The Fist-Wielding Genius Mage - Episode 18 (15/201)
Episode 18. The Black Guard (3)
The moment the knight’s sword was about to touch me, a wall of wind erupted from a magic circle.
An impenetrable barrier shielding me like an iron fortress.
The air rippled like a heat haze, sealing us in perfect silence cut off from the outside world.
Though momentarily stunned, I instantly recognized this phenomenon.
Telekinesis—the advanced attribute of the wind element.
The four basic magical elements—water, wind, earth, and fire—each possess superior forms.
Water becomes ice, wind becomes telekinesis, earth becomes metal, and fire becomes azure flames. Mastering these requires at least a 6th-circle mage or higher.
“Wh-who’s there?!”
The knights, sensing danger, swiftly formed ranks. Their blades shimmered with awakened aura as they assumed combat stances. The shifting air currents and oppressive pressure radiating from them betrayed their elite training.
—Whoosh!
The continuous rush of wind.
It was the same sound I’d heard in the forest during my fight with Clark.
Which meant…
“I must ask you to retreat.”
“?!”
Even I jolted in surprise. They were far closer than I’d realized.
Only then, beyond the wind barrier, could I discern the shadowy outlines of the Black Guard.
‘I didn’t detect them even with 100 perception…?’
They’d erased their presence using mana.
My low magic stat was likely to blame—the sole reason I’d failed to notice them at such proximity.
“…Who dares obstruct Bahal’s path?”
A knight stepped forward from the formation’s center.
His aura alone marked him as extraordinary, from the cobalt hue of his spiritual energy to the palpable weight of his presence.
And his face… I knew it all too well.
Blue aura signified a direct descendant of Bahal. To my knowledge, only one such heir existed.
‘No way—’
Torres Bahal.
To me, he was more than familiar—an extension of myself.
The character I’d piloted longest, who’d stood by me until the bitter end.
“The First Heir of Bahal, Lord Torres himself.”
Even the Black Guard recognized him—unsurprising given his status as a rival family’s successor.
The cloaked figures had materialized soundlessly, maintaining strategic distance around Liu and me while shrouded in black masks and darkness.
Their protective intent was unmistakable.
Though their numbers remained hidden, their aura alone confirmed they could match the knights.
“…You know my identity yet still dare this? So the rumors of Araham’s shadow unit are true.”
“Withdraw now, and no harm will follow.”
“Araham crosses a line today.”
Torres’ aura flared violently, prompting his knights to ready their weapons.
True to his game portrayal, Torres embodied reckless ambition—remove that, and he’d be hollow.
‘Is he blind to the situation?’
By my estimate, the Black Guard held overwhelming advantage.
The knights had revealed their full strength, while the Guard still hid their capabilities—a tactical edge I knew well. Torres must’ve understood this too, yet he stood firm.
This was Bahal’s southern territory, a strategic zone near the frontlines. Retreat wasn’t an option.
‘Why would Araham go so far?’
Such provocation in rival lands equalled a war declaration. Were they truly inviting conflict with Bahal over an outcast?
The mystery deepened as Torres’ rage erupted.
“Your lives will atone for insulting Bahal.”
“We acknowledged your growth, Heir, but training remains necessary.”
“What?!”
“Observe your footing.”
“…!”
My eyes snapped downward.
A magic circle.
The trap beneath the knights’ feet glowed to life, shocking both Torres and me.
‘They predicted their position and pre-cast this?!’
Like landmines, these circles reduced the knights to trapped prey.
‘This isn’t 5th or 6th-circle magic. The Black Guard has a 7th-circle mage.’
Even for Araham, 7th-circle practitioners were rare—high-ranking authorities. What compelled them to deploy such power here?
“You vermin…! Does Araham crave war with Bahal?!”
“As stated, retreat. The Bahal patriarch would agree.”
“You think this parlor trick can break Bahal’s resolve?!”
Torres’ aura intensified, his blade’s energy surging until azure mana coalesced into a roaring lion’s visage—Bahal’s First Secret Technique.
‘Madness. This fight’s unwinnable.’
I knew Torres’ stats and traits better than he did himself.
If this was the game’s early phase, he’d be a 6th-circle mage at best. In Last Savior, each circle’s gap widened exponentially—especially past the 5th.
Ambition and discernment are separated by a hair’s breadth.
Even with advantageous traits, Torres’ current odds were zero.
‘Should I stop this?’
The tension could snap any moment. Neither side would retreat—the Guard obeyed their lord, Torres his pride.
A full clash meant Torres’ death.
‘If he dies here…’
No benefit to me. Our ultimate goal remained defeating the Demon King—losing Bahal’s heir would cripple the anti-Demon King forces.
Among countless reasons, one mattered most: Torres was special to me.
As his
……?”
“Didn’t you hear me? Stand down.”
As I stepped forward, the man turned his head. Though his expression remained hidden behind the black mask, the disdain in his eyes was unmistakable.
He met my gaze and shook his head.
“Impossible.”
“Aren’t the Black Guard part of Arahant? I’m a scion of the house.”
“We obey only the Lord of Arahant. My orders are to protect you, not to follow your commands.”
An expected response.
Should I praise his loyalty or curse his insolence?
“Arahant doesn’t want war with Bahal, does it?”
“We bear any cost to fulfill our orders.”
“Then protect me alone. Why target Bahal’s heir? This oversteps your authority.”
“…….”
“At your rank, you should avoid unnecessary conflict. Is this hatred for knights? Or some petty superiority over Bahal’s heir?”
He fell silent.
The Black Guard called me “Young Lord” and followed me to the southern front despite the risk of war.
This meant Arahant’s Lord had interest in me.
My words carried weight here.
—Whooosh!
Torres finished his preparations.
Casting such a high-tier spell clearly strained his current abilities. Though incomplete, he poured his remaining mana into the technique.
“Torres, stop.”
“So you’re Zed Arahant. The warden’s killer. The butcher of southern civilians. You’ll pay for this.”
“A misunderstanding. Let’s talk.”
“I’ll interrogate you after breaking your knees!”
“You’re all the same…”
No one here listens.
If not for our forced camaraderie, you’d be dead already.
—Kwaaaaang!
Torres lunged forward, magic circle deactivating at the last moment—the Black Guard had heeded me.
Unhindered, he surged like a tidal wave, a blue lion’s silhouette roaring alongside him.
Bahal’s First Arcana: Roar of the Lion.
Seeing it firsthand surpassed the game’s visuals. Imperfect yet breathtaking.
“Z-Zed! Move!”
Ignoring Liu’s warning, I stepped forward.
The Black Guard protected me, not him. Staying put would’ve endangered Liu.
—Crash! Crash! Crash!
Layered wind walls erupted before me.
Torres shredded the first barriers effortlessly, but his momentum waned with each layer.
The lion’s form persisted until inches from my face before dissolving.
—Kugugugung!
Dust choked the air. The quaking earth stilled; howling winds calmed. His attack had failed.
“…….”
As the haze cleared, Torres stood in a crater, steam rising from his body. He leaned heavily on his sword—a consequence of强行 casting a 7th-Circle spell.
“Satisfied?”
“Shut your—cough!”
Dark blood stained the ground, far deeper than crimson. His labored breathing and pallid face betrayed his state.
“Why force a spell beyond your level?”
“How dare you… cough!… steal my family’s arcana—!”
Torres collapsed, vomiting more blood. His breathing turned erratic, limbs twitching.
Mana backflow. Predictable.
Tangled circuits meant death without immediate treatment.
Knights swarmed him in panic.
“Sir Torres!”
“It’s backflow! He needs healing now!”
Lower-Circle mages couldn’t handle higher-Circle complexities.
“We’re outmatched! Fetch a healer!”
“Tamaya’s closest! Hurry!”
As they scrambled to lift him onto a horse, I blocked their path.
“You’ll be too late. He has an hour at best.”
“What?!”
“Even Bahal’s fastest steeds need three hours to Tamaya.”
“Then—!”
I turned to the Black Guard commander.
“Heal him.”
“Impossible. His own recklessness caused this.”
“You provoked him.”
“By the heir’s choice. Consequences are shared.”
“If he dies, the Black Guard killed Bahal’s heir. Mages prize practicality—what gain is there in war?”
“You ask a mage to save a knight?”
“He’s my friend.”
“Knights are enemies.”
“Since when does imperial law decree that?”
Inhabiting a mage’s body didn’t mean adopting their biases. Honor and pragmatism must coexist—this is a sane person’s creed. Neither faction qualified.
“The Lord will rage if he learns of this.”
“My burden to bear. Heal him.”
Silence.
“Do it, or your duty to protect me ends here.”
I pressed Torres’ sword to my throat—a hollow threat, but time was scarce.
“Since my escape, I’ve kept every vow. His death means mine.”
“His demise benefits Arahant.”
“Short-sighted fool. Bahal’s Lord won’t stay idle.”
“Arahant stands ready.”
“He’s my friend. Your gain is my loss.”
“A knight and mage as friends… Absurd.”
I dug the blade deeper. A bead of blood welled.
“You’ve watched me. Know I don’t bluff.”
The mage sighed. Mission-bound, he yielded.
“How dare a mage lay hands on our heir!” Knights bristled as he approached.
Typical dysfunction.
“Prefer his death?”
“…….”
“Only this mage can save him now.”
They relented but kept hands on swords.
Verdant energy enveloped Torres as incantations began—warmth radiating from his chest outward. Slowly, color returned to his face.
