SSS Rank Sword Mage: Awakening Starts with Weakest Mana Affinity-Chapter 115: The Tax Collector and His Guard

"Wheres the elf?" Bagu asked, his voice a low, predatory rumble that vibrated in our teeth. "Has she run away to die in the woods?"

He didn’t wait for an answer. Bagu began speed-blitzing the trio, slamming and swinging the three fighters against one another like ragdolls. Lord Zedd took multiple mana blasts to the chest; Greyjoy tried to counter, but his fiery resilience was brutally dismantled. When Bratan tried to sneak in a hit, he was met with a punch so hard I saw teeth fly from his mouth. They were left motionless as Bagu hoisted Zedd up by the collar.

"I guess this is all you have to offer," Bagu sneered, his voice echoing with the hollow resonance of his new form. "I require someone who can grant me a higher death—a more significant end. Since you can no longer fulfill that purpose, I have lost all interest in you."

Bagu’s hand shot out, his fingers clamping onto Zedd’s arm like a hydraulic press. Bratan lunged forward, a roar of desperation on his lips as he tried to intervene, but before he could even bridge the gap, he was struck down by something invisible.

He didn’t just fall; he was blasted backward as if hit by a freight train.

We all saw it then, our eyes struggling to track the impossible. Bagu was still standing over Zedd, his grip unyielding—but a shimmering, translucent afterimage of Bagu was standing over the fallen Bratan, its fist still extended from the blow. The phantom hadn’t disappeared; it was moving on its own, a physical echo of a speed so great it had fractured his presence into two places at once.

It was a ripple of pure mana—faceless, silent, yet possessing a physical weight that pinned Zedd to the ground.

Greyjoy, struggling to his feet, spat blood and tried to reignite the hope in Zedd and Bratan. "All we have to do is damage him to the brink of death! If you observe closely, his regeneration is slowing down... he should be healing from my fire-based attacks instantaneously, but he isn’t." Greyjoy took a serious stance, his eyes narrowing. "It leads me to one conclusion: your regeneration slows over time, but there is a loophole... you have to keep dying for it to refresh."

Lord Zedd considered this newfound information through his pain. If Greyjoy was right, it changed everything.

"Father, what the heck is that?" I asked, staring at the faceless entity. "It’s like his shadow came alive, but I can still see his actual shadow on the ground."

"Since Bagu is a Sound Dragon, he has likely developed a ’Second Self,’" Father replied, his voice trembling. "It’s a phantom echo from a higher dimension. It explains how he escaped the Suffocation Cube—he simply left a piece of himself behind."

The phantom began punching Zedd with incredible force. Zedd tried to teleport, but he remained anchored in place, suppressed by the phantom’s inter-dimensional presence. I prayed to myself, Morgana, please hurry! Then, the sickening sound of bone snapping followed by Zedd’s scream of agony pierced the air. Bagu’s phantom double widened a long, toothy grin, showing sharp triangular teeth, though it remained eerily silent.

Just as the Dragon prepared his finishing blow, a different kind of shockwave rippled through the clearing. This wasn’t Bagu. It was a powerful, external mana signature—cold, heavy, and utterly alien.

Bagu froze. Both he and his phantom double turned in unison to stare toward the forest edge. The shadow-half tossed Zedd aside like a piece of discarded trash as the primary Bagu stepped forward, his featureless head tilting in curiosity.

"Shit, he’s coming for us!" I gripped my arms, trying to steady my shaking frame, but Morad shook his head, his gaze fixed on the shadows behind us.

"It’s not us he’s worried about," Morad whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and terror. "That great power... they’re finally here."

Out of the mist emerged a tall man in a tattered black cloak, his silver hair catching the dying firelight. A massive, slab-like sword was strapped lazily across his back. Beside him walked a young boy in round glasses, his nose buried in a leather-bound book while he rhythmically swung a small hand-bell.

"Who the hell are they?" a mage hissed. Another whimpered, "Are they enemies too? Look at them... they walk like they’re possessed." 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

The ringing of the bell grew louder, slicing through the roar of the forest fires, accompanied by a strange, melodic mantra:

"Two men on the road... there is nothing, therefore a troubled town has to pay, but they refuse that all today..." (CLANG) "They say a monster stops them all..." (CLANG) "Shall I ask you? Is that...all?" (CLANG) "A peaceful place is brought by paying taxes... a simple requirement for those who wish to join..." (CLANG)

The fog parted, revealing the full picture. There were three of them. The Mayor was slumped over the tall, silver-haired man’s shoulder like a sack of grain, his face pale and unconscious. In a flash of movement—a displacement so fast it defied the laws of physics they were suddenly inside our barrier.

Our barrier. The strongest defense the mages could muster. Everyone stood paralyzed in bewilderment. They hadn’t broken the mental shield of safety; they had simply walked through it as if it were a polite gesture.

The tall man unceremoniously dropped the Mayor, who was bound hand and foot with a thick gag in his mouth.

Father stood speechless for a moment before finally regaining his voice. "Mayor! What... how?" He turned to the tall man, his voice rising in alarm. "Why are you treating the Mayor in this manner?"

Neither of the newcomers replied. The man kept his gaze fixed on Bagu, while the boy remained absorbed in his book. Father immediately knelt and ripped the gag from the Mayor’s mouth. "Mayor, are you okay? Why are you in this condition?"

Judging by their attire, it was clear they were high-ranking officials from the Manyblood capital, but their presence remained baffling. To treat a provincial Mayor with such blatant disrespect was unheard of. Father stood up, his face hardening as he produced his official pocket watch—a polished sign of his status—and stepped forward to demand an explanation.

The boy with the bell adjusted his glasses, peering at the watch with clinical detachment.

"Hmm. What is a Manomancer doing in a backwater town like this?" the boy mused, his voice devoid of emotion. "As a direct messenger from the Capital Task Force, we are deeply sorry for any inconvenience you have suffered. According to Section VS-12, I am required to report anyone who has caused you distress or hindered research that would aid the betterment of the State of Manyblood."

He flipped through his book with rhythmic precision, his eyes darting across the text as if searching for a specific code. "This is highly unacceptable. Why are you without a guard? I was under the impression that every Manomancer was required a protective detail."

He looked at my father with a brief, flickering sense of professional shame, as if his own incompetence had led to this oversight. "Your name, please?"

Father gave it, his voice steady despite the chaos around them.

The boy’s fingers froze on a page. A slow, cold realization set in. "I see. Vulgabread Fula... yes, here it is." His respectful tone evaporated in a heartbeat, replaced by a chilling apathy. "I see why you haven’t been granted a guard. No beneficial research for the State since your date of induction. Zero contributions."

Father looked completely blindsided, a wave of embarrassment washing over his face as he scratched the back of his head. "Well... that’s exactly why I’m in this town, you see—"

The boy didn’t even look up to let him finish. "That is interesting, but unfortunately, anyone who hasn’t contributed to the Great Kingdom of Manyblood isn’t worth my time," he said calmly. His voice cut through the battlefield tension like a guillotine.

Closing the book with a soft thud, he turned his attention to the tall, silver-haired man. "Now, back to more pressing matters. Tas the Tax Collector, sent to the town of Blackroot... Mayor, I’ll ask you one last time. Who exactly was it that prevented the payment?"

Father stared at the silver-haired man, his confusion momentarily eclipsed by the sheer, looming threat of the Dragon. Without a word, both he and the Mayor slowly raised their hands, pointing trembling fingers toward the towering form of Bagu.

"Good. Mayor, and you, sir—you have both done well." The boy flipped his book open once more, his voice taking on the droning, rhythmic quality of a court herald.

"Under the Tax Collection Law, ratified by the Eternal State of Manyblood: any entity—be they great or small, able or disabled, driven by love, hate, or divine madness—who dares to obstruct the flow of the State’s revenue..." He looked up from the pages, his eyes cold behind his round lenses. "...shall be met with immediate and absolute violence. Signed, the King."

The boy closed the book with a definitive snap and gave the tall man a curt nod.

"Step aside, everyone," the boy commanded. "Let my associate complete his work. And do try not to die while he’s at it. He finds distractions... irritating."

The tall man finally raised his head, his eyes cutting through the haze of smoke and the shimmering distortion of Bagu’s phantom double. He inhaled deeply; the scent of ozone and charred god-flesh seemed to concern him no more than the smoke from a common hearth. He shifted the slab of steel on his back, and when he spoke, his voice sounded like boulders grinding at the bottom of a canyon.

"Oi, ugly," he rumbled across the clearing. The sheer confidence in his tone was staggering. "So, you’re the reason this town is late on its payment?"

The mages blinked in stunned silence. The Mayor, still trembling in the dirt, could only offer a frantic, confused look of desperation. He was being rescued, but by men who treated his life like a line item on a ledger.

The boy with the bell sighed, flipping a page. "And I suppose this is the thing responsible for the missing persons reports your town has been filing? The one that made Blackroot fall behind on its state taxes?" He shook his head, utterly unimpressed. "Still not an excuse, Mayor. If you don’t want to be branded an enemy The silver-haired man let out a huff of amusement. He looked at the towering, multi-limbed nightmare that had just dismantled the finest mages of the Vintergard, and his grin widened, revealing a row of sharp, confident teeth.

"He looks strong, I suppose, but nothing you can’t handle," the boy added, adjusting his glasses. His smirk was a perfect mirror of the man’s predatory grin. "I’m actually quite excited to finally see you in action. It appears he’s even managed to enter the second stage of his draconic evolution. See? I told you coming with me wouldn’t be boring."

Across the scorched clearing, Bagu’s face seemed to light up with a twisted sort of joy. He began to clap a slow, mocking sound that echoed through the valley like rhythmic thunderclaps.

"So,you finally came" Bagu hissed, his voice vibrating in the chests of everyone present. "The ’Great Power’ has finally arrived. I was beginning to think the stories of Manyblood’s strongest were mere exaggerations."

they warned me about you you know they told me if I wanted higher death you would be the one to grant it so I had to stay in this wretched just to see it for myself."

Bagu stepped forward, his Shadow Echo mimicking the movement with a haunting delay. He tilted his head, as if sniffing the air. "Your mana presence is impressive, It has a certain... weight to it. But I’m afraid it’s still not quite good enough to kill me."

Bagu took a slow, mocking step forward, his many eyes fixed on the newcomer. "In fact, that foolish goat told me specifically you might even win." He chuckled again, the sound echoing across the wasteland.

I stared at the silver-haired man, my mind reeling. Win? I couldn’t sense much mana from him at all compared to Lord Zedd. He had a powerful physique, for sure, but so did Guts—and Guts was currently at his absolute limit. At this point, I didn’t know what to believe anymore, but the fact that Bagu had been warned was truly remarkable.

"What was the name I was told again?" Bagu mused, his voice dripping with condescension. "Andres... Andres Deontay. Finally, I see your face. I have the sudden, overwhelming urge to punch it."

"Ah, I see now. It all makes sense." Andres stepped forward, passing calmly through the shimmering wall of the barrier as if the high-level magic were nothing more than a hanging curtain.

"Didn’t I say something didn’t add up, Tobi?" his tone was directed at the boy with the bell, who nodded in solemn, quiet agreement. "Yes, Andres. You were right."

Andres began rolling his shoulders, the audible pops of his joints echoing in the tense silence. "Fifty tax collectors stationed throughout Manyblood, and yet all of them were suddenly ’unavailable.’ That makes me the only one left to guard the one tasked to come to this side of the territory for the state’s money—which just happens to be exactly when all these ’mysterious’ things are happening. And here you are, a dragon who already knows my full name."

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 shockwave that sent a ring of dust rippling outward. Andres 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.

Then, he pulled a long strip of white cloth from his pocket and began to wrap it tightly around his fist.

Author’s Note: The SS-Rank Sword Mage has arrived...