Chương 18: The Power of Over Thirty Million Intellect

Ophelia paused in front of Rin's door, her fist raised to knock. She was in her battle robes, all prepared to leave, but she found her thoughts in turmoil. The two kids were still huddled in Marika's bedroom as the storm raged. And Ophelia had just dumped Rin's tragic origins on her. Was it really appropriate for her to leave them so suddenly? A strange nervousness washed over her. As she was thinking, the door opened, Rin standing before her. Ophelia cleared her throat and lowered her fist.

The girl took a step back, her red eyes slowly panning Ophelia's appearance, her mouth slightly open. Ophelia couldn't help but preen. She did look really cool, didn't she?

"My fellow heroes are incompetent, thus I've been called to arms," drawled Ophelia, brushing invisible dust from her shoulder.

"Can you look after Marika and Toma while I'm away? The pantry is full, and I've left my chequebook on the counter." Rin gave her a strange look.

"Mistress, I'm nearly an adult. Of course I can manage them." Maybe you're an adult in this world, but not in mine. Well… I'm not either, actually.

"Very well. Then, goodnight." Ophelia began to turn around.

"Wait—" said Rin. Ophelia paused.

"Those people that killed my mother… do you know who they are?" Right, the revenge arc.

"They're called Dark Masquerade. They are a gang of very wealthy shadow wizards - they won't be easy to take down." She paused.

"But I promise you, you will get your revenge, my apprentice." The girl gave her a very serious nod. The shadows of the house wrapped around Ophelia in a soft whirlwind and she vanished from sight. The [Insatiable Living Darkness Guardian Ward] deposited her on the front step of Le Ciel. Ophelia would never get over how awesome having magic was. As the rain poured down on her, she quickly summoned an invisible shield to act as a barrier. Water droplets pinged off of the bubble around her like glass beads.

The cold air inside immediately evened to a comfortable temperature. She could [warp] across the continent in a flash. But she wanted to try something. The hem of her robe fluttered gently, unseen winds lifting her up as though she were light as a bird. She hadn't even thought of the spell yet her magic was responding, knowing, preparing. [Fly] Ophelia floated into the air. She used her foot to launch off the roof of her apartment, soaring slowly until she was above most of the buildings.

The city below was all slick rooftops and yellow lamplight. Lightning flashed in the dark, rumbling clouds above her, highlighting everything in purple. Her stomach flipped excitedly inside of her. This is so cool. The knowledge of how to fly was so instinctual she felt like she'd been born a bird. She spun in the air a few times, raindrops hitting the invisible barrier around her and skirting around her body.

"Okay," she said.

"Let's go." Ophelia looked to the north and began to accelerate. The scenery began to blur around her as she swooped across the capital city. When she approached the perimeter of the city, a red haze flashed in front of her - protection wards preventing people from simply flying or teleporting into the city. As she drew closer, a complex equation flashed through her mind and immediately resolved. It happened so fast that Ophelia barely saw any of the numbers, just a long string of strange shapes and variables.

A hole opened in the barrier allowing her to harmlessly pass through. Another equation, even faster this time, and the hole stitched closed behind her. What the hell? Was this the power of having over 30, 000, 000 Intellect? Just subconsciously deducing magical equations? She laughed in pure glee and urged herself forward, faster. The countryside unspooled green beneath her. Farmland stitched together in patchwork squares, rivers like silver thread.

She passed through a flock of birds and was gone before they could scatter. This was the limit of [Fly]'s speed, but she felt like this wasn't her limit. That she could push. Faster. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Equations blurred in her mind. The space around her began to crumble and fold. The night sky, the lightning, the mountains and the valleys, fractured in color, like shards of a kaleidoscope.

Ophelia tore forward at a blistering speed. She let out a peal of laughter into the clouds, excitement racing in her veins. This was like driving a ferrari at max speed except so much better. Not only was she faster than any airplane, but she had an infinite amount of control. She knew with just thought she could come to a complete stop without any consequences. Before she knew it, the landscape became snowy and mountainous. She had long left the storm behind.

Ribbons of green and purple light danced across the night sky, and stars twinkled. She had entered Snowreach, the northernmost part of the Aedris Kingdom. In the story, it was a violent warzone. Tribes of beastmen who lived in the frozen wastes further north constantly tried to pillage their way into the kingdom. A blue haze curved in front of her. Another anti-teleportation barrier, but stronger, tied to a specific person's magic. Sigils of ice magic shimmered in the weave of the protective ward.

It took, perhaps, half a millisecond longer for Ophelia to unravel it and fly through. Just below she saw the stand-off. A battlefield, split by a jagged ravine. On the far side, an army of fifty thousand giant creatures - yetis, mammoths, werewolves, and other monsters - waited, headed by ten thousand beastmen. At the very front stood a large, ridiculously muscular man who was only wearing a pair of scuffed trousers. Massive scars criss-crossed his torso.

His black hair was a wild nest around his head, and his fingers were tipped in wickedly long shiny, black claws. That was Wolfgang Aethelfrid, the Beast King. The Level 1000 [Berserker] tyrant of the majority of the beastmen tribes. As for Aedris Kingdom's side… Only a single man stood, the empty arms of his black cloak blowing in the wind behind him. Ophelia drifted down towards the man, landing elegantly beside them. Snow splashed upwards as it made contact with the invisible barrier around her.

"Vyx," grunted the Duke of the North around a cigar.

"Mind not popping through my [Ice Aegis] like it barely exists? You're embarrassing me in front of our enemies."

"Dietfried," greeted Ophelia primly.

"You know it's pronounced Ðīéṭƒr̃īèḓ," he said. No wonder everyone simply called him the Duke of the North. Who could pronounce that? The man was so tall she had to crane her neck to look up at him - and Lady Vyx wasn't short herself. He had to be nearing seven feet in height. His appearance was that of a man in his mid-thirties. He had a shock of well-groomed light blue hair, and his eyes were like chips of ice. Black dragonscale armor covered his form, a black cloak hanging off his shoulders.

As he pinched the cigar out of his mouth, Ophelia realized just how comically large his hands were. Dietfried von Orsainvillea had been the nominal "leader" of the heroes during the Second Demon War. He had the highest moral fiber of all the high-level characters, and had no trouble clashing against his fellow heroes if he thought they were wrong. However, the duke was often stuck protecting the northern border, far from the schemes of everyone else.

For a while, his name only appeared in the webtoon's character list as a series of squares because the site refused to render his name. He was, in short, one of the actual "good guys" of the story.

"So… I assume you're dying?" asked Dietfried. The smoke from the man's cigar curled upwards like a ribbon in the frosty air. Ophelia raised a brow.

"Why would you assume that?"

"I can't imagine why else someone like you would take on an apprentice." Ophelia wasn't sure if he knew about her being poisoned. Actually, did anyone know, or had Lady Vyx kept it secret? Lady Vyx did seem like the distrustful type to keep such a fatal weakness to herself.

"I can do things out of the goodness of my heart." Dietfried made a sound of amusement. He flicked his cigar into the snow, stamping on it.

"I wouldn't call that cold, blackened thing in your chest a heart." Ophelia's gaze slid across the battlefield.

"Where are your men?" she asked.

"Bianca said you wanted to avoid shedding blood."

"Yeah," he said, nodding at the opposing army." Theirs." Damn. I spend half my nights coming up with sick one-liners, and this guy just says them naturally. I should've brought my notepad. Across the ravine, the Beast King roared and the entire landscape shook. First, the war drums began - deep, bone-shaking - then the beastmen joined in, fists hammering against their chests to the rhythm. Bloodhorns cut through the noise.

Then, the monsters themselves, the roaring of sabertooth tigers and the trumpeting of mammoths, added to the cacophony until the tide of sound was no longer sound, but pressure, a physical weight inside of her chest.

"So. What's the plan?" asked Ophelia, her voice almost drowned out.

"You know what to do," Dietfried grunted, stepping forward closer to the edge of the ravine. Actually, I don't! Ophelia slowly drifted behind him, feeling tiny as she hid behind his massive form. She didn't know much about the northern struggle. Most of it happened off-screen as flavor and then was never mentioned again once Rin left the continent. The Beast King approached as well from the other side of the ravine.

"Hah! Where are your generals? Your armies? I finally face you myself, and you dare to bring only one woman?" growled the Beast King, flexing his muscles." Your arrogance will be your downfall!" A cold smile etched across the duke's face.

"All those men you've been clashing against for years… did you even know who they were?" The Beast King's heavy brows drew down. Dietfried drew the sword from the sheath on his back. It was frosty and pale blue. The infamous Ice.

"You barbarians are stuck in your old ways. Let me show you the meaning of modern warfare," he announced, icy blue eyes flashing with a sharp gleam. He leveled his frosty sword at the Beast King.

"Everyone you have ever fought… has only ever been me."" [Call of Duty]." Azazel I fucking despise you! You will answer for your crimes! thought Ophelia. The duke thinks he's got so much aura right now, but he doesn't know— Dietfried took a step forward, but as he did, he left an afterimage behind that solidified. The image bowed his head, placing a fist to his chest. [Warrior - Level 950] The copy split into two copies of the [Warrior - Level 950], one moving a step left and the other moving a step right.

Suddenly four more copies appeared, kneeling on one knee in supplication. The four both had the same nameplate - [Lancer - Level 900]. Like a wave of refracting mirrors, copies began to fold out from other copies, all with different classes and weapons. All wearing black dragonscale armour. All kneeling. All silent, as wind and snow circled around them. In minutes a grand army had appeared on the banks of the ravine.

In contrast to the Beast King's patchwork group of different tribes and monsters, the duke's army kneeled in perfect, eerie order, their black armour gleaming under the cold aurora lights.

"When they call me a one man army, it isn't a compliment," said the duke coldly.

"It's just a simple fact." Oh no he's cool, Ophelia despaired.