Chapter 62 : Ash and Water: A Duel of Wills”

Yet when Curtis  had finally arrived in the fabled East, it was not as teeming with magical talent as the tales had claimed. And those who were there… were all mere Bronze-ranked mages.

Silver-ranked mages, who stood above even Silver warriors in value, had no interest in grueling work like frontier reclamation. It simply wasn’t their kind of battle.

Tertie had been right—there were no mages in the region who could rival Curtis .

“Not that I could go around beating up every Bronze I came across…”

There were only two known ways to unlock new magic through the Status Window:
One, by coming into contact with an arcane tome.
Two, by dueling another mage.

But mercenary mages, self-taught and wandering, were unlikely to possess such tomes—artifacts typically passed down in noble houses. That left combat as the only viable path.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t so simple.

Rumors had spread. Tales of a terrifying mage who traveled with Church knights—a monster in human skin. Curtis ’s name had become legend before he could even draw a circle in the dirt.

No one dared to challenge him.
And Curtis  could hardly go around starting fights with strangers—it would make him look like a thug picking on the weak.

Besides, Lilia’s tireless pace left him no time to seek out duels.
So, Curtis  had set the search for new spells aside—for now.

After all, Water Manipulation was his core discipline. Better to refine that fully before pursuing fresh powers.

And now, here stood a mage from an esteemed house, throwing spells at him unprovoked.

How could Curtis  not be grateful?

And if Lilia’s errant commission had somehow led to this encounter—well, then she truly was his lucky charm.

“…H-How?”

Still gazing at his status screen, Curtis  turned at the sound of Kane’s trembling voice.

The young man stood in stunned silence, face twisted—not with rage or jealousy, but pure disbelief.

“You stopped Triple Blooming Fire before it even fully ignited… How did you know—?”

“I heard it from Lady Lilia,” Curtis  replied calmly.

“She told me the Brutaine family’s signature spell conjures flame and detonation from thin air. You don’t appear to manipulate fire itself, but the conjuration method is unique.”

“That’s not what I meant, damn you! Don’t play dumb!”

Kane’s voice shook with fury.

“You didn’t counter my magic with raw power—you snuffed it before it was even complete!”

“It was forming too close to my skin. I didn’t fancy a burn. Would you have done any different?”

“Stop dodging! Tell me—are you… Gold-ranked?!”

“I’m Silver.”

“Liar! That technique—what you did—was—”

“Does it really matter?”

Curtis  cut him off with a scoff and a flicker of amusement.

“If I said I was Gold, would you back down? And if I’m Silver, does that mean I’m fair game?”

“That’s not—!”

“You must’ve heard the rumors, even if you didn’t want to believe them. Or were they too uncomfortable to accept?”

Kane fell silent.

Curtis ’s expression remained cool. He shifted the topic.

“Well, let’s return to what you said earlier. About why you shout spell names. You claimed it helps you infuse your spells with emotion. I’m still not sure I understand. Would you care to elaborate?”

“I—Wait a moment—!”

“Spirit Shell.”

Curtis  gave no time for hesitation. He raised his left hand, extending his index and middle fingers toward Kane.

The water spirit responded at once, launching a dense, whirling orb—what Lilia had once tried to name “Suryu-tan”—straight toward Kane’s chest.

“Flame Guard—First Layer!”

Kane shouted the incantation. A flower of fire blossomed in the air, intercepting the incoming water.

Boom!

The resulting clash erupted into steam and smoke. The attack was dampened, but so was the shield.

Kane’s barely-restrained anger snapped again.

“You lunatic! What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Well, seeing as you threw fire at me first, I figured you preferred hands-on lessons.”

“Y-You—!”

“Spirit Shell.”

“First Layer! You cursed—!”

“Spirit Shell.”

“First Layer! Godsdammit, let me—!”

“Spirit Shell. Spirit Shell. Spirit Shell.”

Curtis  began to chant faster, matching the rhythm of Kane’s growing frustration.

It didn’t matter how quickly Kane barked his spell names—speech could never outrun thought. In that, he was already outmatched.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

With each impact, water met flame in explosive bursts of steam.
The air between them grew thick and hot.
The drawing room turned into a sauna of chaos.

Curtis  had limited the spell’s output—each Spirit Shell tuned to subdue Bronze-ranked opponents. But “subdue” in this case meant: “hurts enough to make them yield after one clean hit.”

To a physically ordinary mage, getting struck would mean broken bones.

And now, they were coming in rapid succession.

Kane was barely managing to keep up, scrambling to cast faster, panting with effort.

Curtis , meanwhile, stood unbothered. He wasn’t even casting himself—his spirit was doing the work. And truth be told, its mastery was probably a tier above Kane’s own.

To Curtis , this was a light exercise.

“Still not seeing it,” he mused aloud. “I was hoping I’d sense something different by shouting the name… but nope.”

Perhaps Kane had mistaken his own lack of precision—his shaken aim when angry—as “pouring emotion into magic.”

It was about as convincing as someone saying plants grow faster when you talk to them.

If volume and fury enhanced spells, everyone would be carrying megaphones into battle.

More likely, it was just something Kane told himself to make it all feel more… special.

Which, in the end, didn’t matter.

Curtis  smiled, teeth flashing faintly.

“So come now, try a little harder.”

“F-First Layer…! First… Laye—ghh…”

Kane, coughing, half-sobbing, kept chanting—desperately trying to hold back the next volley.

Meanwhile, Curtis ’s spell progress bar climbed steadily upward.

[ Progress: Spirit Shell Proficiency – Rising Rapidly ]

And so the lesson continued—loud, fiery, and utterly one-sided.

Curtains of steam curled toward the ceiling. Kane trembled on shaking knees.

Curtis  exhaled calmly, fingers raised once more.

After all, the spell wasn’t finished.

Not yet.

Not quite.