What Frondier first recalled upon hearing the explanation of the Paladins was, of course, the Zodiac.
Only twelve exist, each a nation’s representative instrument of force. The parallels were many.
Accordingly, he naturally predicted their power would rival the Zodiac.
Even if not precisely so, they were still a country’s twelve strongest.
No way they’d be weak.
'There it is.'
Antero still couldn’t break free of Heukcheon. He was going all out, the sword still whining, but it was nowhere near enough to do anything to Heukcheon.
'Frankly, getting hit that cleanly to begin with is already an error.'
He’d let his guard down, ignorant of Frondier’s skill. Fine—understandable.
He’d overestimated himself because he was a Paladin. That, too, was understandable.
But even allowing for both, this level of helplessness was unacceptable.
If he truly were Zodiac-tier, he would have responded to this attack. Even if he couldn’t stop it, he would have reacted.
The reason Antero couldn’t exert strength now was because every muscle that could produce it was pinned.
Pinned into a wall in an unstable posture, he couldn’t generate proper power; aura or not, it made no difference.
Of course, Frondier had engineered exactly that with his attack, but any other expert would at least have managed to free the sword arm and prepare to cut Heukcheon. Not be grabbed like this with such impotence.
'I can’t measure him precisely, but he could have a good match with Ias.'
For someone called a Paladin—even a rising one—to be on par with a single student... the disgrace overshadowed everything.
“Frondier! You bastard! Let me out of this!”
Yet Antero still didn’t understand his situation and kept struggling—though the match was already over.
'What is this? He’s so weak it’s actually irritating.'
Was it acceptable for one of Palma’s twelve representatives to be this weak? Was this nation all right?
'...No, hold on. He should still have magitech devices on him. In that case—'
Shwick!
For the moment, Frondier did as Antero demanded and released Heukcheon.
Thud—the man dropped from the wall, flustered, then hurriedly reset his stance.
“I’ll kill you.”
“Good—glad you’ve still got the will.”
Antero gripped his chest. A necklace under his clothes came into view.
It was a magitech device that glittered with a gem like Frondier’s necklace Black Lotus, but its role was entirely different.
Fwooom!
Antero’s aura boiled up, fiercer and more savage. Frondier fixed his eyes on the necklace.
'It boosts aura output... He wouldn’t just cram any old mana into it—that’s dangerous. So he stores spare mana in the necklace like a battery and draws it out when needed?'
Human mana recovers naturally even without doing anything. So if one had a separate battery to store mana, one could pre-fill it and then wait for one’s empty mana to recover naturally.
And when you needed more than your total capacity—like now—you could use it.
The better the battery’s performance, the better the result.
“...Hoh.”
A strange light flickered in Frondier’s eyes.
The principle wasn’t impressive, so his interest faded quickly, but the amount of mana surging up was no joke. The mechanism was simple, yet the fact such a small necklace could hold that much mana was remarkable.
'By output alone, that thing would let him surpass an average professional.'
While Frondier marveled at the device’s quality, Antero’s killing gaze locked onto him.
“This time will be different.”
“It better be.”
Kwaang!
This time the stomp sounded different.
Antero all but destroyed the classroom floor as he reached Frondier.
Clang! Clang!
A flurry of strikes from Antero’s blade collided with Frondier’s Heukcheon.
He couldn’t cut Heukcheon, but he could bat it aside. Clearly different from before.
Yet Frondier’s calm gaze didn’t change.
'Curious. Aura is fundamentally akin to mana, so the properties are similar. Just as shoving a lot of mana in doesn’t automatically make a spell strong, pouring a lot of aura in doesn’t necessarily make you stronger.'
To use a strong spell, you must know what makes a spell strong.
To enhance the body with aura, the body must be prepared accordingly.
In other words, you need an engine capable of making all that fuel function effectively.
'He’s accustomed to taking in more aura than his body innately holds. For Antero, that necklace isn’t an auxiliary. Including the necklace is his skill set.'
So this was Agoris—the continent of magitech weapons. He was starting to grasp how people here perceived magitech devices.
But that raised a simple question.
'If it works like this, does “being strong” just mean “having more magitech devices”?'
Was that why Carla rated Antero so highly for handling magitech so well?
He didn’t know how difficult it was to operate that sword and necklace, but to people of the Falind continent, this would be hard to accept.
Antero kept parrying hard, but when the distance didn’t close, he flared in anger.
“Grr! This damn black thing never ends!”
Well, of course—it wasn’t meant to end.
Vwoom!
At that moment, Antero’s movement changed. Mid-parry, he slid left.
Frondier’s eyes widened. That motion had nothing to do with the flow of Antero’s mana.
For a moment Frondier recalled the advanced trick Aster had shown in their spar—deceiving the flow of mana. Could Antero do something similar?
“Got you!”
Tracing a fast half-circle, Antero took Frondier’s back. He brought the blade straight down toward Frondier’s spine. For an instant, Frondier glanced over his shoulder.
Thud!
“Gah!”
But again, Antero folded at the waist. Pain lanced his abdomen, his feet halting.
'What? Nothing was there!'
He had no idea what hit him. Frondier hadn’t moved, and there was nothing in front of him—yet something had struck his gut.
“Even if you’ve seized an opening,”
Frondier said,
“you poured every last scrap of aura—even the bare minimum to guard your body—into your sword.”
“...!”
Frondier grabbed him by the collar.
“Even my student wouldn’t pull a stunt that stupid, you fool.”
“Y-you—!”
Shwick!
Clatter!!
Without letting go of the collar, Frondier pivoted and swung his arm, hurling Antero out the window.
Carla, who had been watching in a daze, finally let out a shriek and ducked down.
“Since you don’t seem to know how to fight cleanly, let’s do this outside.”
Frondier followed in the direction he’d thrown Antero. He set Heukcheon under his feet and walked up it like stairs.
“Y-you bastard!”
Antero recovered his senses and stopped in midair.
Frondier watched him with a cool gaze.
“As expected.”
It was harder for warriors than mages to stay aloft. Mages learned Levitation early; warriors did not.
So to linger in the air, Antero would have had to learn separate magic, or raise his aura to Zodiac levels to freely defy gravity, or use some unique method like Frondier.
And in his case—
“So that’s magitech, too.”
He was substituting an artifact for his own power.
“I wondered why your body moved left regardless of your attack angle.”
It wasn’t exquisite technique like Aster’s.
Antero had magitech mounted on his back as well; he could control movement in every direction—front, back, left, right, up, down.
'All those magitech devices together—he might match Pielot when Pielot hasn’t set his stance.'
Frondier roughly gauged Antero’s strength.
“So you are loaded like a Christmas tree.”
“Hmph. Excessive gear for facing the likes of you.”
Again, a difference in perception.
With each magitech device Frondier spotted on Antero, his disappointment grew; Antero, on the other hand, took pride in how many he had.
'...Why am I this angry?'
When Antero was simply weak earlier, it had merely been unpleasant. Now that feeling was turning into anger.
Antero still hadn’t sensed Frondier’s rising fury.
Instead, emboldened, he raised his sword and shouted,
“I’ll pool my surplus aura and inject it into this sword, Exzo—making it even more ferocious and lethal. Then I’ll charge with the power the Pegasus emits. Guess what happens then?”
“...What happens?”
“You won’t even leave a body behind.”
Frondier rubbed his forehead.
Why was the man kindly advertising his next attack?
'So the thing on his back is called Pegasus.'
Then that guy was—
Vwheeeeen!!
Exzo screamed again. With his extra mana added in, the whine was even fiercer.
“You’ll regret making me angry—”
“I really don’t want to ask this, but one question.”
Frondier cut him off.
His face looked uncharacteristically strained.
“Twelve called Paladins. Where do you actually rank among them? Are all the Paladins at a similar level?”
“...Hmph. If you’re that curious when you’re about to die, I’ll answer.”
“Please be honest.”
Antero grinned, brimming with confidence.
“I’m first. There isn’t a rival who can catch up to me.”
“...”
Frondier closed his mouth.
Antero looked satisfied.
“So don’t be too sad. You’re dying to Palma’s strongest knight!”
And once more—with that ferocious whine at the tip of his blade, he lunged straight at Frondier.
Aura dragged out of a battery, added acceleration from the wings on his back, and a drill-effect sword.
A straight-line attack wringing out explosive speed and power from those three in combination.
And then—
Thud!
“...Huh?”
He dropped it.
A sudden pain in his hand made Antero lose his grip.
Fweee—
The sword that held all his aura kept making its odd mechanical noise as it fell through empty air.
“...Seriously.”
And then Frondier’s voice hit him, close at his side before he noticed—boiling with anger.
“I didn’t actually think you’d ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ drop it.”
“Y-you bastard!”
Frondier casually clenched his fist—
Thud!
A shot to the gut.
Thud!
A hook across the right cheek.
Thud!
He grabbed Antero by the hair and drove a knee into his face.
“Graaah!”
Antero screamed, blood spraying from his nose. His nose caved in.
Frondier didn’t use aura when he struck. Because Antero’s body was utterly unguarded, without a scrap of aura. If he’d infused aura, the man would have died on the spot.
Each miserable lapse of judgment made Frondier’s tendons stand out.
“Just what.”
“G—guh...!”
Grip.
Frondier seized Antero’s throat. He couldn’t squeeze carelessly; he might snap it.
“What are you relying on that lets you be this weak, Paladin?”
“Gk—ugh—ack...”
Antero thrashed. Vwoom! The magitech on his back—the one he’d called Pegasus—let out a sound.
Crunch!
Frondier found the Pegasus on his back, grabbed it, and crushed it. He could use aura for this—thankfully.
Right now, Frondier was truly, desperately controlling his strength.
“Somewhere out there, people are giving everything they have just to save one more life. They’re fighting themselves ragged, and even then, they cry because they still can’t save everyone.”
“G—ugh, ugh...”
“What right do you have to be this weak.”
Antero clutched Frondier’s forearm with both hands. He poured in all his strength, wrung out every last drop of aura—and still couldn’t pry free of Frondier’s grasp.
Frondier’s anger kept climbing—because his opponent was so weak that he couldn’t even risk unleashing the power he feared might kill.
“You’re supposed to be protecting people.”
