A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special

*C-Clang*

*Baaang*

Countless battles were well under way and the sound of explosions had become the new norm.

Even as the explosions occurred due to the collision of aura, the battle between Pram and Pierrot Mask had reached an equilibrium.

A high-speed battle in which even sound itself could not catch up.

Their swords crossed ceaselessly.

*B-B-B-Bang*

Pram countered the attacks flying in from everywhere and at the same time struck courageously towards Pierrot Mask at every opportunity he could.

‘… I cannot win like this.’

There were numerous wounds on his body. It was impossible to block all of the attacks, of which there were hundreds and thousands of, from Pierrot Mask.

And as time passed by, the number of wounds increased.

It was an inevitable result.

There was an uncrossable wall between Pierrot Mask, a King-Class swordsman, and Pram, a mere Bishop-Class.

The biggest factor was the total amount of aura available to them.

Pram was lacking in terms of sheer amount of aura, therefore he was at a disadvantage the longer the battle lasted.

The wire penetrated his silver lines and emmenated a whooshing sound as it split the air.

Pram quickly rolled his body to the side.

*Baang*

He barely avoided the attack, but an enormous gap was created due to his huge movement.

It was only for a moment, but as this was a battle of speed, this necessary error was a critical mistake.

*Whoosh*

However, Pierrot Mask did not overcommit to punishing him. He maintained his distance carefully. When Pram drew near, he drew back. He refused to approach past a set distance, even when there was a gap presented.

There was only one reason he was moving that way.

‘He’s wary of my ultimate stab.’

His stab was probably the best attack Pram had at his disposal.

Quickly striking with a massive accumulation of aura, thoroughly condensed into a single point. This was the only means he had of overpowering Pierrot Mask.

However, Pierrot Mask neutralized the opportunity for Pram to use it by not crossing a fixed range. He consistently wore Pram out while maintaining his distance.

If this continued, Pram’s defeat was inevitable.

Pierrot Mask taunted him.

“You seem nervous. It’s too late anyway. He’s probably already dead.”

“… … ”

Pram glanced towards the area behind Pierrot Mask. It was covered with something similar to a dark fog.

A Shadow World.

It had appeared, consuming almost the entire Divide Palace.

At the same time, he lost contact with Desir and Adjest. It was proof that they were caught in the Shadow World.

“Your strategies have failed.”

Pram shook his head.

“… … No, I trust Desir.”

“Hm. Is that so? Well, this turn of events isn’t too bad.”

Pierrot Mask jeered at him.

“I wonder what kind of expression he’ll have on his face when he returns and sees your corpse?”

*B-B-B-Bang*

Pram charged in an instant.

He had minimized the amount of aura he had used in the battle, and charged in by strengthening his body with an unexpected surge in power.

*C-C-Clang*

The Clothes Line, which had received an attack above its limit, tried its best to let out a warning before being destroyed.

The wire brushed past Pram and cut him deeply. The trickling blood reddened Pierrot Mask’s wire.

However, his attack had not been one born from futility.

“… … !”

*C-C-Clang*

Pram took an enormous hit, but he had managed to reduce the gap somehow.

*Whisshhh*

The silver line that was spread out everywhere started to coalesce around Pram’s sword.

A high-density, compressed aura.

A huge amount of aura swiftly gathered, an amount which would exceed the tolerance of any sword not made from Blankšum.

Pram, who had reduced the distance between himself and Pierrot Mask, finally let loose the attack he had been waiting so patiently for an opportunity to use.

Pram’s pierce thrust rushed in, tearing the very air apart.

*Crack*

“The reason why I deliberately did not approach you… ”

Pram’s sword penetrated the air while Pierrot Mask pulled out his dagger and slightly bent the trajectory of Pram’s thrust.

It was easy to say, but in reality, this was not an easy task to deflect such a piercing strike of a rapier. Deflecting such a fine point required immense control and finesse.

However, Pierrot Mask, a King-Class swordsman, was able to execute such a move as if it were a trivial task.

There was a wry smile on his face.

“… was because I’m annoyed.”

Numerous wires flooded in towards Pram.

The silver line scattered everywhere accordingly. He dashed after Pierrot Mask, who was about to step back once again. If Pierrot Mask was allowed to widen the gap, then it would be impossible for Pram to close it again.

Pram’s vision went fuzzy. He realized he may have made a fatal mistake. Between the blood loss and how much he had overexerted himself, Pram realized he wouldn’t be able to stand for much longer.

The number of wounds increased and the pain accumulated.

*C-Clang*

*Claaang*

Because he approached by overexerting his strength, the situation worsened.

When his last hidden card was destroyed in vain, he started to see the weak point in his swordsmanship.

It was not just a strategy that was blocked.

It felt as though all the efforts he had made over the last few years had been rejected and he was being played around like a fool.

Pram Schneider…

‘… cannot beat Pierrot Mask.’

Thanks for reading on patreon.com/maldfrogsclub ! Join us in talking about RMSBS at discord.gg/wxSdrsn

Pierrot Mask burrowed into that gap of hesitation.

A sword brushed past Pram’s cheek. Even though he thought that he had escaped narrowly, his cheek stung.

*Drip*

The blood trailing down his jaw was hot.

‘This is my limit.’

Thoughts came to his mind.

‘Maybe I’ve done my part by buying some time against the King-Class swordsman.’

He, who had reached Bishop-Class, was able to buy this much time against a King-Class opponent.

‘Have I not done my part? Are these results not excellent, considering I am a mere Bishop-Class?’

‘For all the effort I have put into studying the sword, it was amazing enough that a half-wit like me has endured until now.’

He only had enough talent to master one technique.

That was why he practiced and honed just that technique.

Any real swordsman would criticise him for artificially inflating his class by taking a shortcut.

He reached this position in this manner, but one could not advance further by focusing on such a narrow path. Pram knew that fact better than anyone.

Even though he was a member of the Starling Party, Pram was different from Desir and Adjest. The best Pram could do was to aid them from the side lines.

“… … ”

But.

‘Am I satisfied with this?’

‘No.’

Focus.

Pram emptied his mind. Once again, he focused on the tip of his rapier.

Again, silver lines appeared and began to gather together. Thinking that this was his frantic last-ditch effort, Pierrot Mask sneered.

Suddenly, Pram’s sword sliced Pierrot Mask.

‘… … How?’

The smell of the blood wafted in. Pierrot Mask clicked his tongue lightly.

Pram took a stance and continued rushing him recklessly, as if he was not interested in his reaction.

He poured almost all of his aura into his body and compressed the remaining aura at the tip of his rapier. The sword groaned as his aura approached its limit. The movement of the aura was like that of a flowing river.

‘Higher speed and power.’

‘I must win.’

Desir always believed in Pram.

Pram had always been busy following his footsteps.

*Claaang*

This piercing stab was the only thing he excelled at.

It was his only attack that no one could match.

That was why he had been able to advance to this position, higher than anyone else. Therefore, Pram could only continue executing it.

He had to go for it.

A quick attack that, hopefully, not even Pierrot Mask could handle.

*Whoosh*

His stab, which shot out with a whooshing sound, sliced Pierrot Mask in a location near his ribs.

However, Pram was not satisfied with this.

It was not fast enough.

It was not strong enough.

He had to reach the pinnacle, otherwise he would die having failed to perfect a single move.

To hit the target without fail, a mortal blow.

His rapier moved once again.

*Swish*

The first blow approached diagonally.

Pierrot Mask was going to move.

The second blow approached from below.

However, Pierrot Mask did not react.

He was not able to react, to be exact.

The third blow approached head-on.

Beyond the level of an almost non-existent temporal gap, each stab happened simultaneously from three different directions.

*Crrrrack*

“How on earth are you… ?”

Pierrot Mask stepped back. Crimson red blood flowed down from his pierced shoulder and leg.

He was short of breath.

The fact that he survived was a little short of a miracle.

He, who had reached King-Class, was only able to narrowly escape the penetration of his neck through divine luck.

He uttered with a trembling voice.

“What a monstrous stage you’ve reached.”

Pram raised his sword instead of answering.

Somehow, it had become easier to move his body.

It was at that moment when he was about to move once again.

*Crraasshh*

Pram and Pierrot Mask turned their heads towards the sound. The dark fog that was covering the Divide Palace cleared and the area had started to return to normal.

Pram’s face brightened up. Des1r and Adjest must have cleared the Shadow World safely.

Now, if he took care of Pierrot Mask, the operation would be over. His face livened up as he was caught up in euphoria.

“Ha.”

Pierrot Mask burst into laughter. He was stumbling as he looked up at the sky.

“Hahahahahahaha. Really. Was that it? I always knew you were a madman, but you’ve really outdone yourself this time. Ahahaha!”

Seeing Pierrot Mask, who was clearly at a disadvantage, laughing convulsively, Pram felt strange.

*Crrrrrrrack*

The sky was cracking like glass breaking. And something started to come out from the crack.

“… … What is that?”

All of a sudden, the whole area became silent.

Pram felt an overwhelming sense of intense pressure from that mysterious something. His body was on the verge of shaking unconsciously.

“By the look of it… ”

Pierrot Mask’s body was slowly becoming buried in the dark and growing dimmer.

“It seems like we’ve won this battle.”

—-