Bottles of regeneration potions had been poured onto Quaiesse's broken body. His massive chest wound showed signs of recovery, but the damage was far too severe—the potions alone weren't enough.
At this rate, Quaiesse would be dead long before his wounds could fully heal.
Sakeer had no choice.
He activated "Severe Injury Healing", letting magic and alchemy work together to forcibly stabilize Quaiesse's weakening breath.
Under the excruciating pain, Quaiesse's clouded consciousness began to sharpen.
Alive?
The thought flickered through his mind.
Quaiesse's heavy eyelids lifted, revealing his crimson eyes. But the moment his vision cleared—
Sakeer.
The face before him was neither familiar nor reassuring—instead, it was his worst nightmare!
His already pale face drained of all remaining color.
"S—"
He tried to speak—
But blood surged up his throat.
A gargled cough choked out instead, drowning whatever words he had meant to say.
BANG!
Sakeer's foot lashed out, striking Quaiesse squarely in the neck.
His body slumped.
Unconscious.
Sakeer wasn't going to give him a chance to talk. No chance to cast a spell, no chance for tricks.
"That was a close call."
After sighing, he knelt down, methodically searching Quaiesse's body.
One by one, he stripped away the remaining seven magic rings from Quaiesse's fingers, then took a magic leather pouch and a mystical necklace.
For now, he didn't bother to examine them—they went straight into his inventory.
Sakeer let out a small breath of relief.
Quaiesse hadn't been able to contact the Slane Theocracy.
Nor did he carry any of the Six Gods' artifacts.
Two of Sakeer's greatest concerns hadn't come to pass.
In YGGDRASIL, the game from which this world's magic system derived, there was a spell called "Message"—a basic form of long-distance communication among players.
However, in this world, it wasn't just a game mechanic.
Certain key figures—like Cocytus, the Guardian of the Great Tomb—could use special scrolls to communicate remotely. These scrolls weren't particularly valuable in YGGDRASIL since there had been an abundance of them in the Great Tomb.
But here—
Had the Six Gods left behind similar scrolls?
Sakeer didn't know for sure.
Neither the anime nor the light novel had provided enough information. There could be other means of communication he wasn't aware of.
And that was why—
In the fight against Quaiesse, Sakeer had only displayed the strength of a hero-level combatant.
Information exposure was the true enemy.
But now, after witnessing Quaiesse's willingness to embrace death rather than resist, Sakeer was at least sure of one thing:
Quaiesse had no way to actively contact the Theocracy.
WHOOSH!
Sakeer took off into the sky, carrying Quaiesse's battered, unconscious body as he soared over the dense forest, heading back to the original battlefield.
The gray-robed mage still lay unconscious—guarded by a Principality Peace.
Meanwhile—
The twin witches, who had fled during the battle, had been captured. Another Principality Peace loomed over them as they trembled beneath a massive tree.
Sakeer landed softly, his gaze cold as it fell upon the subhuman witch sisters.
The Emerald Leaf Witch flinched violently.
She immediately pulled her twin close, pressing the frail, terrified White Mist Witch against her chest in a desperate attempt to shield her.
Her wide, trembling eyes were filled with fear, dread, and uncertainty.
To these sisters—
Even the gray-robed mage had been an unbeatable force.
And then Quaiesse had appeared—an entity just as terrifying.
Yet both had been defeated by the young man standing before them.
Confusion flickered in the Emerald Leaf Witch's eyes.
Everything they had been taught—everything they believed—
Was wrong.
Humans were supposed to be weak.
Yet the humans they had encountered... were anything but.
CRUNCH.
The sound of deliberate footsteps broke through the heavy silence.
Emerald Leaf snapped out of her daze—
And instinctively shrank back, clutching her sister tighter.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me?"
Sakeer's voice was cold.
Neither the gray-robed mage nor Quaiesse had been easy to deal with. Too many uncertainties. Too many variables that made even killing them a risk.
Of course—
There were also benefits.
Both men were far from ordinary. If he played things right, Sakeer could extract valuable information from them.
The twin witches flinched.
Fearfully.
Violently.
"I asked you a question," Sakeer said. His tone was sharp. Unyielding.
"Do you understand?"
The sisters hesitated—then hurriedly nodded.
"What race are you?"
A beat of silence.
Then, in a small, cautious voice, the Emerald Leaf Witch whispered:
"We don't know. There are only two of us."
Sakeer's expression darkened slightly.
He had hoped for more answers.
But instead—
He was left with only more questions.
Given the circumstances, Sakeer didn't believe the twins would lie about something so crucial.
"Tell me everything."
His voice was cold.
The twin witches hesitated before finally speaking, laying everything bare.
The gray-robed mage had arrived in the Great Wetland several years ago. The moment he set foot in the region, he enslaved the twin witches, forcing them into servitude.
Using a magic cauldron stolen from the Lizardman tribe, the mage had begun experimenting—his primary focus: the eggs laid by the Frogmen.
For years, the twins had been forced to assist in his research.
Then, recently—
The experiments bore fruit.
And with that revelation, the twins understood a grim reality:
Once the research was complete, they would become expendable.
Desperate, they saw only one way out.
Through their Lizardman informants, they learned of Sakeer—a warrior powerful enough to single-handedly challenge an entire Lizardman tribe.
So, they set a plan in motion.
By luring Sakeer deep into the Great Wetland, they hoped to force a confrontation between him and the gray-robed mage. With luck, the chaos would grant them an opportunity to flee.
As for Quaiesse's sudden appearance?
That had been entirely unplanned.
Sakeer listened silently, deep in thought.
Then—
With a flick of his wrist, he gestured toward the Principality Peace standing nearby.
The celestial being moved without hesitation, lifting the unconscious gray-robed mage and bringing him before Sakeer.
Reaching into the mage's robes, the angel retrieved a translucent, glass-like egg, about the size of a fist, and handed it over.
Sakeer examined it.
"So this is the result of years of research?"
He turned it in his hand, its slick, slightly firm surface pressing against his fingers.
Based on what he had witnessed earlier—
This object wasn't just a biological experiment. It had been valuable enough to catch the interest of Quaiesse, a member of the Black Scripture.
Which meant—
Its worth was immeasurable.
Sakeer narrowed his eyes.
"Item Appraisal."
[Appraisal Results]Item: Artificial Monster – Frogman Egg (Inferior)
Grade: Lowest (Lv. 1~10)
Restriction: Can only be controlled by its creator.
Effect: Upon infusion of magic, the egg rapidly hatches into an adult Frogman (Lv. 5~10).
However, due to its artificial nature, it lacks intelligence and will only survive for one hour before dying.
Description: A man-made monster.
Sakeer let out a slow breath, his gaze drifting to the motionless gray-robed mage.
Artificial monsters?
This world has technology advanced enough to create life?
A creature at Level 5~10 was comparable to an elite soldier in human nations. If these small Frogman Eggs could replace trained warriors—
No wonder Quaiesse wanted this research.
For the first time, Sakeer's expression darkened.
He knew that a single frog could lay anywhere between 3,000 and 6,000 eggs at once. Even if Frogmen laid only a tenth of that amount, it would still be an astronomical number.
If someone perfected this technique—
An entire army of subhuman elites could be mass-produced.
And worse—
Because these artificial Frogmen lacked intelligence, they would be immune to fear and hesitation. A disposable force that would obey commands without question.
Sakeer felt a chill run down his spine.
But then—
He frowned.
This didn't exist in the original story.
That likely meant the process was far from perfect—perhaps the failure rate was too high, or the method wasn't viable for mass production.
Still—
The potential was terrifying.
Sakeer turned back toward the gray-robed mage, still slumped in the Principality Peace's grasp.
His gaze hardened.
This technique…
Without warning—
Sakeer clenched his fist and slammed it into the mage's chest.
"AARGH!"
The sudden, searing pain ripped the mage out of unconsciousness, a shattered scream echoing through the night.
The twin witches flinched, pressing themselves further into the shadows.
They trembled.
"All-Race Charm."
An invisible wave of mental energy surged from Sakeer's fingertips, piercing into the mage's mind.
The gray-robed man twitched violently, his initial screams morphing into a strangled gasp.
His wild, pained gaze grew glassy and vacant.
Had he been fully conscious and prepared, he might have been able to resist.
But in his current state—
He was completely vulnerable.
Sakeer's voice was calm.
"Tell me who you are."
The mage's lips moved stiffly, his voice hollow—
"I am a member of Zurrernorn."
Sakeer's eyes flickered with recognition.
Then—
A chuckle.
"Heh… Seems like I keep running into your people."
Sakeer shifted his gaze toward the twin witches, something cold and calculating flickering behind his eyes.
"What race are they?"
The mage responded immediately.
"According to the data I've collected—"
His voice was mechanical, his words spilling forth without resistance.
"—the twin witches share a connection with the Demon God that appeared two hundred years ago. It is highly likely that they are the last remaining descendants of that being."
Sakeer's gaze hardened.
The descendants of a Demon God?