Chapter 201: Ulrich Against Valdris [4]

Valdris narrowed his eyes.

’He needs to die.’

Ulrich had become far more dangerous than Valdris had expected. His swordsmanship had already surpassed his first assessment, and the Count’s mana control made the situation worse. He used magic with the speed of a battle-hardened mage, yet he did not rely on large spells or dramatic displays. Every formation served a purpose. Every spell bought him an opening, protected a weakness, or forced Valdris to give up ground.

The crimson reinforcement around Ulrich’s blade burst apart.

Valdris’s black sword cut through it, dismantling the mana structure with a shower of red sparks. Yet the strengthened connections within the spell resisted long enough to slow the commander’s strike.

Ulrich shifted aside.

The black blade passed across the front of his coat, slicing cloth rather than flesh.

Ulrich answered with a thrust toward Valdris’s throat.

Valdris knocked it aside, twisting his sword sharply enough that Ulrich’s blade passed beside his shoulder. At the same time, his left hand rose.

A Formula Ring opened in the air beside him.

Its rings turned rapidly, glowing with the deep blue-white light of concentrated fire mana. The spell took shape faster than most trained mages could manage. Valdris had selected a fire formation suited for pursuit rather than a single explosive blow. Two long lances of flame formed over his shoulder, narrow enough to move quickly and hot enough to cut through armor if they struck cleanly.

Ulrich saw the final control pattern settle into place.

The fire lances would not chase him immediately.

They would pass him first.

Then they might turn.

Valdris released the spell.

The two streams of flame shot forward.

They passed Ulrich on either side, close enough for heat to bite through his clothes. Their first path carried them away from him, streaking through the steam and smoke above the stream.

Then they curved.

One came for his back.

The other turned sharply toward his chest.

Ulrich’s left hand rose.

A smaller Formula Ring appeared beside him, pale and silver. He did not try to build a heavy defensive spell. There was no time for that. Instead, he formed two compressed planes of wind and released them at the exact moment the fire lances closed in.

The first wall of air struck the flame pursuing his back.

The lance bent away from him, dragged sideways by the sudden force of the wind. The second plane caught the other lance as it crossed toward his chest and forced it upward.

Both attacks missed.

One slammed into a tree beyond the camp.

The trunk burst apart under the impact. Fire climbed the exposed wood at once, and burning bark rained across the grass. A thick branch crashed near the outer edge of the tent. One of the Rubenhart knights rushed over and kicked it away before flames could catch the canvas.

Valdris did not look toward the destruction.

He had already crossed the space between them.

His black sword came down.

Ulrich blocked.

Crimson mana flashed and shattered.

Valdris drew his blade back and struck again. Ulrich parried, turning his body with the attack and directing the force away from his shoulder. Their swords met a third time, and Valdris pressed forward with far greater strength than before.

Ulrich felt the change.

Mana had entered Valdris’s body.

He had cast an enhancement spell upon himself. It was compact, fast, and made for battle: a lower-ranked formula that reinforced muscles and tendons, sharpened reaction speed, and protected his joints from the damage caused by his own strength.

Yet its effect was terrifying.

Valdris’s body became heavier behind every strike.

His sword moved faster.

The next collision sent a jolt through Ulrich’s arm. His fingers tightened around the hilt as numbness spread across his right hand. If he kept receiving the attacks directly, he would eventually lose his grip.

He changed his guard.

Valdris swung high.

Ulrich stepped outside the line of the blow and let the black sword slide down along the edge of his own blade. He did not attempt to stop Valdris’s strength. He drew it away, turning with the strike so the force passed through empty space.

Valdris attacked low.

Ulrich jumped back.

The black blade cut through the stream, splitting water into a bright spray. Valdris turned the missed strike into a horizontal sweep without losing momentum.

Ulrich bent backward.

The sword passed over his chest. One hand touched the wet ground to steady him as he twisted aside.

Valdris’s boot came toward his ribs.

Ulrich rolled away.

The kick struck the muddy bank where he had been. Grass, stones, and black water burst upward. Ulrich came back to his feet near the stream, his sword raised before Valdris could follow with another strike.

Valdris did not give him space.

That was the right response.

He had recognized that Ulrich became more dangerous whenever he had a few seconds to weave a complete spell. So he attacked with sword and magic together, keeping him under constant pressure. Every exchange demanded Ulrich’s full attention. One mistake in swordsmanship would kill him. One mistake in a Formula Ring could make his spell collapse or explode in his own hand.

Ulrich’s mana moved.

This time he used pure force rather than an element.

A small ring appeared around his left wrist, formed so quickly it seemed no more than a flicker of light. He released the spell just as Valdris thrust forward.

A translucent plate of mana appeared between them.

Valdris’s sword pierced it immediately.

The anti-magic blade tore through the barrier, and the spell dissolved into pale fragments. But the plate had shifted the point of the sword only slightly.

Slightly was enough.

The blade missed Ulrich’s chest.

It scraped along his left side instead, cutting through his coat and opening a long, shallow wound beneath his ribs.

Pain crossed Ulrich’s face for a fraction of a second.

Blood darkened the fabric.

He moved with the injury rather than away from it, swinging at Valdris’s exposed arm.

Valdris drew back in time.

"You are slowing," he said, a faint smirk returning to his face.

He had drawn blood.

Ulrich’s coat had been cut open along his side, and the fabric clung darkly beneath his ribs. His right hand had taken the force of too many collisions with the black blade. Valdris could see the stiffness in his grip now. He could see the strain in the Count’s shoulder every time their swords met.

Well, he had seen it in the ballroom, and he took some hits from the demons.

Regardless, the situation was returning to where it belonged.

Valdris had been too cautious for nothing, it seemed.

Ulrich was talented. More talented than his reports had suggested. His control of mana was exceptional, and his swordsmanship deserved the respect of any military commander. But talent did not make a man invincible. Ulrich had been forced to spend mana constantly merely to keep up with the anti-magic sword. He was maintaining reinforcement spells, defensive plates, movement spells, and the swirling mist barrier that had stopped the cinder cloud from reaching the tent.

But he was nearing his limit.

Valdris had greater reserves.

His enhancement spell remained active. Mana continued to strengthen his body, keeping his muscles responsive and his joints steady despite the repeated force of their duel.

Ulrich could not keep fighting like this forever.

Valdris stepped forward.

The black sword rose.

Ulrich did not retreat.

He let out a slow breath.

White vapor passed his lips in the cold night air.

Valdris’s eyes narrowed.

There was no fear in Ulrich’s expression.

No sign of a man pushed toward defeat.

Ulrich looked at him calmly.

Then the ground beneath Valdris’s feet glowed crimson.

Valdris froze instantly.

For a fraction of a second, he did not understand what he was seeing.

A Formula Ring had appeared under him.

It was carved into the earth in lines of red mana, its outer edge hidden beneath trampled grass and muddy water. Three concentric circles spun beneath his boots. Runes flared across the rings one after another, dozens of them arranged in a formation too large and too complete to have been cast in a single instant.

Rank 3, Intermediate spell with up to 40 Runes.

Valdris’s face changed.

He had not seen it.

He had not even felt it.

The Formula Ring had been prepared beneath him during the fight.

How?

Ulrich had been defending himself. He had been parrying sword strikes, redirecting force, casting wind spells, water spells, force barriers, and maintaining the crimson reinforcement around his weapon. Every moment of the duel had appeared to demand his full concentration.

Yet somewhere within those moments, Ulrich had built a spell beneath Valdris’s feet.

He tried to jump away.

Ulrich closed his hand.

The Formula Ring activated.

Crimson fire erupted from the ground.

The spell did not spread outward like Valdris’s own fire attacks. It rose.

BOOOOM!!

A tower of flame exploded upward beneath him, swallowing Valdris in a roaring column of red and gold. The blast tore apart the grass around the stream. Stones shattered. Water flashed into steam. The heat struck the camp in a violent wave, forcing nearby knights to raise their arms over their faces.