Chapter 203
Getting back into the rhythm of his daily life didn't take long. Nick transitioned from battling monsters and wandering through the grassland in search of demons to assisting with chores and refining his emotional control.
[Spirit Blast] proved to be a highly versatile weapon, enabling him to deliver a wide range of conditions, from complete paralysis to mere discomfort.
It also provided him with a non-lethal skill that he could use in practice, allowing him to finally use magic during sparring with his parents without the fear of serious injuries.
Not that he was winning much.
His mother seemed to have discovered a new drive as of late, pushing herself hard in both martial skills and the Stalking Gait.
Whenever she had the opportunity, she attempted to catch him off guard, appearing and disappearing as if from thin air.
Of course, she couldn't overcome [Empyrean Intuition], at least not at her current level of mastery, but that only seemed to fuel her further.
Eugene, on the other hand, proved to be a very different sparring partner. After the first couple of days, during which he mostly practiced control to ensure he wouldn't accidentally incinerate someone by glaring in their direction, he was very willing to help Nick try his hand at high-level combat.
He hadn't exactly expected to win. His father's new power made that a complicated proposition, at the very least. But he thought that with his versatile skill set, he might catch him off guard once in a while.
Unfortunately, that proved to be wishful thinking, as Eugene never struggled for more than a moment against the various esoteric effects Nick could summon.
At one point, in a fit of frustration, Nick had even unleashed more dangerous spells, such as [Jet Stream], but they only served to push his old man back for a moment, after which he once again easily overwhelmed his every defense.
Possibly the most frustrating aspect of this whole debacle was that Nick had to acknowledge that his tactic of staying still and tanking damage while unleashing his magic was no longer viable, at least when facing opponents who outclassed him so heavily.
[Wind Armor] and [Force Barrier] were both powerful spells, and his experience with them meant that Elena had to concentrate on offense at the expense of everything else to have any chance of damaging them. However, Eugene only needed a casual swipe with his sword to break through.
His latest attempt to regain his defensive superiority by enveloping himself in several layers of [Wind Armor]—rather than just the single layer he had used previously—seemed the most promising. It had withstood Eugene's probing strikes with little more than moderate strain, which he could patch up in real time. However, after Nick stopped focusing entirely on the seven interlocking spells and tried to attack, he was immediately punished for his hubris.
It wasn't so much that he couldn't see the attack coming; [Empyrean Intuition] allowed him to see his father move in almost painful detail, since he still hadn't figured out the complete suppression that the other local Prestige-tier could manage, but that didn't help much when Nick simply couldn't move out of the way fast enough.
Eugene's sword, which until now had remained a blunt piece of wood, merely enhanced by his passive power, ignited for a fraction of a second.
It wouldn't hold out much longer, as the material simply wasn't designed to withstand such temperatures, but it was still sufficient for his purposes.
Nick saw it approach, and despite his best efforts to abort the [Spirit Blast] barrage he'd prepared to dedicate himself to pure defense, he could do nothing but watch as the burning wood parted the layers of condensed wind as if they were nothing but paper-thin, inexorably advancing until it stopped an inch from his throat.
"And that's my win," Eugene smiled, pleased.
It took Nick a moment to unclench his metaphysical muscles, but eventually, he nodded, exhaling a sigh. Letting go of his broken spells felt like giving up, but evidently, quantity was not a sufficient response to quality in this case.
"That took more effort, you know? I wouldn't have broken through without using fire," his father offered, staring forlornly at the only remaining portion of his training sword, the hilt. Everything else had burned to a cinder under the strain of holding his power, and given that this was the third sword he had destroyed in this training session alone, he was starting to rack up quite a record.
It was fortunate that this type of weapon could be bought on the market for only a few coppers. Otherwise, they would go bankrupt if this continued.
Nick smiled wanly, grateful for the attempt to cheer him up, but his mind was already working furiously to devise another way to defend himself.
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His shields had held up well so far. Hell, he'd even managed to hold back the tide of alchemical fire that was the Rubedo stage of the failed Philosopher's Stone, but it had required every ounce of his attention to achieve and every minuscule amount of mana he could muster.
That was not a replicable strategy in battle. If he invested all his efforts in defense, he would never be able to attack, and thus he would eventually be worn down.
No matter how much he had grown and how infinitely more abundant his current reserves were compared to what he had been used to on Earth, they were not endless. Eventually, he would run out, and then he would lose.
I should have realized as much after the fight with the demon. That damn thing completely ignored my barriers as if they weren't there. But then I figured out spiritual magic and got distracted…
Was that a viable solution? Creating a shield with his spiritual affinity wouldn't be easy, given its ephemeral nature. However, he believed that channeling the right emotions might allow him to do it.
But is this the right approach? I've been considering that quantity alone isn't sufficient. Expanding my repertoire is certainly a good thing, but what I truly need is not more, but better ones.
In time, he was confident he would be able to develop such magic. He had already come a long way since he started, but could he wait that long?
"You know, sometimes you do this thing when people are talking to you, where you just zone out. I don't mind, but some might think you are ignoring them." Eugene said with an amused smile, and Nick forcibly brought himself back to reality. He wouldn't figure out advanced magic just by daydreaming anyway.
"Sorry, I've been trying to come up with a better spell to defend against your strikes," he admitted.
Eugene gave him an odd look before ruefully chuckling. "I guess I shouldn't be too surprised you are that ambitious, given how far you've come in such a short time, but you shouldn't punish yourself for not achieving the impossible. You do know that I'm a lot stronger now than I used to be, right? Blocking the strike of a Prestige-tier warrior isn't something even powerful mages are capable of. Not without a lot of preparation, at least."
Nick had the impression that his father was attempting to be sensitive, but his words still struck him deeply. Is it really impossible? Is the gap between ranks so unbridgeable?
No, he knew the answer to that wasn't so simple. They had managed to kill the Moss Oni, after all, and none of those who participated had been close to Prestige. Eugene had been the closest, and back then, he had only been in the eighties.
"My new class alone gave me a trait that makes me basically unbeatable by anyone below Prestige," he continued, and Nick raised an eyebrow, urging him on. Though they had trained together, his father had yet to share specifics, and he was very eager to learn what he'd ended up with.
"[A Drake's Tyranny] is its name. It ensures that every one of my blows is automatically enhanced with my Aura."
"Ah, so you are pitting the entirety of your existence against mine, even for such a basic attack," Nick murmured. That explained why his shields had fallen so easily.
"Yes, that's basically the theme of my new class. Knight of Drakefire doesn't make it easy for me to hold back, let's just say that. It's not that your spells are bad; it's just that everything I do has been enhanced to such a degree that common spells fall apart on contact."
Nick nodded, especially since it supported his theory. My shields are bad. Or rather, I managed to make them decent through sheer skill, but the underlying spell… that is of low quality.
After all, he had personally developed spells that were simply better than others. [Wind Blast], for instance, was neither particularly powerful nor versatile. He could somewhat compensate for this by using his overall control over the air to adjust both trajectory and power, but in a vacuum, the spell remained simplistic and limited.
[Jet Stream] was significantly better. It responded more swiftly, delivered a greater punch, and had a penetrating effect that allowed it to exceed its category.
The mana cost of both was relatively negligible these days. He could spam them in succession repeatedly as needed. So, what was different between them?
[Vacuum Sphere] is not a good comparison because it requires significantly more power. Clearly, there are more refined components within its spell matrix, but the mana draw makes comparisons less clear.
"Alright, I see we won't be getting anywhere," Eugene chuckled as he walked over to the sword rack to fetch another one for himself.
Nick hardly blinked, too lost in his thoughts.
In addition to training and helping around the house, another way Nick spent his time was by bonding with Talbot.
The little spirit cat had not grown physically since he had been summoned, as his size and appearance were tied to the contract they shared, but he had become more powerful.
Nick had noticed as much through the new bond they shared whenever they made contact, which was pretty often, given how much the cat enjoyed being petted.
In the past, he had been a fleeting presence, primarily connected to the real world through Nick's magic; now, he had a more substantial and weighty existence.
Some of it was that he had consumed several spirits over the past few months. Both with Nick to protect him during his rituals and on his own, whenever he encountered a stray one during his patrols.
In other words, Talbot had gotten a bit fatter. It was kind of cute, but Nick wanted to know exactly what that meant. So, while he waited for the week to end and for things to start happening again, he accompanied Talbot on his patrols.
At first, the cat seemed surprised, but soon became pleased when he realized it could lead to more attention and better food.
Thanks to [Empyrean Intuition], Nick was able to communicate more effectively, turning their patrols into bonding moments.
"What about that one?" He asked, looking through the layers at a bubbling sphere of amusement and whimsy as it floated through the ether.
"Meow," Talbot affirmed, declaring it worthy prey.
His mode of speech hadn't changed, but Nick's understanding of each meow had evolved, becoming much more nuanced. Previously, he would have thought it was merely acceptance, but now he recognized that Talbot had expressed both willingness and a judgment about the spirit's worth.
Decoding every nuance was still a work in progress, but he was getting there.
"Alright, do you want me to hold it?"
"Meeeow," Talbot replied with a sniff of disdain, almost offended.
Nick chuckled and stepped back, waving him on.
The cat paused to stretch his haunches, lifting his blue rear into the air and looking nothing like the fierce hunter Nick knew him to be, before his form became almost transparent as he shifted from the material world into the ether.
That was another thing that surprised him. Nick knew that powerful spirits could break through the layers, as he'd seen with the demon, but that wasn't a common ability. Most often, even they needed assistance to cross from one state to another.
Talbot didn't seem to need help. Whether that was due to his connection to Nick or his innate ability was difficult to determine. Perhaps it was a combination of both, but the outcome was the same.
In the blink of an eye, the blue cat vanished, replaced by a majestic tiger with blue fur streaked with darker stripes. His eyes glimmered like molten silver, and anyone with spiritual senses would recognize him as a formidable predator.
The little spirit of childish joy didn't even have time to realize it was in danger, not that it could have processed such an emotion, before it was jumped.
With a roar that shook the ether, Talbot tore a chunk from it, spilling whimsy like blood, and feasted on his prey.
Wow, if someone saw this without knowing us, they'd think we are the bad guys.