WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Mordor
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Unbound Magic Swordsman ◈
Chapter 20: Silver Lion
──────
Lucian locked the heavy stone door, sat cross-legged on a pile of straw, and sank his awareness into the darkness.
His focus turned inward, toward the “seed” coiled beneath his heart.
After repeated slaughter and devouring, the strange sprout had grown to more than twice the size it had been when he first entered Kaldia.
The energy flowing through the vessels of his dantian was no longer a shallow stream.
It was a heavy, unmistakable muddy current advancing toward a great river.
It was time to test the limits of his mana.
Lucian condensed his awareness at the fingertips of his empty left hand.
Fwoosh.
A crimson flame bloomed through the darkness.
One, two, three... eight.
Eight seconds. He had surpassed his former limit of six seconds by two full seconds.
Two seconds was brief in a safe room, but on a battlefield where lines of fire crossed, it was enough time for life and death to change hands several times.
The expanded mana pathways earned through slaughtering the Giant Insect mutant had proven themselves through a tangible increase in firepower.
The flame itself had also grown from a candle-sized flicker into something as large as half a fist.
Next came training to project the flame.
As he pushed the pressure from his dantian outward, the fire gathered at his fingertips shot forward like a wedge for roughly fifty centimeters.
It lasted three seconds.
Drive flame into an enemy's face and rob them of their sight. Then exploit that instant of blindness and pierce their heart with his sword.
The intersection of sword and magic.
This time, he gripped the newly purchased Silvermoon Grass longsword and let mana flow into it.
Hummm.
A cool blue glow faintly spread across the entire blade.
In this borderland, very few warriors of Warden rank could channel power into a sword.
The instant a blade began to shine, an enemy would fight with everything they had to stay alert.
Still, cutting them down as quickly as possible was more sensible than hiding his strength to invite carelessness.
Especially since the Beastfolk possessed physical abilities far beyond those of humans.
Lucian set down his sword and examined his physical capabilities.
Even in the simple act of clenching and opening his fist, the response speed and density of his muscle fibers were on an entirely different level than before.
Even when he sprinted at full speed, his lungs no longer felt as if they would tear apart.
When he opened his senses, even the sound of an armored sentry walking atop the wall three hundred paces away struck clearly against his eardrums.
It was a sixfold expansion, far beyond his former limit of fifty paces.
The Experience Points accumulated from killing countless magical beasts had altered his brain and neural network.
The foundations of every sword technique, cutting, thrusting, and twisting his blade's path to deflect attacks, had already sunk into his unconscious and become automatic.
His proficiency with thrown weapons and bows had risen abnormally high, and physical enhancement through concentrating mana in his muscles had become as natural as breathing.
The pieces were coming together.
All he needed for completion was time and more intense real combat.
* * *
The next morning.
Lucian left his lodgings early.
Testing the bow's power had made one weakness painfully clear.
Instead of piercing its target, an arrow fired with mana shattered its own point and shaft.
Ordinary iron-tipped arrows could not withstand the pressure of mana.
Strictly speaking, this happened because he could not yet control mana with greater precision.
Wyvern bone-tipped arrows would be more durable, but they cost two gold coins for ten.
He could not pour all his remaining gold into consumable weapons.
In the end, it was more practical to stock up on ordinary iron-tipped arrows and use mana only at decisive moments.
He paid twenty silver coins for forty iron-tipped arrows.
His funds were running dry, but they were necessities for survival.
As he filled his quiver and chewed coarse bread at an eatery in the corner of the square, subdued murmurs drifted into his ears.
“I hear the Kingdom's Second Corps is being pushed back on the eastern front.”
“Does it make any sense for the Kaizen Duchy's forces alone to break through Arlan's regular army? Rumors say someone is backing them.”
“Backing them? Don't tell me the Empire is moving behind the scenes?”
“Damn it. The Empire? If that's true...”
The Empire.
Lucian's eyes narrowed slightly.
An empire was, by definition, a great power capable of sustaining itself through domestic economic activity alone, without trade with other nations.
Even half that strength would put it far beyond a kingdom.
If an empire was backing them...
It was not a blade hanging directly over him yet, but Lucian carved the information deep into his mind.
* * *
That afternoon.
As Lucian silently refined his sword movements in the narrow clearing before his lodgings, heavy footsteps caught his ear.
Not one, but three. Disciplined steps accompanied by the clash of steel armor.
Then came a rough knock on the old oak door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Is this the residence of Lucian, the silver-rank mercenary?”
The voice was upright and authoritative, as though issuing an order.
Lucian slid his sword into its sheath and casually opened the door.
Three knights of the Silver Lion Knights, clad in deep blue armor with silver lion crests embossed upon their chests, were sharply surveying Lucian's worn lodgings.
“I am Lucian.”
The blond knight at the front, apparently in his late twenties, raised his chin.
“Vice Commander Kairon has summoned you. Accompany us to the lord's residence.”
Their tone made it obvious how they viewed mercenaries, but Lucian kept his emotions out of it.
“Lead the way.”
Lucian left his lodgings with only the Silvermoon Grass longsword at his waist.
He left his bow and quiver behind.
Excessive ranged armament would only provoke needless caution when entering a commander's camp.
Besides, it would be of little use against a High Warden-class powerhouse.
He crossed the square toward the lord's residence, the largest stone building in Kaldia.
Inside, beyond the heavy oak doors of the operations room, a detailed map of the western forest lay spread across a long table.
At its end stood a man.
Kairon, vice commander of the Silver Lion Knights.
Up close, a suffocating aura rippled heavily from his body.
A High Warden.
Compared to the amount of mana Lucian could wield, it was still the difference between a lake and a well.
He was a massive wall against whom victory could not be assured.
Kairon's sharp gaze swept over Lucian as if piercing through him.
The look of one warrior assessing another.
“You are Lucian? No family name.”
Kairon's brow twitched faintly.
“No memories, either. They say there are many people with stories in the borderlands. Fine. I will overlook the trivial details.”
Kairon pointed to the map on the table with his baton.
“I hear you volunteered as a scout for the joint operation.”
“I did.”
“A scout operates deep in enemy territory, cut off from the main force. If you are discovered, you die. Even if you need to flee, our forces will not come to save you. Did you volunteer knowing that?”
“I did.”
Kairon's gaze settled on Lucian's waist.
“I heard you are a Warden-rank warrior who killed a Troll alone. That sword is a Silvermoon Grass longsword, is it not?”
Lucian nodded, and interest flashed in Kairon's dark eyes.
“That is not a weapon a silver-rank mercenary in the borderlands should possess. Will you draw it?”
It was a test of sorts.
A commander's natural demand to confirm the ability of a warrior he intended to send out as a scout.
Shing.
Without objection, Lucian drew the silver-bladed longsword.
“Channel your aura into it.”
There was no reason to hide it, and if he did not show it, his deployment as a scout might be refused.
Lucian drew mana from his dantian and let it flow into the blade.
Hummm.
The trait of Silvermoon Grass.
Mana flowed over the blade in a faint glow.
Naturally, it would look like genuine aura to Kairon.
Kairon's eyes narrowed slightly.
“...Better than I expected. Mid-level Warden, and stable without the slightest wavering. Can you maintain that state in battle?”
“I can.”
“Good.”
Kairon nodded.
“Wardens are rare in this borderland. A mid-level Warden would qualify for appointment as a regular knight. I will not ask why someone like that wanders as a mercenary. What matters is the present.”
Kairon struck the map hard with his baton.
“I will give you your orders.”
The deep red section of the western forest.
“The estimated location of a Beastfolk stronghold. According to our intelligence, it is their main base, with two to three hundred inhabitants. At least two chieftain-class individuals, along with numerous lower-ranking commanders.”
Three hundred.
Even counting all thirty knights and the mercenaries, their force barely numbered seventy.
They were outnumbered by more than three to one.
“We will crush numerical inferiority with quality. All thirty knights are Wardens, of course. There are three High Wardens, including myself.”
It was truly formidable strength.
Thirty Warden-rank warriors could easily ravage three hundred ordinary Beastfolk.
The problem, in the end, was the chieftain-class individuals.
“How strong are the chieftain-class individuals?”
Lucian asked flatly.
“According to our intelligence, one is comparable to a High Warden. The other is comparable to an upper-level Warden.”
A High Warden-class magical beast.
The chieftain Lucian had cut down while escorting the carriage had been, at most, equivalent to a lower-level Warden.
A High Warden-class opponent was a disaster he would struggle to handle in a direct confrontation, no matter how much stronger he had become.
“We will deal with the two chieftain-class creatures. I will personally handle the High Warden-class one, while my lieutenants deal with the other.”
Kairon's gaze fixed on Lucian's eyes.
“The scouting mission has two objectives. First, confirm the stronghold's exact location and troop numbers. Second, eliminate the outer sentries beforehand to secure the route through which the main force will enter.”
Lucian silently nodded.
“You will scout alone. It is a solo assignment. The other silver-rank mercenaries will all be deployed at the vanguard of the main force.”
Alone.
The condition necessary for devouring Experience Points had been fulfilled.
“You leave at dawn in two days, half a day ahead of the main force. Finish scouting the stronghold and clearing the outskirts, then rendezvous with the main force.”
“Understood.”
As Lucian moved to sheath his sword, Kairon added,
“One more thing.”
Kairon stared directly at Lucian.
“If you encounter a chieftain-class individual during your scouting mission, do not engage. Avoid it. The main force will handle the chieftain-class creatures. If you die, there will be no one to deliver the scouting information.”
Lucian nodded.
He agreed, but whether he could actually flee if he encountered a chieftain-class creature would depend on the circumstances.
Still, would Kairon, who seemed to be a veteran commander, not know that?
It was simply the principle.
“Good. You may go.”
Kairon raised a hand and dismissed Lucian.
As he left the operations room, Lucian organized what he had learned about Kairon.
A High Warden. Overwhelming aura. Cool-headedness as a commander.
He respected warriors, but his awareness of hierarchy toward mercenaries was equally clear.
He was not someone Lucian should make an enemy of, but neither was he someone Lucian would grow close to.
Still, he was undoubtedly a capable commander.
He understood the importance of scouting, and it was reasonable that he had wanted to personally confirm the skills of Lucian, who had volunteered for the role.
If such a commander led the operation, they would at least not be annihilated in a reckless charge.
This meeting had been necessary for Lucian as well.
Understanding the capabilities and disposition of the commander leading one's allies was as important as understanding the enemy.
As he left the lord's residence, he looked up at the sky.
Two suns were sinking toward the west.
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried