Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 881: A Statement

Mordred’s senses swept across the various arenas. While the second round of melees presented a considerable number of intriguing mages, one individual captured his keenest interest.

Fist had previously apprised him that the mage known as Spider was participating in this very round.

Despite his primary objective, Mordred conducted a comprehensive sweep of all arenas, noting any combatants who might warrant future attention. However, his true quarry remained Spider.

Locating him proved significantly more challenging than anticipated. Even with the oppressive atmosphere of Aqua Terra pressing down, Mordred possessed formidable tracking skills. Identifying a mage he had encountered previously should have been a straightforward endeavor.

Yet, bafflingly, his initial passes through the arenas yielded no success. Had Fist not divulged Spider's participation, Mordred might have remained unaware.

It necessitated several minutes of intense concentration for Mordred to finally detect the faintest whispers of the man’s magic. These traces were so attenuated and subtle that, had he not been searching with such focused determination, he might have easily overlooked them. He followed this tenuous trail toward one of the arenas—

Only to have the magical signature vanish once more.

The experience was akin to attempting to retain oil with a sieve. A profound befuddlement washed over Mordred. Spider was inexplicably elusive. He would grasp a fleeting hint of the man's magic, only for all traces to evaporate an instant later, as if they had never existed.

Mordred was compelled to resort to scanning the arena with his mental sight, rather than relying solely on his physical senses. It seemed the only viable method to locate Spider before the round concluded. However, Spider’s attire was hardly inconspicuous; his stylish black and silver coat should have made him stand out conspicuously in the crowd. His discovery should not have posed such a difficulty.

Even so, it was several minutes into the round when Mordred finally succeeded in pinpointing Spider’s location. Curiously, it wasn’t Spider himself that initially drew Mordred’s attention, but rather a dozen distinct beams of golden-yellow light, descending rapidly from the sky to engulf an entire contingent of mages almost simultaneously.

A flicker of surprise crossed his features. Typically, larger groups tended to sustain minimal losses in the early stages of a round, benefiting from the inherent advantages of numbers. The loss of one or two individuals, or their incapacitation by a stray spell, was one thing. But the complete annihilation of an entire group within mere seconds was highly irregular.

His senses extended towards the chaotic scene. It was then, and only then, that Mordred located his intended target. Improbably, Spider was simply… standing there. He made no effort to conceal himself, nor did he attempt to mask his presence in any way. Spider was merely present, as if he had always been.

He held a violin in one hand and its bow in the other, though it appeared he wasn't actively playing. A single droplet of blood had formed on the edge of the bow's string, a stark indication that it was far more than a mere musical instrument.

Mordred might have resigned himself to the possibility that nothing was amiss had it not been for the persistent inability to sense Spider's presence for more than fleeting moments. The sensation remained distant and indistinct. Even when looking directly at him, it felt challenging to ascertain whether Spider was truly present or merely an ephemeral shadow.

“What kind of magic is this?” Mordred murmured, his head tilting slightly.

Yet, over the ensuing minutes, Mordred’s bewilderment intensified. It rapidly became apparent that Mordred was not the sole individual struggling to maintain a consistent awareness of Spider. He passed by numerous solitary mages or those in small groups, whom he could have easily eliminated had he desired.

But he didn’t even grant them a second glance.

Then, as a sizable group of mages advanced upon a pair who were clearly on the verge of defeat, Spider abruptly turned towards them, raising his hand. Magic writhed through the air, coalescing into a jagged meteor crackling with incandescent red flames.

The aforementioned group of mages scarcely perceived the impending peril until it was far too late. One among them turned, issuing a shouted warning, but the meteor was already hurtling towards them. Several spun to face it, summoning various magical barriers. The meteor impacted them with a deafening crash, scattering fragments of molten material in all directions.

Mordred’s gaze snapped back to Spider, only to discover that the man had vanished.

A colossal pillar of light descending from the sky drew his attention anew, this time towards the large group. Spider stood at their center, his bowstring now stained with fresh blood. He then executed a swift flick of his wrist. A searing blast of astral energy erupted from him, cleaving directly into one of the mages within the throng.

A pillar of light engulfed the unfortunate mage before he could even collapse. While the strike wasn't instantaneously fatal, it was devastatingly close.

The group was shattered.

Mages, invoking their spells, flickered or dashed away, casting aside their comrades in an instant. Yet, Spider did not give chase. He could have easily apprehended several more. The retreat they managed was far from orderly. However, Spider simply observed their flight. Only after they had scattered did he turn his attention to the pair who were moments from being eliminated. Both stared at Spider, their faces bleached with fear.

Neither of them would have mustered much resistance. While not the most feeble mages Mordred had encountered, Spider had dispatched far more formidable ones mere moments before. Their removal would have presented no challenge. It would have been the prudent course of action. The objective of the melee was to eliminate as many rivals as possible, thus avoiding encounters with powerful opponents or ambushes by coordinated groups.

Despite this, Spider did not even grant the two less potent mages a second glance. He turned and strode back into the fray.

A deep furrow formed across Mordred’s brow, etching profound lines into his features.

Mordred drifted, following in Spider's wake. But the other man's approach remained unchanged. He continued to intervene in the duels of other mages, dismantling large formations before departing without capitalizing on any tactical advantages gained from his interventions.

There was a possibility that Spider was relying on the – admittedly probable – scenario that no exceptionally powerful mage would deign to associate with a large contingent. This, however, did not account for his failure to eliminate more of his adversaries. And more than that… if Mordred were less informed, he might have suspected Spider of being one of those very mages.

Mordred blinked.

Then, his eyes narrowed.

Spider did not merely appear to be shielding the mages.

He was.

For reasons unknown, he actively sought out and dismantled any who were ganging up on weaker mages. It wasn't that Spider was concerned with the strength of his opponents. He wasn't targeting the large groups because they harbored weaker individuals.

Mordred almost erupted in incredulous laughter. The notion was preposterous, utterly unfounded. The entire purpose of a melee was to weed out the weaker combatants. These were all his rivals. Spider gained absolutely nothing by protecting them.

Yet, his amusement evaporated as he observed Spider moving through the arena like a phantom. It became increasingly difficult to perceive this as anything other than what it clearly was. Spider was not simply dispatching the larger units. He intervened in assaults, deflected spells that would have caught other mages off guard, and surgically eliminated any who dared transgress his self-imposed regulations.

And it was proving effective.

The most significant formations had dissolved. They now clashed amongst themselves rather than preying on the solo mages who had failed to forge alliances. Combatants would notice an individual entangled in a duel, their defenses exposed – and they would refrain from exploiting the opening for an attack.

Even if they hadn't personally been targeted by Spider, they had taken note of the unfolding events. The strategy for survival had shifted.

Mordred watched in stunned disbelief. Spider had unilaterally rewritten the rules of engagement within this arena… for no discernible gain. He derived no personal benefit from these actions. There was no advantage to be accrued for subsequent rounds. It wasn't even garnering him any goodwill. Powerful mages would soon find themselves in need of Spider's assistance.

By now, the spectators had grasped that something unusual was occurring, and the mustachioed announcer droning overhead had also begun to understand. Mordred paid them little heed. He had never concerned himself with the opinions of others. However, it appeared Spider viewed matters differently.

For whatever unknown reason, he desired to be the subject of conversation.

And his objective was being met.