Chương 92: Chased By Chivalry

Relics have been sought after by many mages and institutions for time immemorial. In essence, they are items imbued with incredible magical power, often through the work of multiple high-ranked mages. The one common identifier of all Relics is that they are always, always integrally tied to a minimum Tier [20] Glyph. One might consider this something akin to Inscriptions, but in truth, Inscriptions can be changed or removed. For Relics, they are permanent.

And this permanence helps boost the Glyph's properties to even greater heights. It is not uncommon for nations to war over powerful Relics, for Archmages to hold nothing back in their search and hunt for these vaunted items of legend. And it is no surprise, then, that such Relics are used to cause enormous upheaval. To bypass even the most powerful of magics. Primer on Relics Leaflet for New Arrivals on Vyrd Coalition of Vyrdian Nations Ophelia hurried after the so-called labourer.

"Are you sure it's him, Sir Bruten?" She was accompanied by her fellow Mage Knights. The trio who had been together for a while now. Sir Bruten was to her left, while the tall, devilish Mage Knight from the Stoutwind Militant was to her right.

"It has to be," Sir Bruten said.

"I refuse to believe we've been chasing a useless fellow all this time." That wasn't exactly the most reassuring of statements, but Ophelia had already committed to this endeavour. She couldn't very well back out now. After their visit of the Warden's headquarters, when she had realized it was eminently possible that there might be those among the newcomers into the city who weren't who they said they were, she had rushed off with her fellow Mage Knights.

Bless Sir Bruten for not questioning her too much, because it was their quick arrival that had caused a "labourer" to start fleeing. He was one of those who had been injured in that accident with the giant figurine, which she was starting to think they were never going to make anyway. And now, he was fleeing with something in tow.

"Bastard is wilier than I was expecting," their third companion, Sir Vols, said.

"Why won't this work? [Darkspear]." He tore off a chunk of his armour, his spell circle flaring in the next second. The moment he threw it and it flew through the spell circle, it transformed into a javelin of lightning wrapped in blue flames. With a shrieking cry, the javelin surged through the air straight for their target. The man they were pursuing, who was fast enough to maintain his distance from a bunch of Mage Knights of all people, simply swung his magic-encased arm.

Vols's javelin ricocheted off the man's arm before exploding in the far distance.

"Argh!" Vols cursed in a way not befitting of a Mage Knight.

"Not again!" This wasn't the first time their attempts to stop the fellow had been rebuffed, and Ophelia had to admit that she didn't have any better ideas at the moment. At least they were able to make attempts. Now that their pursuit had led them outside of Arcoryx City, they didn't have to worry about collateral damage. They could throw whatever magic they wished, whatever they believed would stop the "labourer" from escaping. Except, nothing had worked.

Ophelia wracked her head for a plan as the world rushed them by. Her Inscriptions were working overtime, and even then it wasn't enough to match their target. Who in the world were they pursuing?

"I have a plan," Ophelia eventually said.

"And it requires you two to trust me."

"We're Mage Knights," Sir Bruten said.

"We're supposed to be trusting each other." The third member of their little party just grunted. Ophelia discussed her plan as quickly as she could. Then they began executing it. The idea was simple. All they would do was not attack their target directly. Instead, Bruten and Vols would throw their spell near the supposed labourer. Instead of making him deflect or block the spells, they'd incentivize him to change his direction of travel. Because Ophelia was already casting her spell." [Armed Spirit]."

With her Soul Glyph of Vanguard shining bright gold, Ophelia essentially created a sunny yellow copy of her armour and armaments. It was basically a clone of herself, except it was just a copy of everything she was wearing. There was no need for complicated flesh or minds to get involved. The minute her summon was ready, it hared off in the direction she indicated, keeping its profile low to minimize the attention it drew.

Thankfully, their target was mostly focused on his journey forward, so he wasn't looking back to see what was going on much. It also helped that Sir Vols had a cloaking spell to keep it mostly hidden.

"Here goes," Sir Bruten said. He and Sir Vols then began pummelling the area around the man. Ophelia boosted their firepower with enhancing spells. It was a careful balance. They couldn't shoot their magic too wildly off target or it wasn't going to really make the man change his direction at all. It might also cause him to suspect that something was up. But they couldn't throw it right on top of the fellow either.

Otherwise, as their first attempts at stopping him had shown, he'd just deflect their spells and be on his merry way. This man… was he Primordial-ranked? That seemed hard to believe. It wasn't that assassins and Eliminator Mages couldn't grow so powerful. But they were rare. Ophelia hadn't believed she'd actually see one in action in her life. Her plan was working. Trees and ground were rushing by, the earth changing from dirt to rocks in a matter of moments as they slowly forced the man to veer to his right.

And all the while, her summon was getting closer, approaching the relative distance from which it could attack.

"Have you seen the direction we're heading?" Sir Bruten said. Ophelia had noted mountains in the far, far distance. They were still well within Androvia, but it was obvious where this jerk was heading. Kurin. A nation formed from a coalition of city-states each ruled over by a duke. One of Androvia's old enemies, now officially allied under the Accords and Vyrdian Charter. Officially being the key word. It wasn't at all unheard of for nations to use insurgents or other scapegoats to start political trouble.

The problem was wondering why now and what for. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. What were they hoping to achieve by this? Because as Ophelia and the other Mage Knights had chased their target, they had received the dire message that Arcoryx Academy had been attacked. That a group of "labourers" had tried to assassinate the Prime Minister, had already caused a great deal of damage and casualties and pandemonium.

All because Ophelia hadn't been quicker on the uptake. If she had only figured things out just a bit sooner. If her suspicions had arisen just an hour faster, all of this could have been prevented. Everything they had suffered could have been stopped. Ophelia couldn't change the past, but the present was hers to make of what she would. The future was hers to carve. And she had decided that she was going to carve the adversaries of Androvia too. Their plan— her plan—finally bore fruit.

Her armament-summon had finally gotten close enough. Now, it pounced with terrific speed and power. The man cried out as Sir Vols's cloaking magic wore off the summon, which slashed in with blinding speed. It seemed that for all that the man had great magic-resisting abilities, his senses were a bit dull in comparison. Nevertheless, he still managed to deflect the slash from the golden armament without trouble. Ophelia then made her summon explode.

Within the next few heartbeats, the three Mage Knights had surrounded their quickly recovering target.

"Enough running, you cur," Sir Bruten said. His crimson magic was making him swell.

"Look at that," Sir Vols said, eyeing the emblem on the man revealed by Ophelia's blast of magic that had destroyed the summon.

"An Eliminator Mage. What a surprise. [Darkspear]." Instead of just a single spear of dark blue energy, he created a storm of them hovering over their grounded target. The man himself still hadn't spoken. Ophelia wasn't even sure if he could speak in a language they'd understand. Kurin was very different from Androvian, so she wouldn't be able to decipher his words. Which was exactly what happened when he began muttering something.

She would have almost thought him deranged if not for the fact that his Inscribed Glyph of Communication was shining on his arm.

"What's he saying?" Sir Bruten asked.

"There's no time," Ophelia said.

"Let's finish this!" And just as she took a step forward, something else flared. A weird device, the one that the man had been cradling all the while he had been running away, now flashed with a tremendously powerful glow. Then the Mage Knights were the ones who were surrounded.

"Cursed Calamities," Sir Vols said. This time, even Ophelia felt like cursing. She was, once again, too late. Just when she had thought she was recovering the situation and was about to secure their target, things had gotten worse by several degrees.

"Androvian dogs!" said one of the "labourers" who had appeared out of thin air.

"Let's end them here and now. That will teach them to try and stop us." Ophelia scowled. Was he carrying someone? A comrade maybe? But they were burned, and small and— Wait, was that as an academy student?

"No time," another one hissed. He said something more, but it was in a dialect of Kurin Ophelia couldn't speak or understand. The first one scowled but then nodded.

"Looks like you all have been spared for the day. Another time, we will make sure to end you, once and for all."

"We're not letting you go anywhere," Ophelia said, placing herself squarely before the would-be assassin.

"Not a single step further." There was something familiar about the unconscious youth in the man's grasp, but she was desperately trying not to think of that. She already had enough guilt to handle on her own. No more. Now she needed to focus on fixing things.

"Ha!" The mage from Kurin let loose his manasoul, and the sudden pressure of magic almost made Ophelia take a step back.

"Perhaps we will end someone then. Not you. Just this little one maybe instead." He raised the boy by the scruff of his senseless neck. Ophelia's breaths were getting caught in her throat. To say she was livid was an understatement. Only her concern for what the boy might go through next if she was too callous was what prevented her from lashing out at this arrogant, evil bastard.

"Release him this instant," she said quietly.

"And I will have mercy on your poor, malignant soul." This time, it wasn't just the first man. The entire group of assassins all grinned evilly. Like she had just granted them permission to be their vilest selves.

"What are we waiting for then?" another of the Eliminator Mages said from the back.

"Let's kill them and get going already!" It turned into the kind of fracas Ophelia had been hoping to avoid. But that didn't mean she was running away. Quite the opposite, rather. Her fury was inflamed. Her magic was burgeoning. She attacked. Her magic was already flaring, her golden aura emerging out in waves of force. [Saviour's Bulwark] and [Relentless Sentinel] were already active. She was not letting this bastard through. The man threw— threw —away the boy, then advanced at Ophelia."

[Rising —"" [Unrivalled Call]!" she shouted as her fury pumped out of her like a waterfall. Her broadsword slashed in, her shield smashing in just behind. And then there were all the golden glints her spell had flung out, shooting at her adversary like horizontal meteors. The Eliminator flicked something at her. Ophelia didn't even hear his spell. Maybe she herself was screaming too loudly. But she did catch the glimmer of an enormous armoured limb, startlingly amethyst. Too late. She saw it too late. Blinding pain exploded all over her front as she was punched off her feet, crashing and tumbling dozens of handspans away. Ophelia quickly regained her footing, slowing her backwards momentum with her sword plunged into the ground." You Calamity-cursed prick." He was almost on her again, right in her face. Which was good because her next spell was ready." [Stalwart's Retaliation]." Her sword slashed in again with white power flowing off it like a tidal wave. Ophelia was fast, quick enough to catch even her wily opponent off guard. The blow landed on that glimmering, oversized exoskeleton, its violet aura cracking and splintering. Her actual opponent cried out at the same time. His chest was covered in blood where his clothes had torn open to reveal the gash she had left across his ribs. It seemed wounding his magical armour wounded him as well. Then the man laughed." Oh, incredible. You're not half-bad." Ophelia growled." Is this a game to you, you vile mongrel?"" Game or not, I play to kill." The ground trembled a fraction of a second before it exploded. Ophelia threw herself to her left the moment she felt the first tremor, still wondering why in the world she wasn't hearing him cast anything. What was that explo— The dust parted to reveal a leg. A massive one. And just like that fist earlier, it swung in with crushing force incredibly fast. Ophelia failed to dodge again. For all her high-Tier Inscriptions, for all her training and magic, she was still outclassed, and the blow hit her just as hard as the realization that she was facing an opponent that was potentially stronger than her. When she finished rolling, she tried to take stock through the pain that was threatening to make her black out. [Saviour's Bulwark] was keeping her conscious. Normally, with the way her armour had been crushed and how her whole right arm was bent at the wrong angle, she might just have lost her senses. Especially at the blood loss. But the boy… Ophelia had to secure him, if nothing else. She couldn't fall until she had done that much at least. With shaky legs, she got back to her feet. Her fellow Mage Knights weren't faring much better. While the rest of the assailants weren't as powerful as her opponent, they still outnumbered her companions. Sir Bruten and Sir Vols were barely holding their ground. She slammed her sword into its scabbard behind her shield, then placed it on her back. Then she clasped one hand in the other in front of her chest." [Spiritfarer Guardian]." Ophelia's golden magic flooded out of her manasoul. Her armour, broken or whole, turned into a construct of blazing mana. Every bit of her entire form was encased in surging magic, turning her into an armoured, walking geyser. Her opponent's eyes had widened too." So that's how it is, eh? [Imperial Avatar]." Now she was finally hearing him actually cast magic. She shook her head, which was clasped in a helm that left only holes for her eyes and nostrils. It didn't matter. Even if he was stronger on paper, she would end this once and for all. They both charged. The earth fractured at their every step, the air crackled in the wake of their rush, and power burgeoned out. Magic detonated with every moment of time, foretelling the furious explosion that their clash would result in. And at the last second, Ophelia cast her actual spell." [Armed Spirit]!" That burning, brilliant magical armour leaped off her form and hared off to her right. Ophelia herself, reduced to her more mundane form with the broken armour and arm, crashed right into the surprised Eliminator." You suicidal fool," he shouted." I—" Whatever he said, she didn't hear it. Their crash was frightful. The problem was that Ophelia had sent all her magic after the boy, determined to keep him safe. Even if her collision with the Eliminator destroyed her utterly. By the time the world wasn't spinning and whirling any longer, she was barely conscious. Her armour and chest were both crushed, her jaw was almost entirely dislocated, and she had left a trail of enough blood to give the impression she had been exsanguinated. Ophelia wasn't dead though. She still managed to turn her head just enough to catch sight of her summon trying to dash away with the boy in tow. If only that Eliminator Mage hadn't expanded his exoskeleton and grabbed her summon again. The despair hurt worse than all her wounds combined. Her summon had surrounded the boy with its armoured self, trying to keep the boy safe. The monster was crowing, laughing at Ophelia and the fact that her comrades were falling. That her goal was broken. That— He screamed. Through the lone eye of hers that was still working, Ophelia stared as the exoskeleton's arm holding her summon and the boy just fell off. As did the Eliminator Mage's real arm. At the exoskeleton's stump, a gold-edged black rift snapped closed.