SECOND-CLASS SAINT

A Weakling (IV)

Cyril's body sliced through the air like a javelin.

Being thrown by the full extent of Arden's physical prowess made traversing the giant, howling forest a simple task. The tricky part came next—finding his target.

[Inquiry. Cyril, would it not have been better to assist the individuals Angelica and Arden Shaw in their efforts? Your combined proficiency would have made the task at hand much simpler.]

True, I could have done that, but I can't use all of my skills with them around. Besides, I thought you were here to evaluate me. It won't count for much if I get too much help, will it?

[Affirmative. Directive understood.]

Cyril's eyes swept across the blurring scenery in fractions of a second, searching for Victor's trail—only for the man himself to appear and reveal his location with ease.

Boom

"Gcck!"

A powerful explosion sounded from below. The blast struck without warning, its violent winds and crushing pressure throwing Cyril off course and halting his descent. As he tumbled through the air, he caught sight of the massive vortex that had erupted nearby.

The sudden wave smashed everything around him into tiny bits of wood and dust, pushing Cyril back with the force of the blast and ultimately halting his traversal. Hindered by the blast, Cyril fell to the ground, landing in the center of the clearing that was formed in the aftermath.

"That was fast, boy. You sure are full of surprises." The dust cleared to reveal Victor standing at the heart of the wreckage. He gripped the dark mantle covering his body and casually tossed it aside, revealing the armor-plated battle gear covering his body.

Cyril watched with a clear lack of interest as the man began imbuing magical energy into himself. With a straight face—and a chilling tone—he posed a single question to Victor.

"Where is Carissa?"

Victor knitted his brows and clicked his tongue. The expression he wore seemed to question whether Cyril had any leeway to be worrying about others right now.

"I see you're not taking this fight seriously. Let me say this one more time boy, last time was a fluke, luck was on your side that's all. I intend to correct my past errors right here and now."

[Alert. Cyril, the opponent's throughput is rising drastically, previous battle data may no longer be suitable to reference for strategic purposes. A different approach is advised.]

Looks like he released that huge minotaur from his control. Well, it should be fine, I'm sure Angelica and Arden can handle that thing either way.

[That is correct. With his link to the minotaur severed, his Index is no longer burdened by unnecessary inputs. It is steadily returning to its optimal state, and his combat capabilities will rise accordingly. His threat level has been raised to 20.27%. However, prolonged use of the psychedelic substance is destabilizing his Index. At his current output, Victor Hodge is expected to overload.]

Cyril's expression stiffed, once Victor noticed the slight crack in his visage, he cackled, seizing the opportunity to gloat.

"Keh; Have you finally found your resolve, boy? You don't have time to worry about what that woman's up to. Her business with the Phoenix guild has nothing to do with this."

"The Phoenix guild?" Cyril mumbled reflexively, the mention of that name had struck a chord somewhere deep in his mind. At the same time, Victor stopped his charge and drew himself upright, summoning streams of howling air to his side.

Of course we have to fight first...Cyril groaned to himself.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to prove here, but if you need a drug just to keep up, you probably shouldn't be fighting me. That Nectar stuff is killing you."

Victor narrowed his stance and spread his arms wide.

"I'm well aware of its limitations, this batch of Nectar is only a beta version after all. We've been testing the more refined batches on as many deviants as possible. Soon enough, these side effects will be no more."

The words "beta version" sent a shiver down Cyril's spine. If Victor's claim was true, then the drug Cocytus had been distributing up until now was nothing more than a prototype. Its official designation as beta implied that every dose so far was part of a massive field test. From a purely scientific perspective, exposing it to as many subjects as possible would be the most efficient way to collect data and refine the formula.

They've been testing the effects of Nectar on deviants and gradually refining the dosage to reduce the backlash. As the realization struck him, a wave of memories flowed through Cyril's mind, each recalling the chance encounters he'd had with those foolish enough to consume such a dangerous thing.

"Nectar comes with a considerable number of drawbacks, but the risk is well worth it in exchange for power like this."

As he spoke, Victor leveled his arm with Cyril's midriff and casually swiped his hand.

He skipped the invocation!?

Cyril kicked the ground and used the augmented recoil to fling himself out of range. He watched as the faint gust spawned by Victor's hand transformed into a deadly blade of wind. The attack split the air with a hum as it carved through the ground like a guillotine, leveling several of the massive trees lined up with its trajectory.

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A deep gash spanning over ten meters in length now carved a path into the forest. Tracing the scale of the destruction with his eyes, Cyril gulped and assumed his stance again.

An entire year had passed since their last encounter, and while he'd expected some improvement, the extent still caught him off guard. Even if it came at the cost of his own vitality, the results spoke for themselves. Victor Hodge was no longer the same magician Cyril had fought a year ago. His former shortcomings had been not just corrected, but wiped away—as if erased by a stroke of magic itself.

"Now then, shall we begin?"

Gales converged on Victor's body like a whirlpool, the raging wind currents howled and whipped around him as though the atmosphere itself had come alive. The ground rumbled once the spectacular force from Victor's windstorm began spreading outward like a wave.

The out-of-control windstorm easily had enough power to send dozens, if not hundreds of humas flying off at once, but the fearsome wind currents seemed to have little effect on Cyril.

Augmented to several times his normal mass, his body remained nearly unmoved by the sweeping wind currents Victor commanded. Cyril moved towards the magician step by step, shielding his face from the whipping trails of air as he progressed.

His mass closely rivaled that of a ship's anchor, and though it was currently keeping him from being blown away, it came at the cost of sacrificing nearly all of his mobility. Each step Cyril took split the ground like a hammer blow, yet he pressed on—eyes fixed on the magician caged within the rotating wind sphere.

Witnessing Cyril's steady advance made Victor visibly flinch. He had no way of knowing what the boy had done to stay rooted, a fact that irked him to no end. Veins surfaced on his temples as he ramped up the intensity of his assault—unlike before, when the gales had only been strong enough to displace objects with brute force, the exponential increase in wind speed transformed Victor's attack from a simple gust to roaring cyclone.

Instead of simply pushing him back, the wind itself sliced into Cyril's skin like a storm of blades. Slash marks began appearing all over his body, the wounds were shallow but still painful, each slash tore away a piece of Cyril's skin on contact.

Reaching his limit, Cyril grit his teeth and pulled his forearm back. He burled his fingers and slammed his fist into the ground without warning. The strike carried the entirety of his weight behind it—augmentation included — and thus, his punch easily broke through bedrock.

A low dum sounded as the ground shattered from the massive explosion of dust and debris. A sharp tremor raced through the forest, rattling the withered oaks to their roots. The windstorm that had raged at ground level was crushed beneath the shockwave from Cyril's fist, snuffed out by its sheer force.

Cyril's punch displaced a great deal of matter in his vicinity, shattered rocks went flying like shrapnel and the shockwave created threatened to flatten anything that was still standing. Victor expression went slack once he registered the ground rumbling beneath him, torn art by the force from Cyril's punch.

Thrown off balance, the man shot skyward, his disbelief surging as he registered that his spell had been utterly crushed by such a barbaric show of power. Victor collected himself in midair, willing a gust of air to propel him above the swirl of destruction.

Hovering above the ravaged landscape, he scanned the debris, hoping to catch sight of his target when suddenly, a dazzling flash of light came into focus just as it broke through the swirl of dust.

Quickly changing directions, Victor propelled himself out of range with a burst of wind—narrowly evading the beam of white flames shooting off into the distance. He hardly had any time to collect himself before more trails of fire came blazing after him.

Victor took control of the air currents around him and prioritized evasion, he dodged beam after beam, watching as the white flames crashed into the surroundings and spawned trails of rime.

What kind of skill does this brat have? He's not strong enough to do this with body reinforcement alone, but if that's the case...how is he controlling these flames?

Endless questions plagued Victor's mind as he dodged the flaming cones. At last, weary of evasion, he gathered a dense sphere between his palms. Landing sharply, he unleashed it, the blast scattering dust and flames rushing toward him.

Once the assault ceased, Victor took a moment to calm himself. He exhaled a deep breath, but his body stiffened once he noticed the red liquid oozing down his face. A moment later, he clenched his chest and fell to one knee, inevitably wheezing from the effort.

"Looks like you've reached your limit."

Victor turned his head in the direction of the voice, the same angle Cyril had just emerged from. He gazed down at Victor with an indifferent look, and an expression that seemed to say, "I knew this would happen."

Watching Victor's eyes slowly widen in fear made Cyril feel like he had to continue—albeit reluctantly.

"Nectar is only good for short term bursts of power, it's not sustainable. The more it amplifies your abilities the faster you burn yourself out. All I did was take advantage of that."

"N-Nonsense!" Victor exclaimed, hacking another spurt of blood as he rose to his feet. Giving a roar, he summoned another sphere of wind between his palms. The construct bulged and took on a tapered shape, expanding like a lance.

Cyril recognized the technique—having experienced it firsthand he had an intuitive grasp of it's mechanics. It must have been one of Victor's secret stratagems.

This again?

Witnessing the desperate attempt, a pang of guilt gripped Cyril's chest. He knew far too well how futile the attempt was, the man couldn't even summon a third of his strength anymore but they were already past the point of no return.

Victor drew back the gales he'd summoned, funneling them into a raging vortex—his attack complete. With a shout, he thrust his hands forward, unleashing a blast that tore through everything in its path.

The violent tunnel of wind roared toward Cyril, yet he made no move to evade—he simply swept his hand.

In response, the faint gust produced by his hand accelerated to several times it's normal velocity, it slammed into Victor's attack with proportional force before cancelling it out.

The air currents dispersed violently in all directions and sent both parties flying across the clearing. Seizing the opportunity with the last of his strength, Victor manipulated his trajectory with the surrounding air, correcting his orientation as he attempted to fly off into the forest.

However, before he could propel himself more than five meters, something slammed into his abdomen with tremendous force. Time itself seemed to slow, he roiled from the sick sensation of his own ribs snapping like twigs as the impact drove deeper into his body.

Before his vision clouded, Victor glanced down at the source of his agony—Cyril's fist. But that shouldn't have been possible; their last clash had sent them flying in opposite directions.

How… did he catch up so quickly? Victor wondered, his thoughts fraying as pain flooded every nerve.

Unbeknownst to him, Cyril had simply overtaken him with speed too fast for him to visually process anymore. Once that was done, he unknowingly propelled himself right into a fist that could easily shatter bedrock.

Summoning another burst of strength, Cyril hurled Victor's body like a missile. He watched as Victor crashed along the ground, tearing through the dirt before finally slamming to a halt against the base of a giant oak.