The Harvester-Chapter 305: "A tale just for you."

Rakna gritted his teeth and poured mana into his wings as he barreled into the sky, a silver trail joining the clouds behind him. He dodged a hail of spell bullets and looked down at Hans calmly hovering in the air, his quill penning words with barely any movement.

'That bastard has only been using that single spell but he can still put me on the ropes,' the werewolf thought in annoyance and locked his golden pupils onto him, slowing down his perception of time to spot every single projectile.

"[Valkal,]" he intoned and summoned all five of his spectral tails, using them to block the bullets momentarily and recreating them every time they were destroyed. 'That's enough,' he concluded and spread his wings wide to stabilize his flight.

Sonata promptly transformed into a large bow and as he moved into a shooting stance, he pulled out a mystical bladed arrow from his storage. Since his Star Hearth had evolved into Forger of The Stars, he could now pre-cast his lower-tiered spells and store them for subsequent use. The mid-tiers would structurally collapse after a week but it was worth replenishing them.

The number was similarly limited to one, but it was more than enough to gain the edge in a fight and his spell would also be available afterward since the cooldown had long passed. Furthermore, using his Mystic Magic to make it would double its power without the consumption drawback.

The bladed arrow responded to its conjurer's mana right after being retrieved and grew in size to fit the bow. Rakna pulled the string back and aimed at Hans. "[Mystic… Dáinsleif,]" a blue flash flared from the tip of the arrow, and in the next instant, it shot off and dispersed Hans' magic as it pierced through the air.

The azure eyes of the Tale User calmly followed the star construct. "[Arcana Order – Firestorm,]" he muttered and the book hovering above his hand finally moved. It opened itself and a cyclone of flames erupted out of it.

It expanded and swallowed the incoming spell like a voracious snake. But it was not powerful enough to completely stop it. Dáinsleif sustained flight but the storm exploded midway, deviating its path into the water.

The arrow's blades splintered and detonated once submerged, siphoning the water inward and freezing it into a pit in the middle of the sea. Hans glanced at the aftermath and then quickly looked up to spot a rain of swords descending on him.

He squinted and waved his quill in a straight line. "[Scripture,]" he chanted and two words, filled with mana appropriate for their intended purpose, faded into existence. In the next second, every sword in Hans' field of view broke into two pieces exactly in the middle.

"…" The blue-haired author then fell silent when he noticed he lost sight of the werewolf. He raised an eyebrow at the falling pieces of metal and their reflections; his Nirvana Skill told him everything about the 'story' behind their creation and the intentions of their maker.

That's why, he wasn't surprised when he turned around to witness Rakna appear out of nowhere, not out of the Mirror World, but through the use of his Enthymio Step, of which he had recently managed to craft the Skill Card.

The werewolf raised his oscillating glaive glowing with Eion and swung it at Hans. The latter had already initiated his counter; waving his left hand and snatching his floating grimoire. At the same time, his quill wrote words on its blank pages without contact.

"[Mimic Tome,]" Hans muttered and in less than a second, Sonata clashed with the book while it was transforming into a thin double-edged sword. The Guandao's superior quality nearly cut right through it but it barely held on.

The two fighters silently gazed at each other past their entangled weapons, Rakna towering over his opponent. After about ten seconds of inertness, the werewolf's weapon ripped through the sword in an instant.

"[10 000 Nights of Severance,]" a ghastly force shot out of the glaive's edge and Hans flew back in haste, his face remaining impassive as per his typical behavior. The flying slash zoomed past his neck, cutting the clouds in its path apart, and he immediately countered with a spell.

"[Page Rush,]" he uttered, and on cue, the sliced sword crumbled into hundreds of paper pages that scurried toward the werewolf as if seeking to restrain him.

In response, Rakna's wings unfurled and shot a barrage of feathers strong enough to pierce metal if needed. The pages were shredded within a second but Hans had taken his distance once again, a new arcana book summoned in his hand.

A distance from there, back on the island, Nyx breathed out, "Incredible. Both of them."

"Is this what a fight between geniuses looks like?" Natsu huffed. "None of them has done anything too flashy, but the way they calculate every move in such a fluid manner is amazing."

"Uh, shouldn't we stop them rather than admire them?" Allan retorted blankly.

"Don't stress yourself up," Higure shrugged. "It doesn't seem like they're actually fighting to kill the other… sort of. More like a mutual understanding of their respective abilities. They won't take it too far. Probably."

"Sorry to break it to you, but that 'sort of' and 'probably' don't sell it to me," the blond retorted in a dead tone right as a stray Cataract spell from Rakna whizzed over their head and froze over at least three thousand square meters of water in the distance.

The light shone over everyone as they looked at each other in silence and when it died down, the lioness shamelessly doubled down with a cough, "…I don't see the problem."

Meanwhile, Rakna was rolling his eyes as he heard their conversation due to his senses. He surged his wings with mana to double his speed and dove to avoid a large beam of energy that had been birthed by its literal description written by Hans.

'The range of application of that guy's magic is insane,' he thought and negated his fall right before hitting the water with Artzpul. Right after, he felt his body get heavier and he was forced to land on the water's surface with Star Flash. Star energy flickered under his claws and he frowned. He already knew what was going on; Crystal Sight told him everything.

Hans had simply written a 'command' to increase the gravity for him. Rakna groaned and gathered dimensional energy around him. "[Rift Shuttle,]" he uttered and broke the spell. The time he had spent pinned down was enough for his opponent to conjure his next 'line'.

He barely had the time to look up before he was struck by a massive pillar of lightning. It shrouded him entirely and sparked around the surface of the water. Hans watched it with narrowed eyes and, raising an eyebrow, he let go of his book and let it float above his head.

With his free hand, he called out a new tool, "[Jade Brush.]" Just as the name suggested, it was a painting brush crafted out of a green precious stone. It appeared in his grasp like colors flowing into a mixer and, just like his quill, he used it to draw something at a ridiculously fast pace.

In barely two seconds, a moving painting of a sunrise was finished, and immediately after, a silver and bluish beam of energy emerged out of the lightning storm, soaring toward Hans. However, as if everything was planned, the moment it encountered the sunrise, it scattered like rain.

The lightning storm below was dispersed at the same time and Rakna leaped out of it, a silverish glow permeating his tails and spreading to his entire body like a protective skin.

"…you even can do that, huh?" He spoke up, eyeing the painting that was gradually disappearing. "Using the concept of 'sunrise' through a painting to negate lunar energy," he said with a snort and the silver glow around him receded into his tails before fading.

"How about you tell me your motive already? What is this fight even for?" He asked with a frown.

"I wonder," Hans replied calmly.

"…this fight is pointless. We both have skills capable of thoroughly predicting the opponent down to the last detail. Going farther would require us to be far more heavy-handed," Rakna stated and narrowed his eyes. "And we both know who would win a contest of raw strength."

"Is that so?" Hans lifted the corners of his mouth.

"And your 'Rewrite' skill," the werewolf added. "You used it to 'modify' yourself. You optimized your physical frame and re-balanced your statistics. You even forcefully 'produced' a skill made to stalk high speed and dimensional movements. The thing is; you didn't remodel yourself for offense purposes in the slightest. So, what are you plotting with this?"

"Well, it is only natural that you would notice," the blue-haired man candidly responded and lifted his two instruments of art. He looked at them and brought them together until they were pressed between his palms. "But you are getting one thing wrong. I understand that your eyes can see most of my status without resistance despite our level difference. But you seem to still be in the dark about the blunt usage of Tale Magic."

"…"

"[Rewrite,]" Hans once again activated his Ultimate-Ranked skill, but this time, it was not his body that was subject to the modification. It was the quill and brush. After a brief flash of light, the two tools had become one. "[Barb of Heaven,]" he whispered and gently held the new object.

It looked ornamented and modest at the same time, new and ancient, but the tip brought a whole new world of incongruity. It simply broke the laws of science.

It was both a quill and a brush simultaneously. Did it mean that it was a terrific combination of the two? No. It was a mind-numbing experience; it was like seeing it swap between one another every millisecond. Or as if it changed every time you blinked.

"You wanted to know what I was plotting?" Hans said as the arcana book slid down before his eyes again. "I have something for you, did I not tell you? This is a tale I wrote just for you," he declared and pushed his glasses. "I hope you enjoy it. Its title… Hurlement D'Hiver."

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Yes, those two last words are in French. Might as well implement my primary language in my story for fun; you’ll see. I’ll give a full translation at the end of the next chap.

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