Chapter 588 – Reunion (2)
"Dark Moon, disappeared?"
There was no need to peer into the pit or look around to know. The immeasurable magic power, along with the overwhelming pressure that weighed upon their shoulders, had vanished without a trace.
As silence fell over the incomprehensible situation, Arril was the first to rush forward, and Hezen hastily followed right behind her.
"Lady Rovellin!!!!"
Calling their superior's name, the two leapt into the crater without hesitation.
Watching them, Valmorg, a middle-aged Magus with a gentle impression—the one in charge of overseeing Rovellin—shook his head slightly and clicked his tongue inwardly.
Tsk tsk, outsiders indeed.
Everything had gone according to the will of the Magic Tower. There was no reason to grieve.
The predator had taken the bait.
Now, the leader of Black Hour would be destroyed by the tower master. At last, the long war would reach its end.
And the one who contributed to that end, is me, Valmorg.
It was both an achievement and a merit.
Valmorg indulged in the anticipation of what kind of reward he might receive. Perhaps, he would be granted the opportunity to conduct experiments on a whole, untainted human.
But then… a voice that shouldn't have been audible vibrated against his eardrums.
"Lady Rovellin? Are you all right?"
"Please, look me in the eye and answer. Are you hurt anywhere? Your head? Your legs? Are you really okay??"
"I said I'm fine, stop fussing."
Hezen and Arril emerged from the pit, supporting Rovellin by both sides.
Not only Valmorg, but the surviving internal members of the Magic Tower opened their mouths slightly in disbelief. Their eyes widened.
What the… why is she… alive?
Under Coercion, her emotions should have spiraled out of control, her body and mind should have been drained, and the spatial distortion that followed should have swallowed Dark Moon and torn Rovellin to pieces without leaving a trace.
What was this?
Something was wrong.
Things were beginning to go awry.
"Y-You there!"
The elder of the Helion Tower came running frantically, shoving his face close to Rovellin's.
"Just now, what in the world was that? What was that spatial distortion, and where has Dark Moon gone! Tell me, is this related to the tower master of Bohemirn?"
He had faced Dark Moon three times before, fought once, and barely survived. Ever since then, he carried lingering fear.
So he couldn't help but ask about Dark Moon's disappearance.
Rovellin answered.
"It was a trap."
"A trap?"
"My master judged that it would be difficult to subjugate Dark Moon in an open region. So, to prevent Dark Moon from escaping or receiving reinforcement from his forces, he decided to set a trap."
"So… you mean you were the bait to lure Dark Moon in?"
"You must have heard that Black Hour has been assassinating key figures of the Bohemirn Tower and kidnapping successors, myself included."
There was no one in the magical city who didn't know that Lucard Maniacs had been kidnapped. Rumors also spread that Rayshen Tailroad had suffered the same fate.
Above all, had Dark Moon not said it hisself just moments ago?
That with Rovellin captured, only one disciple of Bohemirn Tower remained.
"T-To think they'd go so far as to cut off the entire line of succession and uproot the tower itself. Horrifying!"
"Truly heinous beyond measure. When they killed Tower Master Diamoon and his first disciple, they must have harbored the same vile intent…!"
The mages belonging to the traditional towers shuddered at the cruelty of Black Hour.
Still… even if it was for the sake of eliminating Dark Moon, the fact remains that the Bohemirn Tower Master used his own disciple as bait.
Under normal circumstances, that alone would not be something to gloss over. It would warrant discussion at a tower assembly.
And yet, Rovellin stands here unscathed despite such a massive magical shockwave. The master clearly ensured her protection.
Considering the sudden situation and other factors, it was an awkward matter to nitpick. They owed Bohemirn Tower a debt, after all.
This was a game of wits.
The overlapping stratagems of Dark Moon and the Almighty's plan.
The elders and council members of the Helion and Ostea Towers reached a silent conclusion.
This matter was not for outsiders to Bohemirn Tower to meddle in.
"At any rate, the crucial point is that the Transcendent of Omnipotence and the Transcendent of Annihilation have clashed…"
"How long has it been since the Dream Incident, and already another upheaval shakes the magic world."
Unlike the battle at the Cliff of Eternity two years ago, this time, one of them would certainly die—and that would most likely be Dark Moon.
The death of a Transcendent would be an event of global proportions, beyond the realm of the magic world.
"In other words, the threat of Dark Moon on the frontlines is gone. Still, since we don't know how Black Hour's executives will move, it's best to retreat to the rear and spread word of the situation."
At Medrant's suggestion, eyes shifted, scanning the base.
It was half-destroyed or worse, having completely lost the functionality of a proper outpost. From ordinary mages to elders, many were wounded—some lightly, others severely.
Thanks to the leadership's efforts, deaths were minimal, and there were hardly any bodies to recover. After all, not even ashes remained…
The senior mages nodded.
"Hmm, yes, that does seem wise, Tower Master of Ostea."
"If that's the decision, take the injured and move out. I'll stay and keep watch in case Black Hour returns. I work better alone, so I'll decline any help."
In other words, she would remain at the front.
A fitting decision for a tower master famed for defensive magic.
"Then we leave it to you."
"Yes, Tower Master."
The Bohemirn Tower, the Ostea Tower, and the Helion Tower completed their preparations and, one after another, cast Flight toward the rear lines.
During that moment, Medrant's and Rovellin's gazes met.
That look… asking if there's anything more I can do, huh.
Unfortunately, Rovellin had no role left in the war between Bohemirn Tower and the others.
Her part ended here.
The rest would come after the full-scale war was over.
Indeed, once that time comes, a major purge within Bohemirn Tower will be inevitable.
With complicated expressions, the internal personnel departed from the ruined base. Watching their retreating figures, Medrant took to the sky.
"Well then…"
The eyes of the tower alliance had been deceived. There was no longer any reason to remain.
It was time to join the true battlefield.
The Great Hall, where communication has been lost—or Sandir Paen?
Which should he assist first?
After a brief contemplation, Medrant made his decision and moved to the site where the spatial teleportation array was set up.
***
As he shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet and extended his leg forward, acceleration surged through him.
In the obstacle-filled forest, he ran across the treetops, using the leaves as stepping stones; on the open plains, he turned the ground itself into a runway.
The closer he drew to the north, the more traces of snowfall began to appear. Moonlight spilled from the night sky, glimmering on the pure white snow.
A serene landscape—
There was a quiet beauty to it, yet Sandir Paen spared not a single glance.
He did not know how to feel such things, and besides, he had seen far greater beauties than this.
Boom───!
Sandir stomped hard with his forefoot.
Snow swirled violently in all directions.
The tremor in the mountain ceased, and as he halted, he rested the spear in his hand upon his shoulder.
"My instincts told me", he said. "Now that something's gone wrong with the Bohemirn Tower, I might meet that swordsman I faced in Daunt again… seems I was half-right."
Standing before Sandir were four figures—three humans and one entity.
Adrian Chambers.
Osgar Fargon .
Yurgien.
And Melard Tastienne, who had breathed her own consciousness into an Arch Lich.
"Heh-heh, so this is the Trueblade Sandir Paen. Even standing still, his aura is overwhelming", Melard remarked.
"Indeed", Osgar said. "But… to be honest, it's still nothing compared to divinity."
"Do not compare him to our lord", Adrian rebuked.
[Divinity has already transcended all standards, so it would be wise to exclude him from comparison,] Yurgien added.
Each voiced their impressions, yet none underestimated Sandir.
Adrian stepped forward two paces. Yurgien retreated three. Osgar advanced one, and Melard remained where she stood.
Without a single word, instinct and experience guided them to their optimal positions.
"Ah… all of you shine", Sandir murmured, eyes narrowing. "Especially you".
In his gaze flickered a light that only he could see.
"What's your name?"
"Adrian Chambers."
Adrian gave his name—not out of courtesy or goodwill, but as a declaration aimed at the body of his master now possessed by Sandir.
Your disciple has come, to bring you back.
"Before and now alike", Sandir said slowly, "every time I look at my left arm, the light wavers and flares stronger. Seems your original body had quite the bond with him. Good. Then I needn't find any further motivation."
Whirr.
The spear spun along his fingers, tracing an afterimage. Its arc cut across the figures of two sages, one high elder, and a warrior standing at the pinnacle.
"I am Sandir Paen."
At last, the pale-blue aura gathered at the tip of his spear and aimed at Adrian.
"I ask you—will you challenge me?"
An answer was unnecessary.
Adrian surged forward, his body maximally reinforced, while the other three unleashed their arcane power.
Yurgien's enchantments boosted everyone's abilities, while Melard prepared a powerful spell from mid-range.
Osgar followed right behind Adrian, channeling mana with focus.
Sword and spear clashed, sparks flying. The air split with a sonic crack.
To rely on sight was death.
Adrian swung and thrust by instinct alone. In the dozens of exchanges that followed, Osgar slammed his staff down.
"A Magus taking up a staff and charging into melee—unusual, but reckless", Sandir remarked.
"Most people think so—until they get hit."
Osgar spun midair, swinging his staff in dazzling succession. Each motion balanced perfectly between attack and counterattack.
Thunk—Crack!
Sandir's spear shaft shot upward, striking Osgar squarely under the jaw. His head snapped back.
As expected, mages lack endurance…
But the thought barely formed before Osgar triggered a gravity field.
Pressure crushed down upon Sandir as a condensed mass of mana dropped from above.
He narrowly evaded it—
The ground exploded, leaving a deep crater.
Enhanced impact.
The more wounded Osgar became, the stronger and faster he grew through his Final Arcana.
"Haaahhhh!"
Adrian and Osgar pressed him from both flanks, giving Sandir no room to breathe. Then, in unison, both deflected his spear and roared.
Quadra Casting.
New Moon
Bwooong───!
Sandir was hurled back along with the ground beneath his feet. He rolled and landed deftly, only for a vast shadow to blot out the moonlight above.
A massive block of ice descended, radiating biting cold.
"Hm?"
He tried to dodge, but mana-formed bracelets materialized around his arms and ankles—Yurgien's unique binding magic.
Momentarily frozen in place, Sandir took the brunt of the falling ice.
The earth froze solid.
Not a single plant swayed in the wind. Even breath condensed and fell in the thick, suffocating chill as a dark silhouette flickered amid the frost.
"I see now", Sandir murmured. "Every one of you is among the finest the world has to offer. This battle surpasses any I've ever faced outnumbered."
He gripped his spear in both hands, pulling it close to his body.
"So, I'll raise my level accordingly."
His figure blurred.
Origin Split.
In an instant, Sandir shot skyward, unleashing countless spear strikes.
***
The pressure that had bound his entire body moments ago vanished. A scent both strange and familiar brushed against his nose—the scent of nature.
Uneven ground.
Rocks scattered everywhere.
Verden had never been here personally, but his memories had.
The Cliff of Eternity.
The land where the battle between Balrog Bessias and Dahit Wethroel had completely obliterated the cliff region.
"It paints quite the picture", came a familiar voice.
He lifted his head.
Balrog stood above him, clutching a massive staff, looking down at Verden.
"Here, where we once failed to settle things, we meet again to conclude our ill fate", Balrog said. "Through your so-called Memory Theory, we shall be remembered as such—and your death shall be recorded likewise. A fitting tale for the end of a Transcendent."
A crooked grin twisted Balrog's lips.
"Of course, that's merely how the world will hear of it. Regardless, your thread of life ends here and will belong to me. So then, how does it feel to be dragged here against your will?"
From the moment their eyes met, he exuded boundless arrogance—utter confidence in his victory.
It was natural.
Their ranks were equal, but the battlefield favored Balrog entirely.
Even if Verden had walked into it willingly, it was clear he had stepped into Balrog's trap. The disadvantage was undeniable.
Even so, Verden had willingly stepped onto the stage his foe had prepared.
Because—
He was confident he could withstand Balrog's full power.
…I wonder.
Now that Dark Moon was dead, and he knew that the one wearing his guise was Verden—
What kind of face would Balrog make?