Chapter 651 End for you

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Dominion of Oz]

[Winkie Country]

The solution had been simple.

At least, it seemed that way now that Mikoto had finally thought of it. He had spent considerably more time than he would have liked trying to work around the leylines. But the answer had been sitting in front of him all along. He simply needed to stop insisting on using his own mana.

Unfortunately, having found a solution did not mean he had the luxury of putting it into practice without interruption.

Electra shot past him again.

Her acceleration was so abrupt that the air around her displaced with a heavy rush, the sound arriving almost alongside her movement. Mikoto barely had time to register the disturbance before her claws passed across his face. He felt the sharpness of the impact, followed by a warm trickle against his cheek.

A deep cut had opened across his skin.

Blood began to run down the side of his face. His head had turned at the wrong moment, his body responding to the direction his senses had supplied rather than the position Electra had actually occupied. She had approached from the front, yet he had reacted as though she were coming from somewhere else entirely.

Once again, he had failed to intercept her.

Electra continued past him, her momentum carrying her several paces beyond his position. Her feet touched the ground lightly, and she settled into a relaxed stance as though the exchange had required little effort.

Mikoto remained where he was for a moment.

His cheek stung. His right arm was already injured, and now another portion of his body had been opened by her claws. Neither wound was serious, but the repeated interruptions were becoming increasingly irritating.

Mikoto resisted the instinct to turn towards her. Instead, he willed himself to look forward, forcing his attention away from the false information his senses continued to provide.

He turned towards her.

The movement left him briefly disoriented. His perception seemed to resist the correction, as though the direction he had chosen was somehow inconsistent with what his body was telling him. He ignored the sensation, steadied his gaze, and focused on the matter that actually concerned him.

His solution.

(“If I absorb mana from the ley lines to fuel a spell, then naturally, that would be the mana the ley lines absorb again.”)

The logic was straightforward.

Rather than supplying the spell with his own mana and allowing the ley lines to consume it uncontrollably, he could draw upon the mana already present within them. The ley lines would provide the mana, and the spell would use that same mana as its fuel. He would be working with the energy they were already accustomed to handling, rather than introducing something far more refined and potent than they could safely accommodate.

There was, of course, a matter of timing.

He would have to cast the spell in quick succession, drawing the necessary mana and releasing it before the ley lines could interfere with the process in a way that disrupted its formation. But that was hardly a difficult requirement for him. His control was more than sufficient to manage the sequence, provided he did not waste time.

(“The quality of the mana here will be inferior to mine, but that shouldn’t matter too much. With my efficiency, even this much should be more than enough.”)

He considered the thought for another moment.

He did not need to produce his strongest possible spell; he only needed enough power to put Electra down.

Mikoto loosened his stance.

Then the ground began to respond; thin strands of mana rose from beneath his feet.

They were thin at first, little more than narrow wisps emerging from the earth. Their movement was slow, drifting upwards before gradually gathering around his body. More followed, rising from the surrounding ground and weaving through the air in his direction. They passed over the broken earth and through the mist, their blue glow becoming increasingly apparent as they accumulated.

Mikoto remained still.

Electra noticed the change.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched the thin strands gathering around him. Her previously relaxed posture shifted, her attention sharpening as she recognized that something was different. She had already seen him refrain from using his power, and although she had suspected there was a reason for his restraint, she had not necessarily expected him to find a way around it so quickly.

She moved immediately.

A burst of force erupted beneath her feet.

The ground broke as Electra launched herself forward, her body accelerating so violently that her outline all but disappeared into the mist. Mikoto did not need to see her to know she was coming. The rush of displaced air reached him, followed by the sound of her approach.

From the right.

(“Coming from the right means I have to turn left.”)

He made the decision almost instinctively.

Mikoto turned sharply to his left, bringing his body around to meet the attack. His red eyes searched the space before him, but there was nothing there. No Electra or approaching claws. Only the thick mist and the blue strands of mana were still gathering around him.

For a fraction of a second, he remained in that position.

Then he felt it.

A sharp, tearing pain ripped through his right shoulder.

“Son of a bitch.”

The remark left him in a dry murmur, entirely devoid of surprise.

Electra had passed over him.

Her claws had carved through the outer portion of his right pauldron, tearing into the dark plating and catching the armor beneath. The impact forced his shoulder down and staggered his stance. His upper body shifted sideways, and one of his sabatons scraped across the earth as he struggled to keep his balance.

A few fragments of damaged armor fell away.

Blood followed.

The claws had not stopped at the pauldron. Their tips had caught his shoulder and continued across the exposed portions of his arm, leaving another series of cuts beneath the damaged armor. The pain was sharp enough to make his muscles tense, but Mikoto refused to let the injury interrupt the gathering process.

The strands of mana continued to rise.

Electra completed her movement and landed gently in front of him.

She straightened, her expression unchanged, and regarded him from a short distance.

Mikoto slowly raised his head.

His gaze settled on her, irritation evident in his red eyes.

“Undoing your perception-altering ability just to get a free hit in?” he asked. He glanced briefly towards the damaged pauldron before returning his attention to her. “Aren’t you getting a little desperate?”

“There are no rules in a fight to the death,” Electra stated.

Her tone was matter-of-fact, without any attempt to justify herself beyond the obvious.

“Besides, you’re doing a trick of your own.”

Mikoto’s eyes briefly shifted towards the strands of mana surrounding him.

He did not deny it.

“Well, this one’s to die for.”

He ignored the pain in his shoulder and the blood running down his arm. His damaged right gauntlet shifted as he raised both hands in front of himself, positioning them as though he were holding a bow.

The mana around him responded.

A concentrated burst of blue light ignited between his hands.

The thin strands gathering around his body began to converge, drawn towards the space between his palms. Their movement accelerated as the mana condensed, twisting and flowing together until the wisps became a more substantial stream. The mana began to take shape, first forming a curved outline before gradually developing into the limbs of a bow.

Water followed.

It gathered along the forming structure, flowing around the condensed mana in smooth currents. Rather than taking on the rigid appearance of ordinary ice or a solid construct, it remained fluid.

The bow settled into his grasp.

Mikoto’s left hand held its forward portion while his right remained drawn back. He adjusted his fingers slightly, ensuring his grip was secure despite the damage to his gauntlet. The flowing water stretched between the two ends, forming a taut string.

Then an arrow began to take shape.

Water gathered along the bowstring, drawing itself into a narrow shaft. A pointed head formed at its front, while the rear remained connected to the string through a thin, flowing strand.

Mikoto pulled back.

The string stretched beneath his fingers, and the arrow extended with it. The water continued to circulate around its shaft.

His aim settled on Electra.

She watched the weapon form, her expression still passive. However, her attention had moved away from his injuries and towards the bow itself, recognizing that the mana gathering around him was no attempt to reinforce his body.

Mikoto held the drawn string.

“You should have gone all out from the beginning,” he said. “You had plenty of opportunities to use your full strength, but you kept holding back because you didn’t want to cause any permanent damage to these lands. Even now, you’re more concerned with protecting what’s left of this place than with actually putting me down.”

His fingers tightened around the string.

“That’s a pity. I would have preferred to see what you could really do rather than having to deal with all these half-measures. But I suppose that’s what happens when sentiment gets in the way. You care so much about preserving what’s left that you’re willing to fight with one hand tied behind your back.”

He paused briefly, his red eyes fixed on her.

“A pity.”

Then he released the string.

The arrow flew.

The water construct snapped forward, and the gathered mana propelled it through the mist at tremendous speed. Its passage produced a sharp, rushing sound, the flowing water twisting around itself as it travelled. The arrow crossed the distance between Mikoto and Electra in an instant.

Or, at least, that was where it appeared to be going.

The mist shifted.

Mikoto felt the familiar distortion take hold, and the arrow’s trajectory seemed to veer away from its intended target. From his perspective, it travelled in the wrong direction, cutting through the obscured space to one side of Electra rather than striking her directly.

He understood what had happened.

Electra had altered his perception again.

The direction in which he saw the arrow travelling was no longer reliable. Whether she had shifted his interpretation of its movement or distorted the spatial information he was receiving, the result was the same: the arrow appeared to have missed.

But Mikoto did not seem particularly concerned.

His fingers had already left the string. The bow remained in his grasp for only a moment longer, its flowing structure beginning to loosen as the remaining mana continued through the spell.

His eyes stayed on Electra.

“Combust,” he uttered.

——————-

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Dominion of Oz]

[Winkie Country]

The skies were clear.

The thick mist that had previously swallowed the plains was gone, leaving nothing between the open earth and the expanse above. The amber-gold storm clouds had disappeared as well, and the atmosphere had settled into an ordinary silence.

Electra stared upwards.

For several seconds, she did little more than observe the sky, her light-blue eyes following the empty expanse above her. She seemed unable to understand why she was looking at it, or even how she had ended up in that position.

(“Why am I looking at the sky?”)

The question surfaced without any urgency, accompanied by a small sense of confusion. She tried to move her head, then shifted her attention towards the ground beneath her. The movement was limited, but it was enough to make her realize that something was wrong.

She attempted to push herself upright.

Nothing happened.

Her arms did not respond.

Electra frowned faintly and tried again, this time attempting to move her legs. She expected to feel the familiar resistance of the ground beneath her, to press her hands against the earth and lift herself into a sitting position. Instead, there was nothing.

Her expression remained largely unchanged as her eyes moved downwards.

Then she saw herself.

For a brief moment, her light-blue eyes simply rested on the damage, taking in what remained of her body without any immediate reaction. Her arms and legs were no longer there. They had been completely removed, leaving her with little more than her head and a portion of her scaled torso. The black robes that had once covered her body were ruined, their fabric torn and scattered around her remaining form.

There was no mistaking the extent of the damage.

She had not merely been thrown aside or left with a few broken bones. Whatever had struck her had taken almost everything below her torso, leaving her incapable of standing, moving, or even attempting to defend herself.

“Ah.”

It was little more than an idle noise of recognition.

Her eyes lingered on the remains of her limbs for another moment.

She could not feel any pain.

That was perhaps the strangest part. Given the extent of the destruction, she would have expected at least some sensation, even if it were only a dull ache or the lingering shock of the damage. Yet there was nothing.

Everything must have happened too quickly.

Her eyes moved away from her body and towards the surrounding landscape.

Only then did she begin to understand what had occurred.

The plains were gone.

Or, more accurately, the landscape that had once occupied this part of the territory had been almost entirely erased. A crater stretched out around her, its boundaries extending so far that she could not properly comprehend its full dimensions from where she lay. The ground had been flattened, broken, and displaced, leaving an enormous depression where the open plains had once been.

There were no longer any of the gentle variations in the terrain she remembered. The earth had been stripped of its former shape, its surface reduced to a vast expanse of shattered ground. Sections of the plain had been compressed into the crater, while others had been thrown outwards or pulverized entirely. The destruction continued beyond what she could comfortably take in, making it difficult to determine where the damage actually ended.

Electra stared at the devastation for a while, her expression still passive.

“Did I lose?”

She looked across the crater again, trying to piece together the sequence of events that had brought her here. Her memory was not entirely absent, but the transition from the fight to her current condition seemed to have happened too quickly for her to properly follow.

She remembered the Angel.

She remembered the water.

“That’s right.”

Mikoto’s voice reached her.

Electra’s eyes shifted towards the sound.

He was standing over her.

The black plate armor covering his torso was intact once more, the darker pinkish-red accents along his pauldrons and arm pieces restored to their previous condition. His right gauntlet, which she had previously torn apart with her claws, was repaired as well. Even the damage to his shoulder had disappeared, and the cuts across his arm and cheek were nowhere to be seen.

His snow-white hair remained neatly arranged in its starburst bun, and his red eyes looked down at her with the same expression he had worn throughout their confrontation.

There was little doubt as to how he had recovered.

Magic.

He had evidently used it to repair his armor and restore his injuries, undoing the damage Electra had managed to inflict during their exchange. Whatever limitations had previously prevented him from using his power were no longer relevant, at least not in the same way they had been before.

Mikoto looked down at her.

“Like I said, you never really stood a chance.”