I regressed and became the Sword Ice King

The air felt heavy.

Not the pressure kind of way caused by a suppression from mana or aura but something different.

Much more natural than the other.

This carried weight. Enough for it to be felt easily, but not so much that it suffocated them in its presence.

It simply hovered.

It existed, not as a warning nor a showcase of dominance, but as a reminder of their predicament.

Mana was gone.

The escalation of the explosion from outside was unknown to them. It left them clueless about the cause of their current situation, but real fighters knew how to adapt to changes.

Difficult or easy, they ride the tide. Pull up plans and contingencies for every flick of an action that could go horribly wrong.

Expected. Unexpected and any other.

It was natural to be prepared for anything, especially during conflict.

Mages. Warriors. Knights. They all carry the weight of their actions.

The consequence of failing to make due with the atmosphere around them– Death.

Ciara was well aware of this, as many mages before and after her.

In times when mana runs out, they are prone to danger.

They put their stats in constitution, intelligence and mana points.

Most times, leaving out their physical attributes.

It was ideal, yes, but that just left openings.

Too many openings.

Scenarios where control can be easily lost once mana is gone. Stripped of the magic they used to clothe themselves. Shield themselves.

They were Mages after all. It was expected.

'But that is wrong.'

Ciara's thoughts came rushing in.

Her breath was even. Her chest was slightly tensed while her arms held up for the masked figures to see.

Though, her fingers said something different.

'Mages who refuse to work on their physical forms simply make excuses.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with having physical back-up when mana is lost.'

A smile nudged at the edge of her lips.

'In fact. It's what brings us closer to being the humans we are.'

As the air grew stale, tension grew.

With the passing tide of time, the masked figures continued to stand wary.

Ciara observed them with the slow movement of her pupils.

She calculated. Accounted for. Made notes and soon, her gaze landed squarely in front of her.

Satisfaction etched in her expression. Subtly.

The masked figures closed in.

One by one. Holding their weapons tightly. Guns.

These weren't unfamiliar weapons, but their usage was limited to a few. Nobles. High-ranked Knights. Warriors. Special classes.

It varied. It was different, but that didn't make it any less of a rarity to the public.

It was called a difficult weapon to use, and slow in many ways, but in a time like this, where neither magic nor skill worked.

It served well.

And yet, in her midst. Over ten masked figures wielded it.

Not with the amateurish gesture you would expect from a newbie, but with actual veteran carefulness and experience.

They knew what they were doing and they knew how to use it.

One of the masked figures who stood next to her looked her over.

He tilted his head and glanced at another in the opposite direction.

"Ciara Merlin?" it said. A male voice projected into the air.

"Merlin?" another repeated. Far back from the group.

He stood above them, along the edge of an iron platform. Just in front of an opening leading to the internal district of the pipeway.

The first looked up.

"Yes. I can confirm it since we were given notes on their features." He explained.

"Oh~" one teased. "Must be our lucky day. The Mermaid princess and now the Witch of the West's Daughter? This will fetch a hefty price in the North."

Another hissed bitterly as he struck the former in the head.

"Are you stupid? This is the Rhakar's captives. Don't think of anything other than the Task."

The former grumbled while the rest of the group remained silent.

They seemed contemplative.

Or at least Ciara noted.

Their expressions were well hidden but that didn't mean they were completely unreadable.

Hand movements. Body language. Heartbeat. Muscles twitching.

If one had enough practice and listened well enough, it would be possible to see through any living human.

'And without mana….everyone here is practically an open book.'

The first sighed. Grabbing one of her while pressing the gun firmly on the side of her head.

"Enough. We tie her up with the others. Let the Rhakar deal with this."

The one opposite nodded and grabbed her other arm.

Pressing it tightly to her back.

She squirmed. Sucked in air through her teeth from the pain when the gun pressed firmer.

"Ah…" the first said. He raised his head to her eye level.

Inching his face closer to hers.

"Don't even think of moving, Princess."

Ciara stared at him. Expression blank.

A plain sheet of canvas took root on her face as she drew her gaze away from him.

She let her thoughts play out for a second. And then, her lips.

"You know, these aren't the type of guns you use up close."

The first looked her over. Then, instinctively, he shifted his eyes to his gun.

'What?'

He glanced back at her. Amusement and confusion took root as he tilted his head slightly.

She smirked.

He raised a brow.

She moved.

Sudden and quick.

Her arms dug into the man's skin before he could react. Adrenaline surging into her limbs as she pulled him towards herself while swinging her knee upwards

-CRACK!

The man whipped his head back as a scream died in his throat.

Eyes bulged open far beyond their elasticity as a forbidden pain bloomed from the spot that was not meant to be touched. Unless to please.

The others had their expressions distorted, visibly. Horror and shock are taking root in their very being.

It sent a shiver down their spines. Ice and electricity ran down their bones to the bottom, where they clasped their legs instinctively.

The man felt it.

The men felt it worse.

And like that, a moment passed before they could process her retaliation.

'Hah....works everytime.' Ciara had already begun to perform her next act when they found the time to recover from her former.

Still, it was too slow.

The pain squirmed like a rabid dog through the man's body. Sending signals down to his brain as his body went into a static shock for a second.

He mumbled low words and guttural screams. Words of pain that could not be described by any other but themselves.

A second was all Ciara needed.

She manoeuvred her body around the man while he dropped the gun and clung to the area of assault.

Giving her more than enough breathing room to suddenly tilt his body over hers while she extended her arm past him.

Then, she grabbed the gun and clung tightly behind him when the world snapped in a chorus of gunfire.

"SHIT! FIRE ALREADY!!"

-BANG! -BANG!! -BANG!!!

Gunpowder and something more. Mana dust.

Ignited into the air as bullets ran through the man's body like a rag doll.

The man screamed a final cry as he was ravaged by it in seconds.

Holes peering through every corner of his being before he could even dart an eye to get a better view.

Pain. Vivid and visceral was the last emotion he ever felt before his world went crimson.

Just before it turned dark.

Meanwhile, Ciara continued to huddle behind the man's body.

Holding the man's abandoned weapon close to her body.

She groaned.

Opened her eyes and turned around.

A bolt grazed the air. A snap past her ear that whistled with an electric hum.

It struck the pipeline in her presence with a metallic clang.

A small explosion of sound occurred as she turned away immediately.

She gasped in shock from the gunshot.

Her gaze shifted to the pipeline before her. A powerful dent was left by the fusion of magical alloy and earth. The infusion bullets.

These were mana crafted. Made with a kind of magic that had not yet been revealed to the public.

There was a reason for that of course, and Ciara was well aware of it.

'Oh, what am I kidding?! Of course they're using it properly.'

She glanced at the gun, narrowing her gaze while she did so.

'This. This should be a Shelby Miniput…'

Images of blueprints. Thousands flourished in her head.

Weapons of mass destruction. Forged from a fusion of magic tech and mana alloys. The barrel was a metallic silver. Glowing with shades of gold from the runes that lined it.

Mages weren't Rune masters. No, this was a class far rarer than even Psychic Mages.

These were artefacts obtained through the means of one more Great Family whose history lies in confusion more than understanding.

The Techna Household.

Weapons of such delicacies were infused with mana cores.

Vibrant hollow orbs filled with mana dust. A grounded version of the mana rocks.

Extremely explosive in usage.

These were the main parts of a gun. Any gun, well crafted by their hands.

They all were.

'Though, we lose nearly half a portion every year…'

It was no surprise. After all, weapons like this were far different from swords.

They bolstered the strength of Adventurers, Merchants. The Nobles, especially those who required it when levelling up.

For a moment, she had been lost in the deep well of information that forged her memories of the weapon she held.

But in the next moment, she was snapped out of it.

Brought forcefully by the quiet that hung in the air like the aftertaste of your first hangover.

It drove her mad. But her control was resilient.

Holding his figure up still, she turned back, slowly. Very slowly.

Then her eyes lit up.

The source of the silence had become clear to her, and better still, it came with good news.

A wicked grin traced her lips.

'Hah, finally….they're reloading.'

The time to attack was now.