Ch.617Episode 22 – The Kazinsky Test

The swung mace crushed through the fabric. The azure mages, completely unleashed, followed the gesture.

The moment the mages drew elegant curves and firmly ensnared the werewolf who was charging across the ground,

The mace, surrounded by a sacred light, struck the back of the creature’s head with a heavy thud before returning to the holy woman’s grasp.

Black tattoos etched into muscles began to emit light, and a strange power started to overwhelm the werewolves.

The great warrior, gripping the werewolf’s neck with one hand like a child holding a toy, slammed it forcefully to the ground without showing any particular emotion. The solid ground instantly caved in, and a splash of blood spilled out, staining the warrior’s feet.

“Ha’ ta-kr-!”

The moment Akande shouted with both arms extended forward, the air around them began to tremble.

The distorted, pulsating air spread like waves, instantly sending a group of werewolves that had been slowly tightening their encirclement flying far away.

“Come at me! You stinking wolves!”

“Kill them!”

“Hahaha-!”

Akande fought against the werewolves without a hint of hesitation. As if the beasts’ sharp claws and tough fur and hide meant nothing to him.

Even while being clawed and bitten, he didn’t stop fighting. It was possible because a mysterious, extraordinary healing power was tending to every wound inflicted upon him.

As if he were blessed by the Earth Mother herself.

Watching this, Camilla belatedly recalled how Akande had once taken her spell head-on and remained unscathed.

She had no idea how anyone could survive full-body burns that melted muscle, but whatever the reason, it was fortunate that her comrade was safe.

“Are you alright?”

“Lucia!”

“You seem fine. It appears we arrived just in time.”

Lucia drove her mace into the ground with a thud and bent one knee as she checked on the two’s safety. Fortunately, they seemed uninjured.

Beginning with the explanation that she had been sent by the priest, she requested details from the two.

“I heard from the priest that werewolves had appeared, but…”

Suddenly, Lucia looked up and caught sight of a massive fire in her field of vision.

Familiar blue flames flickered, and a mysterious carpet floated across the night sky.

After briefly leaving the approaching werewolves to Francesca, Lucia turned her attention to Camilla and Veronica.

“…I didn’t hear the rest. It seems the priest and the Grand Duke are quite busy.”

“……”

“For now, I would appreciate if you could tell us what we need to do here.”

Camilla remained silent for a moment.

She repeatedly rubbed her face with her dry hands. As she wiped her hands, soiled with blood and rainwater, on her clothes,

She stared at a round piece of concrete that had rolled from somewhere for a long time before finally raising her calm gaze.

“There’s something we need to retrieve.”

Episode 22 – The Kazisski Test

Iron and blood hold significant meaning in sorcery.

Blood is the source of life. In a narrow sense, consuming blood means taking life force from another; in a broader sense, it can be interpreted as acquiring the power inherent in blood.

Iron carries more complex meanings. From the perspective of immutability, it can be interpreted as preventing transformation, similar to gold. From the perspective of weaponry, it can embody concepts of dominance and control.

For this reason, ancient sorcerers have traditionally revered iron and blood, as have other races who practiced rudimentary sorcery.

Of course, in modern times, with magic and sorcery established as academic disciplines, these meanings have somewhat faded.

Nevertheless,

The crystallized forms of ancient magic and ancient sorcery with high levels of refinement still offer a certain freshness, even from the perspective of modern mages and sorcerers.

In that sense,

A sword forged from high-purity steel using ancient dwarven sorcery and fed with the blood of dragons, rulers of the sky,

Could be considered the ultimate weapon to perfectly complement a grand mage’s power.

– ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ !!

The dragon-blood infused sword tightens around the throat.

Ice surrounding the five claws breaks off with a crack, and the rushing gale shatters the scattered sorceries into pieces.

Though appearing as ordinary ice, sorcery is sorcery.

Even the smallest ice fragments are sufficient to cut through a lycanthrope’s tough hide.

If they were to graze him, even Fenrikh, the caster of the sorcery, couldn’t guarantee his safety, given the power contained within.

“……”

Fenrikh simply tilted his head to easily avoid the flying fragments.

The ice shards, flying through the air with a gust of wind, passed by his temple before violently colliding with the roof across from him.

Having deflected the counterattack without so much as blinking, Fenrikh scratched his chin with a dry gaze. The Grand Duke still faced him with a relaxed demeanor and a crooked gaze.

“You’re quite skilled at breaking sorcery.”

“I’m a mage—it would be shameful if I couldn’t identify sorcery.”

Alexandra Petrova tapped the corner of her eye with a mischievous smile. Fenrikh nodded with what might have been a scornful laugh.

“You observed and learned well in such a short time.”

In combat between mages, there is only one factor that determines victory or defeat:

Who can first properly identify and understand the opponent’s magic.

Whether mage or sorcerer, there are no exceptions. A lack of understanding leads to deficient judgment.

Deficient judgment constrains action, and slow action determines the crucial opportunities that separate life and death in battle.

And Alexandra Petrova was counted among the strongest mages in the world. The background to her acclaim as a Grand Mage included her brilliant military achievements in the Tower-Church War.

But equally significant was the fact that she was a battle mage who had survived encounters with countless exiles and black mages who had disturbed magical society for a full century.

Her wartime exploits were so brilliant, and she restrained herself due to her position as Grand Duke. But how many magical battles had she secretly engaged in as a pastime?

In short, Alexandra Petrova was a born fighter.

If her elder brother, the previous Emperor, hadn’t restrained her temperament by binding her to the north, it wouldn’t have been strange if she had been in and out of prison several times for assault.

So it was no surprise that she immediately grasped the principles behind Fenrikh’s sorcery.

The Grand Duke rested her longsword on her shoulder and tilted her head askew. Her eyes suggested she had suddenly become curious about something.

“Let me ask you one thing. Why did you target my disciple?”

Fenrikh answered dismissively.

“Is there any reason not to?”

“You attacked a woman without reason?”

“And did you humans have special reasons for exterminating our ancestors?”

The werewolf said.

His tone suggested it was truly simple logic.

“In the world of lycans, there’s a saying: ‘All logic passes through strength.’ You humans, with your power, exterminated our ancestors, and our ancestors, lacking power, were hunted by knights following your human emperor’s orders. Even my father, old and sick, couldn’t defend his position as leader from me.”

“……”

“I have power. I have the power to prevent my kind from being hunted by humans, and the power to freely hunt you humans.”

“So you’re saying weakness is a crime.”

The Grand Mage nodded silently. The longsword resting on her shoulder gleamed coldly in the moonlight.

It’s not a view she couldn’t sympathize with. Being hunted for lack of power was once the position of mages persecuted by inquisitions.

What created today’s magical society wasn’t dialogue and compromise but the thorough logic of power, and the Grand Duke had experienced this firsthand.

However,

Not everything that comes out of one’s mouth makes sense.

And the words uttered by the canine werewolf, while seemingly plausible at first glance, were, upon reflection, nonsense not worth listening to.

“If weakness is a crime, then by your logic, shouldn’t you werewolves have been crushed under military boots long ago? Yet you dare to invoke the logic of power. What novel nonsense.”

“……”

“The weak may or may not be objects of rejection and oppression. Those with power have a duty to represent the weak with that power. If one uses their power and wealth to exploit and annex the weak, they are nothing more than a beast, not even worthy of being called a creature.”

In other words: If you swing your fists however you please, aren’t you just a beast rather than a human?

“You know how to distinguish between the weak and the strong, but you don’t know how to use that power.”

“That’s rich coming from humans.”

“Let me make this clear.”

The leader of the werewolves snorted, and the imperial Grand Duke coldly added:

“Your ancestors were slaughtered because they used their power to attack villages and take innocent lives. We warned them countless times, but your arrogant ancestors wouldn’t listen. The imperial wrath was justified, and they paid the price they deserved.”

Her tone was calm. Perhaps because she was stating historical facts.

But Fenrikh seemed to have a different perspective.

“So that’s why you threw even nursing infants into fire pits? The anger toward werewolves who killed adults was justified, but the anger toward humans who executed lycan cubs is unjustified?”

“……”

“Ah. If you believe that the anger you mages expressed while slaughtering innocent clergy and believers during your wars was also justified, then although I am a lycan, I respect that view.”

The mage’s eyes twisted slightly. In response, the werewolf silently smiled.

“But remember this one thing, human: There is no such thing as justified anger in this world. It’s all just a delusion, an illusion spouted by those without power.”

That was the end of the conversation.

There was no need to listen further, nor to continue.

As he prepared a new sorcery, Fenrikh began to close the distance with his enemy, gradually drawing a semicircle.

Four exchanges had passed, leaving six opportunities.

The werewolf’s gaze suddenly changed as he moved cautiously, stalking his prey. The human who had struck the tiles like lightning transformed into a massive wolf in just two steps.

Sharp claws contracted along delicate muscles for a moment. As the Grand Duke grabbed the blade of the longsword with her bare hand and took a defensive stance, explosive power descended upon the sword’s path in an instant.

– Kuuung ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ !!!

The moment fist and sword collided, the drizzling raindrops seemed to scatter in all directions, pressed by the force.

Bang, thud, bang. The werewolf relentlessly drove his opponent back, extending his clenched fist, while the mage parried the barrage of punches and kicks by spreading her gripped sword.

There wasn’t even time to breathe. Fenrikh’s offensive was suffocating. The Grand Duke’s retreat toward the edge of the rooftop appeared precarious, yet despite this, the Grand Mage’s expression remained as calm as a windless lake.

“Are you just going to keep dodging?!”

Fenrikh stretched out his contracted claws in a slashing motion and strained his voice. Alexandra Petrova successfully deflected this by twisting the dragon scale, but the thumb claw sliced her cheek, causing red blood to burst forth.

It was a crisis that could have cost her an eye if she had been careless. However, a protective spell deployed just in time successfully blocked the claw, forcing Fenrikh to withdraw his extended fist with a regretful expression and seek another opening.

Several exchanges passed.

Quite dangerous attacks rained down on the Grand Duke, but they didn’t lead to significant damage as before.

Finally, after the Grand Mage, who had been watching for an opportunity with her back to the edge, countered with magic timed to the incoming sorcery,

Fenrikh had no choice but to retreat, allowing a surprise attack to his side and lower abdomen.

“…Tch.”

After the regretful hiss ended, Alexandra Petrova silently wiped her sliced cheek with a cold expression.

It seemed to be quite a deep wound.

Of course, the magic of a Grand Mage who had reached mastery was more than capable of tending to such a wound.

But the fact that she, who had never lost the upper hand in magical combat, had allowed a hit in physical combat couldn’t be ignored.

“……”

“Sasha, need help?”

“You be quiet.”

Awakened from her thoughts by her annoying friend’s voice, the Grand Duke roughly wiped her sliced cheek. Her touch, tinged with blue embers, cleanly erased the battle wound, leaving only a short blood mark.

It was a deliberately nonchalant, cynical attitude.

As the priest unconsciously smiled at this response, reminiscent of wartime, Fenrikh, who had been observing the Grand Duke’s reaction, began to sneer.

“Indeed, you are a human who can be wounded after all.”

The fragrant scent of blood.

No matter how well it was healed by magic, the werewolf’s developed sense of smell wouldn’t miss it. The physical combat had been effective.

Fenrikh, slowly returning to human form, licked the blood from the tip of his claw. As if tasting a delicious spice, the muscles around his cheeks and neck trembled with a shiver.

He could feel it.

The vast magical energy contained in that small drop of blood.

“Ah, so this is the level… This is what it means to be a Grand Mage.”

Fenrikh kept licking his lips where the Grand Duke’s blood had touched, repeatedly savoring the taste.

How wonderful it would be to taste the veins flowing beneath that soft skin. How high could he ascend if he took that source of life?

The mere thought was delightful.

Of course, the Grand Mage’s impression of this was monotonously simple.

“Damn. Looks like I might catch rabies. What a mess, coming to find my disciple…”

“Be careful. They say even clergy can’t help if you’re bitten by a mad dog.”

“With all the money the imperial family has donated to the Petrograd diocese, surely there must be a way?”

“Hmm~ Would even the Pope or a Saint have a different solution? Ah, maybe a Celestial might. They’ve always carried ancient books at their side, so they might have learned some decent healing techniques.”

“I should meet one sometime. After I skin that beast first.”

The mage and sorcerer exchanged jokes casually. With an attitude that made it hard to believe they were facing an enemy.

But Fenrikh only smiled at this behavior, showing no particular reaction.

“Five, Grand Duke.”

A hunter doesn’t converse with his prey. And conversation is a human method, not a lycan one.

What Fenrikh needed was only combat.

Hand-to-hand combat that could defeat the Grand Duke, and sorcery to deliver the decisive finish.

It was the moment when frost blooming in the sky began to converge to a single point.

As if drawing in all the moisture scattered in the atmosphere, the vortex embraced the swirling water droplets and took a form resembling a cloud. If one were to name it, it might be called a frost cloud. That kind of appearance.

The Grand Mage ignited sparks by swinging her sword, then thrust her magic with all her might toward the frost cloud.

However, the flames that met the cloud split into several strands and crawled along the ground, while the frost cloud, colliding with the magic, swelled in form, taking on an ominous color as if undergoing a chemical reaction.

“…!”

At that moment,

A massive shadow surged through the chaotically scattered embers and frost debris.

The roughly twisted dragon scale stabbed at the approaching shadow. But the sensation that met the sword was not the softness of fabric, but the awkward hardness of a glacier.

Realizing that the creature had used trickery to deceive the eye, Alexandra Petrova cleared away the magical energy obscuring her vision.

Only then was Fenrikh’s true position revealed to all.

Between the magical energy and frost scattering into the air, the werewolf, floating an ice chunk as large as himself, crouched with a sinister smile. His five contracted claws rested peacefully within, like an assassin’s dagger.

– Chwak ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ !

Like a skilled swordsman penetrating an unguarded gap, the claws roughly and firmly tore through the abdomen.

In the final moment, by barely twisting her waist to deflect the attack, she avoided a fatal wound, but she had allowed a significant attack.

“Ugh…!”

Alexandra Petrova, who had scattered into flames and reappeared, clutched her abdomen and let out a low groan. Her white blouse was grotesquely torn, already staining various places red.

A smile crossed Fenrikh’s lips. It was a very bright and pleasant smile.

“You let your guard down.”

The werewolf, intoxicated by the thick scent of blood flowing between his claws and fingers, turned toward the mage who was clutching her belly.

“You were so confident you could defeat me. And now look at you.”

“Making such a fuss over landing just one hit…”

The Grand Duke pressed her torn belly while leaning on her dragon scale. The flame similarly erased the wound, leaving only blood marks, but Fenrikh didn’t miss her slightly pale complexion.

“The weakness of magic and sorcery is that even if they tend to wounds and stop bleeding, they don’t replenish the blood that’s been lost. Unlike divine healing, which restores vitality itself.”

But werewolves are different.

No matter how much blood is lost, their innate physique quickly replenishes it.

There’s also the advantage that it can be supplemented by consuming animal blood from external sources.

And Fenrikh’s vitality, standing at the pinnacle of werewolves, was sufficient to heal wounds and replenish blood without needing to hunt humans.

Crack! The leader of the werewolves approached his prey, flexing his muscles as he twisted his neck bones.

“…Sasha.”

“It’s fine.”

“……”

The Grand Duke seemed to notice the intention to intervene and restrained the priest.

She muttered, almost growling, as she wiped her chin with the back of her blood-stained hand.

“This little injury. It’s nothing compared to the old days.”

Seeing the Grand Duke rise despite her injury, Fenrikh applauded as if impressed.

“Impressive spirit. The priest could easily come to your aid.”

“How unseemly would it be for two of us to beat one opponent? Stop talking nonsense and come. Six.”

“…Truly remarkable, even on second thought.”

A brief silence fell, and a solemn atmosphere prevailed.

Though their races differed, having pledged to live as a lycan who reveres strength, Fenrikh showed respect for a strong opponent, perhaps for the first time, or at least in a long time.

Fenrikh, taking his stance, smiled as if genuinely impressed.

He prepared to attack, and the Grand Duke prepared to counter while waiting for the seventh defense.

To be precise,

That was the intention.

“Hey, you mutt!”

…Mutt? At the sudden voice from the railing, both the Grand Duke and the werewolf couldn’t help but turn their heads in that direction.

There was a red-haired girl who had climbed up the drainage pipe, peeking her head out and catching her breath with a “huff, huff.”

Camilla looked at the two staring gazes and then, taking a deep breath, shouted at the top of her lungs while lifting something from below.

That is,

While lifting a very round and cute-looking egg.

“Don’t move! If you move, I’ll crack this and turn it into a huge omelet!”

Fenrikh’s eyes widened.