Raq de Duron hardened his expression.

‘…This bastard has definitely grown stronger since before.’

Even half a year ago, when they first clashed, the brute’s body had been absurdly sturdy.
Back then, Raq had to pour all his energy into the fight, yet still couldn’t gain the upper hand, forcing him to use his techniques.
After all, that was his specialty.

But now, even if he used those techniques again, he wasn’t confident he could fight this brute to a draw.
No, at the very least…

‘Fighting him barehanded would be disadvantageous now.’

Before, the brute had merely been tough—now he was solid.
Like high-quality steel, tempered hundreds of times in intense heat until perfection.

Raq never thought he’d feel this kind of awe toward another person.

In other words—

‘This bastard isn’t human.’

He’d already suspected this guy was strange, but now he’d evolved into something even more monstrous.

Raq reminded himself to avoid hand-to-hand combat if possible.

…Of course, if a situation arose where he had to fight barehanded, he had no intention of backing down.

“Damn, your eyes look downright murderous.”
“…You’re one to talk.”

Raq furrowed his brows and lowered his spear.
Normally, he wouldn’t withdraw so easily, but unfortunately, his opponent today wasn’t this brute.
No—the ones he had to aim his spear at were those arrogant, ignorant mages.
To wipe them out…

“Do you still see me as a burden?”

—He had no choice but to cooperate with this brute.

The brute shrugged.

“I never called you a burden. What the hell are you talking about?”
“You said, ‘I’ll handle it alone. Just wait here,’ and you’re telling me that wasn’t dismissive?”
“…It’s just more convenient to go alone.”
“That’s exactly what makes it dismissive, you bastard!”

Raq gritted his teeth.

He still hadn’t calmed down.

But what irritated him even more—

‘Without this bastard’s help, I can’t get into the Magic Tower.’

Just earlier, this brute had flicked away his spear with his forehead.
On top of that, he had strange abilities—

Techniques that bloomed flowers from his sword, moves that launched his body like an arrow.

And—

‘Walking through the air….’

Raq could roughly figure out how the technique worked, but it wasn’t the kind of delicate skill a knight trained in aura techniques should be able to use.

‘It’s probably about releasing energy with precision to create footholds.’

Still, for knights who relied on explosive bursts of power, using such a technique was incredibly difficult.

So—

“Take me with you, brute.”
“…That’s a pretty arrogant way to ask for a favor.”
“……”
“Whatever. Don’t just beg—show me. Prove you’re worth taking along.”
“……Don’t regret this.”

Whoosh!

Raq lunged forward with his spear once more.

*****

The spear thrust at him relentlessly.

It seemed to be coming in a straight line, yet it created countless variations in movement.
No matter which way he dodged, it felt like it would follow him anyway.

And sure enough—

Clang!

‘—Again?’

Ihan had been struck by the spear once more.

He hadn’t wanted to take the hit.
He dodged, yet still got hit.

Even with his exceptional reflexes and quick movements, avoiding this spear was difficult.

‘Its precision is more mechanical than human.’

Ihan began to understand why he couldn’t avoid the strikes.
It wasn’t because of some mysterious ability or aura technique.

It was purely because the spearman’s precision and skill had reached the peak of mastery—a level that couldn’t be imitated.

‘He’s not just thrusting. It’s calculated.’

Each strike wasn’t simply a lunge.
By coordinating his hands, elbows, shoulders, and even his back joints simultaneously, the spearman created attacks that were impossible to dodge.

Unlike Ihan, who prioritized raw physical capability over technique, this guy had invested everything into honing his craft.

Their styles were completely opposite, and Ihan couldn’t even imagine replicating such a refined technique.

Yet what impressed him even more than the spear’s perfection—

‘Prediction.’

This guy was smart.

If Ihan was the type to rely on instincts, superior senses, and combat experience, then this spearman was undoubtedly a strategist.

He fought as if he were playing chess—calculating every move.

And Ihan found strategists far more troublesome than instinctual fighters like himself.

In battles between warriors of similar skill, tactics often tipped the scale.

And—

‘This guy’s at least a Grandmaster.’

The spearman’s predictive skills reminded Ihan of chess grandmasters.

No matter how hard he tried, Ihan couldn’t stop the onslaught.

But even so, one thing still didn’t make sense—

‘How can he read my movements this perfectly?’

Ihan accepted that the spearman’s tactical foresight was exceptional.

But the way the spear chased him down, always anticipating where he’d go next—

‘This isn’t prediction. It’s clairvoyance.’

The attacks were so precise it felt like the spearman could see the future.

Realizing this, Ihan became certain—

The spearman had some other special ability.

Like Maximus, the Northern Champion, who possessed Heavenly Martial Physique, this spear-wielding monster had something similar.

Recalling their journey through the Red Mountain Range, Ihan felt like he’d figured out the secret.

“…Your ‘eyes’ are something else.”
“……”
“It’s not magic, is it? More like a technique passed down in Galahad’s lineage?”
“…You’re sharper than you look.”
“Hey, lay off the comments about my looks, will you? Judging people by appearances, seriously….”
“……Hmm, I suppose you’re right. That was wrong of me.”
“Wait, you actually know how to apologize?”
“A lord shouldn’t act like a brute, so my master taught me to own up to mistakes.”

Clang.

The spearman lowered his weapon.

Then—

“Have you ever heard of [Clairvoyant Sight]?”
“Huh? Uh… I think I’ve heard of it.”

The sudden question made Ihan pause, but he eventually nodded.

“It’s the ability to see thousands of miles away, right…?”
“Exactly 244 miles.”
“……”
“What?”
“…For god’s sake, use kilometers, damn it.”
“?”

Ihan felt his blood pressure rising.

*****

There are countless [Mystics] in this world.

Though only a handful of people possess them, the types of Mystics are as numerous as the stars.

Many are captivated by the power of Mystics.
Even Greg, whom Ihan captured, devoted his entire life to plundering Mystics, proving just how valuable they are.

However, while some resort to despicable means to obtain Mystics, others take a more upright approach—researching them to develop techniques that can utilize their powers.

For example—

“Galahad has always been serious about refining Mystics into techniques. Of course, the research process was difficult, and even when it succeeded, only a rare few could master it.”
“So you’re saying some people did master it?”
“Yes. Especially the successive commanders of Galahad’s knight order—they’re required to master it as a fundamental qualification.”
“Isn’t that bar a little too high?”
“Do you think someone could dare become Galahad’s knight commander without meeting that standard? It’s an absolute requirement.”
“……”

…It made sense why Galahad’s knights were so strong.

‘Of course, they’re strong when they only recruit people who can learn absurd things like that.’

Compared to them, the White Lion Knights were…

‘Ugh, that place is hopeless.’

The difference was too vast to even compare.
Ihan clicked his tongue, feeling suffocated just thinking about his former workplace.
But before he could dwell on it, Raq continued speaking.

“Galahad succeeded in transforming a total of 31 Mystics into techniques. Naturally, no one has mastered all of them, and even those who’ve fully learned just one or two are already considered exceptional.”
“How many have you mastered?”
“Seven.”
“…So this was just an excuse to brag?”
“You’re the one who asked, you brute!”
“Fine, I get it. You’ve got some fancy tricks.”
“…You’re not really one to talk.”

From Raq’s perspective, it was even more unbelievable that this brute stood there unharmed after taking his spear head-on.
Even without infusing killing intent, leaving no marks at all was an outright humiliation.

Swallowing his frustration, Raq pressed on.

“…Still, five of the seven techniques I mastered are focused entirely on my eyes.”
“Huh, that explains a lot.”

Now Ihan understood why Raq’s eyes had felt so unusual.
It also explained how he managed to lead them to the center without getting lost once.

Whether it was fog, earthquakes, or shifting terrain, Raq had navigated everything without hesitation.

‘So it’s basically Clairvoyant Sight mixed with other tricks.’

Hmm…

“Your eyes don’t turn red or grow jade-like markings around the pupils, do they?”
“…What nonsense are you talking about?”
“……It’s a thing.”

Ihan could tell.

Enhanced perception, movement prediction, environmental observation, and even extraordinary dynamic vision.

If this guy could copy techniques and shoot fire, he’d practically be a complete cheat character.

‘…Between that Northern bastard and this guy, what’s with all the hacks?’

One guy was built like Hercules, and the other had the ultimate eye weapon through sheer talent.

Seriously…

“Life’s just unfair. People without talent might as well give up.”
“……”
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“……”

Whoosh!

Crack!

“What now?”
“…You blocked it.”
“Of course I did.”
“…Tch.”

Raq thrust his spear again, and Ihan frowned, wondering why the hell he was acting up now.

Raq was sure of it.

‘This brute is a beast.’

Raq had observed every one of the brute’s movements.

His master, Lord Blake, had even named Raq’s ability “[Third Eye],” claiming it was unmatched.
Raq took pride in the fact that nothing could escape his eyes.

Yet—

‘He’s reacting faster than my eyes can track?’

It wasn’t human reflexes.

This brute had adapted to his speed in just a few exchanges.
If they continued fighting, the brute would eventually react even faster and might even start counterattacking effectively.

And yet, this brute had the gall to complain about lacking talent? Raq was livid.

‘Ridiculous!’

Raq was certain—

‘Forget instinct-type warriors. This guy’s an animal-type warrior….’

He had never seen anyone fight like this before.

Raq scowled, unable to believe he was feeling admiration for someone like this.

*****

After several clashes, time was running out.

Not because their leave was about to end.

‘Staying here any longer will only cause trouble.’

Even if the Empire was collapsing, even if rebels could appear at any moment, the Empire was still the Empire.

The largest population in the continent—about 500 million strong—and an empire that had lasted a thousand years.
If they wanted to, those lunatics would definitely figure out that someone from Pendragon was here.

And that was not something Ihan wanted.

So—

‘We’ll storm the Magic Tower and get out—fast.’

To do that—

“I’m guessing I’ll have to carry you up there, huh?”
“…That’s horrifying.”
“Tell me about it, you bastard.”

Ihan hated it, but there was no helping it.
He didn’t want to acknowledge it, but this guy’s skills were extraordinary.
Bringing him along would save time.

“We hit the Tower before dawn.”

Flinch!

“……”
“…Hey, kid. It’s fine to faint, but if you keep it up, your jaw might lock up.”
“……”
“Anyway, we’re leaving now. Sorry about the mess.”

Ihan hadn’t attacked the kid directly, but since he was indirectly responsible for the fainting, he offered a sincere apology before turning to leave.

They’d only slow him down if they stayed.

But just as he was about to step away—

“If… if you’re heading to the Magic Tower, going by air isn’t a good idea….”

“…?”

“There’s… there’s a powerful defensive spell in the front. Unless you’re a mage, you can’t break through. S-so, if you’re going inside….”

“……”

“…The next part will cost you… a small fee….”

“…Look at this little punk.”

This kid—

“You offering discounts? I’m a bit short on cash.”

He knew how to hustle.