Ermina, the Witch of Flickering Flames.

Little was known about this witch from the age of myth, who had lived for at least a thousand years. She had joined the Demon King's army. She had made burning humanity the purpose of her life.

And she was a Seventh-Circle mage.

Generally, Seventh-Circle mages were considered beings who had come infinitely close to transcendence without actually attaining it. The gulf between transcendent beings and those who were not could never be dismissed.

Yet no one—not even those who had attained transcendence—called Ermina, the Witch of Flickering Flames, an ordinary mortal who had failed to transcend. The constellations that had fallen at her hands testified to her strength.

“She already experienced transcendence in the first place. I smashed all her circles, but that doesn't mean she forgot her knowledge or her feel for wielding magic.”

Merlin let out a long sigh, adding that she had no idea how Ermina had restored her circles.

“What you're facing is a transcendent being.”

Merlin was unequivocal. Though Ermina could no longer wield Eighth-Circle magic—the magic of transcendence—she was unquestionably a transcendent being. A superhuman no different from a Sword Master.

“And witches who've attained transcendence are annoyingly troublesome. I told you, didn't I? Witches are lunatics whose entire species cheats.”

She pointed at the sky. Seven circles hovered there, their rotation producing flames that dyed the heavens red.

“Now experience it for yourself. This is a battlefield you'll have to stand on someday.”

The witch gestured. Her pale fingers clawed at the air. An ordinary human's gesture merely cut through the air before them, but a transcendent being's gesture cleaved the landscape.

Seventh-Circle Spell: Inferno.

The witch had merely waved her hand lightly, as though brushing away a gnat buzzing before her eyes. The flames rippling from her fingertips, however, seemed to have something rather different in mind.

Flames surged in waves. Fire rolled in swells.

Crimson flames swept across the battlefield. Even Fifth-Circle magic was called siege magic, so what should magic above that level be called? A question Najin had once wondered about found its answer now.

'Holy shit.'

A wave of fire spanning dozens of meters was bearing down on him. The one fortunate thing was that it wasn't targeting the retreating soldiers. The worst thing was that it was targeting Najin with perfect accuracy.

BOOM!

Najin kicked off the ground and ran.

The wave of fire pursued him as though alive. The earth burned. Rocks melted. Not even soot remained where the flames passed. Everything either crumbled into ash or melted away without a trace.

He would die the moment it caught him. The moment it touched him, his body would melt, physical enhancement be damned. Najin was certain of it.

And so he kicked off the wall and sprinted at full speed. Inferno was a spell designed to sweep away a broad area, which meant he could escape its reach if he ran with everything he had.

“That's just a spell she's laying down to control the area.”

But, naturally...

“Here it comes. Get ready.”

There was no way the witch didn't know that.

As he ran, pushing off the wall, Najin tightened his grip on his sword. His gaze remained fixed ahead, but his senses had caught it: the mana swirling above his head.

Fifth-Circle Spell: Scorching Ray.

Fourth-Circle Spell: Fireball.

It wasn't a single spell. Two spells were cast on top of each other. Seven Scorching Rays and seven fireballs shot toward Najin. Still running along the wall, he swung his sword without even looking.

Upon reaching the rank of Sword Seeker, his senses had grown sharper still. He could tell where the swirling mana would go without having to see it with his own eyes.

KIIIIIIING!

The Scorching Ray aimed at piercing Najin's skull met his sword. The beam split in two and scored past on either side of him. Seeing the melted cliff, Najin clicked his tongue.

'Even a graze really would kill me.'

There were seven such Scorching Rays.

He had only deflected one so far. Sensing the rays curve this way and that as they pursued him, Najin clicked his tongue. But beams of heat weren't the only things he had to fend off.

BOOOOM!

The instant Najin kicked off the ground, a fireball struck where he had just been standing. The three-meter-wide fireball gouged a crater at its point of impact, and fragments of stone caught in the explosion flew in every direction.

Nor was there only one fireball.

Fireballs hurtled simultaneously toward where Najin had stood, where he would step next, and where he might escape. The instant he hesitated or left even the slightest opening, the pursuing Scorching Rays would pierce his body.

What if he took a great leap to escape? What if he kicked off the cliff and landed on the ground? He would merely be swallowed by Inferno, the Seventh-Circle spell waiting below with its jaws open for him to fall.

Was this how mages fought? Spreading nets in every direction, reducing the places their opponent could step until they were cornered. It was truly troublesome beyond measure.

'In the end, she's making me choose.'

Najin gritted his teeth. No room to set his feet? Nowhere to escape? Then he simply had to make one.

BOOM.

Kicking off the ground, Najin charged straight ahead. Rather than trying to dodge the falling fireball, he threw himself into its path.

BOOOOOM!

With a deafening roar, the fireball struck him.

Dust billowed up with the flames. Soon, however, Najin emerged through the dust. He had swung his sword at the moment of impact, minimizing the damage as he broke free.

Of course, he wasn't unscathed. Soot covered his body, and the palm gripping his sword had melted and stuck to the hilt. Najin had merely chosen.

Chosen the path that would minimize the damage and keep him alive.

Breaking through the flames, Najin gasped for breath and opened his eyes wide. Blood raced through his veins. His body accelerated beyond its limits. He swung his sword as he ran along the cliff as though sliding across it.

The sword wreathed in constellations flashed.

Tracing white arcs, it cleaved fireballs and split Scorching Rays. Kicking off the wall as he ran, Najin parried the witch's spells one after another. At a glance, he seemed to be holding his own against her...

But as he swung his sword, he sensed it instinctively.

At some point, the witch's gaze had begun tracking him. She no longer saw him as merely an annoying gnat, but as something to pierce and kill.

Her movements stopped abruptly.

The witch's fingertips went still, her right hand having been dealing with Najin and her left with the chain unit. A moment of silence. In terms of time, it lasted only a second. Time began moving again when her two hands crossed.

Her left and right hands struck together.

CLAP!

The instant that sound broke the silence and rang against Najin's eardrums, the seething Inferno and all the spells pursuing him scattered at once. But that did not mean they had vanished.

They were merely being put to more efficient use.

The scattered flames split, divided, and disassembled themselves before being put back together. The entire process took less than a second. Had a mage been present to witness the sight, they would have doubted their own eyes.

These were spells already completed and launched. The witch had just dismantled and reconstructed them, transforming them into an entirely new spell.

It was magically impossible, a violation of the rules, a mockery of common sense. Even the imperial archmage Cypria Gachevska, the Ever-Radiant Point, could not do it. Yet a witch accomplished such a feat with utter ease.

Because hers was a species beloved by magic.

Because the world had granted them the right to break its laws.

The spell was reconstructed in less than a second. A Seventh-Circle spell split into seven parts, each part split into another seven, and those seven into seven again...

Hundreds, thousands of flaming arrows.

As arrows fashioned from fire filled his vision in an instant, Najin gave a hollow laugh. He keenly understood now what it meant to draw a witch's attention—to have her recognize him as an enemy.

An instant later, thousands of arrows shot toward him.

2.

There was nowhere to dodge. How could he evade arrows bearing down from every direction without a single gap? That left Najin with only one choice.

He opened his eyes wide.

His eyes grew bloodshot, and his field of vision expanded.

Taking in the flaming arrows pouring toward him from every direction, Najin gripped his sword. Then he swung it. Swung it again and again. If he could neither evade them nor block them, he would knock away as many as he could.

That was the method he chose.

With every swing of his sword, ten or fifteen arrows split apart. Because they had been created by dividing the spell over and over, each individual arrow held little power. The problem was their number. He cut down ten arrows with a single swing, but...

THUD-THUD-THUD!

Three arrows he missed lodged in his body. His skin burned. Searing pain shook his mind, but Najin gritted his teeth and swung. He kept knocking arrows away, while those he failed to stop pierced his body.

There were well over a thousand arrows. He almost felt as though he were swinging his sword before a massive wave rather than knocking away arrows.

A mere human was powerless before a wave. Yet powerless as he was, he had not the slightest intention of being swept away. Najin thought constantly as he swung. He adjusted his sword's trajectory, striving for faster, more economical movements.

SHICK!

THUNK!

Countless arrows were cut apart, and countless arrows buried themselves in Najin's body. Protecting only his vital points, he swung his sword again and again. He refused to retreat, as though determined to cleave the wave itself.

'Faster. More economical.'

How much time had passed? A second? Ten seconds? He couldn't tell. He immersed himself solely in swinging his sword. He had thought he had already pared his movements down to their limits, yet there were movements he could shorten still further.

Strip away everything that could be stripped away.

That would let him swing his sword once more.

The constellations blossoming with every swing lingered like afterimages, making it seem as though stars filled the space around him.

Then—

SHICK!

Najin swung his sword in a great arc. The last wave split, clearing his vision. He released the breath he had been holding in ragged gasps. He had finally endured the thousand flaming arrows.

“Hah, hah...”

Of course, he was far from unharmed.

Arrows protruded all over Najin's body, dozens of them. His arms and legs, his shoulders, collarbone, abdomen, ribs... He had only spared his vital points; otherwise, he looked no different from a hedgehog.

Melted skin. Flesh covered in soot.

Yet his eyes remained clear. Najin raised his head and looked up at the sky. For the first time since the battle began, the witch's expression changed. She frowned as she stared at him.

“You.”

The witch spoke for the first time.

“What the hell are you?”

Ermina glared at Najin. Disgust, contempt, and irritation filled her red eyes. Meeting her gaze, Najin grinned.

“Finally taking an interest in me, huh?”

A bug to be disposed of. That was all the witch must have thought of him, yet now she was looking directly at him and speaking to him. Najin laughed at that fact.

“You're insane. There are plenty of lunatics in this world, but you stand out. Strange. I'm sure I've never seen you before...”

Ermina's frown deepened.

“But you're familiar. Something about you is familiar. What are you? Do you know me?”

“I sure do, you crazy bitch.”

Najin didn't answer, but Merlin did. Standing beside him, she curled her lips into a grin.

“Feels like only yesterday I stomped your circles into tiny pieces, but somehow you've crawled back up again. Damn bastards living off nothing but talent.”

Merlin raised a finger. Pointing at the scar running from Ermina's shoulder down to her calf, she muttered,

“I should have pierced your heart back then.”

The place her finger indicated.

Najin stamped hard against the ground and swung his sword. Of course, its tip could never reach the witch floating in the sky. No matter how far he extended his sword aura, it wouldn't reach her.

But Najin had seen them: the swords of Sword Masters cleaving distant targets without sword aura.

He had seen Karon's sword, Yuel's sword, and Gerd's sword. Re-creating those movements in his mind, Najin swung. Ordinarily, this was not something he could imitate simply by trying. These were movements he could never reproduce.

But now...

Now, immersed in the sword, his senses sharpened to their limits by swinging again and again, Najin could imitate that movement—even if only a little.

SHICK!

A thin line traced the scar Merlin had carved a thousand years ago, running from the witch's shoulder down to her calf. Its power was negligible, of course. It was no more than a slight graze from a sword tip, and even that was stopped by the flames surrounding the witch, making them flicker.

A strike insignificant compared with a Sword Master's.

And yet, unmistakably, Najin's sword had reached the witch.

“...”

Ermina touched her shoulder.

The scar a monstrous mage had carved into her body a thousand years ago. Looking at the swordsman who had swung along that scar, Ermina opened her mouth.

“Aha.”

A smile formed on her parted lips.

The witch burst into laughter. Wild, mad laughter. Ermina dragged a hand down her face as she laughed like a lunatic.

“You.”

Then, abruptly, her laughter stopped.

“You won't get an easy death.”

The scar carved into her body was Ermina's sorest point, and no human who had touched it had ever survived. Ermina snapped her fingers.

SNAP!

An eighth circle rose behind her.

3.

The eighth circle.

The very symbol of an archmage.

The eighth circle that rose behind Ermina was still soot-stained and cracked, with some parts entirely broken off. In short, it was defective, incapable of functioning as a circle.

The circle Merlin had shattered a thousand years ago.

Even after a full thousand years, Ermina had been unable to restore her eighth circle. Merlin had twisted her essence and trampled her Mystery to pieces. Because of that, Ermina could never be whole. She had to remain incomplete.

She could not attain sublimation.

She could never reach transcendence again.

But she was an archmage who had already experienced transcendence. Even after losing everything, she had rebuilt herself from nothing and come infinitely close to it. And so she knew how to imitate transcendence.

A star glittered in the sky.

It was Ermina's star.

Of the five stars she had originally possessed, Merlin had shattered four. One star remained. That single star shone upon Ermina's eighth circle. This was the answer she had found.

Starlight replaced the shattered and cracked sections. And so the eighth circle she had lost functioned for a time.

“I don't know who you are or what you do.”

Ermina's red eyes swirled.

“But I'll burn you, soul and all, you insolent little shit.”

Eighth-Circle Spell: Flicker.

The sky convulsed. An immense torrent of mana raged around her. The witch's flames, capable of burning even starlight, took aim at Najin.

And Najin...

“Fifteen minutes.”

His lips curled upward.

At that same moment, someone intervened in the battle, cleaving the landscape in two.