A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 44

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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 44. Two Problems (3)

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Once the Esteban Warriors confirmed that the soldiers atop the rampart had been routed, they drove their grappling hooks into the stone wall and began scaling Evernaton’s fortifications one by one.
The Esteban Warriors were, as a rule, exceptionally tall and immensely strong. Known as masters of close combat, they were a born warrior race, and those raised as soldiers were no match for ordinary men.
“Hnngh……!”
The soldiers, softened by peace for too long, were weak.
Even through the howling snow, arrows descended with precision—terror enough to steal the voice from their throats.
Before the soldiers huddling behind the wall could even scream, those Esteban Warriors who had clawed their way up the rampart brought down their axes and butchered them without mercy.
Their slaughter was swift and silent, like the efficient work of a butcher.
The watchtower, now strewn with corpses.
Scarlet Kestrel narrowed his eyes, surveying the grounds. Remarkably, even in the darkness with snow driving thick, he identified the Supply Depot among the scattered buildings at a glance.
‘There it is.’
Because they had struck the east-west rampart where the distance between watchtowers was vast, the gap to the Supply Depot was considerable. Yet now, while none suspected their invasion, distance hardly mattered.
“Move out!”
The Esteban Warriors descended the wall and advanced toward the Supply Depot. Their movements were agile and swift, belying their massive frames.
As the Esteban Warriors began dropping down one after another, Scarlet Kestrel suddenly glanced back at the watchtower they had passed and called out to his men.
“There may be soldiers who survived. Ten warriors—remain behind and watch the rampart.”
Ten Esteban Warriors climbed back up the wall. Scarlet Kestrel watched them briefly, then turned and departed with the others toward the Supply Depot.
The warriors who had received Scarlet Kestrel’s orders dispersed across the watchtower and rampart.
“The Clan Chief worries too much.”
When one of them spoke ill of the Clan Chief, a warrior with a rooster-comb hairstyle nodded in agreement.
“He frets that the dead might somehow rise. Unworthy of a true warrior.”
“We hunger for battle. This petty thievery is no work for warriors.”
Then a warrior, taller than them by a hand’s breadth and bearing a mane-like hairstyle, pointed his axe toward one section of the rampart.
“The Clan Chief’s word is absolute. We obey, willing or not. He is wiser than any among us. Surely you don’t doubt him?”
“Of course not.”
“Then we follow his orders. Spread out. We must watch the rampart with vigilance.”
The rooster-combed warrior moved reluctantly in the direction his companion had indicated.
All the soldiers atop the rampart were dead. Scarlet Kestrel’s arrows never missed their mark.
A few had survived by hiding, but they had been swiftly finished by the Esteban Warriors who climbed up afterward.
‘The Clan Chief is a timid coward, worrying over trifles.’
Just as he was rounding a corner.
Slip.
The Esteban Warrior sensed movement and turned to look back. Among the bodies of guards he had carelessly passed, something stirred—and then, someone rose.
Thunk!
The Esteban Warrior felt a searing pain deep in his chest. Looking down, he saw a blade emerging from his pierced heart.
“How… how…?”
He never finished, collapsing forward.
Behind him, the swordsman Fram Schneider withdrew his blade. Blood dripped steadily down the steel.
He spoke in an emotionless tone.
“As Dezir anticipated, we prepared reserve forces in advance.”
Moments later, Dezir himself rose from among the corpse pile.
“Nine left.”
“If you believe it too difficult, there’s another option—ring the bell at Watchtower No. 14. They haven’t attacked there yet.”
“The distance is too great.”
The gap between Watchtower No. 13 and Watchtower No. 14 was considerable—so much so that on a snowy night like this, neither could assess the other’s situation. That was precisely why the enemy had struck here.
A Magic Formula manifested before Dezir. His gaze fixed on the nine Esteban Warriors atop the rampart.
“We break through them and ring the bell at Watchtower No. 13. Between the two of us, it’s entirely possible.”
After careful deliberation, it was Dezir’s decision.
Fram nodded.
“Understood. I’ll take the vanguard.”

[Haste.]

Dezir and Fram rushed toward Watchtower No. 13. Some of the Esteban Warriors remaining atop the wall noticed their approach.
“Enemy!”
Two Esteban Warriors stepped forward to block Fram and Dezir. The first warrior who charged wielded a massive axe, while Fram held a Broad Sword he’d been issued by the territory.
Clang!
“Ugh!”
Fram’s blade ricocheted violently from the impact.
“Krraaah!”
The Esteban warrior, seeing Fram disarmed, roared and charged forward.
Fram retreated continuously, weaving away from the warrior’s relentless assault at close range.
The axe-wielder predicted where Fram would dodge, planting his weight forward before bringing the axe down from overhead.
‘Caught.’
But it was Fram’s feint. The instant the axe swung, instead of backing away, he pivoted sharply toward the warrior’s flank.
“……!”
For a heartbeat, the Esteban warrior’s side lay exposed and defenseless. Fram unleashed a clean Spinning Kick.
Thump!
Already off-balance from his overcommitted strike, the warrior’s center of gravity collapsed entirely under the blow.
Unfortunately, the section of wall where they fought was not particularly wide.
“Kraaaaaaaa!”
His scream echoed for a moment before cutting off abruptly with a dull thud.
“Incantation pattern identified. I won’t need to worry about that one’s magic anymore.”
As Fram launched himself forward, the remaining Esteban mage began attempting to cast.
“……Kraa!”
But the magic never manifested. While the mage stood bewildered, continuing to chant, Fram closed the distance until they were nearly nose to nose.
The spell still never formed. Finally, the Esteban warrior abandoned the attempt entirely and drew a massive Great Sword from the sheath on his back.
The blade came at him with threatening force, cutting through empty air, but Fram stood his ground despite being unarmed.
Just before they collided, light gathered in Fram’s palm and transformed into a Light Sword.
The Esteban warrior’s eyes widened at the impossible sight.
Fram kicked off the ground, accelerating through the warrior’s ribs and past.
A long line of blood. The massive body collapsed forward.
“Good work, Fram.”
If they could just push through this staircase section, the watchtower lay directly ahead. But Dezir and Fram stopped instead of climbing.
Having scattered to divide and conquer, the Esteban Warriors were now converging on them all at once.
There were seven of them.
“I’ll take this one. Fram, fall back.”
Fram obeyed without hesitation.
Dezir’s magic unfolded.

Melting Ice.

A simple spell that melted ice.
Dezir cast it on the ground beneath their feet. All the accumulated snow across the staircase section and surrounding area liquefied into water.

Dry.

The second spell followed immediately.
The water around Dezir and Fram began to evaporate. While the stairs were thoroughly soaked, their immediate vicinity became desert-dry.
‘To handle all seven at once, even 1st Circle firepower won’t cut it.’
Having reached that conclusion, Dezir placed his hand against the Mana Stone inside his Closeline. The energy within began to spiral wildly.

-Warning. Closeline Mana Stone reserves below 10 percent. Defensive capabilities severely compromised.

As Dezir began to manipulate the Mana Stone, an alarm blared through the air.
‘The Closeline’s power source is a 4th-Grade Mana Stone.’
With a 4th-Grade Mana Stone, Dezir could channel 3rd Circle magic. In other words, he could temporarily achieve a transcendent state.
“There they are!”
The voice of an Esteban Warrior reached them from the staircase.
What they saw was almost laughable—Dezir’s party of two standing their ground against seven, not fleeing but preparing to fight.
The Esteban Warriors began descending the stairs to strike them down.
Splash!
Water sprayed in all directions.
Dezir’s face was reflected in the axe blade raised overhead. By that moment, six Esteban Warriors had reached the landing.
“Close your eyes.”
Dezir’s voice cut through the darkness, and Fram obeyed without hesitation.
As if waiting for the signal, Dezir’s magic unfurled.

Summon Lightning.

“……!”
What stretched forth was a single thread of current—so thin it would vanish if you weren’t looking directly at it.
All that time spent weaving the spell, and this was all he could manage.
Just as smiles began to curl the lips of the Esteban Warriors, Dezir’s magic made contact with the stairs. And in that instant, they would never smile again.
Crack-crack-crack-crack-crack!
A brilliant flash that seared the eyes. The dark night turned blindingly white, flickering like a strobelight. A terrible current tore through the bodies of the Esteban Warriors.
Electricity raced through their veins, scorching organs as it went. There was no exception for anyone standing on wet stairs.
“Ahhhhhhhhh!”
A scream of unimaginable agony echoed through the stairwell. The electrical surge ceased, and the light faded.
The scene that lay exposed was devastation itself. White smoke rose from the Esteban Warriors’ bodies, which were now crisscrossed with red and purple burns.
“How did he cast a 3rd Circle spell…….”
Fram stared in astonishment.
Summon Lightning was a 3rd Circle spell. It should have been impossible for a 1st Circle mage like Dezir to cast.
“The Closeline.”
“Sir?”
“The Closeline has mana stored in it.”
Dezir checked the mana reserves of the Closeline and exhaled slowly.
‘That’s it. One use and it’s empty.’
He’d cast only a single spell, yet the Closeline’s mana was nearly depleted.
‘I need to obtain Toa’s Mark and reach the 3rd Circle soon.’

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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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