WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Mordor
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◈ Unbound Magic Swordsman ◈
Chapter 21: Scout
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Day Two.
Lucian shut himself away in his old lodging like a hermit, spending the entire day synchronizing his body and weapons.
Morning.
He trained in the clearing behind the lodging, honing the arcs of the Silvermoon Grass longsword.
This new mana metal, with its extremely high mana conductivity, was fundamentally different from his previous steel sword.
The moment he poured mana into it, the blade did not grow heavier. Instead, it felt as light as a feather.
Mana erased the sword's inertia itself, making its speed and changes in direction eerily smooth.
The unity of sword and mana.
After hundreds of slashes, thrusts, and deflections through empty air, Lucian forced that subtle sensation into his muscle fibers.
Around noon, he sighted in the Ironwood Composite Bow.
At fifty paces, eight out of ten arrows struck the very center of the target whenever he drew and released the string.
He extended the range to a hundred paces. His accuracy fell at first, but soon five out of ten arrows lodged in the center.
Then came mana-infused shots.
Surprisingly, when he forced mana into the arrowhead, it formed a faint barrier of airflow around the arrow. It cut through wind resistance and stabilized its trajectory with mechanical precision.
An unexpected aerodynamic side effect.
At a range of a hundred paces, seven out of ten mana-infused arrows buried themselves in the middle of the target.
It was control over trajectory beyond mere destructive power.
Killing power vastly more precise than shots fired without mana.
Of course, he was not good enough to be called a master archer or divine marksman. Still, he was more than capable of using the bow in actual combat.
Considering how long he had used a bow, it was an astonishing achievement.
Even though everyone knew how useful archers were, they could not be trained easily. Becoming skilled with a bow was never simple.
Yet in that short time, Lucian had already become an archer capable of taking the field. How could that not be remarkable?
Afternoon.
In the darkness of his lodging, he trained to break the limits of his mana control.
He practiced extending the red flame gathered at his left fingertips like a wedge, from fifty centimeters to sixty.
Its duration also increased from three seconds to four.
It was a small advance, but on an extremely close battlefield where lines of fire crossed, it could become a fatal variable, burning an enemy's face and stealing their vision.
And lastly.
He worked on splitting a stream from one source, pure mana, into two branches.
Success while standing still was not enough. He had to maintain the flame in his left hand even while swinging his sword through dynamic movements.
Whenever he swung his sword, the pressure of mana concentrated in his right arm, and the flame in his left hand repeatedly faded.
The answer lay in the extreme conductivity of the Silvermoon Grass longsword.
With less than half the mana required by an ordinary sword, it could achieve the same hardening effect.
He controlled the blade so that only a faint glow lingered around it, then forced every bit of saved mana into his left hand.
Fwoosh!
Even as he swung his sword in a wide arc, a red flame burned steadily from the tips of his left fingers.
Success at using both hands simultaneously.
The combat style of a magic swordsman, a profession that defied this world's laws, had finally settled into his physical body.
It was not smooth enough for him to use freely in a melee yet, but it had clearly proven one thing. He could maintain the flame even while swinging his sword fiercely.
Before he knew it, the sun had melted into red.
As Lucian chewed rough bread in the dining hall after training, the air over the plaza was even heavier than yesterday.
“They say the Kingdom's Second Corps on the eastern front has retreated to the brink of annihilation.”
“I heard the border gate has been completely breached. Is Kaldia really safe?”
“The Silver Lion Knights are holding the line. It'll work out somehow...”
Anxiety and despair were gnawing at the city.
But Lucian felt no anxiety.
All he needed was cold focus for tomorrow's line of fire.
After eating, Lucian returned to his lodging and made a final inspection of the tools he would use to slaughter his enemies.
The edge and mana conductivity of the Silvermoon Grass longsword.
A spare dagger on his right thigh, and six throwing daggers on his left.
The draw strength of the Ironwood Composite Bow and thirty-five arrows, twenty-five iron-tipped and ten bone-tipped.
The seams of his Wyvern Light Armor.
Three antidotes, medicinal herbs, and rations.
Once he carried all his gear, its heavy weight pressed firmly on his body. Still, it was not a fatal restriction on the movements he needed to run and cut down his prey.
He lay down beneath a blanket.
Before closing his eyes, he inspected his body once more.
Roots extending from the seed in his dantian had taken hold of the blood vessels throughout his body, circulating quietly yet fiercely.
A mystery not permitted by this world's laws.
But to Lucian, it was as natural as breathing.
He did not know what lurked in the forest tomorrow, but whatever appeared, he would slaughter it, devour it, and survive.
Kaldia's final night deepened.
* * *
Day Three, before dawn.
Before the sun had even touched the horizon, two moons, one silver and one reddish bronze, cast their strange light over Kaldia's streets.
Fully armed, Lucian left his lodging like a ghost and headed for the south gate.
In the darkness of the curfew.
“A scout for the Knights' joint operation?”
The guard who checked the permit issued by Graham muttered, overwhelmed by the silhouette of the man clad in Wyvern hide.
“May fortune be with you.”
Lucian gave a detached nod and passed through the gate that had been kept tightly shut.
Toward the western forest.
Kaldia's oppressive walls slowly receded behind him.
He crossed the fields, feeding minute amounts of mana into his legs to sustain his endurance.
By the time dawn stained the trees pale violet, he had reached deep into the western forest.
It was separate from the woods south of Kaldia, a place of overwhelming darkness and dampness where even light could not enter.
And there was a nauseating animal stench that pierced his lungs.
The distinctive raw smell of wolfmen hung thick in the air.
A clear warning that the Beastfolk stronghold was close.
Lucian buried his footsteps beneath the leaves and heightened his hearing out to three hundred paces.
The wind, the movements of small animals, and low howls from far away.
He climbed the trunk of a giant tree and scanned the area ahead through gaps in the branches.
Three hundred paces ahead.
A massive fence woven from logs and hide.
Within it crouched dozens of campfires and tents.
The Beastfolk stronghold.
There were roughly two to three hundred moving figures. It matched the intelligence.
Lucian's gaze swept over three elevated wooden watchtowers around the stronghold's perimeter.
East, south, and north. A natural cliff stood to the west.
Two sentries sat at each tower.
The main force would enter from the east.
He immediately formed a plan.
He would begin with the farthest northern tower, move through the south, and clear the eastern watchtower, the main force's entry route, last.
If even one scream rang out, the entire stronghold would be thrown into chaos.
He had to remove all six heads without a sound.
Lucian slid down from the tree and completely melted into the forest's shadows.
Surprise, stealth, and merciless strikes.
Like a ghost, he seeped into the darkness of the forest.
* * *
The northern watchtower was the farthest away.
It stood a hundred and fifty paces from the stronghold fence.
It was a lookout platform made by laying logs between two enormous oak trees.
Ten meters above the ground, two wolfmen sat on top.
One watched the surroundings, while the other leaned back and dozed.
If both had been awake, dealing with them simultaneously would have been difficult.
Without stepping on a single fallen leaf, Lucian approached like a ghost until he stood directly below the tower.
He concentrated mana thickly at his fingertips and toes to maximize his grip, then silently climbed the giant tree trunk like a spider.
A gap in the watchtower's floor.
Lucian gripped the edge of the platform and pulled himself up as lightly as a feather.
The tree gave a faint creak.
Just as the awake beast's ears twitched and it started to turn around.
Slash!
A sharp dagger drawn from Lucian's right thigh mercilessly pierced its thick carotid artery.
A longsword was too likely to catch on a branch or make noise atop the narrow platform.
For an assassination, a short, sharp blade was more suitable.
As the beast tried to scream, Lucian's left hand completely covered its veined muzzle and nose with crushing force.
A body with its carotid artery severed could not last three seconds before going limp.
A silent butchering.
As he laid the corpse down, a small amount of Experience Points seeped through his veins.
He approached the second beast, which had been dozing, and drove the dagger in along the same path.
The creature's eyes snapped open too late, extreme fear filling its bloody gaze. But with its mouth covered, its life drained away helplessly.
Two.
The northern watchtower was cleared.
Lucian did not throw the magical beast corpses below the tower.
He arranged them cunningly so they appeared to be leaning there while keeping watch as normal.
A perfect ambush that had not allowed even a drop of blood to fall onto the forest floor.
His cold gaze flashed toward the next target, the southern watchtower.
* * *
After climbing down from the tree, Lucian quietly changed course toward the southern watchtower.
He kept a sufficient distance from the fence to avoid detection by the Beastfolk inside the stronghold, gliding through the forest's shadows.
As he moved, he observed the beasts' main camp.
Dozens of tents crudely stitched together from logs and animal hides were scattered about, and a massive bonfire burned in the center like a pillar of blood.
Most of the swarming creatures were wolfmen. Their builds and equipment varied.
The ordinary ones wore rough hide and carried crude scimitars or spears, but those who appeared to be lower-ranking commanders wore scavenged metal armor pieced together in patches.
And at the deepest point of the stronghold.
A huge tent built against a natural cliff came into view.
The leader's tent.
Two grotesque figures stood guard before it.
One was a massive beast with a head two heads taller than an ordinary wolfman.
It was a muscle-bound monster that seemed to stand well over three meters tall.
The other was of ordinary size, but a savage and alien ripple flickered around its fur like heat haze.
It was difficult to tell whether it was mana or vitality, but its overwhelming killing intent was on an entirely different level from the ordinary creatures.
Two chieftain-class beasts.
It matched Kairon's intelligence.
The huge beast was likely High Warden-class, and the one radiating power was likely an advanced Warden, but Lucian could not be certain.
What mattered was that either one would be a disaster that would leave nothing of Lucian if he faced it alone.
‘Avoid chieftain-class enemies if you encounter them.’
Kairon's cold warning crossed his mind.
He had no intention of ignoring it.
Dying because of reckless bravado was something only a third-rate mercenary would do.
Devouring had to be limited to prey he could thoroughly control.
It took fifteen minutes to circle halfway around the stronghold from the northern watchtower and reach the southern one.
The price of sacrificing speed to erase all sound.
The southern watchtower was also a platform precariously laid between giant trees.
It was slightly higher than the northern tower. Worse, both sentries were wide awake, their eyes open.
The moment he cut one creature's throat, the other would scream and raise the alarm.
They had to die at the same time.
Lucian quickly surveyed the terrain.
A thick branch on a giant tree beside the watchtower.
From there, he would have the angle to target one with a throwing dagger, then immediately leap over and tear apart the other himself.
Lucian climbed the nearby tree like a ghost.
A blind spot overlooking the watchtower through the leaves.
Five paces away.
He drew a throwing dagger from his left thigh and forced mana from his dantian into the chunk of iron.
Reinforcement.
He aimed at one creature's temple.
Then, at the same moment he flicked the dagger away, he explosively flexed his leg muscles and leaped toward the watchtower like lightning.
Fwoosh!
The mana-infused chunk of iron tore through the air, pierced the wolfman's ear, and buried itself deep in its skull.
“Ghk...!”
As it silently toppled over, vomiting blood, Lucian's body dropped onto the watchtower.
The second creature saw its companion's head burst and opened its muzzle wide in shock.
Just before a ripping scream rose through its vocal cords.
Slice!
Lucian's spare dagger pierced beneath its jaw, punched through its windpipe, and drove upward.
He mercilessly twisted the hilt.
Its vocal cords were destroyed, and instead of a scream, only coughing blood burst forth like a fountain.
The creature convulsed, then went limp.
Four.
The southern watchtower was cleared.
Lucian pulled the throwing dagger from the first creature's head, wiped away the blood, and returned it to his thigh.
Once again, he naturally propped the two corpses against the watchtower railing.
From a distance, they looked like they were leaning side by side, watching the outside.
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