A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 5
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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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Episode 5. The Returnee’s Entrance Exam (4)
“From the start, she was aiming for this….”
Trebury cast about frantically, searching for any way out of the trap.
But there was nothing. Azest had already withdrawn from the area long ago.
Crack-crack-crack!
Trees throughout the forest began tearing free from their roots. Dust swirled thick on all sides.
Uprooted trees took flight in the direction the wind was driving them.
Unfortunately for Trebury, he stood directly in that path.
“Damn it!”
Dozens of trees filled his entire field of vision.
The moment he lowered his sword to evade them, he would be swept up in the spell without question.
Trebury let out a cry of despair.
“Hell! Romantica!”
Boom!
A heavy impact thundered through the heart of the forest.
—Trebury Tigers has been ruled eliminated and removed from the Shadow World. Three participants remain.
An alert chimed, and the scorched landscape of the forest came into view.
Romantica turned with a look of triumph.
“This is the true power of a 2-Circle Mage. Now do you feel like bowing to me?”
Her words dripped with pride in herself.
“I’ll grant that it was creative—the real attack was the trees, not the wind. Your precision leaves something to be desired, but the spell’s force is certainly considerable.”
Romantica smiled, pleased by the compliment.
“Your turn is next.”
“What is?”
“Your turn to be eliminated. Since this is a ranking tournament, it’s best to remove the competition. But I’m kind, so I’ll show mercy to a commoner like you. I’ll give you a chance to forfeit. There’s no need to suffer unnecessarily, is there?”
As she spoke, Romantica covertly studied Dezir’s expression. A normal person would have shown some reaction.
But Dezir remained utterly unintimidated by such overwhelming disparity.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”
What emanated from those words was unmistakably composure.
Romantica’s mood soured. It was nothing less than an insult to herself.
“Don’t blame me if this is painful. I did give you a chance.”
She extended both hands toward Dezir.
Whoooosh!
Simultaneously, a spell unfolded. Complex Spell Formulas arrayed in empty space rippled outward. Various magical calculations arranged themselves in dizzying profusion.
Air currents formed before her, taking on a circular shape. A powerful flow of Mana dominated the atmosphere.
“You were told that no one dies in the Shadow World Entrance Exam, yes? I’ll deploy real magic now—endure it as best you can.”
Shiiiing!
A fierce wind sound howled forward.
Not a whit less powerful than the previous spell, if anything even stronger.
Densely compressed wind bullets that literally laid waste to any designated area. Powerful projectiles that could easily crush solid rock.
A massive bullet of compressed air shot toward Dezir.
Kaboom!
A violent explosion accompanied by an enormous cloud of dust that obscured the view. The shockwave sent Romantica’s hair streaming.
“A 2-Circle spell deployed at point-blank range. Even a Mage one rank above me couldn’t block this.”
Victory was assured. Romantica felt a smile bloom at the corner of her mouth.
Thump.
Just as that thought crossed her mind, a sound came from behind. Romantica turned to look.
Within seconds, the smile on her lips began to twist into shock.
Through the billowing cloud of dust, Dezir Armang was running toward her.
“Wait, hold on—!”
Romantica couldn’t finish her sentence. It was proof of just how rattled she was.
Whether oblivious to her state of mind or indifferent to it, Dezir muttered to himself with perfect composure.
“Condensation followed by direct impact—I see. You sacrificed fine control over the magical bullets to amplify overall destructive power. Not bad for a two-Circle Mage. Not bad at all.”
“…….”
Two-Circle?
Had she misheard?
What was this man muttering about?
“But you prioritized speed over air current control—that’s why your accuracy suffers so badly. Touch the trajectory even slightly and the whole thing goes wide.”
As Dezir added this, Romantica finally snapped back to attention.
She spoke with a hollow, vacant expression.
“You… you… what… what exactly did you just do?”
Romantica’s mind went blank. She couldn’t begin to comprehend what was happening.
“Reversal.”
“What?”
“Your magic got reversed on you. By me.”
‘My magic reversed? By some mere commoner?’
Romantica’s brow furrowed.
“Don’t be absurd!”
Whoosh.
Romantica stopped running and pivoted sharply to face him.
A brilliantly glowing Spell Formula materialized before her.
“I can’t lose to you! To a one-Circle nobody!”
The Spell Formula formed once more, its power coalescing into a devastating attack.
Around them, the wind began to swirl with feverish intensity.
Wind Venom!
Crack-crack-crack!
It was Wind Venom—a two-Circle offensive spell.
This was the most powerful single-target attack magic Romantica could unleash.
From her palm, a long chain-like whip of wind shot forth. Its edge was sharper than any blade.
“Watch carefully this time. Learn something.”
Watching the torrents approach, Dezir swung his hand with bland indifference.
Romantica felt the air currents subtly slip beyond her control. She was startled—but that was all. The amount of current that escaped her grip was so negligible compared to the whole that it hardly mattered.
“For a one-Circle Mage, interfering with Mana is impressive. But what good does it do?”
“Watch. Your air currents have certain critical points. Touch just those spots—very gently—and what happens is……”
The current twisted slightly.
Just slightly. Barely perceptibly.
Yet the reverberations were far from minor.
Boom!
The distorted air completely scattered the wind’s trajectory. Her magic missed him entirely and carved a gouge instead into the ground beneath her feet.
“Impossible!”
As her own magic dissipated before her eyes, Romantica’s face went ashen.
Minute traces of Mana had just reversed a spell containing hundreds of times their power.
A difference in skill.
Romantica was simply outmatched—by Dezir Armang, as a Mage.
Her match was effectively over.
“I’d like to end this soon.”
Having reversed Romantica’s magic, Dezir picked up his pace.
He sprinted toward her.
Seeing this, Romantica came to her senses.
“Even so, you can’t beat me!”
She cried out, barely holding herself together.
“You can’t cast magic! But I can! If I keep attacking you endlessly, eventually I’ll wear you down!”
The last hope remaining.
It wasn’t over yet.
As Romantica spoke those words, Dezir smiled.
“Romantica, there are three things you’ve overlooked.”
Dezir spread three fingers.
Then, folding down one finger, he continued.
“First: as feeble as it may be, I can use magic too.”
A Spell Formula began to materialize before Dezir, wavering and uneven.
Much like watching his unstable Mana Circle, the magic was muddied and impure.
But it was unmistakably magic.
Dezir’s second finger folded.
“Second: my target was never you from the start.”
A low humming sound.
Magic unfolds. The completed Spell Formula revealed itself before his eyes. Simultaneously, the incantation began.
[Grease.]
Grease—a Circle 1 physical-type magic.
One of the simplest foundational spells, eliminating critical friction.
It was a magic that didn’t demand much Mana.
Simple enough for someone like Dezir, a mere Circle 1 Mage, to cast.
“What?!”
Was this what he was aiming for?
If she stumbled here, she’d fall behind for certain.
Romantica instinctively lowered her center of gravity to brace against the slip.
But then.
‘I’m not sliding…?’
Nothing happened.
Dezir folded his third finger.
“Third: you seem to have forgotten—this Shadow World is a race, not a magical duel.”
In that instant, another spell manifested.
[Fire Ball.]
A Circle 1 offensive spell.
One of the simplest foundational magics, conjuring a sphere of flame ahead.
‘Could he actually use Multi-casting?’
Multi-casting—something only advanced Mages were supposed to manage.
Performing two calculations simultaneously demanded exceptional concentration and computational ability.
“Impressive. But that’s all. A Fire Ball isn’t strong enough to bring me down, is it?”
Right as Romantica wore a bewildered expression, Dezir posed a question.
“Here’s the puzzle, Romantica. Where exactly was the first spell, Grease, used?”
“…?”
Dezir answered.
“The answer is: on my body. Therefore, friction is currently not acting on my body’s surface.”
Romantica felt an odd sensation. She spoke with confusion.
“What does that change?”
Dezir shook his head.
“Romantica, you’ve learned about Newton’s Third Law, haven’t you?”
“Of course I have!”
Romantica exclaimed.
It was an exceedingly simple principle.
The kind of basic rule that when you push an object, you yourself are pushed back.
“If someone pushed me from behind, what would happen?”
“Obviously, I’d be propelled forward instantly.”
“But what if someone pushed me hard from behind? Say, if an enormous impact struck—something like a bomb’s blast?”
Romantica’s gaze snapped toward the space ahead of Dezir.
There, a Fire Ball the size of a basketball blazed brilliantly.
“You couldn’t possibly….”
As she murmured in disbelief, Dezir nodded.
“I’m going to use the recoil from Fire Ball.”
“This is insane!”
Romantica swore without thinking.
It was truly a mad idea.
Such reckless, thoughtless reasoning!
“If I calculate my body weight against the explosive force of Fire Ball, my peak instantaneous speed would be roughly three hundred and twenty-seven kilometers per hour. I’ll maintain that velocity all the way through. Catching up to Azest, who’s ahead of us now, should be trivial.”
Romantica’s face drained of color as she spoke.
“You won’t survive it, I’m telling you! No—if you hit something at that speed, you’re dead. You’ll die, Dezir!”
But Dezir’s expression remained utterly composed.
“But Romantica, you just said it yourself a moment ago.”
A faint trace of amusement flickered at the edge of his tone.
“This is the Shadow World, where we don’t die—so we can give it everything we have.”
Romantica’s eyes widened.
“That works both ways.”
And then Dezir’s Fire Ball erupted.
Boom!
In the same instant as the deafening roar, Dezir rocketed forward.
His speed was so blinding that it was nearly impossible to track his form.
……
Only Romantica remained.
The moment Dezir vanished from sight, she slowed her stride and came to a stop.
She understood now that there was no point in running any further.
“Just what…”
In the profound silence, Romantica stood motionless, her gaze fixed on the direction Dezir had disappeared, muttering to herself.
“Where in the world did this madman come from?”
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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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