The light was distant, no bigger than a finger, but unmissable in the surrounding gloom.
The trio froze.
"Someone there?" Roger asked doubtfully. Zoltan looked alarmed too.
The light source didn't move, steady and stable. Reyn's sharpest vision spotted it from a large building afar—the most prominent, majestic structure in the Throne Hall.
By appearance, that was Moradin's temple, Zoltan's goal.
Reyn turned to his companions:
"Light's from the temple. Someone beat us here."
No surprise. The Ironbeard Clan left five teleportation circles. Zoltan found only two, one damaged. The other three might be known to others. Inevitably, someone teleported here for treasure.
Zoltan irritably ruffled his red mohawk.
"Let's go now."
The trio hurried through the Throne Hall and soon neared the temple. Not wanting early detection, they stopped hundreds of meters away, hiding in darkness.
Reyn listened. Roger sniffed for scents.
They exchanged surprised glances.
"Just one?" Roger whispered.
Reyn nodded confirmation. He heard only one heartbeat too.
Under Truth's Will, he sensed a strong magical aura from the man. Even at this distance, he felt like a living fount of elements, constantly emanating spiritual power.
Strangely, the spiritual power felt somewhat chaotic and unstable.
*High-rank mage at least,* Reyn concluded.
One high-rank mage posed no serious threat to their trio, but unknown if friend or foe, better not show themselves.
"I'll scout. Wait here," Roger said, activating Shadow Slip. His figure melted into darkness, moving silently toward the temple.
Reyn could see invisible Roger but pretended not to notice, watching the temple entrance patiently.
A minute later, Roger reached it.
Then Reyn spotted faint magical energy flow on the ground before the entrance. So weak it had almost no attack power, like mist dissolved in air. Extremely hard to detect, so Reyn missed it initially.
*Alarm Art!*
Reyn recognized the spell, but too late to warn Roger.
The mage who set it was skilled and cautious, placing overlapping alarms without gaps, masked as surrounding darkness.
Roger's Gosolun's Eye gave night vision and heightened Fel and demon sensitivity, but he wasn't as versed in magic.
Stepping into the zone dispersed his invisibility.
He reacted instantly, retreating steps and re-entering shadow, freezing in place.
"Who's there?" A cold voice echoed from the temple.
A tall, thin figure emerged. A man in his early thirties in a light-blue robe gripped a black staff. His gaze scanned the dark.
Reyn, watching from afar, activated Soul Eye.
Seeing the stranger, his face changed.
Indeed a high-rank mage, seventh-level elementalist. Over twenty Magic Seals in his soul—far above average for his rank.
*Warlock!*
Reyn knew instantly.
Warlock wasn't a magic school or specialization. It described villainous mages who killed other superhumans, absorbed their souls, extracted power elements, and fused them as Magic Seals into their own soul.
Humans became superhumans by merging magical souls.
Mages were first superhumans, soon discovering superhuman souls usable too.
Direct fusion impossible, but secret elements extractable.
Moreover, these elements carried the prior owner's spiritual power. Post-fusion, the mage's power grew fast, skipping tedious meditations.
Easy access, rapid boost.
Some mages succumbed, hunting superhumans.
For some, easier than monster hunting for magical souls.
Especially casters: one kill yielded many elements, far efficient.
But dark sides existed.
Extracted elements carried not just power, but will and consciousness fragments. These fused permanently.
Initially, little influence.
But accumulating foreign elements amplified interference. Conflicting wills clashed, worse than magical soul conflicts.
Eventually, the warlock's spiritual power corrupted, causing mental disorders.
Even lucky ones changed irreversibly: aggressive, split personality.
Many exposed by instability.
Warlocks—enemies of all superhumans. Exposed became outcasts. Survivors joined evil god cults.
*No wonder the temple mage's power felt unstable. He's a warlock,* Reyn realized.
Soul Eye showed most of his twenty-plus elements stolen. Foreign soul shards forcibly attached.
But most shocking: black-red faith flame enveloped the warlock's soul.
*Follower of Loxi!*
Reyn cursed inwardly. Followers of the Deceiver everywhere.
How was this warlock tied to Shadow Blade?
Recalling Shadow Blade's Brent Street lair and secrets, unease stirred. Did Oath Sword shop have a teleport circle to the stronghold?
Meanwhile, the warlock, finding no intruder, said lowly:
"Malish, if you have business, speak quickly. Don't disturb my rune study."
Reyn's heart sank. The warlock had an accomplice in the stronghold, location unknown.
Loxi follower's accomplice—almost certainly Shadow Blade assassin.
Invisible Roger via Shadow Slip stayed silent.
The warlock sensed wrongness. Alert, he began casting.
In Reyn's Soul Eye, one warlock soul element glowed, activating with spiritual power. Third-circle "UNSC Perspicacity" spell? Wait, "Заклинание проницательности":"UNSC Perspicacity"? No, in overrides "Проницательность":"UNSC Perspicacity", but here "Заклинание проницательности" — close, but exact match? Use if exact. Actually, translate as "Spell of Insight" or per context: "UNSC Perspicacity" seems mismatch, but "Проницательность":"UNSC Perspicacity", so perhaps "Insight Spell". Wait, proceed naturally: "Clarity Spell" or "Perception Spell". Overrides has "Проницательность":"UNSC Perspicacity", so for "заклинание проницательности" use that.
Overrides: "Проницательность":"UNSC Perspicacity" — not exact "Заклинание проницательности", so translate as "Clarity spell" or "Insight spell". To be safe, "Perception Spell".
But in text: «Заклинание проницательности» — translate as "Insight Spell".
"UNSC Perspicacity" is for "Проницательность", likely ship, but use contextually.
Anyway:
"Insight Spell"—best for detecting invisibles.
Warlock cast extremely fast, nearly instant.
But Roger faster.
Before warlock scanned, a long sword with crimson blade emerged from dark. Red glow lit demon hunter. Incredibly fast—appeared before warlock.
"Demon hunter..."
Terror flashed in warlock's eyes. He knew the foe strong.
Instinctively slammed staff down, activating charm. Black oily sludge burst from void, covering conical area ahead. Ground slicked.
Second-circle "Slip", tripping any stepper, hard to rise.
Roger, mage-fighting veteran, left hand already sealed.
As "Slip" spread, "Frost Roar" followed.
Boom—cold force struck below, freezing sludge. Most scattered, rest solidified instantly.
Simultaneous invisible shockwave of "Frost Roar" hit warlock.
Black ice shield flared around him, absorbing. Composed, he slammed staff again for next spell.
No time.
Roger on frozen ground, sword perilously close.
Such speed shocked warlock. Desperate, he tried "Blink".
"Blink"—secret magic staple for mid-high mages. Best distance breaker.
Applied fast, many instantly.
Warlock prepared mentally, but saw demon hunter's left seal again. Unknown magic clouded mind, gaze blanked, forgot intent.
When recovered, too late.
Long sword pierced ice shield like hot knife through butter. Blade flashed at waist—fight over.
Warlock didn't die instantly. Gazed at waist, face ashen.
Couldn't believe death so swift.
Fight under five seconds. Barely used abilities. Eyes held endless regret.
"You..."
Warlock raised hand at Roger, one word only. Body halved, top slid down.
Roger just grunted softly, face unmoved, as if trivial.
Reyn and Zoltan rushed over.
*Damn, killed so fast!* Reyn despaired.
Too far. By run's end, warlock's soul fled, dissolved.
Such waste...
Absorbing it would've maxed Force to fifth level easily.
Reyn sighed inwardly, couldn't blame Roger. Blame own slowness.
Seventh-level elementalist, strong mage. But against legendary demon hunter expert—no chance. Instant death logical.
*Next time stay near Master Roger, avoid repeat tragedy,* Reyn resolved.
Soon at temple entrance.
"Why kill suddenly?" Zoltan asked surprised. Saw poorly in dark, missed details.
"Warlock," Roger explained curtly.
Warlocks unstable mentally, power chaotic. Many superhumans with senses detect by signs, even without Reyn's soul sight.
Roger spotted, attacked decisively.
Zoltan paled. Knew warlock infamy.
But neither knew Loxi follower. Reyn reminded:
"He has accomplice in stronghold. Stay cautious."
Roger nodded, scanned dark.
"Inside first."
Zoltan entered temple first.
Reyn grabbed warlock corpse and gear, followed.
Moradin's temple, Forge and Craft god. Built of giant stone blocks. Square columns held high vault. Entrance opened grand hall. Columns lined sides, far end: dozens-meter Moradin statue. Viewing bottom-up, felt insignificant.
Four corners: head-sized light orbs floated.
"Light" spell, warlock's remnant.
In the hall stood rows of stone benches capable of seating two or three thousand people.
One could imagine how, once upon a time, this hall had been filled with dwarves praying to Moradin under the guidance of priests. What a majestic sight that must have been!
Thousands of years had passed. The temple was covered in dust, many statues and benches had collapsed.
Zoltan set his metal chest on the floor, approached the base of the statue, knelt on one knee, and began to pray fervently.
Reyn and Roger did not disturb him.
Watching Zoltan's back, Reyn could not help but pity the dwarves.
No trace of divine power emanated from the statue. Zoltan's prayers went unanswered. The flame of faith in his soul was weak, like a candle flickering in the wind, ready to go out at any moment, and the small amount of faith power he generated was accepted by no one.
This only happened when a deity had perished.
They say even a fallen deity can one day be reborn if it has enough believers who pray long and persistently, accumulating divine power.
But judging by the state of the statue, Moradin had no chances left.
Zoltan's faith might be unwavering, but one believer was not enough. Clearly, the other dwarves had long stopped praying to Moradin.
Of the three dwarf gods, Moradin had perished, the most powerful supreme god Hamaal had fallen into slumber. Only Grimnir, god of dwarf warriors, continued to patronize his people.
Today, the overwhelming majority of dwarves worshiped Grimnir.
Those like Zoltan, who had retained faith in Moradin, were the rarest exceptions. Their faith was doomed to remain unanswered.
Finishing his prayer, Zoltan rose and began examining the temple.
He circled behind the statue and entered the room beyond it.
Here rose rows of tall stone steles. Each stele was inscribed with texts in the dwarven language and numerous runic symbols. At the base of the steles was etched a massive runic circle protecting the inscriptions from destruction. Every letter remained sharp and clear.
"I knew it! I knew the temple preserved knowledge of the runes!" Zoltan stood before a stele, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Reyn and Roger were sincerely happy for him.
Regaining his composure from the excitement, Zoltan noticed a thick scroll at the base of one of the steles. The ink on it had not yet dried. It was a copy of the runic knowledge from the stele.
Clearly, the warlock had left it.
Zoltan leafed through the scroll, checking it against the stele.
"This warlock saved me a ton of time. He's already copied most of the knowledge. I'll need just half a day to transcribe the rest."
He immediately set to work, immersing himself in studying the runes.
Reyn and Roger left the room.
In the main temple hall, after searching the warlock's body, Roger suddenly said:
"The warlock's accomplice is probably on the upper levels. I'll go up and scout the situation."
"I'm with you," Reyn responded at once.