Magus Supremacy - Chapter 731

Capítulo 731: Clara

CHAPTER 731

“Ack…”

Grey groaned as he tried to push himself up from the ground after the reckless decision he had just made, one that blasted him clear across the room.

Luckily, the house itself was not harmed.

Clarice rose from the ground with a visibly flustered expression.

The moment she noticed Grey struggling to lift himself, she rushed toward him at full speed.

In a jiffy, she was right beside him, sliding on her knees as she helped the mage sit upright and rest his back against the wall.

SLIDE!

The sword lodged in Grey’s abdomen suddenly slid free, as if pulled by an invisible force, before clattering loudly onto the floor.

“Ar… are you okay?” Clarice asked, her eyes scanning him from head to toe as he gasped for breath.

Her gaze drifted toward the spot where the sword had been moments ago, and her brows slowly furrowed.

She tilted her head slightly, confusion etched across her face as she stared at the exact location.

Noticing her pause, Grey lifted an eyebrow.

“Why are you suddenly staring like that?” he asked before following her line of sight.

His own brows knitted together at what he saw.

He had been expecting a bleeding hole in his abdomen, yet shockingly, there was none.

The only damage present was his torn shirt, ripped clean through.

But his body itself was completely intact.

Healed, even.

‘How is this possible?’

Turning his head toward the sword lying in front of him, he noticed it pulsing faintly, as though it were alive.

‘Appraisal.’

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‘… Huh?’

Before he could process what that meant, a sudden force yanked his crimson hair forward.

“You won’t be the death of me, you dumbass!” Clarice yelled as she raised her hand and began delivering loud, rapid slaps to the mage’s back.

“… Ouch, ouch, ouch!”

“Have sense! Have sense! Have sense, you fool!”

She repeated the words like a mantra, smacking the back of his head and shoulders at intervals while Grey yelped helplessly.

Noir could not help but chuckle from where he lay.

His small furry body trembled with each menacing laugh that escaped him.

With a final knock to Grey’s head, Clarice huffed loudly, rose to her feet, and stormed away in frustration.

“Between you and Yami, I don’t know who’s more reckless. Tsk!”

She turned her attention to the fallen plate she had dropped earlier, leaving Grey rubbing his sore face, neck, and head with a dazed expression.

‘That was… somewhat painful,’ he mused while wincing.

‘… I thought I wasn’t afraid of anyone in my life, no matter how powerful they were. But damn. I’m genuinely scared of incurring Mother Clarice’s wrath.’

He shuddered inwardly, memories flashing of her scolding Yami, a stage five warrior, like a misbehaving child, then doing the same to him. He gulped audibly before exhaling slowly.

“Can’t blame her though. That was truly reckless of me,” he muttered under his breath as his gaze drifted toward the sword, still pulsing softly, almost like it had a heartbeat.

Reaching out, his fingers wrapped around the guard as he pulled the blade closer, examining it inch by inch.

Tracing his fingers along the edge, his eyes glinted as he studied every detail.

The sword’s blade shimmered like polished moonlight, its sleek surface etched with intricate patterns that seemed to dance subtly in the light.

The metal’s dark, rich hue resembled the night sky itself, punctuated by a silver edge that gleamed like a silent promise of sharpness.

The hilt, wrapped in supple leather, fit perfectly in the hand, its subtle texture inviting confidence, stability, and control.

A delicate pattern of silver filigree adorned the guard, its elegant curves and twists evoking refinement and quiet sophistication.

As light caught the sword’s surface, it seemed to come alive, its beauty both functional and mesmerizing, as though it existed for battle yet appreciated admiration.

Peeling his gaze away from the blade, Grey turned to the shimmering runes hovering before his face, patiently awaiting a name.

He glanced back at the sword once more, a wide grin curling across his lips.

‘… Now the sword is linked to my soul. I can make it vanish into me and summon it at will. Not only that, I can also store my mana inside it for emergencies.’

His thoughts continued, excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

‘So… I can dump all my mana into it, then replenish my core naturally. That means I don’t need to rely on pills again unless it’s truly necessary.’

His heart swelled with an inexplicable sense of joy, warmth spreading through his chest.

‘This sword is too good… far too good.’

He paused, shifting his attention back to the floating runes.

‘… The runes are right. I can’t keep calling it a “sword.” It needs a name. Something fitting.’

He stroked his chin thoughtfully, brows furrowing as he searched for the perfect choice.

“Storm Piercer?”

He muttered, glancing toward the blade.

The sword did not react, aside from its faint ethereal glow.

Not like it could communicate… right?

Or could it?

Shaking his head, the mage dismissed the thought along with the name.

“Nope. I don’t like that either.”

He pondered more deeply now, his brows knitting tighter as his eyes glinted with focus.

His mind raced through countless possibilities, discarding them one after another.

This sword was exceptional.

And something this extraordinary deserved an equally exceptional name.

Thought after thought passed until his eyes suddenly lit up with realization.

“I will name you…”

A dark gleam appeared in his eyes as he turned fully toward the blade.

“… Clara. I will name you after my dead mum.”

His lips curved into a knowing, solemn smile as he watched the sword continue to glow softly.

“And that’s because I’ll be using you to slay the otherworlders, the organization that took her from me. I will use you to cut down every enemy in my path, because my mum was a strong, dignified woman.”

His voice softened slightly.

“Even in the face of death, even when danger loomed over her, she stood her ground without hesitation. And although she fell…”

His grip tightened.

“You won’t.”

A brief pause followed.

Then, to Grey’s surprise, the sword began to tremble in his grasp.

It vibrated subtly, almost eagerly, as though responding to his resolve.

Grey’s eyes snapped to the shimmering runes.

The blade continued to tremble in his grip, causing an ear to ear grin to split the mage’s face.

“… Oh,” he muttered with genuine delight. “So you are somewhat sentient. Wonderful.”

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