A New Path Forward

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Gladius's lips as he recalled his spirit sword, the ethereal blade dissipating into motes of scintillating light. He gave a small nod of self-assurance, that simple gesture carrying the weight of a profound realization.

The power of his internal sword energy, the force he had spent countless hours attaining mastery over, had no difficulty cleaving through the mystic might of magic itself. 

And if he truly wished, if he unleashed the full depths of his attunement, he could infuse every fiber of his being with the primordial sword force, amplifying his sword slashes to eclipse even the greatest feats of magic.

To what dizzying heights he could ascend, what limits he could shatter – that remained an enticing mystery, one that stoked the burning embers of ambition within his soul. 

But of one thing he was now certain: should he find himself facing the vaunted mages of EmberForge or Gale Academy, their heralded power would prove no match for the razor's edge of his blade.

"You-you..." The sound of horrified voices broke Gladius out of his contemplation. He flickered his gaze towards the terrified young couple. 

Both of them were pale white, as if the very blood had drained from their faces. 

This entire situation had been a nightmarish ordeal for them.

One moment, they were on their knees, helpless before the might of the ice mage. Then Gladius arrived, and the entire scenario unraveled into insanity. 

They had witnessed a common mortal not only challenging a mage's power but slaying him with ease, mocking the mystic arts as if they were nothing more than parlor tricks.

Death, in all its gruesome glory, had been laid bare before their eyes. The sight of the mage's decapitated corpse, the visceral spray of blood painting the alleyway in crimson – it was too much for their senses to bear. The couple retched, vomiting onto the cobblestones as the reality of the situation washed over them like a tidal wave.

And perhaps most terrifying of all was the realization that Gladius now held their lives in his hands. With the mage's demise, there was nothing stopping this enigmatic stranger from turning his blade upon them if he so desired.

Yet Gladius's expression remained one of calm indifference. This was not the first time he had witnessed death or dealt it with his own hands. His harsh upbringing in his previous world had stripped him of any naivete regarding the fragility of life. 

Killing was an indifferent emotion for Gladius, neither bringing him joy nor discomfort. Though, he could admit that putting arrogant individuals in their place did provide a certain sense of enjoyment. 

It was simply annoying to see those who wielded power truly believe that nothing in the entire world could stop them. Witnessing their expressions crumble into panic and fear as their supposed invincibility shattered – that was a gratifying sight.

As for this young couple, Gladius merely shrugged at them, feeling little in the way of empathy after aiding them. 

"Better get out of here," he said, his words carrying a tone of casual dismissal.

With those simple words, he turned his attention to the mage's corpse, rummaging through the man's belongings until he procured a small enchanted pouch. 

Pocketing his spoils, Gladius strode out of the alleyway, his steps unnaturally swift, as if propelled by an unseen force.

The young couple blinked, and Gladius had already vanished from sight, leaving only the echoes of his footfalls in his wake.

"That-that... it almost felt like a ghost just helped us..." The young woman shivered, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Their biggest and most dreadful problem in life had been resolved in a matter of seconds, snuffed out as easily as one might extinguish a candle flame.

The young man shook his head, grasping his lover's hand tightly as he murmured, "We can think about this later. But he's right. Let's get the hell out of here."

...

Gladius swiftly made his way back to his inn room, his mind barely registering any concerns over potential repercussions for his actions. 

It was evident that in this world, might made right – a society where power reigned supreme. Whether it came to political maneuverings, saving face, or outright combat, those with strength held true authority. 

An arrogant mage may have been slain, but in a realm where the weak were inevitably crushed beneath the heels of their superiors, who could truly stop Gladius?

Even if the mage had allies, the local mages in this town paled in comparison to Gladius's prowess. They posed no threat worthy of wariness.

Instead, Gladius focused his attention on his spoils from the arrogant mage's corpse. That enchanted pouch was easily activated by infusing it with a trickle of his sword energy, and Gladius's heightened sword sense immediately detected various potent sources of concentrated mana within.

But it was two scrolls, brimming with mana, that truly piqued Gladius's curiosity. 

He withdrew them from the pouch, a surge of excitement coursing through his veins as he studied their labels: one proclaimed itself as the "Ice Ball Art," while the other bore the title "Study Body Art." 

These were the only magical arts contained within the pouch, but Gladius was more than satisfied with his haul.

A thought had been swirling through his mind ever since he first sensed the wondrous force of magic permeating this world. His soul, for reasons he could not fathom, seemed incapable of forming a connection to mana in the same way he had attained unity with the primordial sword force. 

Yet, his sword sense could still comprehend the theories and formulas underpinning the principles of magic.

Magic and the sword, both forces derived from the world around them, were intrinsically linked. 

If he could not wield mana directly, then why not convert the power of magic into his sword force? 

To voice such notions aloud would likely incur the disgust of any mage, for the mere thought of perverting the mystic arts in such a manner would be considered blasphemous.

But if Gladius could understand the principles behind magic, why should it not be possible to shape them to his will? 

He equated it to the various equations and formulas used in his modern world, all leading to the same result through different methodologies. He would simply take the equations of magic and apply them to his sword force, potentially producing an even more potent force unique to him alone.

After all, the sword was not merely a weapon. It was a way of life, a philosophy that could adapt and flow like water, taking on myriad forms to suit any situation. Flexibility and versatility were the hallmarks of the true swordsman.

Still, saying such things proved far easier than putting them into practice. 

Gladius first turned his attention to the Ice Ball Art scroll, genuinely intrigued by the elemental forces underpinning this particular magical discipline.

He unfurled the scroll, revealing its contents divided into three distinct layers: Small Success, Large Success, and Perfection. Each layer presumably represented the depth of one's understanding and mastery over the art, with the accompanying steps laid out in a series of mystical runic symbols and arcane hieroglyphs.

To the untrained eye, these inscriptions would appear as little more than unintelligible scribbles. Only those who had awakened their innate connection to mana and unlocked their magical potential could hope to decipher the profound meanings woven into these esoteric markings.

Yet despite his lack of a mana connection, Gladius's sword sense allowed him to perceive the complex formulas and principles encapsulated within the runic symbols. The words and meanings overflowed with magical knowledge, laid bare before his heightened perception like an open book.

Focusing his attention on the First Layer, Gladius's sword sense detected a string of words that seemed to carry great importance: 'Feel The Ice Crawl In Your Skin.'

He pondered these words, drawing parallels to his own philosophy of swordsmanship. 

Just as he could sense every slash of his blade, every exhalation of sword energy that exuded a power beyond mortal means, so too must one feel the essence of any force they wished to wield.

To truly master anything, one needed to attune their senses to its fundamental nature, allowing muscle memory and instinct to guide their actions until the sensations became second nature. It would be no different when studying the force of mana and magic.

Gladius delved deeper into the formulas of the First Layer, his sword sense dissecting and assimilating the knowledge with each passing second. 

Everything unfolded before him like the pages of a cherished tome, and he was the eager scholar, absorbing every scrap of information laid before him.

It was enlightening, as if he were rediscovering ancient truths that had always resided within him, merely waiting to be unlocked. 

Whether this was a normal phenomenon or not, Gladius could not say – nor did he particularly care. He rode the momentum of this epiphanic wave, opening the Study Body Art scroll and deciphering its contents with apparent ease.

Time flowed by, yet Gladius felt not a hint of its passage. His sword sense had become a finely honed blade, carving through the mysteries of magic with surgical precision.