Weapon seller in the world of magic

Magnus Phoenix’s palm struck the chest of the Lightning Clone with a muffled thunderclap, and the force of that blow rippled through the crackling body, sending waves of blue sparks scattering into the air.

The clone was driven backward several meters, its boots carving shallow trenches across the frost-hardened ground, while Magnus used that single exchange to seize the initiative.

Yet the clone was no fragile puppet.

The instant Magnus pressed his advantage, the figure of living lightning twisted with uncanny reflexes, its body bending as though guided by instinct rather than thought, and its leg whipped upward in a sharp kick aimed at the prince’s ribs.

Through the telepathic link, Kiara experienced every movement as though she herself were split into two bodies.

She felt the tension in the clone’s limbs, the vibration of electricity coursing through its frame, and even the precise rhythm of Magnus’s breathing. From just a handful of exchanges, she reached a conclusion that settled in her mind with cold clarity.

The clone was powerful.

It was fast.

But against Magnus, who was fully focused and battle-tested, speed alone would not be enough.

Kiara’s eyes narrowed. "If one sword cannot break the shield," she murmured to herself, "the answer is simple. You strike with two."

Without hesitation, she opened the familiars’ inventory and summoned the gray wolf.

The beast appeared beside her in a swirl of light, its silver-gray fur bristling, its yellow eyes burning with predatory focus. Though it was only a 5-star rank creature, it required no ether to maintain, and that made it an ideal ally.

Unlike her summoned constructs, however, this wolf was flesh and blood.

If it fell, it would truly be injured.

Kiara was aware of that risk, and for a brief moment, her fingers brushed the thick fur along its neck.

"Stay sharp," she whispered.

Then she vaulted onto its back in one fluid motion.

*Grrrrr*

The wolf surged forward at her command, claws pounding against the ground as it raced toward the battle where the clone and Magnus traded blows too quickly for ordinary eyes to follow.

Both Serestia and Magnus noticed at once.

From the sidelines, Serestia’s eyes widened.

"So she is entering the field herself," he thought, his heart beating faster.

Magnus, meanwhile, smiled. "So, you finally reveal your hand."

His eyes brightened with excitement.

"In that case," he said under his breath, "I must answer with all I have."

Flames erupted from his back once more, unfurling into brilliant wings of fire that illuminated the training ground with a crimson glow. Ether poured into his arms, thickening around his fists like molten armor.

As Kiara closed the distance, Magnus made his decision in an instant.

He could not confidently handle both the clone and Kiara at once, at least not without drawing his semi-divine weapon.

So he gathered his strength, drove the clone backward with a powerful strike, and shifted his weight to launch himself toward Kiara.

But Kiara had been waiting for exactly that moment.

Her voice rang out, cool and sharp as winter wind.

"You have flown enough."

She raised her hand.

"Freeze for a second."

The words were simple, but the power behind them was anything but.

"Absolute Freezing."

A wave of icy force exploded outward.

In a single breath, the temperature plummeted, and frost raced across the training ground like a white tide swallowing the world. The earth, the shattered stones, and the air itself were seized by a brutal cold.

Within a two-hundred-meter radius, everything froze.

Everything except Serestia, whose shared bloodline protected him from the effect.

Kiara felt 10,000 ether points vanish in an instant.

At the same time, she knew the drain shortened the lifespan of her Lightning Clone.

But she did not hesitate.

Magnus’s body locked in place, encased in solid ice.

Only his eyes remained free, burning with surprise.

His gaze darted toward Kiara.

Then toward Serestia.

This technique.

It felt strikingly similar to the Frost Dragon bloodline arts.

For one brief instant, he wondered whether Kiara also carried that bloodline. Her resemblance to the Queen Consort only made his suspicion stronger for a moment.

But he had no time to think further.

The Lightning Clone was already upon him.

And then Magnus understood.

Kiara had never intended to duel him directly. Her approach, her mount, her positioning, all of it had been a feint to divide his attention.

He almost laughed despite the danger. "A clever hunter first drives the deer toward the trap," he thought. "And only when the prey realizes the truth does it hear the closing jaws."

With no time to spare, Magnus activated his bloodline skill.

"God of Fire."

Flames erupted from every pore of his body.

The fire spread like a divine mantle, and the ice around him began to melt with angry hissing sounds.

But the two seconds he bought were not enough.

The clone closed the gap and drove a full-powered kick into his abdomen.

"Ugh!"

The air burst from Magnus’s lungs.

Pain detonated through his midsection as his body was hurled upward.

Before he could recover, the Lightning Clone leaped after him, its knee drawn back like a thunderbolt preparing to strike.

Magnus saw the attack descending.

There was no time for calculation.

No time for an elegant strategy.

In such moments, instinct was king.

He wrapped himself in his flaming wings and twisted his body midair.

The clone’s knee pierced through the fiery feathers and crashed into his side.

"Gh..."

A second groan escaped him as agony flared through his waist.

Thud.

He hit the ground hard, the impact sending dust and frost bursting outward.

For several moments, Magnus remained still, teeth clenched as pain radiated through his body.

Fortunately, his ether carried restorative properties, and though the ache lingered, the actual damage began repairing itself almost at once.

The Lightning Clone did not emerge unscathed either.

When it struck Magnus, the flames from "God of Fire" had clung to its body like living predators.

Now the clone was engulfed in fire, its crackling blue form wrapped in orange and gold.

Kiara observed the effect carefully. The clone felt no pain, but she could sense its integrity rapidly deteriorating.

"So this is the true nature of the Phoenix bloodline," she thought.

Ordinary fire techniques could not melt temperatures near negative one hundred degrees so quickly.

This was something deeper.

Something woven into Magnus’s very blood.

Unsure how to extinguish the divine flames and unwilling to waste more ether, Kiara dismissed the clone entirely.

The burning figure vanished in a burst of fading sparks.

The field grew quiet.

Kiara looked toward Magnus, who rose slowly to his feet, dusting frost and dirt from his clothes.

"Let us stop here," she said. "If we continue, this spar may become something more serious, and I may not be able to hold back. Because I had less battle experience than you, I would be forced to go all out, going for the kill. When I do, I believe you will do the same. So, it’s best if we halt this when we can."

Magnus stared at her for a moment.

Then, instead of disappointment, a warm smile spread across his face.

He had long regarded Kiara as someone stronger than himself.

To lose under such circumstances brought him no frustration.

Only admiration.

"Miss Kiara," he said, using the name by which he knew her, "you are not only powerful, but also wise. I agree with you. Let’s stop this. And thank you for the match."

Kiara knew perfectly well that Magnus had not truly gone all out either.

The exchange had lasted less than half a minute.

Neither had revealed every card.

Still, she inclined her head.

"You are welcome. And I have no objection to sparring again in the future, provided we suppress our strength to lower ranks. Otherwise, my training ground may end up looking like a battlefield."

Magnus blinked.

The idea clearly appealed to him.

"Then shall we spar again tomorrow?" he asked eagerly. "I do not know why, but I feel that crossing fists with you may help me gain new insight."

Kiara’s expression remained composed, though inwardly she grimaced. Her earlier offer had been courtesy, not a standing invitation to risk her life. The Lightning Clone lasted only one hundred seconds at most.

Without it, her physical strength was nowhere near Magnus’s level.

And she had no desire to explain the truth behind that misunderstanding.

Thankfully, she had a legitimate excuse.

"I am sorry," she said. "Tomorrow, I have a luncheon engagement."

Magnus waved his hand. "That is no problem. We can spar in the evening."

Kiara shook her head.

"The luncheon is not in the Imperial City."

Magnus’s brows rose.