Chapter 12: The Shapeless Blade

The black high heel slammed into the ground. The anti-slip magic layer let out a short hum, and her whole body shot sideways.

Almost grazing her skirt, Raphael’s fist smashed through the spot where she had just stood. Rubble flew like shrapnel, and a few pieces struck the satin of her dress, only to be silently deflected by dark gold patterns.

Aeliana flipped in midair, her skirt like an open black umbrella, ribbons snapping behind her. Her right hand instinctively reached forward.

Nothing.

No, not nothing.

A strange sensation came to her palm, like grasping flowing shadow, or clutching solidified darkness. It spread from her fingertips to her wrist, then climbed up her magic circuits.

A weapon slowly took shape, but it had no fixed form. The flowing black shadow was like liquid and fire, eventually barely forming the shape of a sword.

“This is…” Aeliana stumbled as she landed, the heel of her high heel scraping a white line on the ground, but her gaze locked on the weapon in her hand.

“Your own magic creation,” Little Nether’s voice held a trace of surprise. “I haven’t actively helped you condense a weapon, and you made one yourself?”

“This isn’t from you?”

“The essence of Netherforge is forging. I am Netherforge’s inner soul. What decides the outer shape is you. That shapeless thing in your hand was forged according to your magic and your will.”

Raphael gave her no more time to think.

The massive figure turned in the rubble and dust. Its dark purple wings beat once, and a blast of air carrying black demonic energy rushed at her.

Its right arm muscles bulged, and its fist, wrapped in thick demonic energy, smashed toward Aeliana again.

Aeliana had expected it. She raised Netherforge and swung at Raphael’s boulder-sized fist. Fist and sword met in the air. There was no clash, no explosion.

The shapeless blade sliced through Raphael’s fist like cutting paper. The boulder-sized fist was sheared off and flew away.

Aeliana’s silver-white hair blew back in the shockwave. Her eyes were wide open.

“I blocked it?”

“More than blocked,” Little Nether’s voice held a rare seriousness. “You cut Raphael’s fist off.”

The severed fist turned into black mist and dissipated in midair. Raphael retreated several steps, thick demonic energy pouring from the stump of its arm as if trying to re-form. But the speed was so slow it was almost negligible.

“What… is this sword?” Aeliana murmured.

“You can call it whatever you want. Or don’t name it. A weapon doesn’t need a name to kill.”

Raphael’s severed arm had not yet re-formed. Its stance grew more cautious. It no longer charged recklessly as before, but slowly paced around Aeliana, wings half-spread, ready to defend or dodge at any moment.

This time, Aeliana did not wait for Raphael to attack. She raised her sword, her skirt surging like a tide in the swell of magic. Her black high heels slammed into the ground, and she shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

Just as the blade was about to touch Raphael, everything before her eyes shattered like a mirror.

Along with the weapon in Aeliana’s hand, Raphael vanished. The arena she stood in returned to the chaotic darkness from before.

“Oh my, oh my… looks like your magic isn’t enough to maintain all that.”

Little Nether didn’t need to remind her. Aeliana had already changed back to Aelian. Everything returned to how it was at the start.

“Didn’t you say my magic was more than Raphael’s back then? Why is it so easily used up?”

Aelian demanded.

“It is a lot, but maintaining your female form also costs a lot of magic. With your current total magic, even if you used it all just to maintain the form, you could keep it up for an hour at most.”

“Huh? Just a mimicry costs that much? You’re too weak…”

‘He couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He had thought he could maintain the beautiful girl form for a long time…’

‘Now the plan for full beautiful-girl transformation would have to be put back on the schedule.’

“Huh? Huh? You bastard, you dare talk to Lord Netherforge like that! Do you have any idea how my mimicry is different from ordinary disguise spells?”

Little Nether heard Aelian belittling it and immediately explained.

“If it were a second-circle disguise spell, of course it wouldn’t cost much magic. But my mimicry isn’t recorded in any magic system!”

Little Nether’s voice exploded in Aelian’s mind. It carried the anger of being insulted.

“My mimicry is a reconstruction at the soul level, not some illusion suit wrapped around the body! That body you just had, every inch of skin, every hair, every organ, was real flesh and blood, not an illusion woven from magic! This level of mimicry naturally costs far more magic than those third-rate spells!”

Aelian listened to Little Nether’s flustered explanation and couldn’t help but laugh.

“So you’re saying the mimicry you made is high quality, not because I don’t have enough magic, but because you’re too strong?”

“…You’re not wrong.” Little Nether’s voice immediately shifted from anger to awkward pride. “My mimicry is a perfect-grade variant that can even replicate soul aura. Even high-tier detection magic can’t see through it. If you died while in mimicry, the soul ascending to heaven would remain consistent with the outer appearance! You think it’s comparable to those disguise charms sold at street magic stalls?”

After this explanation, Aelian was somewhat convinced.

“But then again, your total magic has been increasing since the contract, and it shows no sign of stopping even now. Do you feel any discomfort?”

“Not at all. I’m fine.”

“I’m just afraid you’ll be burst by magic. To be safe, I suggest you regularly empty the magic in your body until it stops this disorderly growth. There have been cases in history of people bursting from magic.”

He knew why, of course. In the original work, Netherforge was a custom cheat for Aelian, so it was understandable that its effects were strong. Little Nether’s worry was understandable. But in just this short time, Aelian’s magic had recovered to the level where he could cast spells.

“Hey, hey, if I actually fought this Raphael, could I win?”

Aelian asked Little Nether. He cared more about his combat power.

“Tch… have some confidence. That Raphael has no thinking ability and can’t cast magic. Taking it down is only a matter of time. Your current magic is enough to support you casting third-circle spells. In other words, you’re now an elite mage.”

“Then I still have to go to the Magic Association for rating. I haven’t even gotten an apprentice mage certificate.”

Aelian scratched his head, a little embarrassed.

Being able to cast second-circle spells makes one an apprentice mage. Following that, third-circle spells correspond to elite mage, fourth-circle to champion mage, fifth-circle to saint mage, and sixth-circle to legendary mage.

For a newly enrolled student like Aelian, not being an apprentice mage was nothing shameful. Most students at Tyelande Academy were still elite mages even at graduation.

Only a small portion could earn a champion mage certificate before graduating.

Because magic advancement was slow, most students chose to study knight academy courses at the same time as finishing magic academy courses.

The same apprentice-to-legend ranking system applied. Knights needed to take certificates from the Knight Association to prove their strength.

If a graduate was only an elite mage, they were considered mediocre. After graduation, they were a member of society and forbidden from entering.

But if they also had an elite knight certificate, they were an outstanding graduate of Tyelande Academy. After graduation, their alma mater would welcome them.

In some smaller, less impressive academies, a graduate with elite level was considered outstanding.

By now, Aelian had a preliminary understanding of his own strength.

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