Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage Chapter 654: Too Strong?

Alex had a choice: strike the sorcerer directly or target the conjured peacock. However, he intentionally held back, seeking to intimately grasp the intricacies and boundaries of the mystic art firsthand.

’Soon.’

His Spirit Sight offered a clear view of the peacock’s energy reserves, which dwindled with each projectile it loosed.

At last, it was depleted.

Crrrk!!

The fiery peacock emitted a shrill cry before imploding, its form collapsing inward to become a concentrated sphere of flame, comparable in size to a standard [Fireball] spell.

[First Step — Ghost Step]!

[Third Step — Wraith’s Crossing]!

Alex wasted no time. The instant he perceived the transformation, he immediately increased the distance separating them.

Boom!!

Precisely as he had anticipated.

The peacock’s final assault was not merely similar in scale to an ordinary [Fireball]; its explosive power was also comparable—far from typical.

Emerging from the plume of smoke, Alex casually brushed the particulate matter from his attire.

"What now?" he inquired of the sorcerer.

The man’s gaze fixed upon him before he finally spoke.

"You intercepted the messenger birds’ departure. This implies you wish to delay news of this incursion from spreading… is that correct?"

"Indeed. So what of it?" Alex responded with a slight shrug.

"I dispatched a distress signal while you were occupied with the Flameshooter Peacock," the sorcerer disclosed. "You have already lost. Cease your actions now, and perhaps I can still broker a peace agreement with our Leader."

His countenance grew stern.

"Do not forget our backing."

"Thank you for the counsel, yet I have no intention of halting," Alex stated placidly. "And yes, I am fully cognizant of the forces supporting your contingent.

"In fact, that very reason prompted my attempt to negotiate with your Leader initially. But since he elected to show disdain, well…" He offered a slight gesture with his shoulders.

Then, Alex’s lips curved into a smile.

"Regarding the message you believe you dispatched…" His smile widened subtly. "…are you entirely convinced it was successfully transmitted?"

"What do you imply…?"

The sorcerer’s voice quivered as he met Alex’s gaze, unnerved by the unshakeable confidence he perceived within.

"Anti-magic," Alex explained evenly. "Fundamentally, anti-magic is a form of energy operating on a frequency directly opposing that of magical energy. Upon contact, they nullify each other, giving the appearance that the spell—or mystic art—simply failed to activate."

He clasped his hands behind his back.

"While I cannot directly wield anti-magic energy, it does not preclude me from replicating its effects through analogous principles."

"What precisely are you asserting?" The sorcerer’s apprehension intensified.

"Transmitting messages via energy pulses… that is a remarkably ingenious technique. Let me hazard a guess—your Leader possesses an apparatus calibrated to your mystic energy. By emitting your energy in controlled bursts, this device receives the signal, alerting him."

Alex inclined his head slightly.

"Am I mistaken?"

"How could you—?"

The sorcerer blurted the question before abruptly halting, belatedly realizing the revelation he had made.

"It is not exceptionally complex. One might classify it among the most elementary principles of energy-based communication transmission," Alex replied.

Regrettably, he quickly discerned from the man’s expression that the sorcerer possessed no genuine comprehension of the theory behind his actions—despite instinctively employing it.

"Perhaps I anticipated too much." Alex shook his head with a quiet exhalation.

"To put it plainly, you should be the one contemplating surrender. The message you assume was sent… never reached its intended recipient."

Through Spirit Sight, Alex could literally perceive mana itself, while OmniRune granted him the ability to manipulate it via the Rune-Tech interface. Replicating a signal-jamming effect for mystic energy was considerably less challenging than it might seem.

He regarded the sorcerer with a calm demeanor.

"So, what is your decision? Will you concede? Fortunately for you, I possess a distinct fascination with your mystic arts, hence I am inclined to spare your life should you submit."

"Surrender? Never! Perish!"

The sorcerer abruptly slammed his palm onto the ground.

Instantly, Alex sensed a colossal surge of energy erupting from beneath him. He attempted to reposition himself—only to find himself immobilized by an immense gravitational pull.

Boom!

A gargantuan column of flame ascended into the sky, engulfing Alex’s form entirely.

"You deserve it!" the sorcerer exulted triumphantly. "That is your recompense for your arrogance in demanding my surrender!

"In your next existence, endeavor not to prolong your speech so excessively, thereby granting your adversary the opportunity to strike!"

"That is sound advice. I do hope you remember it in your next life... assuming something like reincarnation after death does exist."

A calm voice suddenly sounded just as the sorcerer was about to turn away.

The sorcerer blinked once.

In that brief instant, before he could even process what had happened, Alex was already standing directly in front of him—unarmed, calm, and utterly unharmed.

"How—?"

Spurt!

Before he could finish speaking, Alex’s wrist blade shot upward, piercing through the man’s jaw and driving deep into his skull.

Blood splattered across the ground as Alex viciously yanked the blade free, leaving the sorcerer to collapse as blood poured from the fatal wound.

The man hit the ground heavily. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading from his neck as he struggled through his final, labouring breaths.

Alex turned his gaze towards Udara’s side and, as expected, she had already dealt with the remaining two guards.

One had a blade lodged through his chest. The other’s neck was twisted at an angle that strongly discouraged continued existence.

"Are you done?" Udara appeared beside him and asked, her tone flat. "You took your time."

"Sorry, I just wanted to experience a sorcerer’s mystic arts firsthand," Alex replied with mild apology.

"It looked flashy and weak to me," she said.

"Compared to Pangea’s spellcasting paradigm, yes," Alex admitted with a nod.

Then he frowned slightly.

"But I do not think we should dismiss these mystic arts too quickly. First, while they sacrifice raw power for more flamboyant conjurations, that trade-off introduces useful versatility.

"Take that flame peacock art he used, for example. I would not use it against a strong opponent—but against a large group of significantly weaker enemies? Absolutely. It saves the effort of casting multiple weaker spells or wasting energy on a single powerful spell that would be excessive for the task."

Udara nodded, understanding his point.

Then Alex’s expression hardened.

"Secondly—and more importantly—I do not think this man is a good benchmark for sorcerers as a whole. The sorcerers of the Holy Lands I saw within the Heaven-Earth Concordance space used far more refined and efficient mystic arts.

"I suspect this man simply inherited a poor-quality legacy. Otherwise, how do we explain how weak he was? He should have been roughly equivalent to a Great Mage."

Without warning, Udara suddenly grabbed Alex by the collar and pulled him closer until their faces were only inches apart.

Her eyes shimmered with a faintly mesmerising glint as she raised a brow and said,

"Master... have you considered that perhaps he was not weak— but that you are simply far too strong for your rank?"

***