Infinite Mana - Chapter 172: A Familiar Stance (Thank you for your support, Ar It!) (Patreon)

Sieghart did not bother waiting inside the carriage once the bandits decided to approach him. He released the steering wheel, and jumped down onto the road without showing even the slightest hesitation.

That finally changed the atmosphere around the robbery. Until then, the bandits had probably assumed they were dealing with another frightened traveler who would surrender once enough weapons surrounded him. Instead, the apparently fifteen-year-old boy had willingly left the protection of an expensive carriage and landed directly in front of several armed men as though he had been waiting for them.

The nearest bandit slowed almost imperceptibly. His expression remained aggressive, but Sieghart noticed his grip tightening around his spear while he glanced toward the others for reassurance.

Someone had found them. Someone had seen exactly what they were doing. And that someone was neither screaming for help nor attempting to escape before six armed criminals could decide whether leaving witnesses was inconvenient.

Sieghart understood why that made them uneasy. He looked young, relatively thin beneath his dark traveling coat, and carried no visible weapon despite standing within striking distance.

That combination should have made him easy prey. Instead, he looked bored.

The bandits spread around him carefully, forming an incomplete circle between the carriage and the robbed wagon while keeping enough distance that nobody interfered with another attacker. Sieghart glanced over his shoulder once. The old couple remained near their damaged wagon, watched by two of the remaining men while the injured horse struggled weakly nearby.

Nobody had started killing hostages simply because he appeared. That gave him room to work.

Mana gathered beside both of Sieghart’s hands before condensing into two long translucent blades. Their edges shimmered with pale magical light while narrow runic-like patterns moved through the weapons. The bandits froze for half a second. Sieghart caught both Mana Swords by their hilts.

He lowered his center of gravity, placed one foot slightly behind the other, and raised both weapons into a loose fighting stance rather than immediately covering the road in Fireballs. He had never considered himself a swordsman. Summoning Magic made the weapons convenient, and training had taught him enough basic handling to avoid looking completely incompetent.

Against these three, basic competence should be more than sufficient. The spearman apparently disagreed.

“Kill the brat before he casts anything else. Don’t give a mage time to think, and don’t stand there waiting for him to finish another spell.”

All three attacked together. The spearman drove forward first, using his greater reach to force Sieghart backward while the swordsman immediately moved toward his left side and the axe wielder circled toward the right.

That coordination was better than Sieghart expected. Still slow. Focus sharpened his perception. The spearhead moved toward his chest, the sword rose toward his neck, and one axe came downward at an angle clearly intended to bury itself through his shoulder.

Sieghart did not block. Three Glacial Fists appeared almost simultaneously. They materialized beside the attackers’ heads rather than near Sieghart, floating fists of dense blue-white ice already positioned exactly where he wanted them.

The bandits noticed too late. Each Glacial Fist moved less than a meter. That was enough. The first slammed into the spearman’s temple with a brutal crack, snapping his head sideways before the thrusting weapon could reach Sieghart’s chest.

The second struck the swordsman from the opposite direction, crushing against his skull while freezing white frost spread through his hair and across one side of his face. The third Glacial Fist smashed into the axe wielder’s temple just as he began the downward swing, staggering him badly enough that both weapons slipped from his hands.

Their attacks stopped within centimeters of Sieghart. The spearhead hung beside his coat. The broken rhythm lasted less than a second. Sieghart raised one Mana Sword while Wind Magic gathered around the opposite hand.

Three Wind Blades crossed the distance.

The first passed through the stunned spearman’s neck so cleanly that his head remained attached for a fraction of a second before sliding sideways. The second struck the swordsman immediately afterward, opening a perfectly horizontal line beneath his jaw before the compressed air continued into the road beyond him.

The third bandit recovered just enough to understand what happened. He tried stepping backward. Too late. Sieghart’s final Wind Blade crossed his throat. Three heads separated almost together. Blood erupted from the exposed necks in violent red streams, splashing across the dirt road while the headless bodies remained standing through nothing except momentum.

Then they fell. One collapsed forward. Another dropped onto his knees before tipping sideways. The last landed heavily beside his axes while blood continued pumping across the ground beneath him.

Sieghart remained exactly where he had been standing. His Mana Swords had not even touched them. The remaining bandits stared. The old woman near the wagon covered her mouth with one hand, while her husband pulled her closer despite looking just as shocked. Even the injured horse reacted to the sudden smell of blood, shifting weakly against the grass before pain forced it still again.

The two robbers guarding the couple stepped backward instinctively. Neither had looked particularly brave before. Now they looked like men who had suddenly realized the teenager they intended to rob had killed three people before any of them could complete a single attack.

Sieghart lowered one Mana Sword slightly.

“They were stronger before they lost their heads, if that makes either of you feel better about what just happened.”

Neither answered him. The leader finally moved. He had been watching from beside the wagon throughout the entire exchange, his earlier indifference replaced by an expression Sieghart could not read immediately.

It was not fear. That made things more interesting. The man turned fully toward Sieghart and studied the three corpses scattered across the road before looking at the floating traces of ice melting around their heads.

His eyes moved toward the Mana Swords next.

Then toward Sieghart’s face.

“Who exactly are you? No ordinary traveling mage kills three armed men that cleanly without even stepping away from where he started.”

Sieghart considered the question while allowing both summoned swords to remain active. Using his full name was still unnecessary, and explaining his connection to Lunar Arc would defeat half the purpose of traveling disguised. He eventually shrugged.

“I’m someone who wanted to take a nap this morning, but your nonsense made enough noise that even hiding inside a grove didn’t help.”

The leader’s eyebrows lowered slightly. Sieghart glanced toward the wounded horse and the elderly couple before returning his attention to the man standing beside their stolen cargo.

“This region really does seem to have a bandit problem, but apparently none of you are impressive enough to attack people who can actually fight back.”

One remaining robber tightened his grip around a knife. Sieghart looked toward him. The man immediately loosened it again. That almost made Sieghart smile. He pointed one Mana Sword toward the bloodied road between them, where the first three bodies lay beside their separated heads.

“Come on, then. I’ll bury you beside the others afterward, because scum should stay together instead of making decent people deal with the smell separately.”

The leader stared at him for several seconds. Then he laughed. It was not especially loud or amused. The sound resembled somebody finally confirming something interesting after spending too long surrounded by predictable people.

“You’ve got quite a mouth for someone who looks young enough that I should be asking where your parents are instead of whether you want to die.”

Sieghart tilted his head slightly.

“My parents would probably agree with you, which is one of several reasons I’m not particularly interested in hearing their opinion.”

That answer earned another brief pause. The Aura user finally reached toward the sword resting against his shoulder and shifted his grip around the dark leather handle. He drew the weapon completely. The blade was longer than Sieghart originally realized, with a broad single edge near the base that narrowed gradually toward a slightly curved point.

There were several chips along the metal, but none looked accidental enough to suggest poor maintenance. This was a weapon that had struck enough hard things to stop caring about appearances.

Sieghart expected the man to raise it with both hands. Instead, the leader held the weapon with only his right. He moved one foot backward. Then the other. His right shoulder rotated slightly away from Sieghart while the sword lowered beside his hip, blade angled backward instead of pointing directly toward its opponent.

His left arm extended ahead. Not completely. The elbow remained slightly bent while the open hand hovered between them, almost pointing toward Sieghart as though measuring the distance.

The stance looked strange compared with the swordsmanship Sieghart had seen in this world.

Most heavy Aura users preferred direct guards that allowed immediate reinforcement through both arms, especially when wielding weapons large enough to benefit from overwhelming strength.

This looked different. Lighter. Deceptively relaxed. Sieghart narrowed his eyes. Something about the posture bothered his memory. He had seen something similar before. Not in this life. The realization came slowly.

One-handed blade drawn backward. Off-hand extended forward for balance, distance judgment, distraction, or controlling the opponent’s perception of range. The exact style refused to surface from memory, but the stance belonged to something much closer to old-world fencing than the Aura swordsmanship Sieghart usually encountered.

“That’s familiar.”

The leader’s eyes narrowed.

“You recognize it?”

Sieghart did not answer immediately. He shifted his Mana Swords slightly while examining the man’s feet instead of focusing entirely upon the weapon. The front foot barely carried weight. His rear leg looked prepared to explode forward.

That mattered more than the sword. Magic Vision still showed almost nothing useful because Aura was not mana, but Sieghart’s enhanced perception picked up small physical details the spell could not identify directly.

The man’s fingertips remained relaxed. His breathing had slowed. Every muscle visible around his forearm looked loose despite holding the heavy sword in one hand.

He was waiting. Sieghart knew enough about fighting to recognize the danger there. Tense muscles advertised movement. Relaxed muscles could move without warning. The remaining bandits began retreating toward the wagon. Whatever confidence they had possessed disappeared now that their leader had actually assumed a fighting stance.

Apparently, they knew what came next. That was another useful piece of information. Sieghart dismissed one of his Mana Swords. The leader raised an eyebrow.

“You killed three people in seconds, and now you’re throwing away a weapon before fighting the strongest person here. Should I take that personally?”

Sieghart shifted his remaining sword into his right hand while gathering mana through several different spell structures beneath the surface.

Protection remained active. Impulse waited around his legs. Telekinesis remained ready. Magic Vision stayed focused. Glacial Fist could appear anywhere inside comfortable range. Wind Blades required almost no preparation anymore.

And Magic Resistance remained deliberately inactive because Aura should not count as magic anyway.

Whatever stance Sieghart vaguely remembered from Earth had apparently developed independently here, or perhaps similar biomechanics naturally produced similar solutions whenever humans spent enough centuries trying to stab one another efficiently.

Either answer was interesting. Sieghart raised his Mana Sword. The Aura user moved his left hand slightly. Sieghart immediately prepared Impulse again. For the first time since leaving Seraphina, the prospect of fighting somebody had completely erased his remaining exhaustion.

He had wanted experience against strong Aura users. Apparently, the road had decided to provide one before breakfast.