The helicopter descended, its blades whipping the snow into a frenzy.
In the far north of Russia, in a village called Kirovsk, the brutal winter showed no mercy. It was there that an important figure had arrived.
Wrapped in a thick scarf, dressed in black, and wearing his signature gloves inscribed with a glowing magic crest—
Victor Morozov. The "Anti-Mage."
Global Rank: 7.
Country Rank: 1.
The sole leader of the Russian Lands, followed by his elite force: The Black Fang.
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"It's cold out here."
The blizzard howled, obscuring their view.
"Sir, we can't analyze the situation in the village," one of his men reported.
Victor narrowed his eyes, peering into the storm. He stopped abruptly, his expression tightening.
"Sir?"
"Are you sure this is the site of the dungeon break?"
"Yes, sir. An hour ago, the surge of mana was detected all the way from headquarters. It was confirmed Class A."
"Hmm…"
Victor frowned. He couldn't feel a single trace of mana. To him, the village seemed like any other settlement, barely enduring the weather. And yet… he couldn't dismiss the earlier report.
As one of the strongest men alive, he decided to act.
"First, let's deal with this climate."
He raised his right hand, stretching his fingers until his palm faced outward. Slowly, he began to chant:
"Caelum aeternum, testare."
"Terra fortis, ossa dona."
"Claudite hostes, lumen vinculum."
"Let there be an eternal wall."
The crest on his gloves shone brilliantly. Beyond the horizon, a transparent shield expanded outward, enclosing the village and cutting off the storm. The barrier lit up the scene—
and revealed the corpses of villagers and dungeon monsters scattered across the snow.
"What a heinous sight."
With a wave of his left hand, he gave his command.
"Begin the cleanup."
Victor strode deeper into the village, his gaze sharp.
"Someone already closed the dungeon… and slaughtered the monsters."
"That may be the case, sir."
But Victor shook his head.
"A Class A dungeon requires strength at the highest level. If the caster were ranked, I'd recognize the mana… yet I don't. Something doesn't add up. Hench, with me."
"Yes, sir."
The further they went, the more corpses piled up.
"The bodies only increase… what abomination is this?" Victor thought grimly.
The trail of monsters led straight to a house. Victor stopped.
"Hench, scan the building."
"Right away, sir."*
The man pulled out a device that pulsed with x-ray waves, sweeping through the house.
"Report."
"A woman and a young girl are inside."
"Their pulse?"*
"The girl has a faint one."
"So she's the only survivor."
They stepped inside. The stench of monsters clung to the walls.
"It's overwhelming, sir."
"Bear it."
Victor's boots echoed as he walked. To his right lay the living room. A woman's mutilated body sprawled across the floor, her arms wrapped protectively around a collapsed girl.
"Hench, call the medics."
"Yes, sir."
The soldier rushed outside to radio for aid. Meanwhile, Victor's eyes fell on the child. Faint mana pulsed within her.
"How did I miss this?"
He knelt, placing a hand on her head. A surge of overwhelming power coursed through him.
"This mana… don't tell me—"
He turned quickly to inspect a nearby monster. Its wounds carried traces of faint mana—eerily familiar.
"No… this is the same as the remnants of the Grand Magi, four centuries ago. Impossible. Could she have been… reborn?"
Behind him, the girl stirred. Slowly, she rose, lifting one trembling hand toward him. Mana gathered at her palm.
Victor didn't flinch.
"A chantless mage?" he murmured.
The girl's mana flared wildly, unstable, raw power pressing against him.
"A single spell…" Victor realized.
Her brow furrowed.
"A single spell killed every Class A monster here."
At his words, the girl smirked faintly.
"You. I have chosen this child. Take care of her."
Her body, overwhelmed by the mana, collapsed once more.
Victor, unsurprised, lifted her in his arms.
"It seems something far greater is about to unfold."