SSS Rank Sword Mage: Awakening Starts with Weakest Mana Affinity-Chapter 116: The SS-Rank Sword Mage has arrived...

He stopped, his eyes turning stone-cold. "What a coincidence indeed."

He reached behind him and unstrapped the massive sword from his back. He didn’t set it down; he simply let it go. The weapon hit the earth with a deafening thud, the sheer weight creating a shock wave that sent a ring of dust rippling outward. Taz stretched his spine with a wince and a sigh of relief, as if the sword had been a physical burden he was glad to be rid of.

Taz pulled a long strip of white cloth from his pocket and began wrapping it tightly around his fist. From the material and look, I was certain the fabric wasn’t ordinary; from the distance I stood, I could see it was inscribed with ancient, glowing text—runes from a language that seemed older than the world we currently existed in. As both his hands were encased in the soft white light, he looked less like a mage and more like a street brawler about to enter a back-alley scrap.

I stared in awe. How could he be this calm? But being calm in a dangerous situation was more or less about experience in battles than that of strength. Lord Zedd also had a similar air of confidence and calm, and I knew where that ended, but this... this was still different in its own right.

I found myself wondering... how strong did one need to be to be calm against Bagu? What kind of rank or title did this "Taz" fellow truly hold to treat a world-ending threat like a tedious chore? Well, yet a giant, he would find out soon enough who he was facing.

The tall, white-haired man—whom the boy called Taz—glanced over his shoulder, his voice dropping into a low, rhythmic command. "You two. Get moving. Take the big one along and get to the barrier. Move!"

He spoke to Lord Zedd and Greyjoy like lost kids about to watch two grown adults fight, gesturing for them to drag what was left of their broken bodies out of harm’s way.

They began to move as instructed, but as they passed him, Taz muttered just loud enough to be heard: "A pity. Three of you couldn’t do the job, so now it’s all left to little old me. As usual, to get the job done."

The words struck a raw nerve in Greyjoy’s prideful mind. He glared at Taz, his ego flaring even through the haze of exhaustion. "What the hell do you think you’re talking about? This isn’t some Black Lake swamp monster you take on alone!" He pointed at the beast. "That monster is unlike anything you’ve ever faced. Quit the bragging! If we really want to have a chance against him, we should all attack at once, or better still, we should wait for backup!"

He turned his head to Tobias, the boy with the book. "You there—isn’t that an Instant Info Book? Can’t you call in more mages? S-Rank mages?"

Tobias touched his glasses and simply replied, "The Task Force will do no such thing for a town like this. And besides, we don’t need backup. We have all the manpower we need."

"What?" Greyjoy replied. "You can’t be serious. This is just pure arrogance. We need to rally—"

"’We’?" Taz interrupted, his voice cold. "Who is this ’We’ supposed to be? You keep calling for ’We,’ but I’ve never heard of him or ever will. If you find this ’We’ fellow, tell him I don’t need his help."

He tightened the last of the glowing white cloth around his knuckles. "I work alone."

"The boy is right," Lord Zedd added, agreeing with Greyjoy. "That monster that stands in front of you has an extremely fast and evolving healing factor," Lord Zedd added, his voice rasping with a final, desperate warning. "This isn’t something we should take lightly. All we have to do is wait for our own to bring back what we can use to contain him, at the very least."

"Healing factor? Got it. Is that all?" Taz repeated flatly, as if the concept bored him.

"Come on! Don’t tell me you have bricks for brains!" Greyjoy snapped, gesturing wildly at the dragon Bagu, who seemed rather amused by the disagreement more than anything. "He regenerates! Every wound we give him closes in seconds! But there’s a catch—he only adapts if he achieves this so-called ’higher death’ he’s so desperately looking for. Killing him is out of the—"

"Oi," Taz cut him off, his voice sharp. "There’s no need to explain anymore. That’s enough chatter. GET A MOVE ON!"

Any logical person would be pleased with the information they were given on their current opponent, but it seems Taz didn’t look impressed. In fact, he looked irritated, as if telling him what to expect would, in some twisted way, ruin the experience for him. Like a movie just out and Taz wanting no spoilers... Looking at him, I realized he was the kind of person who hated spoilers.

He stared down at his wrapped fists, the ancient runes pulsing with a soft, hungry light. "I get it... hit him as many times as I want. That’s good. Means I wouldn’t need to hold back..."

A slow, dangerous grin spread across Taz’s face. "Well... that’s a challenge I’d like to test. See, on my own, there is no strength in knowing your opponent’s weakness before the fight. Where’s the fun in that? I want to experience it for myself."

"Huhhhhhhh?" Greyjoy heard those words, and I wasn’t sure if his brain was trying to wrap itself around what he just heard.

"Are you seriously not listening?" Greyjoy barked, stepping forward despite his shaking knees. He was incensed by Taz’s dismissive attitude. Nearby, Lord Zedd ignored the bickering, gritting his teeth as he slung Bratan’s heavy, unconscious arm over his shoulder to limp toward the safety of the barrier.

"I told you, he has a healing factor—regeneration! And you’re telling me you don’t want that information?"

Greyjoy chuckled as though he understood something fundamental. "I get it," he chuckled more. "It’s fun to think like that when the fights are fair. Unless you also have regeneration abilities, I fucking suggest you listen, and listen good now," he continued, his voice rising in desperation. "It’s all about adaptation. He only adapts after a ’death’ state. His body enters an aggressive healing spree that ensures he can’t be killed the same way twice. But that process—"

"Blah, blah, blah. You’re really starting to piss me off, and you really don’t want to end up like the last guy that pissed me off, do you?"

Greyjoy’s face flushed a deep, indignant crimson. "Have you no idea who I am?" he roared, his voice cracking with a mix of exhaustion and wounded pride. "I assume you don’t, because if you did, I would have your head on a spike by now! I am of the Bearmount House, the main blood of manyblood Peaks! I suggest you show me some respect!"

az interrupted, waving a dismissive, cloth-wrapped hand. "Well, would you look at that... the last person that pissed me off said something similar. If you continue to irritate me, I will guarantee you a meeting with him for all eternity. Leave the field now. I didn’t ask for an exposition—plain and simple."

The threat hung in the air, cold and absolute. Greyjoy’s mouth snapped shut, his face turning a shade of pale that had nothing to do with his injuries. He realized then that Taz wasn’t just being rude; he was being honest. To Taz, a nobel of the Bearmount House was just another loud distraction standing between him and his paycheck.

Greyjoy’s eyes widened in total fury and shock. "The hell? Are you dense or something I’m trying to tell you this isn’t some _ ?"

Lord Zedd placed a firm hand on Greyjoy’s shoulder, forcing him to stand down. "at this point it think you should listen greyjoy we have no choice but to let this man take Bagu on one-on-one. You cant stop a moth drawn to a flame.

Reluctantly, Greyjoy made a sour face, his brows furrowed and his jaw set like a child who was about to be sent to his room for misbehaving.

Adding fuel to the flame, Taz called out over his shoulder, "If you wanted me to listen to you explain how ’blah blah blah’ power works, you could have paid me for my attention. Since you’re some big-time royal, surely you’ve heard the saying ’money talks.’ If not, fuck off."

Greyjoy let out a hysterical, jagged chuckle, slamming his hand over his face as his mana-heat began to spike again. He was so incensed he looked ready to launch himself at Taz rather than the dragon. But Lord Zedd’s grip on his shoulder tightened, his fingers digging into Greyjoys.

"Control yourself," Zedd hissed. "He isn’t just some arrogant mercenary. If he’s who I think he is, your royal rank means nothing to him—and your fire magic would only be at your own expense against his skin."

Zedd leaned in, his voice a low, urgent whisper. "Confidence at his level tells you all you need to know. Let him do what he was paid for, Greyjoy."

Taz tilted his head, finally truly noting Zedd’s regal garments. "Now that I think of it, your attire looks different. You’re not from around here. Are you a royal from another kingdom nearby? Answer me: which kingdom do you come from?"

Zedd managed a thin, weary smirk despite his injuries. "I suppose you’ll have to pay me to find that out."

Taz let out a short, sharp bark of laughter. "Hah! Fair play. I like you; you actually get it." He turned his back on them then, his focus locking back onto the Dragon. "But since I’m the one on the clock, let’s keep the chatter to a minimum."

Taz turned back to Bagu, completely erasing the others from his field of vision. Bagu, strangely, remained still. It was almost a sign of respect—two predators waiting for the right moment. The mages dragged themselves back into the shimmering safety of the barrier.

Inside the walls, Tobias adjusted his glasses, his sharp gaze sweeping over the tattered mages and the blood-stained soil. When his eyes finally locked onto Zedd’s torn robes, his expression shifted from curiosity to genuine shock.

"Vintergard house colors... here in Manyblood?" Tobi murmured. He stepped closer, his eyes scanning the intricate needlework of the fabric. "I’ve studied the color palettes of every major power, from our own hierarchies to the outsider houses of the G5. Those are clearly the royal silks of Aetherhall."

The realization seemed to weigh heavy on him as he touched his chin, his mind rapidly calculating the political fallout. "Why is a royal party from Aetherhall so deep in Manyblood’s hinterlands? This is practically a declaration of—" He cut himself off, spinning around to look at the group. "Who was your ambassador into this territory? You shouldn’t be traveling without one. Where are they?"

Zedd, leaning heavily against the golden wall of the barrier, let out a raspy, pained breath. "Ghost," he managed to say. "Our ambassador... was the one they call Ghost."

Tobias froze. The name seemed to ring louder than the bells on his belt. "Ghost? You mean to tell me the ’Phantom of the Border’ is responsible for this? If that’s true, then this isn’t just sightseeing anymore. This is a diplomatic disaster."

He paced the small area within the barrier, his eyes darting between the mages and the battlefield. "A group of highly skilled mages lurking around, fighting a calamity-level threat alone in a town that owes back-taxes and has reports of missing people... the optics are terrible."

"I better hope to find a valid explanation when I check the Info book," Tobi muttered. He flipped open his book. The pages just began to turn; they shimmered and blurred, the ink dancing as if the tome held an infinite well of living data. "And your status, please? Formally."

As Zedd declared his royal status, Tobi’s fingers paused over a glowing rune on the page. He nodded, cross-referencing the declaration against the shimmering air itself.

"Ah, I see. Strange..." He stopped, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he read the fine print of the magical record. "It appears you were all granted Absolute Freedom of Movement." He shook his head in genuine surprise, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Signed by the Queen herself. That... that rarely happens for an external deployment. If I link one and two together I will assume that whats in front of us is originally a wanted crimial path animal from aetherhall?; you’re here with her personal authority to retrive it dead or alive?."

Tobias paused, the glowing pages of his ledger reflecting in his glasses. "Ah, I see. Strange..." He stopped, his eyes widening as he read the fine print of the magical record. "It appears you were all granted Absolute Freedom of Movement."

He shook his head in genuine surprise, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Signed by the Queen herself. That... that rarely happens for an external deployment. If I link one and two together, I have to assume the truth." He looked up from the book, his gaze shifting from the mages to the towering, multi-eyed horror in the clearing. "What’s in front of us is originally a wanted criminal—a ’path animal’ from Aetherhall? You’re here with her personal authority to retrieve it, dead or alive."

Zedd didn’t answer immediately, his silence serving as a grim confirmation.

"So," Tobias continued, his tone turning clinical despite the chaos, "Manyblood has been unknowingly hosting an Aetherhall death-row fugitive. A Dragon that has been ’taxing’ our people’s lives because your kingdom couldn’t keep it caged."

Lord Zedd let out a dry, pained smirk. "Are you implying the entire Kingdom of Aetherhall is incompetent, boy? Careful now... you wouldn’t want me reporting your tone directly to the one who signed our papers."

Tobias coughed, a flush of color hitting his cheeks as he realized he had overstepped with a high-ranking royal. "Ah, no... no, that wasn’t exactly what I meant. My apologies." He quickly turned back to his shimmering info book, fingers dancing over the pages to hide his embarrassment. "But what exactly is this ’path animal’? I’m checking the archives now, and I see no mention of an evolving dragon on the high-tier bounty list."

Lord Zedd’s gaze went cold as he watched the creature in the clearing. "This one is special. Let’s just leave it at that. Some things are kept off the info books for a reason."