Chapter 171 Tactics: Spelling One’s Own Death

“Instead of relying solely on the power of Sword Spirit or mana, try implementing your entire body in attacks,” Feyright suggested, easily dodging Arthur’s mana-infused thrust of his sword before almost causing the man to lose balance. His golden sword shone like a duplicate of the Sun up above, emitting a blinding light.

His entire body was clad in golden armor, which seemed to cover his vital organs, preventing Arthur from finishing him off. Every strike to the armor was nullified, while strikes to other parts of Feyright’s body didn’t affect him in the slightest. The pain was but fleeting.

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, delivering a precise blow with just the right amount of force to Gabriel’s lance, forcing him to withdraw immediately. Feyright clapped, praising the crimson-eyed man for his adaptation skills. Feyright and Arthur conversed casually while trying desperately to murder the other in cold blood.

Gabriel found the battle amusing to observe. He couldn’t discern whether the two were truly hostile to each other.

“Your combat resembles a magician too much,” Feyright explained. “I realize you wish to pursue both paths, but do not fuse them… At least, not until you have reached the apex of both mountains. Instead of relying on the power emitted using mana or Sword Spirit, learn to maneuver solely using your body. Your constitution is not bad, but it is not the only deciding factor of whether you are powerful physically, or not. Your speed when relying solely on your physical body’s prowess is downright pitiful, while you seem clumsy with your body as if it is not your own.”

‘Does that still happen?’ Arthur wondered. The words that escaped Feyright’s mouth struck a nerve. What he mentioned did occur when Arthur first regressed but gradually faded as he spent more and more time in his younger body. Arthur didn’t realize his movements still seemed clumsy.

Moreover, why hadn’t anyone pointed it out? Why was Feyright the first to notice? What about Aryan?

In terms of observation, the young and naive Ranker was much more accurate. Although he had less experience than Feyright due to his age, Aryan was still more adept at combat and was not without skill.

“How do I fix that?”

“That is not for me to tell,” replied Feyright, shrugging as he cast a glance at Arthur’s breast pocket. Suddenly, a shrewd smile blossomed on the former’s face. “So that’s where your immense reserve of mana originates from… No wonder you were expending it as if uncaring of it ever running dry.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, wondering if the mana stone caused a disturbance in the surrounding mana. Otherwise, how could Feyright have noticed its existence?

“You have no backing… Yet, you possess such a diverse and effective arsenal,” Feyright muttered under his breath. “It makes me think… do you have prior knowledge of how the tower operates? Without it, such rapid growth would be impossible.”

Arthur let out a sigh internally, realizing Feyright was both presumptuous and somewhat intelligent. The longer he spent associating with such a person, the more he would lose his sanity.

His cover would eventually be blown.

“Anyway, moving on to things you suck at… You have no idea how to wield the precious blade that is clutched between your fingers. You have no idea how a Demonic Blade works, and its traits. Also, you deliberately limit your use of magic, so as to excel in swordsmanship. Yet, that never seems to work, does it?”

Boom! Bam! Klang! Thud!

Arthur, Feyright, and Gabriel continued to exchange blows. The crimson-eyed man was holding both of his enemies simultaneously, but that seemed to be straining his body. Only his bones had been strengthened, while his muscles, ligaments, and tendons were still fragile… At least, comparatively.

The more he exerted himself, the more the exhaustion seemed to erode his mental state.

‘I just need to end the battle quickly,’ thought the crimson-eyed man, focusing his mana on the muscles that stabilized his body, such as the quadriceps and rectus abdominis muscles. His body became akin to an unshakeable boulder, unwavering even in the face of two Elders.

‘The precise amount of force,’ thought Arthur, tensing his forearm as he thrust Skofnung towards Gabriel’s heart, but his strike was quickly deflected by his lance. However, since the force in Arthur’s blow was incredibly low, he was quick to recover by forming an arc using his sword.

Before Gabriel could lift his spear, Skofnung was already approaching his sternum. However, at that moment, Feyright’s golden sword threatened to knock the Demonic Blade off its trajectory. ‘Maneuvering solely using his physical body… To not allow mana to dictate my power…’

As if Arthur had experienced an epiphany, he lowered his body, shifting his balance while standing on his heels. Then, he twisted them, destroying the balance he had carefully forged by tensing his muscles.

‘Shapeless like the water.’

Arthur bent his body to the left, creating a small pocket through which Feyright’s golden sword passed through. Then, Arthur tossed Skofnung in the air, catching it again but using an overhand grip.

As if handling a pocket knife, Arthur thrust the tip of Skofnung towards the side of Feyright’s head, his body as fluid as water.

‘To not attempt to fuse both magic and swordsmanship.’

A string of thoughts gradually passed through Arthur’s head before fading. His mind became as tranquil as a lake on a windless day.

With one hand forcing Skofnung towards Feyright’s head, Arthur used the other hand to generate a wave of flames, condensing them until they turned a deep shade of scarlet. Then, he raised the hand of flames above the one that held Skofnung, facing his palm towards Gabriel, who was rushing towards him.

Feyright’s eyes widened, and he hurried to summon a barrier near his temple. But Skofnung was barely a few inches away from his body at that point.

As he gazed into Arthur’s eyes, he sensed immense determination. All his tactics were based on the advice he offered.

He had truly spelled his own death.

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