Thorin fell to the ground with a heavy impact and watched helplessly as the sun he had created flickered and faded away in the sky above. It didn't dissipate because Reinhard was absorbing it—it faded because Reinhard had cut the core of the spell itself, severing the structure that held it together and causing it to naturally collapse.
Reinhard was a genius like none other. After cutting through that first fireball with brute force, he had analyzed the experience and found numerous flaws in his approach. On his second attempt, facing the Morning Sun, he refined his method entirely.
This time, he aimed for the heart of the spell—the central point where the mana converged and held the magic together. Think of it as the death point of the spell, and cutting it at that exact location caused the entire thing to disperse on its own without Reinhard needing to overpower it.
This was something that not even the Blessing of the Sword God could have helped with, as its kill lines only targeted living beings. Spells were not alive. What Reinhard had done was figured out entirely on his own through pure analysis and intuition, identifying a structural weakness in the magic and exploiting it within a single encounter.
As for the debuffs? Yes, they had slowed him down, stripping away ninety-seven percent of his capability. But rather than using his adaptation to remove them, Reinhard chose to work around them.
With his body weakened, he was forced to learn on the spot how to read his opponent more carefully—studying Thorin's casting patterns, his timing, and the subtle tells that telegraphed his next move. And as one would expect from Reinhard, he mastered this almost instantly, allowing him to strike at the perfect time with the exact amount of force needed.
As for why Reinhard hadn't used his blessings or adaptation? Simple—he wanted to know how easy it would be to defeat an eighth-circle mage while holding back. This fight was a perfect benchmark to gauge what he was truly capable of when he got serious.
[Gained New Blessings.
Blessing of the Initiative: His first attack on an opponent always lands without fail, and he can never fall victim to a surprise attack under any circumstances.
Blessing of Arrow Striking: All of his ranged attacks will automatically hit their target.]
"Again, I don't want to fight you." Reinhard calmly walked up to Thorin, who was struggling on the ground, desperately trying to push himself up to defend himself. But Reinhard's attack had been surgically precise—not powerful enough to kill him, but exactly enough to leave him unable to fight back. The wound was perfectly placed, perfectly measured, the work of someone with absolute control over how much damage they dealt.
"You're not human, how can a Rank Six be… No, you reached Rank Seven?" Thorin's pupils shrank as he felt Reinhard's aura shift, the pressure emanating from the young man noticeably denser than moments ago.
It seemed the power behind Thorin's own attack had been fully absorbed by Reinhard's body, his adaptation processing and converting it into growth, allowing him to break through to the seventh rank right there on the battlefield.
"Again, I wish you no harm," Reinhard said gently, and then did something that made Thorin's eyes go wide. He held out his palm—not as a threat, but as an offer to help him up. Thorin's mind raced.
Reinhard could capture him right now without any resistance. He could drag him back to the human domain as a prisoner—an eighth-circle mage would be an invaluable prize. But instead, he was holding out his hand?
It had to be an act. That was how humans operated—they smiled while they stabbed you in the back. But Reinhard's eyes… Thorin had noticed it from the start. This human's eyes were unlike any other human's he had ever looked into. There was no malice, no hidden agenda. They were simply honest.
So although he was far from certain he wasn't making the worst mistake of his life, Thorin slowly reached out and took Reinhard's hand. As he did, his injuries suddenly began closing—flesh and muscle mending at a visible rate as Reinhard channeled his Disaster ability in reverse, shrinking the wound he himself had inflicted.
"You're a fool, you're wide open right now," Thorin said, seeing how completely unguarded Reinhard was while healing him.
"I have faith you will not attack me as I heal you," Reinhard said, helping Thorin to his feet. Thorin hesitated for a moment before giving up. There was no point in fighting someone who had already beaten him and then healed him afterward.
"You're a fool for helping an enemy," Thorin said lightly, the sharpness from earlier notably absent from his voice.
"From how you react seeing a human, maybe a fool is needed to make a difference in this world," Reinhard said with a sigh. Seeing that Thorin was fully healed—every trace of the wound gone—he stepped back, putting a respectful distance between them.
"Before I leave, I wanted to ask a question: why is it that you treat humans as if they are monsters?" Reinhard asked, genuine confusion in his voice. He understood racial hostility on a surface level, but the depth of hatred he had witnessed went far beyond simple rivalry.
"You say that like you are new to this world," Thorin said with a raised eyebrow, studying Reinhard's face for any sign of mockery.
"You could say that…" Reinhard said with a light smile. The vagueness made Thorin frown as he sized Reinhard up with fresh eyes. Now that he really looked at the young man, he realized something that hadn't fully registered during their battle. This man wasn't from this world. Everything about him… yes, he was human, but his aura was different from those humans. From the way he spoke, his appearance, and even how he acted, it was too out of place.
"Humans are… overrun by their desires," Thorin said after a long pause, and honestly, that was the best way he could put it.
"I understand… what about your race? Are you guys not overrun by your own desires?" Reinhard asked calmly. He had always found it odd that in fantasy worlds, humans seemed to carry the same moral failings as on Earth, while other races acted as if the capacity for evil was uniquely human.
He thought back to Earth. A few thousand years ago, what had humanity's morality looked like? Although in his past life he hadn't been particularly religious, he did recall a story of God raining fire upon a city for being consumed by wickedness.
Honestly, he could understand that. He had lived long enough to see what people with unchecked power did when no one was watching—what billionaires did on their private islands. Reinhard believed what happened behind those closed doors was likely commonplace throughout history. He fully expected the human domain of this world to be no different.
"Not like humans. We are dwarves. We hunger for the forge, and for some good beer," Thorin said with a note of pride. Then he paused. "Sure, we have stolen some land for its resources. Enslaved some races to have them work in the mines for us… but compared to you humans, we are angels."
Reinhard sighed at that.
"There is a saying: it's better to be caught by a demon than a human. Humans are sick things." Thorin said, spitting on the ground. Reinhard sighed again, heavier this time. He was a human, and honestly, he wanted to find something to say in defense of his race. But where should he even start?
Not all humans are the same? He fully believed that whatever humans in this world passed for "good" were likely brainwashed into obedience by churches or similar institutions. Hell, some probably went around killing other races with a righteous air, convinced they were doing noble work for the betterment of humanity.
Humans, at the end of the day, were locked in a battle between good and evil. They had the potential to be saints, but also to be demons in human flesh. Humans had to be taught from a young age to be good, taught to be humble, taught to share. None of it came naturally.
And that raised the most important question: who was teaching humans these things in this world? Was his own morality even right? This brought back memories of Earth—debates about absolute truth, about the standards of morality. Philosophers had spent millennia on those questions without reaching consensus. How was he going to decide what was right and wrong here? What did he have to base it on?
He needed to find an absolute, unchangeable truth to stand on—a foundation that no amount of moral relativism could erode.
…Or he could just force this entire world to follow his morality or die. Yeah, that one was far easier.