As the system's voice echoed, faint cracks began to spiderweb across the man's body, spreading rapidly in all directions.
Crack!
A piercing shattering sound rang out! Countless crystalline fragments burst outward, wrapped in a dissipating illusion, scattering like sparks before dissolving into tiny specks of light that vanished into the air.
In the man's place, Roger appeared.
"Even though I learned from his memories that he was loyal, I didn't expect this level of devotion," Roger mused.
"He even suggested intensifying the scent himself."
"Illusion magic… it's really something else."
"When you're with someone you trust completely, you'd never suspect they'd betray you."
"It's like a kid tasting food their parents cooked, never once thinking it could be poisoned."
[Collection]
[Ding! Obtained 2000J and the Armory Key]
"Armory key?" Roger murmured, a bronze key materializing in his palm. He studied the shape of its teeth closely.
"When I was scouting the area earlier, I think I saw a lock that matches this."
He stored the corpse in his spatial inventory, cleared the room of unnecessary items, and restored everything to its original state. Then, he transformed into Hans's likeness and strode confidently toward a weathered door.
Glancing at the lock and confirming it matched the key's shape, he calmly inserted it.
Click.
The lock sprang open. Roger pushed the door, revealing a dazzling array of weapons inside.
He slipped into the room, closing the door behind him, and grabbed a sheathed longsword from near the entrance.
Shing!
The sword slid free, its clear hum reverberating in the cramped space, the gleaming blade reflecting Roger's sharp, handsome features.
With a casual flick, he swung the sword at a nearby iron rack. The blade sliced through with barely any resistance, like cutting tofu.
The rack silently split in two, crashing to the ground with a clang.
"What a sharp blade," Roger said, running his thumb along the sword's spine, a faint smile tugging at his lips, his eyes gleaming with appreciation.
A scarlet magic circle flared at the sword's tip. As it moved upward, the blade began to vanish, fully absorbed into his Requip space once the circle reached his hand.
He moved forward, grabbing weapon after weapon. Scarlet light flashed repeatedly as the armory's contents dwindled rapidly.
Finally, he stored the last few items—ominous, magic-emanating artifacts and a magic machine gun—in his system inventory. Then he left the room, locking the door behind him.
"Too bad [The Knight] can't store firearms in the Requip space," he muttered.
"Lord Hans!!"
A frantic shout came from the distance. Roger looked up.
A scrawny figure approached, growing clearer as it neared—a boy, about 18, who skidded to a stop in front of Roger, bending over and panting heavily.
"Lord… Lord Hans, I finally found you!"
"The boss… the boss needs to see you!"
"Got it," Roger said with a slight nod. "What does the boss want? Or is there something I need to prepare Hiện
prepare?"
The boy scratched his head, frowning as he tried to recall. "He didn't say anything specific."
"Just told me to fetch you."
Roger nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, I understand."
"How's Allen doing at the gate?"
"Uh…" The boy's face twisted into an awkward expression, his words stumbling. "When I went there to ask about you, Lord Carl demanded 2000J for info on your whereabouts."
"And Lord Allen was so drunk he didn't even understand what I was asking."
He rubbed his head. "I had to ask a bunch of people to figure out which way you went and ran all the way here."
Roger sighed and patted the boy's shoulder. "Good work. Go enjoy the victory feast."
Caught off guard by the usually stoic Hans's praise, the boy's face lit up with surprise and uncontainable joy.
He praised me! he thought, his mind racing. Maybe after this, the strongest C-rank mage will take me under his wing, and I'll become the fourth mage in the guild!
Beaming with excitement, the boy practically floated toward the feast hall.
Watching him go, Roger's lips curved slightly.
"Everyone thinks they're special, especially at that age," he mused. "A little nudge, and he didn't even notice the oddity of Hans being summoned twice."
Pondering, Roger headed toward the room where Kain, according to Hans's memories, would be.
"Now, only the final boss remains. But I still don't know enough about B-rank mages."
"The original story was vague about mage rank distinctions."
"I can only estimate a B-rank's strength based on that Dark Magic Cult member from before."
He slowed his pace, feeling the surge of magic power coursing through him.
"After killing Allen, I gained the ability to imbue illusions with specific personalities, but only enough for them to act and talk like normal people."
"But after Hans, my magic power feels like it's reached a new level."
"My illusions now carry a small amount of magic power, enough平行
enough to cast my spells."
"The stronger the magic, the more lifelike the illusion becomes."
"Is this… turning an intangible illusion into a tangible one?"
He pulled out a magic recovery potion, downed it in one gulp, and, confirming his magic was at full capacity, took a deep breath. He quickened his pace toward the room from Hans's memory.
Just as he reached to push the door open, he froze, like someone had hit pause. A minute later, a necklace with a black-and-purple cloak pattern appeared in his hand.
He slipped it around his neck and stepped inside.
With a creak, the door opened, revealing the bald, muscular man from his memory.
Roger approached, keeping his gaze fixed on Cain, who had his arm draped casually over the armrest, his fingers tapping lazily.
When Roger stood before him, Cain leaned back slightly, his half-lidded eyes radiating a commanding scrutiny.
"Hans…" Cain's voice was low and gravelly.
"You've mimicked his appearance and magical aura perfectly."
Roger's heart jolted, his body tensing instinctively.
[Water Stream Chaos]
A hissing surge of water roared as a massive blue magic circle flared before Roger's eyes.
The moment the blue light appeared, Roger's legs tensed, and with a powerful push, he dodged to the side.
Whoosh!
Three dark blue water blades grazed past his nose, slashing deep into the spot where he'd just stood.
The stone floor split like a sliced cake, leaving three deep gashes.
Cain raised his right hand, flicking his index finger. A faint icy blue glow appeared at his fingertip.
A thin layer of water in the floor's gashes began to rise, twisting into three serpentine streams that lunged toward the wooden door, biting into the handle, lock, and base.
Crackle!
The screech of multiplying ice crystals filled the air. The wood grain warped under a frost-white sheen, the door groaning as its fibers froze. In an instant, the wooden door was encased in a layer of ice.