A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 28

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 28. The Outer Circle (4)

“Ugh!”
It was Craikin.
He had been using his subordinates’ bodies as shields to hide himself all this time.
Immediately after, Craikin’s second spell struck Pram’s back.

Doom Fist.

A fist of earth slammed into Pram’s back.
“Hnngh!”
The tremendous impact wrung a cry from Pram’s throat.
A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but he did not fall. Instead, he steadied his ragged breathing and straightened his stance.
The standoff continued as it was.
Unlike before, Pram did not charge forward recklessly. There existed a veteran mage whose skill exceeded what he had anticipated.
Craikin’s expression remained composed.
“Your physical abilities are impressive, but…”
Another spell began to unfold.
“You truly lack experience.”

Bind.

A first-Circle binding spell.
A ring of magic shot toward Pram.
It was merely a first-Circle spell, so its speed was sluggish at best. Pram nimbly dodged to the side before the ring could strike him.
“Heh.”
But this too was exactly as Craikin had intended.

Raise Wall.

The first-Circle spell had been a bluff. A genuine second-Circle formation spell now activated.
A wall shaped like a squared U rose up, trapping Pram within. The only open space was directly in front. And at that opening, the mages under Craikin’s command were unleashing their assault. No matter how swift his feet, with his path of movement so constrained, evasion was impossible.
Whoosh!
Spells formed, completed, and launched.
The entire sequence occurred at tremendous speed. They were exceedingly well-trained mages.
“Haah!”
Pram swung the Blangsum Sword, which gleamed with silver light, without cease. Fire, water, and wind-wrought spells shattered and scattered in real time against it.
Though he managed to hold back the onslaught of magic, he could not break through their relentless barrage to move forward.
‘I’ll channel one spell to kill him outright.’
Craikin drew Mana together. Soon, a third-Circle spell formula began to arrange itself before him.
Once this spell was complete, the swordsman before him would be reduced to ash. Just a little longer, and victory would be his.
It was in that moment that he thought this.
Bang—!
Suddenly, the mage beside Craikin—who had been pouring attack spells toward Pram—toppled toward him.
Craikin stumbled backward. It was an abrupt turn of events. The channeling of the spell that had been nearing completion halted. The concentrated formula scattered into empty air.
A fist-sized hole had been punched clean through the fallen subordinate’s chest.
Craikin looked frantically around him. He sensed faint traces of Mana lingering. A sniper spell.
Another one of the swordsmen in front fell backward. In an instant, two had been cut down.
Craikin bit his lip. At this rate, he would be overwhelmed.
One by one, his subordinates fell helplessly.
The barrage of magic concentrated on Pram began to thin steadily.
The advantage he had barely secured was slipping away.
In moments, defeat loomed.
‘Lost? Me?’
Craikin spat silent curses under his breath.
He had obtained the Magic Stone—he could not end it here!
“Gaaahhh!”
And before him, one sliver of possibility.
A groan escaped from the fallen swordsman subordinate.
Looking closer, the steel armor was badly dented but not pierced through.
‘A sniper spell of that caliber—unable to pierce armor. A 2nd Circle Mage, then.’
Craikin suddenly recalled something and barked orders at his remaining subordinates.
“Protect me.”
“Yes, sir!”
In the same breath, he deployed his magic. Spell formulas arranged themselves across the space in rapid succession. He was burning through considerable Mana—evident from the wall surrounding Pram crumbling into dust.
Those facing Pram froze at the sudden shift. Without the wall, they had no defense against his strikes. More than that—
“He’s coming! Here he comes!”
They were no match for a Night-rank opponent.
In an instant, another Mage fell to Pram’s blade. Simultaneously, a sniper spell from nowhere subdued the last remaining Mage.
“C-Captain?”
Only two remained now: a swordsman and Craikin.
The swordsman’s face went pale as their blades clashed. His weapon sheared clean in two.
It was over.
“Send reinforcements! At this rate, we’ll be overrun!”
Hummmmm.
As if in answer, Craikin’s spell came to completion.
Centered on him, the stone floor suddenly erupted upward in jagged shards suspended in air.
Color returned to his subordinate’s face. He saw in his captain’s actions an unshakeable resolve to break through this crisis.
“Just as expected, Captain! You had a hidden trump card.”
“No… it’s different. That’s—”
Pram murmured quietly, watching Craikin’s spell unfold.
Crunch-crunch.
The stone fragments suspended in air began compressing around Craikin, forming a protective shell. Then the ground itself rose up whole.
Pram understood instinctively.

Getting close meant danger.

Pram moved swiftly out of range.
“Huh?”
His subordinate wasn’t so fortunate. Unable to escape in time, he was lifted skyward. Confusion blazed across his face.
“W-Wait, just a moment, Captain!”
He thrashed desperately, but it was useless. He and the ground beneath his feet—
“P-Please stop! Captain! Captaiiiiin!”
—were compressed without mercy.
Crunch-crunch. Crack.
The sickening sound of pulverization.
Pram felt stunned that Craikin would sacrifice his own man so casually. Yet he couldn’t afford to approach. Drawing near would mean sharing his subordinate’s fate.
After a moment, when the stone stopped assembling and silence fell, a perfect cube had formed before Pram. The structure floated in mid-air, its surface smooth as if carved by a blade.
Bindel of Earth.
A defensive spell of 4th Circle caliber.
With Pram’s shock came the collapse of the floor beneath.
The ground, used as material for the spell, could no longer bear its own weight.
Craaash!
Pram barely caught the stair railing, saving himself from the fall.
But the cube was not so fortunate. It plummeted into freefall, vanishing into darkness with no bottom in sight.
Pram stared into that abyss with hollow eyes.

* * *

Not far from the Magic Tower.
A place where the air hung thick and foul, steeped in foreboding.
Yet hidden from human sight—the Sewers.
The ground suddenly began to move as if breathing, rising and falling in rhythm. Then something emerged from the earth—a cube of soil.
Whoosh.
The soil crumbled away. Craikin appeared, gripping a blue-glowing Magic Stone, his breath ragged.
“Phew…”
Beads of sweat gathered on his brow.
“Truly, I can’t fathom how this happened. Even for the Magic Tower, it’s unlikely they possess an intelligence network of this caliber…….”
He wiped away the perspiration and pulled the mask back over his face.
“Still, I’ve achieved my original objective.”
Rugnel’s Tear, a Grade 2 Magic Stone.
He gazed at the azure radiance emanating from the stone and smiled.
“That is, assuming I manage to take it with me.”
Craikin spun around in alarm, peering toward the direction the voice had come from.
“How—how did you know where I was?”
“I marked your position with my Mana. I can track you in real time.”
Dezir Armang emerged from the darkness, and his face came into view.
Craikin’s expression began to shift toward shock.
It was inevitable—the boy standing before him was the very same one who had taken the bread earlier.
“Ha…….”
Craikin drew in a deep breath.
Dezir Armang had known an attack would come today, so he’d been watching the area around the Magic Tower in advance.
Whenever a suspicious figure appeared, he’d made contact and left his mark; now that quarry had walked straight into his net.
Craikin reached toward Dezir Armang. A calculation sequence began, and a spell formula arrayed itself before him.
“I’ll make you regret following me.”
But those words would never come to pass. All at once, the spell formula arrayed before him shattered in an instant.
“Wh—what’s happening?”
Craikin attempted to deploy his magic again, but the result was the same. It didn’t take him long to realize what was occurring: Spell Reversal.
“With such a crude formula, how could any proper magic be deployed?”
The boy standing before him.
He was reversing the spell.
Against himself, a 4-Circle Mage.
‘Why am I being overwhelmed?’
The Mana he sensed coursing through the boy’s body was merely 1-Circle. Craikin found it impossible that a Mage of such meager caliber could possess the ability to reverse his magic.
And yet Dezir Armang was reversing his spells.
It was an undeniable fact.
It was happening right before his eyes.
“We have a debt between us, don’t we? The bread you trampled. Do you remember?”
As Dezir Armang drew near, Craikin retreated just as far. All the pride that had filled his bearing vanished without a trace. He cut a pitiful figure.
“D-don’t come any closer!”
He pulled a blue Magic Stone from his pocket.
It was Rugnel’s Tear, a Grade 2 Magic Stone.
“I’ll destroy it! Shatter it to pieces!”
He cried out as though delivering an ultimatum.
Dezir Armang exhaled with a look of disdain, shook his head slowly, and spoke to him.
“Go ahead.”
“What?”
“Do it.”
“……you bastard!”
“You can never break that stone. You’ve already lost subordinates to obtain it—what becomes of you if you lose that as well?”
Dezir Armang ignored his warning and took a step forward.
“I warned you not to come any closer!”
Undeterred by Craikin’s threat, Dezir Armang moved until he stood directly before him.
This was far too close. As though he were regarding Craikin as nothing more than a helpless scarecrow.
‘Foolish bastard!’
A smile of vindication bloomed across Craikin’s face.
He hadn’t expected the boy to walk so willingly into melee range. If a direct punch caught him in the face, it would surely knock him unconscious at the very least…….
Though magic was denied to him, Craikin believed he stood a chance in close combat. He threw a fist at Dezir Armang, who had now entered his striking distance.

[Gravity Control.]

The problem was that Dezir Armang’s spell deployment was far faster than the speed of his punch.
The spell formula arrayed before Dezir Armang at a daunting velocity.
In what seemed to Craikin like the mere blink of an eye, a towering mass of formula had materialized before him, and the magic was complete.
“Ugh!”
In an instant, his knees buckled. A tremendous pressure bore down upon him from above.
“Gaugh! Errrrgh.”
That crushing pressure slammed Craikin flat against the ground.
It pressed him down completely.
He tried to resist with both arms, but it was hopeless.
Gravity Control was a Fourth Circle spell that adjusted gravity itself. And the weight Dezir Armang had imposed was eight times normal.
Thud.
Craikin was literally “glued” to the pavement.
Filth and sewage. The acrid reek of waste flowing through the Sewers pierced his nostrils.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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