightly tilting his head, Anton felt the axe penetrate his flesh and bone, shattering his clavicle.
The axe surged toward his heart, breaking bones as it advanced. Waiting for the axe to dig deeper, Anton hurled his mace.
As the thrown mace rolled away, Anton muttered.
“INCENDENT.”
Instantly, the air condensed, winds howled, and flames flickered.
Aslan noticed the cat left behind by Anton brushing past his feet as he observed the explosion below.
The condensed flames erupted from within Anton’s body. Using his own body as a medium for the explosion, a mysterious art blending potent spells like fireballs with mutations and manifestations.
Self-destruction.
Kooowaaaaa!
The deafening explosion covered an area of several dozen meters in flames. The roaring sound sent scorching heat and debris flying, shaking the magic tower.
“Whoa!”
“Guh, what…!”
The wind striking the tower emitted sounds akin to wailing cries.
After the wailing ceased, the group stared at the charred ground.
The heated air swirled around them, rustling the forest as they sighed, gazing at the blackened woods.
“Eh, eh, Aslan… Grandpa…”
“Damn it…”
The group collectively held their breath, watching the swirling heat and flames below the tower.
Confusion spread among them as Lumel mourned and Phey marveled, looking down from the window.
Aslan glanced at the cat nearby.
The cat appeared to emit a swirling dust-like substance.
The dust gradually formed a shape.
Reversing the process of disintegration, it slowly reconstituted into a distinct form in mid-air.
Suddenly, a human figure materialized in the air. While the group tensed and drew their weapons, Aslan remained calm.
Because the emerging figure was none other than Anton.
“We’ve been spotted, so we need to leave quickly. I’ve taken care of things down there, so pack up.”
The Anton who reappeared in the air, landing on the ground, said this while placing the cat on his shoulder.
This was the magic that elevated Anton to the rank of master.
It was a magic Anton developed after hearing Aslan casually mention the mythical existence of a lich.
Upon learning about the lich’s method of existence—the phylactery—Anton modified his pet cat.
Through the use of various schools of magic, including Mutation and Manifestation, Anton managed to transform his cat into a kind of phylactery, operating on principles he himself didn’t fully understand.
Though different from the phylactery known to Aslan, it produced a similar effect.
Being able to resurrect alongside equalization despite countless self-destructions and using his body as bait in fierce battles was possible because of this.
In Gelladridion, such bold and unconventional magic was used only by Anton.
