#Chapter 129
—
The strength of a mage depends on how long they have trained.
A mage who trained for 10 years could kindle a flame.
A mage who trained for 50 years could hurl that flame.
A mage who trained for 100 years could harness that flame freely.
Then what of a mage who trained for 1,000 years?
No one could answer that question.
For a human’s lifespan could never reach 1,000 years.
Even the great archmages whose names were etched into history lived less than 200 years at most.
And yet, some would say—
if a human did live for a thousand years, and devoted every moment of that span solely to magic, would they not rival even a \[Dragon]?
It was a plausible speculation.
But meaningless all the same.
Because no human mage had ever lived a thousand years.
—
—
Arthur stared at Whitebeard standing before him and thought,
‘This might be doable.’
When he had first met Whitebeard, the man hadn’t even been able to think of raising his sword.
But now things were different.
He was still a colossal wall, but not one Arthur thought insurmountable.
What rose within him was not fear, but the urge to challenge.
So Arthur drew his sword without hesitation.
Kii-ring—!
The crimson blade devoured the darkness.
As Whitebeard unconsciously gazed, spellbound, at the bizarre flame, Arthur spoke.
“Shall we begin, Mr. Whitebeard?”
Snapping back to himself, Whitebeard chuckled faintly.
“You really are… quite the unusual one.”
“Hearing that from you, I can’t say it feels pleasant.”
“…It bothers you, coming from me?”
“Yes. Isn’t someone who’s lived a thousand years far more unusual?”
At Arthur’s remark, Whitebeard blinked.
“…Hrm. You’re not wrong.”
Nodding slowly, Whitebeard smiled.
“Then tell me—what level of being do you suppose a mage who’s lived a thousand years would be?”
At those words, the temple shook.
Ku-ku-ku-ku—!
The ground beneath them quaked violently, and from the mural-carved walls, ancient dust crumbled down.
Amid the upheaval, Arthur leapt lightly into the air.
Bang—!
A bullet from *Beast* hurtled toward Whitebeard.
But just as before, it froze a finger’s breadth away.
‘What is this? Some sort of special magic?’
Arthur tilted his head and swung his demonic sword again.
The blade shot forth like a whip, aiming for Whitebeard’s throat.
“My, my.”
With a pained groan, Whitebeard merely shifted his neck aside.
By a hair’s breadth, the strike missed.
Arthur’s brow furrowed—then suddenly, he felt scorching heat.
Glancing down, his eyes widened at the sight of molten lava bubbling up from the cracked earth.
“This will sting.”
With Whitebeard’s warning, hellfire surged upward.
Whooosh—!
Watching leisurely, Whitebeard thought,
‘He shouldn’t be dead. Let’s see what he shows me this time.’
Perhaps he was regenerating his body with the troll’s bloodline, as he had before?
The infernal flames soon subsided, leaving ashes drifting in the air.
Peering through them, Whitebeard suddenly burst into laughter.
Arthur stood there, his body encased in a barrier of crimson blood.
“Ah, yes… I had forgotten. The bloodline of the Vampire Lord!”
Dusting ash from himself, Arthur asked,
“You’re familiar with this bloodline?”
“Of course. The king of all vampires. Ruler of darkness. The blood of one of the few beings truly worthy of the title of king in this world.”
Arthur let out a whistle.
“If it’s something even you speak of that way, it must be extraordinary.”
“Indeed. Second only to Dragon Blood, the blood of dragons themselves.”
Arthur’s lips curved.
“Well then… this should be fun. Shall we go again?”
At those words, Arthur vanished.
Whitebeard swiftly chanted a spell, cloaking himself in a barrier.
Klang—!
Arthur’s demonic sword clashed violently with it.
In that struggle of strength, Arthur focused his mind.
‘That monster Ian became… how did it fight?’
Yes—he had fought using his blood.
The moment he recalled it, something surged up the blade.
Arthur’s eyes widened as his sword quivered violently.
‘Oh? My blood has coated the blade!’
And it didn’t stop there.
As soon as his blood covered the sword, Whitebeard’s barrier began to crack.
Arthur did not hesitate. He slashed down.
Whoosh—!
But Whitebeard had already pulled back, swinging his staff.
Kreeeee—!
A pale apparition shrieked, lunging at Arthur.
‘A wraith?’
Arthur tilted his head and vaulted upward.
But the ghostly mass pursued him relentlessly.
‘Touching it would be dangerous.’
Trusting his instincts, Arthur spun the ring on his chest and drew out sword energy.
He cleaved the apparition in a single stroke.
Kreeee—!
The ghost wailed and vanished.
Once more, Whitebeard roared with laughter.
“Sword aura! And from the mana I feel—you’ve reached the 6th Circle now!”
So calm, so unhurried.
Arthur scratched his head.
“You’re quite troublesome, Mr. Whitebeard.”
“Well, I should be troublesome.”
“That’s true.”
Nodding, Arthur sprang forward.
Watching, Whitebeard’s lips curled.
‘He’s changed. Is he serious now?’
And Arthur’s aura-wreathed sword came crashing down.
Whitebeard tried to dodge as before.
But Arthur’s strike was faster.
Slaash—!
The robe on Whitebeard’s shoulder was sliced open.
Whitebeard’s eyes widened at the anomaly.
Arthur whispered,
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice forever?”
Whitebeard reached out in haste.
A violent wave erupted, bursting Arthur’s eardrums.
For a moment his vision swam.
But his sword did not stop.
Schaak—!
Arthur’s blade cut across Whitebeard’s shoulder.
Landing opposite him, Arthur watched blood trickle down.
Whitebeard gave a hollow laugh.
“How did you know? That I manipulate time?”
Arthur wiped his sword clean.
“It wasn’t hard. Strikes that should have landed kept missing.”
Whitebeard’s eyes narrowed.
“And from that alone, you discerned my magic?”
“For a swordsman, that’s more than enough.”
Arthur lifted his blade again.
“Next time, it’ll be your neck, Mr. Whitebeard. Watch yourself.”
The smile faded from Whitebeard’s face.
Expressionless now, he muttered low.
“…A bug, how irritating.”
—
—
Arthur’s sword swung down.
A blade sheathed in sword aura and Vampire Lord’s blood pounded Whitebeard’s barrier.
Craaaack—!
Shattered, the barrier dissolved into fragments of light.
Whitebeard took to the air.
‘Tch… aerial combat is troublesome.’
Without his space-leaping bloodline, his time aloft was limited.
Then Arthur’s sword vibrated.
His eyes widened—his body was floating of its own accord.
“Oh?”
Arthur gave a cry of surprise as his body chased Whitebeard through the sky, regardless of his will.
‘Is this the Vampire Lord’s power?’
Recalling Leon’s words—that the Vampire Lord was a masterful mage as well—Arthur nodded.
‘Not so surprising then.’
Smiling faintly, he bent his knees.
Bang—!
Launching off an invisible foothold, Arthur shot forward and slashed.
Expressionless, Whitebeard waved a hand.
From the void, dozens of blades erupted, blocking the strike.
Clang-clang-clang—!
Locked in struggle, Arthur suddenly leapt higher.
Cutting through the wall of blades, he aimed at Whitebeard’s throat.
‘Slow at first… then swift.’
Against one who manipulated time, ordinary attacks were useless.
‘Mix in the unexpected.’
Just as his blade neared Whitebeard’s neck—something burst from his abdomen.
A black tentacle.
“Ugh!?”
Arthur’s body convulsed as the tentacle writhed within him.
Coughing blood, he redirected his sword and severed it.
Slice—!
It fell away easily.
But Whitebeard’s shadow spewed forth countless more.
Shaaah—!
Spears and blades of tentacles surged at Arthur.
Clicking his tongue, Arthur licked the blood at his lips and raised *Beast*.
Boom—!
The shot roared, smoke rising.
Whitebeard murmured,
“Come forth, my octopus.”
From the shadow, a massive creature emerged.
Like an octopus, yet monstrously grotesque—its size enough to swallow a building whole.
Arthur blinked.
“Whoa… that’s huge. What in the world did it eat to get that big?”
Whitebeard gave no answer.
Instead, he blasted through the ceiling and soared upward.
Watching his retreat, Arthur thought,
‘Best not to give a mage time.’
He summoned his two spirits.
\[W-what the—!?]
\[H-Heavens above… what is that!?]
Undine and Gnome gawked at the monstrous beast.
Arthur commanded,
“Cook that octopus for me, will you? Gnome, Undine.”
The beast immediately lunged at them.
\[Aaaaagh!]
As their cries rang out, Arthur pursued Whitebeard.
Tap—!
Through the opened ceiling, he returned to the underground city.
Whitebeard hovered there, eyes closed.
‘This time, I’ll cut him.’
Arthur struck—but his blow was blocked.
A tail had sprung from Whitebeard’s back, intercepting the sword.
Whitebeard opened his eyes.
“…It’s been a long time since I’ve taken this form.”
From his back, two black wings unfurled.
“…Oh?”
Arthur raised *Beast* at him.
But his vision wavered—and the shot went astray.
“Huh?”
Arthur shook his head, struggling to steady his sight.
But his body no longer obeyed him.
Whitebeard whispered,
“Humans can only accept what lies within their realm of sense.”
Arthur forced his gaze upward.
There stood Whitebeard, transformed into a monster bathed in crimson.
His jaw trembled. One thought rose:
‘A demon.’
That was what Whitebeard now seemed.
And Whitebeard whispered,
“But what happens when one sees what lies beyond sense? Have you ever thought of that, Arthur Bayern?”
—
—
In Arthur’s vision, Whitebeard’s face distorted—hideous, unspeakable.
He cackled, and the more he laughed, the worse Arthur’s nausea and dizziness became.
‘This is like when I saw Ian transformed… but worse.’
Back then, he could still move.
Now, he couldn’t even twitch.
Whitebeard asked again,
“What happens when you see what lies beyond sense? Ever wondered, Arthur Bayern?”
Arthur barely managed to respond.
“No… but is there really such a thing as beyond sense?”
“Are you not looking at it now?”
“……”
“Tell me—what do I look like to you?”
Arthur whispered,
“A demon… aren’t you?”
Whitebeard smiled.
“Yes. A demon.”
“And that’s why my sight’s trembling?”
“Exactly. When humans gaze upon the unknown, they fear. Their ego collapses. They go mad. That’s no weakness of will—
it’s the limit of the human race itself.”
As he spoke, his face twisted grotesquely.
The world twisted with it.
Boom—!
Darkness spread, chilling the air and devouring light.
Red lightning split the storm clouds gathering over the underground city.
Arthur gaped. Whitebeard laughed.
“It ends here, Arthur Bayern.”
He stepped forward slowly.
“No matter who you are, in this state, you can do nothing. In the end, you’re still human.”
Arthur thought,
‘I can’t move… because I’m facing a demon.’
No—because he was seeing something beyond sense.
He tilted his head.
‘But… is that really beyond sense?’
Then blinked.
‘Haven’t I seen monsters like this every day back then?’
In the days he’d gone mad—
when slaughtering Dormund humans—
many had transformed into shapes just like this.
So to Arthur, it wasn’t truly surprising.
In fact, it would be strange to fear creatures he’d seen so often.
Realizing that, his body twitched.
Whitebeard flinched in shock.
Arthur flexed his fist.
“…Oh? I can move just fine.”
It was no illusion. His body listened again. His vision steadied.
Arthur’s lips curled upward.
Whitebeard’s face contorted in horror.
“Y-you! How are you moving!?”
Arthur turned and replied,
“Hm… not sure myself. But one thing’s certain. This isn’t my first time seeing that form, Mr. Whitebeard.”
“What? Not your first time?”
“Yes.”
Whitebeard’s eyes went wide.
“You’ve… seen a demon before? Where?”
Arthur smiled faintly.
“Every day.”
“…?”
“Every day, I saw that form. So… it doesn’t surprise me much.”
Whitebeard fell silent.
And Arthur narrowed his eyes.
For the first time since meeting him,
the thousand-year-old black mage Whitebeard showed a hint of fear.
—
.
