A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 23

Chapter 23. The Final Clash (3)

Azest bit down on her lip.
“So you’re prepared for close combat as well…….”
“Even so, my mana only lasts five minutes at most.”
Five minutes at most.
Azest wasn’t so foolish as to take an enemy’s word about his own weakness at face value, but there seemed little need to question the veracity of his claim.
The quantity of mana flowing within Dezir’s body was visibly diminishing.
Without the slightest hesitation, Azest pressed forward toward him.
Surprisingly, Dezir met her blade dead even. He was falling back, yes—but he was holding firm.
She anticipated the arc of his swing, positioned her sword to meet it, and his magically-enhanced body absorbed her strike. In this manner, they traded blows across the narrow line between victory and defeat, each move a desperate gambit.
“That’s right—this is enjoyable……isn’t it, Azest?”
At the third collision of steel, Dezir pushed back with all his strength to avoid being driven back, and spoke.
“Enjoyable?”
Enjoying myself?
Me?
“Of course it is. You’ve always reigned supreme, the strongest of the strong. Azest Kingscrown, you have never had a single worthy opponent until now.”
“…….”
“And crucially—you hate to lose. Isn’t that right?”
Dezir knew the woman called Azest Kingscrown well.
The future commander, Azest Kingscrown, had always been a woman who despised defeat. Beneath that cold, incisive exterior, she harbored an unrelenting desire never to fall behind others—and it was this hunger that had driven her to hone her talents to perfection.
Through long years of effort.
She had reigned as the supreme strongest.
Unopposed by any rival, she had endured ages of tedium.
“You want to defeat me, don’t you? You want to break me using everything you have. That’s why you declared war, and why you engineered this direct confrontation. So that I couldn’t avoid fighting you.”
“…….”
“In the end, all of it stems from your desires. And now that your desires have been fulfilled, you’re delighting in this. You’re savoring the battle with me. Aren’t you?”
Azest could not answer.
It was an insight that pierced through a psychology even she did not fully comprehend.
After a moment, Azest replied.
“I acknowledge what you say. I want to defeat you with all my power. Yes, if I’m being honest, I’d say this is enjoyable. But what meaning does this exchange have? What does it matter to our clash if I admit to savoring this contest against you?”
“Because I am fully prepared to match your competitive spirit.”
Dezir Armang issued a declaration to his erstwhile ally from his past life—one who had once stood at the pinnacle of human strength.
“Use everything you have with all your power, and strike against me.”

* * *

At the summit of the Clock Tower.
At the center of an expanse of pristine white space, a vast linear wall extended outward, its axis the towering cylinder that rose at the heart.
The space upon which Azest and Dezir stood was a circular arena with a radius of eighty meters.

[Frozen Throne.]

An ice throne rose into being within the circular space.
And then, centered on the throne, a hexagonal pillar shot upward. It held aloft the vast ceiling of the Clock Tower itself.
From the hexagonal pillar emanated a piercing cold that swept outward, entombing everything in ice.
Soon the entirety of the space lay encased in ice, yet each element held a precise form.
A chandelier wrought of ice, windows of frozen crystal, a grand colonnade constructed to seize dominion over the interior of the Clock Tower.

[Frozen Palace.]

Crackle-crackle-crackle!
The torrent of ice magic continued. The upper levels of the Clock Tower transformed into a colossal mass of ice.
Dezir surveyed his surroundings.
Intricate sculptures and architectural elements arranged in northern fashion. It was a space so beautiful he would have wished to wander through it at leisure—had they not been locked in combat.
“Within this space, the caster can unleash ice magic endlessly without need to recast. In other words, every ice-attribute spell I possess is now active and deployed here.”
Azest spoke toward Dezir Armang.
Hundreds of circular spell formations arrayed in the air around Dezir at their center. The space filled so completely with various spell formulas that empty space became difficult to find.
“Constructing an Infinite Computation Space within a bounded domain…….”
She established the core of a palace through the Frozen Throne, then rebuilt the space anew with the Frozen Palace that followed.
This was space belonging to her alone.
The palace of a queen—Azest’s domain.
‘Azest’s Secret Magic…….’
Secret Magic.
Magic that departed from conventional systems, wielding power that transcended common sense.
Even now, why such magic existed at all remained unexplained.
The Frozen Palace was one of the techniques she would employ as her primary weapon even in the distant future; drawing it now meant she intended to commit her full strength.
‘Yet she still hasn’t realized.’
That there was no possibility of defeating him through numbers alone.
Even as the magics bore down on him with threatening force, Dezir Armang’s expression was one of contempt.
He extended his hand toward the front.
They shattered.
The hundreds of spell formations deployed in all directions began breaking apart in chaotic succession.
The spell formulas being constructed crumbled and collapsed with a deafening sound.
The scattered mana fell like snow.
Every magical formula vanished.
Yet it was not finished. The moment the cold dispersed, hundreds of magical spell formations spread once more before Dezir Armang’s eyes.
“You’re saying that even you cannot endure such a quantity of magic in terms of mana?”
An Infinite Computation Space.
Magic that, once constructed successfully, could be executed without the computation process.
It transcended the level of double or triple casting, allowing parallel computation of hundreds of spells simultaneously.
By surface measure it seemed formidable, but it carried a decisive weakness.
‘The mana consumption is absolutely staggering.’
Merely maintaining the space itself consumed an enormous amount. If an ordinary mage attempted to use her magic, sustaining it for more than three seconds would be a miracle.
‘With Azest’s mana reserves at this point……she will reach her limit soon.’
And when that limit arrived would be precisely when he should attack.
Dezir Armang decided his attack timing in exactly that manner.
‘I will strike when her mana reaches its limit.’
Meanwhile, Azest was preparing the calculations for her third spell.
Her magic had shown no effect whatsoever, yet she remained unmoved. Truthfully, she had never believed from the outset that these spells could inflict meaningful damage on Dezir Armang.
After all, it was a fact she herself acknowledged—that engaging Dezir Armang through magic alone was impossible.
All of Azest’s magic was subject to Counter-calculation. No matter how carefully constructed the formula, it disperses into a gentle breeze with a single gesture from him.
The gap in level was simply too vast. Throughout her use of the Frozen Palace, she had dealt him no damage whatsoever.
As her magic unfolded and took shape, Azest thought and analyzed—searching for any possibility of victory, any thread of hope, calculating with meticulous precision.
‘Why do I lose to Dezir Armang in magical combat?’
It was a problem of spell formulas. Azest’s formulas were seen through by Dezir Armang, leaving them incapable of dealing any real damage.
Yet if the same magic were deployed, her mana would absolutely not be inferior to his. In terms of raw magical power, she held the advantage.
Azest looked toward Dezir Armang.
If she deployed magic that he could not subject to Counter-calculation, then—if that were the case—he would be unable to defend against it.
In that moment, her victory would be assured.
Thinking thus, Azest drew a deep breath.
Then only one problem remained.
Could she deploy magic that resisted Counter-calculation?
Watching hundreds of ice spells crumble before her very eyes, she could not bring herself to nod in affirmation.
Azest drew her sword. Yet this was not merely a matter of attacking Dezir Armang through swordplay.
‘What if the form were not magical?’
Azest gazed at her sword.
At first, she had intended simply to press forward with sword technique. But that would prove useless. Dezir Armang could counter such an approach.
Yet in swordplay alone, she surpassed him.
So too in magical power.
These were advantages in which she held superiority over Dezir Armang, and they were his weaknesses.
These two weaknesses of his.
The way to exploit both simultaneously was…….
In that moment, Azest conceived of it.
‘Combining sword and magic at once.’
Infusing mana directly into the blade itself.
Not a Spell Formula she could decipher—instead, she channeled the very essence of magical mana itself into her blade to counter the attack.
A form of assault that dealt both physical and magical damage simultaneously.
Her sword began to shimmer, engulfed in azure mana.
Hummmmm—
A high-pitched ringing pierced the air. Dezir had heard that sound many times before.
It took him little effort to rifle through his memories and identify what it was.
‘Surely she didn’t just manifest a Magic Sword on her own!?’
Dezir’s eyes widened.
It was true that he’d deliberately guided Azest’s growth through their duel.
But he’d never expected her to wield a Magic Sword. She had far surpassed his calculations.
The Magic Sword was the pinnacle of attack types a Sword Mage could achieve. For ordinary minds bound by conventional thinking—those who saw the blade and magic as separate disciplines—such a conception was beyond imagining.
Yet Azest had conceived of it, and she had made it real.
Ultimate talent and an all-consuming desire to defeat the man before her had converged, allowing her to grasp a technique now that she wouldn’t normally achieve for another decade.
‘This is… truly remarkable.’
Could a human really grow this much?
Dezir was genuinely impressed. And at that very moment, as he stood lost in thought, Azest moved.
The Frozen Palace that surrounded them on all sides collapsed inward. The palace had been a construct born from Azest’s mana—the very wellspring of her power.
She had poured every last drop of mana into her Magic Sword, leaving nothing to sustain the palace.
She had wagered everything on this single blow.

[Magic Sword: Ice Wave!]

A silver blade descending.
A tempest of freezing wind, wavering and alive.
The air crystallized in the blade’s wake. At this moment, there was no way for Dezir to stop her attack with his magic.
He didn’t need to test it. A Magic Sword composed of mana itself could not be countered through Counter-calculation. Even if he pushed his body’s enhancement to its absolute limit and managed to block the blade, he couldn’t shield himself from the magic that clung to it.
Could he even withstand this?
Her eyes seemed to be asking him just that.
Dezir lowered his hands in answer. The Short Sword he’d been holding spun lazily through the air and tumbled to the ground.
The Chandelier hanging from the ceiling did the same—as if time itself had slowed, both objects descended with infinite deliberation.
Azest’s blade, too, moved slowly, ever so slowly.
Then her sword touched his pale throat. A single drop of crimson spilled from his neck, like wine carelessly spilled upon cream-white lace.
The blood that flowed forth traced an arc as it spread wider, then froze to black in the next breath.
In that moment, Azest could see his expression clearly.
What lay written on his face was neither the sorrow of defeat, nor fear at overwhelming strength, nor shame at yielding.
It was a smile of victory.
“…!”
The blade that had been approaching, slower and slower, froze entirely—as if time itself had stopped.
And then everything became distant.

* * *

-Shadow World Clear!
The demonic summoning Spell Formula located on the highest floor of the Clock Tower has undergone Counter-calculation and suffered irreversible damage.
Quest conditions have been satisfied.

-Based on Contribution Points and the number of eliminated participants, rankings from 1st to 30th place have been finalized.
[1st Place: Dezir Armang]
[2nd Place: Azest Kingscrown]
[3rd Place: Fram Schneizer]
[……..]
[……..]

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