Work Text:
"So this forest path is where the famous poet Homare Arisugawa always passes?"
"Yeah. He's a filthy rich wizard."
"And a wizard sucks at physical combat!"
The two bandits laugh while waiting behind the bush.
"When he passes by, just jump at him. Don't give him the chance to cast a spell."
"Oh, lookie!"
The two bandits see Homare approaching and keep quiet. The poet wears a typical wizard robe and has a big, thick, bloodstained book in his hands.
"You think he practices blood magic?"
"Maybe."
When he passes by, the two bandits pounce on him, dogpiling him. The next thing the bandits know is Homare rolls and throws them away.
"He's pretty strong for a wizard."
Homare laughs. "'Physically-weak wizards' is a cliche. A genius such as I will not conform to cliches." He picks up the big book and holds it two-handed.
The bandits laugh. "What are you trying to do, beating us with that?" one of them asks.
"Aren't you supposed to cast spells with that?"
"But of course, I have a beautiful, elegant, stupendous spell prepared!" Homare charges and bonks both bandits with the book. Blood, teeth, and saliva fly as the bandits collapse, half-conscious.
"My striking form is elegant, is it not? I call this Skull Bash." Homare tosses the bloodstained book into the air and catches it while leaving the scene. "This is a spell no other wizard can imitate. The blood on this book is a testament to its strength. Ah, inspiration strikes, time to write~"