Battle Mage

The tip of the cherry wood wand, coated in reddish-brown varnish, suddenly burst with a strange power and swung toward the black wand box on the ground.

There was no elemental fluctuation, not even the slightest trace of any element, as if a conductor simply waved a baton meaningfully in the air.

“Uh… you’re really not lying to me, right…” Yalian said, half doubtful, since she had never even heard of arcane arts before.

“Shh—do not question Ogu’s magic…” the dwarf said with an unusually serious expression.

He looked fierce, as if he had become a completely different person.

“W-Woah… okay!” Yalian was startled, the dwarf’s temperament flipping like turning a page, making her a little afraid…

Suddenly, he began waving the wand, sliding it back and forth through the air.

At that moment, the slightly reddish cherry wood wand moved through the air like a true conductor’s baton, as if performing brilliantly at some grand concert.

He seemed completely immersed in the atmosphere, like a renowned musician conducting an entire orchestra.

The black wand box… began to move.

“Wait?… this?…” Yalian stared in shock at this strange and illogical scene.

“Do not question it, do not try to understand it.”

The baton was not conducting a melody, but commanding a dance troupe, and he was the conductor of this troupe of boxes.

“Oh ho ho?~ Amazing, isn’t it, little girl?” he laughed proudly.

“So amazing!” Yalian replied without hesitation, and for a moment, a glimmer of light appeared in her previously dim eyes.

Under his command, the boxes slowly stacked together, as if they had turned into tiny star-like spirits, obediently following the conductor’s lead.

“Ogu’s arcane arts are preserved only by the dwarves. For humans, this is a forbidden domain. Even your historians and mages know nothing about it,” he said proudly.

Even though dwarves are small, there is a reason they have endured on the continent for so many years without decline.

Though they lack a conventional growth system, they have relied on arcane arts and craftsmanship to establish a civilization on a small piece of land for nearly an entire era. Do not ask why—this is precisely because of arcane arts.

Dwarves do not have the same magical growth potential as humans or elves, so they are destined to be unsuitable for traditional magic cultivation. And as for berserk power, their small bodies look almost comical compared to the giant beasts of the beast races.

They are destined to be incompatible with any normal system.

However, their strongest priest is only at the level of a Grand Magister, which is quite strange.

About two hundred years ago, the Red Church launched a western expedition against the dwarves. For weapons forged from geothermal cores, for profit, and for grudges that had accumulated over a century, they started a war.

When the army led by the cardinal returned, it was no longer the same. They came back like defeated soldiers, reporting the battle to the Pope.

They had “won”—but that victory needed quotation marks. In reality, they were beaten back by the dwarves.

They had underestimated the dwarves’ strength. Every dwarf mage was a heavily armored knight in plate armor—they were not mages, they were battle mages.

Clad in heavy armor, they moved nimbly among the Church’s paladins, harvesting the ignorant and arrogant humans.

As the dwarves mocked at the time, those paladins were like brainless radishes wearing iron buckets, slaughtered mercilessly by dwarf battle mages.

Destroying them was like smashing radishes inside iron buckets—they could not withstand even a single blow enhanced by magic.

Under enhanced strength, the armor forged by human craftsmen could not endure even one strike of a battle mage’s staff…

Human plate armor was easily pierced by dwarves, smashed apart like splitting radishes.

Countless paladins were stabbed through their armor like canned goods by sharp staffs, beaten into immobility.

Even more absurdly, no matter how they slashed or stabbed, the paladins’ swords had no effect on the dwarves’ armor—it was like striking a solid turtle shell.

Some even struck with full force, only for their greatswords to break in half. The dwarves? Merely knocked down. Meanwhile, the paladins’ hands split open from the impact.

For someone wearing plate armor, the worst thing is being knocked to the ground—once fallen, it is extremely difficult to get back up. At that point, even a dagger can kill a paladin.

But dwarves… with their small size and wind-element assistance, could perform an unbelievable kip-up and stand again instantly.

Dwarven craftsmanship—the best in the world…

They were defeated by these unconventional “mages”!

What a humiliation! When the bishop signed the ceasefire treaty with the opposing priest, he saw the heavily armored battle mage—the High Priest—and nearly exploded with anger.

“Ha ha ha ha ha!” Unable to speak, he burst into loud laughter, the booming sound piercing everyone’s ears.

Meanwhile, the dwarven High Priest laughed with righteous confidence, mocking human arrogance.

With this approach, his power—enhanced by magic—rose from Grand Magister to a level comparable to a Sword Saint. At that point, only the Pope could defeat him.

As for the archbishop—he was merely a Grand Magister, so he could only argue, not fight. Because he simply could not win!

“You shameless turtle!” the bishop had cursed at the time.

“You dogs who attacked without warning! Didn’t expect this, did you? I’m not a mage—I’m a battle mage!” the High Priest laughed loudly.

“Dog!” the bishop repeated angrily.

“Shameless!” the High Priest retorted.

“Dog!”

“Turtle!”

“You’re the turtles!”

The High Priest said nothing more and silently drew his wand…

“Huh? Who said we’re turtles?” he pretended not to hear.

From this somewhat farcical treaty onward, the century-long war between humans and dwarves finally ended.

Humans, who had intended to teach the dwarves a lesson with a surprise attack, suffered greatly instead—the dwarves were like hedgehogs. This forced humans to correct their attitude, ending a century of economic, cultural, and military conflict.

However, the truth of this story remains unknown, buried in unofficial history.

According to the Church’s records, the war ended in a draw, with both sides achieving their goals.

But the real truth… no one knows.

In reality, humans were completely defeated by the dwarves.

The so-called draw was merely written in the treaty to preserve human dignity.

“So you see, it’s okay if you don’t have elemental perception~” he said patiently to Yalian, telling this story to comfort her.

Yalian was not supposed to know these things, but the girl was pitiful, and the dwarf had accidentally revealed all this hidden history.

“R-Really…?” Yalian asked excitedly, as if she could see a ray of hope.

The goddess had not abandoned her. One door had closed, but another window had opened.

“Of course it’s true. Arcane arts are very mysterious. Beginners need a wand core made from flamingo feathers to sense it…” he explained slowly.

“Flamingo feathers?…” Yalian asked, confused—she had never heard of such a creature.

“That’s what your human poet Gabei calls the phoenix. They’re the same—just different names,” he clarified.

“The reason arcane arts are so special is that they can become your third hand. They can make objects float. Once you master them, you won’t even need a wand—you can control objects with your mind,” he continued.

“In fact, the plate armor we dwarves wear is supported by arcane arts.”

Yalian gently picked up the cherry wood wand and waved it toward the wall of boxes…

Nothing happened.

“Here.” He handed her a small knife.

“The phoenix feather chooses its master… blood is needed to recognize the owner.”