Rebirth of the 8th-Circle Mage

“You're…!”

Allen lifted his head and locked eyes with Valhald, and he couldn’t help but smile as he recognized his adversary.

“Valhald Gerakan, the Knight King!” shouted Allen. Indeed, it was a familiar name and title for those who had ever wielded a sword in the Eurasian continent. All warriors admired Valhald and had faith in him.

“Why are you here…?” continued Allen.

Just like every child had a hero, a model they looked up to, Valhald was Allen’s idol; he held a very special place in his heart.

Allen had always dreamed of going against Valhal, and now that they finally met, his heart was racing. He never imagined meeting his idol in the midst of this continental conquest he had undertaken for political reasons.

However, Valhald wasn’t on the same wavelength. It didn’t matter how the Mercenary King felt about him. To him, Allen was merely an invader threatening Zipan at the moment.

As the last traces of ice melted, Valhald withdrew his aura. He then tilted his head and smiled wryly as he looked at Allen.

There were less than ten swordsmen on the continent who could alter their Auras according to an element, and Valhald knew all of those swordsmen by heart. Thus, Allen was a rare, peculiar swordsman, one he had no memory of.

Valhald had become curious about Allen, but still, he was nothing more than an anomaly, a subject of curiosity. The two stared at each other in silence, both of them thinking completely different things.

This fleeting moment spurred Allen to come up with a different approach.

“I changed my mind.”

Allen reached for the Burkan on his waist, gripped Vasilipo, his magic sword, and gave orders to his soldiers.

“All troops! Charge!”

“Waaaa!”

Allen had unexpectedly crossed paths with his hero, and so, he decided to make the most out of this dreamlike encounter. He wouldn’t waste a single second and he would showcase all of his abilities.

With that, the battle between the former Knight King and the current Mercenary King began.

The more unpolished and unstable the Aura was, the clearer it was that its user wasn’t experienced. Thus, the high and top aura users covered their bodies with an almost imperceptible Aura.

However, that rule didn’t apply to Henry, perhaps because he was the first magic swordsman on the continent.

He was the only man who could use the two cores simultaneously, so his emerald-colored Aura was unique. Not even Henry himself had been able to come up with a name for his thing because it was essentially a combination between Aura and magic.

Thus, depending on how he used the emerald Aura, he called it either Aura or magic.

However, he could now come up with a theory about his unique power.

Rim and Pim hadn’t managed to hit Henry through his shield, and he could think of two possible explanations. It was either that they didn’t have any Black Mythril in their bodies, or that they did, but it hadn’t managed to completely nullify his magic shield.

Henry leaned more toward the second theory. He figured it made more sense because Black Mythril was the only material in the world that could disrupt magic, and even though those two iron freaks hadn’t destroyed his shield completely, they still shattered it partially. Because of that, the second theory was more plausible.

However, the more Henry thought about this, the more difficult it was to come up with a conclusive answer. Thus, he decided to keep his reasoning simple.

Henry concluded that Black Mythril hadn’t nullified his shield completely because his magic wasn’t pure, because it had some kind of unique composition.

Henry also had another argument to support his theory: the Explosion Syndrome he had used earlier. Supposing that the two iron men had their bodies made of Black Mythril, there shouldn’t have been any sparks when Henry had cast the spell on them.

However, Henry had clearly seen, even for a brief second, sparks flicker on their bodies. That alone was proof that Rim and Pim weren’t completely immune to his magic. Realizing this, Henry amplified the emerald-colored magic surrounding him.

His magic burst forth and raged ferociously like the flames of a devastating fire. Seeing this, Pim and Rim once again bolted at Henry like bullets.

The strength of the two creatures was off the charts. They let out a sharp, rending sound as they flew toward Henry with more velocity than before. Once they were about to headbutt Henry, he changed the shape of his magic into tentacles and swung them fiercely.

The magic tentacles were effective. As Henry smacked them with his twisting tentacles, he managed to send Pim and Rim flying in opposite directions, tumbling into the distance. Seeing this, Henry gained more confidence.

“So it really does work.”

Henry knew that the attack would’ve been completely ineffective if he had used pure magic. Since he confirmed that he could damage them, Henry was convinced that Pim and Rim, Arthus’ secret weapons, weren’t formidable opponents for him.

Arthus, who had been quietly observing the whole fight, realized that as well.

Arthus raised one of his eyebrows in surprise as he rested his chin on his palm. Of course, Henry couldn’t possibly see this, but still, he couldn’t resist smiling as he confirmed his theory to be correct.

With that, Henry snapped his fingers, immobilizing Pim and Rim on the ground with magical snares. This wasn’t some kind of special magic; it was a snare that Henry cast using only his mana, just like the tentacles earlier.

Henry then lifted the two restrained iron men into the air. The mana that composed the snares kept breaking apart and regenerating.

The two brothers frantically tried to set themselves free. However, not a single one of the snares gave way.

The reason for that was simple. The amount of mana Henry had concentrated earlier wasn’t enough to hold them down, but now, he was constantly pouring out a massive amount of mana which was too strong and potent to be nullified. Thus, Pim and Rim had no way of breaking free.

Henry lifted the brothers further into the air and brought them in front of him. The Black Mythril kept breaking down Henry’s emerald-colored mana, but his two Cores rotated at an incredible speed to ensure that his mana was being restored faster than it was being nullified by the Black Mythril.

Henry saw Arthus looking at him from beyond Pim and Rim. He cast a confident smile at the emperor as he raised his right hand. He then spread his fingers wide and folded them slowly as if to make a fist.

Henry’s fingers were trembling as he was slowly clenching his hand into a fist. The more he folded his fingers, the more Pim and Rim were shaking.

The sound of muscles being crushed and bones being cracked filled the area. Pim and Rim endured unbearable pain, but they couldn’t scream because Dracan had fused Black Mythril into their faces; they no longer had a face. Because of that, the only way for them to express their agony was shaking convulsively.

A vein was bulging on Henry’s forehead. His eyes turned red and bloodshot; his heart was racing and the Cores in his abdomen were rotating violently, on the verge of overload. He was extremely close to making a full fist. All he had to do was to push his fingers just a bit more into his palm.

However, he was exhausted.

Henry had overcome the pain while the brothers were released from their pain. They were dead; their lifeless bodies slowly fell to the ground. After they landed, Henry unclenched his fists and panted.

Henry took deep, labored breaths. At last, he had managed to take down the two creatures covered in Black Mythril, without using magic, but only mana for his last attack.

“What…!”

Arthus furrowed his brows. He knew that Pim and Lim were dead as he was spiritually connected with them. Soon, their lifeless bodies slowly dissolved like melting snow, emanating a dreadful stench akin to boiling mercury.

Henry didn’t express any emotions as he saw the lifeless bodies of the two brothers melt away. He merely took in his mana, the gesture being equivalent to shaking off the blood from the sword.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Henry asked Arthus wryly, who was still sitting on the throne.

At Henry’s sarcastic remark, Arthus closed his eyes and slowly rose from his seat. He then slowly clapped five times with a constant rhythm.

Arthus then smirked and said, “I thought Pim and Rim would be able to take you down… I guess the pupil has surpassed the master.”

“Well, that saying was invented for a reason, you know.”

“I’m sure your dead master will be very happy. Okay, I admit that I underestimated you. To be honest, I was a bit surprised; these brothers were made specifically to kill you.”

Just as Henry had expected, Pim and Rim had been designed specifically to kill him. However, given that Henry had defeated them unexpectedly easily, Arthus knew that he had to step up.

He descended from the throne and walked down the stairs while speaking to Henry in a low voice, “Did you say your name was Henry? How ironic. It's not a very pleasant name. Anyway, congratulations on coming this far to avenge your master."

Despite the unforeseen turn of events, Arthus maintained his composure. He tried to stay confident and arrogant by showing Henry that he could easily adapt to unexpected events.

"But… I'm really curious. What exactly caused you to be so angry?”

Arthus was curious about Henry’s motivations as he now knew that Henry had been behind everything that had happened so far. Knowing this, Arthus wanted to find out what was the cause of Henry’s anger. He couldn’t tell just by looking him in the eye.

“You’re just an apprentice of his, not even blood related. Is there a reason why you’re so angry despite the relationship you had with him?”

Arthus’ question had a point, because to him, Henry had just lost in a battle of politics, and to nurture such anger and hatred because of something like that made no sense to Arthus.

“Haha…."

Henry couldn’t suppress his laughter. It was truly ironic. The question made it seem like Henry wasn’t confronting Arthus for personal revenge, but to get revenge for his master even though he hadn’t asked for it.

Henry realized that Arthus’ question made sense from his perspective, and because it did, this ridiculous irony soon turned into bitterness.

“Well, if you’re dying to know, why don’t I send you to where my master is so you can ask him?”

With that, Henry released a massive amount of emerald-colored Aura, which engulfed his body like a raging storm.