Infinite Mage - Remake

Courage flickered back to life. He had no plan yet—but sitting here weeping wasn’t an option.

Rian: "I’m not sure how this works, but… if she steals what she’s seen, then magic she hasn’t seen should still work, right? Like the Wind Cutter I showed you at home."

Shirone: "…!"

A lightning bolt of realization struck him.

Yes. If Seizure only took what she had witnessed, then his Spirit Zone was still operational.

Shirone: "You’re right. I’ll have to fight physically. Thanks, Rian."

Amy (whispering): "I’ll get you close with teleportation. Use Wind Cutter from there."

With all her remaining strength, Amy cast teleportation—

WHOOSH!

The two shot forward like streaks of light. Marsha instantly teleported away.

Stolen magic only replicates the original’s usage. Without understanding the principles, she couldn’t apply advanced techniques like Patrol or Rainbow Drop.

Amy exploited this relentlessly. Darting in with erratic movements, she hurled Shirone forward.

Shirone: "Wind Cutter—!"

He unleashed the spell at point-blank range. Since it wasn’t his specialty, he needed to be close to land a hit.

But Marsha retreated further than expected.

‘What?’

Her reaction was strange. Even if unfamiliar with magic, she could have countered with a Photon Cannon or Berserker.

Yet she chose to flee.

Shirone: "…Is there another restriction on Seizure?"

A new possibility ignited in his mind.

Shirone: “If someone whose magic has been stolen makes contact with you, will the theft be undone?”

The fact that Marsha didn’t answer was enough confirmation for Shirone—he had guessed correctly.

Yet, something still felt off. If the condition for breaking the magic theft was physical contact, then Marsha keeping her distance made sense.

But the real problem was that Marsha was in an overwhelmingly advantageous position. She had stolen vast amounts of magic using god particles, while Shirone was left with nothing but a single Wind Cutter.

Wouldn’t that make it the perfect time to fight? And yet, as if terrified, she had retreated dozens of meters away.

‘Outside the rules…’

Shirone’s eyes sharpened. Everything was falling into place in his mind.

‘Found it! The mental gap. Marsha isn’t flawless after all.’

When he thought about it, the answer was simple. If touching her undid the theft, then who in the world could defeat her if she could steal magic so easily? There had to be an additional cost—something that balanced such an overpowered ability.

He didn’t know what that price was, but it must have been severe—something akin to the trauma that created an Eater in the first place.

‘Eaters are beings born from mental scars. To wield such monstrous power, they must first endure unbearable suffering.’

That’s why she couldn’t get close. The moment Shirone discovered how to undo the theft, the risk of her paying the price skyrocketed.

What she truly feared wasn’t just losing the stolen magic—it was the terrible consequence that came with it.

‘But she’s stolen countless magics before. How did she endure it then?’

The answer came swiftly. As soon as Shirone realized it, he lunged at Marsha.

There was no time to hesitate. Marsha was stalling, waiting for reinforcements.

The ability to steal magic came at the cost of reliving her deepest pain.

As long as there was even the slightest chance Shirone could trigger that cost, Marsha would never engage him directly.

And if that fear hadn’t existed, the magic of theft would never have manifested in the first place.

Shirone was no longer afraid. He still had time. He had to capture Marsha before backup arrived.

Marsha: “Hah!”

Marsha gasped and scrambled backward. Even the smallest movement from Shirone made her face pale. Her playful tone and charming expressions were gone—only raw fear remained.

‘I can do this! I can get my magic back!’

Fueled by hope, Shirone pursued her relentlessly. Of course, chasing a teleporting mage on foot was nearly impossible—but he couldn’t just stand by while the thief who stole his life escaped.

Tess: “Shirone! Look out!”

At Tess’ warning, Shirone glanced up. About ten streaks of light tore through the sky with a deafening roar.

Marsha’s face finally twisted into a triumphant grin. Shirone, on the other hand, felt his strength leave him.

He thought he had more time. He was wrong.

The surviving subordinates had arrived instantly via magic circle.

Marsha: “Hohoho! Finally! It’s over now!”

Nearly twenty Schema users rushed in, forming a protective ring around Marsha. Breaking through that defense to reach her was impossible.

Amy: “Shirone…”

Amy bit her lip, holding back tears.

Was this really how it would end? Would Shirone have to give up his dream of becoming a mage?

‘No… That can’t be. I loved magic so much. I worked so hard for it.’

Shirone stared at Marsha with hollow eyes—the expression of a man who had lost everything.

Marsha: “Oh, Shirone? Why are you looking at me like that? Ah, because of your magic? Don’t worry. You’re still young—you can start over from scratch. Of course, the magic I stole won’t be usable even if you spend a lifetime relearning.”

Shirone: “You stole sound magic from someone else too, didn’t you?”

Marsha: “Heh, that’s right. What can I say? I’m a kleptomaniac. You claimed to understand me earlier, so why the sudden hostility? Would you willingly hand over 50 silver for pottery but refuse to give up magic? Why? Is it really too much to ask?”

Amy: “Shut up! How dare you say that?! What did Shirone ever do to deserve this?!”

How could someone be so cruel? Marsha wasn’t just stealing magic—she was trampling on Shirone’s life.

Marsha:

To Shirone, her rant sounded less like a condemnation of the world and more like a curse aimed at one person in particular.

Her father.

Marsha had been taken in as an orphan and raised until she was seventeen. But how betrayed must she have felt when she realized those years were built on lies?

That was the horror of Eaters. Their powers were born from trauma.

For normal mages, omnipotence was a tool to strengthen their magic. But for Eaters, it twisted their very essence.

‘Because the pain is so deep, even their thoughts are distorted. That’s what an Eater is.’

That warped humanity took form in the world through magic. Now Shirone understood why the Magic Association refused to recognize Eaters as true mages.

Shirone: “You’re a pitiful person, sister.”

Marsha’s eyes burned with rage. Who was pitying whom?!

Shirone—the hypocrite who pretended to embrace the world, now powerless—was the pitiful one.

Marsha: “Tch! Making excuses now? After trying to kill me? Do you think I’ll show you mercy?”

Shirone: “Honestly… I don’t even know anymore. Just how much pain you’ve endured.”

Marsha: “Hah! Finally admitting it? Now you get it? No one understands another’s pain! That’s human nature! The world is full of terrible people!”

Shirone: “Then… I’ll come to you.”

Marsha’s heart lurched. He couldn’t reach her. Not with twenty guards in the way.

Shirone: “Maybe you’re right. Maybe kindness is just a pretense. But I still believe pain can be shared. If you show me your real wounds—not lies, but the truth—then I’ll see for myself.”

Marsha: “Nonsense! Why would I ever seek sympathy from the likes of you?”

Shirone: “I’ll break the shell that traps you. And I’ll see with my own eyes… just how deep your wounds run.”

Marsha: “Don’t come near me! Stay back!”

Her scream was raw with terror. Even the slightest scratch would make her howl in agony. But Shirone wasn’t just going to scratch—he was going to tear the wound open.

Shirone: “And in return, I promise I won’t abandon you. No matter how much it hurts, I’ll bear it all.”

The moment he finished speaking, Marsha’s underlings raised their swords.

Marsha: “Don’t let him get close! Slit his throat!”

Shirone glanced at the enemies blocking his path, then turned to Rian.

Shirone: “Rian, stay by my side.”

Rian, the most injured of the four, could barely move. Yet he forced himself up without complaint, straight sword in hand.

Tess rushed forward.

Tess: “Wait! Let me do it. I’m less hurt than Rian.”

Rian: “No need, Tess. My lord has given me an order.”

Tess: “But in your condition…!”

Shirone shook his head.

Shirone: “Tess, only Rian can stand beside me right now. I can’t ask anyone else… to stain their hands with blood.”

Tess: “Blood…?”

Shirone turned to Rian.

Shirone: “Rian, cut down anyone who stands in my way.”

Rian didn’t understand. Shirone had lost his magic—he could barely walk. Charging into the enemy ranks now was suicide.

Rian: “…Understood. Leave it to me.”

Yet he obeyed without hesitation. A knight did not question his lord. If ordered, he would fight to the death.

Marsha’s anger boiled over.

Check her wounds? Share her pain? Ridiculous!

Shirone was just spouting nonsense to get his magic back.

That was humanity for you. No matter how kind they pretended to be, in the end, they were all greedy.

Marsha: “Kill him! Kill him now!”

At her command, twenty warriors charged at once. Reinforced by Schema, they closed the distance instantly, blades raised.

Rian tightened his grip on his sword. He didn’t know how long he’d last, but he’d fight until his throat was slit.

The lead swordsman leaped, bringing his blade down toward Shirone’s skull. Rian braced himself to counter—

But then, the attacker’s body blurred—and shot upward like a streak of light.

A sharp whoosh of displaced air echoed through the battlefield.

Marsha stared, dumbfounded. Amy and Tess were equally stunned.

Marsha: “What are you doing?! Attack! We outnumber them!”

Three more warriors lunged at Shirone—only to vanish into the sky before their swords could even swing.

Marsha’s lips trembled.

Shirone kept walking forward. With every step, more of her men were flung away.

‘What… What is happening?!’

Only Amy, the mage, understood. And even she was shaking.

Amy: “Incredible… I knew his magic perception was exceptional, but this…?”

How long had Shirone been planning this? Since Marsha’s men arrived? Since he realized the theft’s condition?

No—it must have been from the moment Rian told him about the Wind Cutter.

Tess: “Amy, what’s happening? What is Shirone doing?”

Amy: “That’s magic. ‘Slow’ magic—it distorts time.”

No one but Shirone could merge theory with omnipotence like this. Even Amy hadn’t expected this level of mastery.

And Marsha certainly hadn’t. Shirone’s insight, buried under lies and schemes, had finally surfaced—and shattered her plans.

Tess:

From the outside, it didn’t look like much. Enemies approached Shirone—and then vanished with a roar.

But for Rian, standing within Shirone’s spirit zone, the truth was clear.

The moment an enemy entered Shirone’s range, their movements slowed to a crawl.

Those who achieved sub-light speed could warp time. Shirone wasn’t at Alpheas’ level of absolute time control, but even this much was enough.

‘Huh? I can… cut them?’

Rian raised his sword toward the sluggishly approaching enemy. The man’s eyes widened in terror—but before Rian could strike, he teleported away.

Rian clicked his tongue and followed Shirone.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The sound of spatial teleportation filled the air. One by one, Marsha’s men fled. Soon, only three remained—and even they retreated as Shirone advanced.

Marsha stood alone, trembling. Nightmare visions flashed through her mind.

Marsha: “D-Don’t come closer! If I die, you’ll never get your magic back!”

Shirone stared at Marsha, his voice heavy with frustration.

"I don’t even know anymore. What kind of person is your sister? Why is everything a lie? What do you gain by deceiving people like this?"

Marsha sneered, her eyes burning with defiance.

"Why should I tell you? You’re just trying to use me anyway! If you really care, then leave me alone! Only then will I trust you! Huh? Really! So just go!"

Shirone’s voice rose, sharp with accusation.

"You keep asking what’s real—but you’re the one drowning in lies!"

Marsha flinched, her shoulders tensing at his words.

"Don’t just say it hurts—tell me where and how! That won’t decide whether I leave or not! Because you paint the world with deception…!"

He stepped closer, his fist trembling with restrained fury.

"You can’t even see how sick your sister really is!"

At that moment, a furious shout cut through the air.

Freeman: "Marsha! NO!"

Amy and Tess whirled around. Freeman, eyes wide with panic, was sprinting toward Shirone at full speed.

Amy gasped. "Impossible! He took a direct hit to the face!"

She stared in disbelief. Even with the Flame Strike’s impact, no one should have survived with their face burned like that.

Tess gritted his teeth. "Who let him through—?!"

But before he could react, Freeman leaped with inhuman agility, soaring over Tess’s head. In midair, he drew his gun, aiming straight for Shirone.

Rian spun around, slashing at Freeman with his straight sword. His muscles screamed in protest, but he couldn’t afford to miss—Freeman had to be stopped.

"Aaaaaah!"

Freeman, too, was under the effect of Shirone’s Slow magic. Logically, Rian’s blade should have cleaved him in two.

But Freeman didn’t retreat. His only thought was protecting Marsha—keeping her away from Shirone at all costs.

Then—

Both Rian and Freeman froze, their expressions mirroring shock.

Rian’s sword never reached Freeman.
Freeman never reached Shirone.

Because Shirone, sensing the danger behind him, had released Slow.

The unique advantage of time magic—its effects could be toggled instantly, affecting friend and foe alike.

And in that brief window—

Shirone’s fist swung in a devastating arc.

Marsha could only watch, helpless. The fist of a boy who sought to shatter everything she had built.

CRACK!

The punch connected with Marsha’s cheek. Her head snapped to the side, and she crumpled to the ground like a broken doll.

Freeman: "M-Marsha?!"

His face paled. Marsha herself couldn’t process what had happened. Staring blankly at the ground, her expression was that of someone already dead.

Shirone sensed it—the magic had returned.

But Marsha’s mind… was now completely empty of power.

Freeman whispered, voice trembling. "Marsha…"

His subordinates, having regrouped after the spatial displacement, emerged from behind the buildings. Yet none dared approach.

Marsha was down. They all knew what that meant.

Freeman knelt beside her, jaw clenched so hard his teeth creaked. "Are you… okay?"

Marsha forced a hollow smile.

"Yeah… I’m fine."

Was this detachment? The numbness that came when faced with irreversible truth?

Her smile held no emotion—only the hollow shell of a person whose spirit had fled.

Amy felt no pity. "Serves you right. You tried to kill Shirone. There’s always a price for stealing magic—what was yours?"

Marsha didn’t react. Equivalent exchange. She had known the cost from the start.

"The condition to undo the theft… is physical contact with me. The magic returns then. And the price…"

She turned to Shirone, her voice eerily calm.

"…You have to hug me."

Tess recoiled. "W-What?! That’s it?!"

His face twisted in disgust. Was this some kind of joke? What kind of woman would stake her life on something so trivial?

But Shirone understood. Extortion was an ability that demanded a price equal to death itself.

The spell that had forced her to kill her adoptive father—that night was a memory she would rather die than relive.

Rian scowled. "This is absurd. Shirone would never agree to that. What if he refuses?"

Freeman’s voice was grim. "Then Marsha dies. Her own rules dictate it."

Tess flailed in protest. "That’s insane! Since when does that make sense?! Amy, back me up here!"

Amy bit her lip. "Don’t ask me. This is Shirone’s choice."

Her chest tightened. Shirone wasn’t the type to harm a woman like this—but with a life at stake, she didn’t know what he’d do.

Shirone exhaled. "Fine. Living is better than dying. I’ll pay the price myself."

He stepped forward. Amy’s pulse spiked.

Freeman suddenly blocked Shirone’s path, desperation in his eyes. His body had moved on its own—pure, helpless love.

But in the end… he stepped aside.

Freeman: "Please… save Marsha."

Marsha closed her eyes, trembling like a patient on an operating table. Part of her wondered—was this all it took?

Damn her trauma. Even if she carved it out, the scars remained.

Marsha: "I’m sorry, Freeman."

Freeman understood. Head bowed, he retreated.

Shirone knelt beside Marsha.

Trauma was dangerous—it chained the present and future to the past. Marsha hadn’t truly lived since that day.

Marsha (weakly): "Can we… go somewhere private? Please."

Shirone: "No. Here is fine."

She opened her eyes, searching his face—but it was unreadable.

What is he thinking? He had every reason to hate her, yet here he was, risking his life to save hers.

‘But… I’ve done worse.’

She had stolen magic, ruined lives. Shirone had faced death because of her. She understood the desire for vengeance.

Shirone slid an arm behind her back, lifting her gently. She didn’t resist. Whatever he demanded, she’d pay it.

As he pulled her against his chest, he whispered:

"I’m hugging you."

Marsha blinked. Then—realization dawned.

Marsha (disbelieving): "What… are you doing?"

Shirone: "Hugging my sister. That’s all."

Marsha (snarling): "Stop mocking me! Do you think this fixes anything?!"

She thrashed, but Shirone held firm.

Shirone: "I told you—I won’t give up."

Marsha (screaming): "Let go! I don’t want your pity! You think you’re noble?! Just take your revenge!"

Her rules prevented her from harming him, but she fought anyway. Shirone didn’t relent.

Marsha (sobbing): "You bastard! Hypocrite! Trash!"

Shirone (softly): "Your sister… is a good person."

His hand brushed her hair.

"You’re nothing like Arcane. Your followers prove that. Even if it’s a lie—so what? No one truly knows another’s heart. But you can trust yourself. If you love someone… someone out there loves you the same way."

Marsha (breaking): "No! It’s not true! You know nothing!"

A lifetime of evil crumbled under his words. Then—tears spilled down her cheeks.

Why? She didn’t feel sad. So why…?

Marsha (confused): "Huh? Why… am I crying?"

A dam burst. Emotions locked away for a decade surged forth.

Flashback: Marsha at 17

The ceiling. Always the ceiling.

Her adoptive father’s shadow loomed, reeking of alcohol.

The same violence. The same fear.

Her fingers curled around the dagger hidden behind her back. Its cold bite steadied her.

Marsha (whispering): "You can… hug me."

Her father froze.

The look in his eyes—she’d never forget it.

She raised the dagger. He stepped closer.

But then—

The man she remembered… wasn’t the monster she’d imagined.

Instead, he pulled her into his arms.

Father (softly): "I’m sorry, Marsha. You’re my daughter."

The words she’d craved most in the world.

And with them—the door to her heart shattered.

Present

Marsha (wailing): "D-Dad! Why… why did you do that?! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Dad!"

The truth? She’d wanted this. No matter the pain, she’d wished—just once—for him to hold her like this.

Shirone (gently): "It’s okay. It’s over now."

Her past rewrote itself. The memory reforged—not as pain, but as hope.

Marsha (collapsing): "AAAAAH! DAD! DAD…!"

Freeman checked the time.

By her rules, she should be dead. Yet—she lived.

Amy (confused): "What’s happening? Did the extortion break?"

Freeman (quietly): "No. Shirone didn’t just fulfill the condition… he erased the need for it."

Tess (stunned): "What? How?!"

Freeman smiled bitterly.

"He didn’t just hug her. He healed her. Marsha’s power… no longer exists."

Shirone had done what none of them could—he’d freed her.

Freeman (whispering): "This… is our complete defeat."

And as Marsha wept, her tears carried away a decade of pain.