It was a well-known fact that the corrupted preferred caves and underground places.
From their perspective, there was no better way to avoid human eyes—nothing was as secure as the depths.
— Gueeng.
And so, the place Wooden pointed to this time was also a cave in the middle of the mountain.
‘If the mithril is buried there, it makes sense.’
There was nothing special around the entrance covered in underbrush. Just a few orcs that seemed to have nested there before.
“Let’s proceed with the entrance.”
The knights of the Red Turtle Order advanced with their shields raised.
The interior of the cave was not wide. Just enough for two grown men to stand side by side. With armor, only one knight could fit through at a time.
That’s why the one advancing was Harten, the most reliable, with a shield in one hand and a sword in the other.
The darkness was no obstacle for them.
Splash.
The floor was damp, sticky, with a metallic stench. Under the light of magical lamps, greenish decaying puddles were revealed.
“What a perfect environment.”
If not in places like this, where else would the corrupted be? murmured Rosalia.
After advancing a good stretch, the passage widened, and the slope sharply descended.
“How far must we go?”
“We’re almost there.”
According to the prophetic book, by following the tunnel downward, a large chamber would open.
It wasn’t natural—the corrupted had formed it by digging in search of mithril. That’s why it was unstable.
In that vision, Aint had fought monsters and barely managed to escape after the chamber collapsed. But here Fernan was in person, so that problem didn’t worry him.
The real concern was the mithril.
‘What if we’ve arrived too late and they’ve already destroyed it?’
If the mithril had been ruined, he wouldn’t leave any of them alive. He didn’t plan to anyway, but in that case, their suffering would be greater.
Creak.
Suddenly, not far ahead, corrupt magic was felt. His skin bristled.
— Kyuu!
‘Left!’
He and Wooden felt it at the same time.
Fernan moved his mana—an iron wall sealed the corridor.
“A monster?”
An instant later, Rosalia noticed it too.
“Monsters approaching!”
The Red Turtle knights raised their guard.
Boom! The wall trembled. In the dent appeared the face of a fifth-rank monster, a Zikrik.
Immediately, the iron wall turned into spears that pierced through the creature’s body. Dark blood dripped, mixing with the foul water. The stench intensified.
That was the beginning. From all directions, more monstrous presences.
“Fernan, your senses are much sharper.”
Rosalia said it with a surprised tone.
“Yes, what’s happening is…”
‘Wait a moment? Did I just sense it at the same time as Wooden?’
He hadn’t done anything special—he simply sensed it instinctively. His body screamed that monsters were coming.
‘Dragon senses?’
It seemed that at least against corrupted energy, they were much more refined.
‘Not bad.’
In fact, it was excellent. But he had no time to relish it—monsters advanced from all sides.
“Sir Harten, don’t get distracted, keep advancing.”
The knight nodded.
Rosalia recited a spell. Her staff shone with cold light. The surrounding passages froze; a thin frost covered the walls.
And then.
—!
—!
The Zikrik crashed against the icy ground, unable to continue digging.
Roooaar!
Shadows emerged: Shade, eighth-rank monsters, passed through the earth as if it didn’t exist. But a rain of cutting auras awaited them.
Hundreds of Shades were shredded. No matter how many there were, without taking physical form, they lacked real power. Normally, the Zikrik would clear the way while they bought time, but Rosalia’s magic had broken the plan.
The enemies changed strategy: from zones the ice hadn’t reached, Zikrik and Shades appeared ahead and behind to block the path. In the narrow tunnel, the Shades, taking the form of orcs, showed brutal ferocity.
“Keep moving! Push forward without stopping!”
“Yes, young master!”
Fernan opened and closed his hand. Immediately, rock thorns emerged and pierced through the monsters, vanishing afterward. Those who survived were finished off by the knights.
After running for a while, the path finally opened. The oppression disappeared, the view expanded.
A towering ceiling, an immense chamber, filled with monsters.
Hundreds of red eyes watched them. The enemies that had followed stopped—they were completely surrounded.
“Young master, are we sure about this? Maybe we should retreat…”
Then.
“If you entered, you have no right to leave.”
The voice, low but clear, sent chills through everyone. It echoed like scraping metal.
—!
From behind the rocks came a surge of black magic. Cold, fierce, merciless. It instinctively provoked fear and disgust.
“Entering is free, leaving is not.”
The air became heavy. The pressure filled the chamber.
“So you are Fernan Pellenberg, right?”
From behind the rock emerged the figure.
He wasn’t over two meters tall. But nothing about him was human.
A perfect body as if sculpted by a master artisan, crowned with the head of a beast.
“Just like that man said.”
With a black spear like the night, the demon scanned everyone present with his yellow eyes filled with savage instinct.
“They say in the human world there’s someone even more troublesome than our ancient enemies.”
He raised his hand. In it gleamed a chunk of greenish-blue mineral.
“That we had to eliminate him first, and that if we waited with this useless stone in hand, someday he’d walk in on his own.”
And he had waited. Waited without rest.
“Luckily, you came before my patience ran out.”
The beast let out an excited breath.
“Fernan Pellenberg.”
His eyes stared directly at him. Hyde instinctively stepped forward to protect him.
“You’re him, right?”
“…I am Pellenberg.”
The pressure increased. Fernan clenched his teeth, raised his mana, and the burden eased slightly.
“Then maybe I was wrong.”
Black hair, red eyes, and an arrogant face—I thought you were him, but it seems not.
“Still, it doesn’t matter.”
Either way, everyone would die here.
“…Are you Flauros?”
“Oh, a human who knows my name? Too bad you’re not Fernan Pellenberg, but still, you’re worth killing.”
Damn. Fernan clenched his lips. His heart pounded.
Why was Flauros, who was supposed to descend in Frazia, here? Why had they set this trap? In the prophecy, there wasn’t a trace of a demon.
Regret hit him.
If he had known, he would have brought Aint at any cost. Or hired the Mercenary King, no matter the money.
But regrets always come too late.
“Fernan Pellenberg, I thought you’d take more pride in that surname.”
While he hesitated, Rosalia stepped forward.
She looked at the demon with her usual expression—blank.
“…Fernan Pellenberg, you said? So you lied to me.”
Upon hearing the name, Flauros showed a flash of anger.
“To live, one must protect the family name.”
“That’s just like you. But from the start, it wasn’t necessary.”
Rosalia looked at him directly.
“That demon will disappear today, right here.”
“Pathetic human.”
The monster smiled, showing his fangs.
“I admit you’re a mage of level. Perhaps even one of those Archmages humans revere.”
But in the end, still human. Flauros was sure. Sure he wouldn’t lose.
“If you truly are Fernan Pellenberg, perfect. This tedious wait ends here. I’ll kill everyone and unleash my fury on the surface. Then I’ll make this world the realm of demons.”
He threw the chunk of mithril. Fernan, by instinct, caught it.
“That useless stone will be the coin for your…”
───!
Faster than his words, the black spear flew.
Boom!
The chamber trembled, ice shattered and fragments scattered. In the ice barrier Rosalia had conjured in an instant, the spear had embedded halfway through.
“Well, you stopped this even though I threw it lightly?”
“I didn’t just stop it.”
Rosalia’s eyes gleamed. She recited a spell and drew a circle. A storm of ice crystals lunged at Flauros.
“A useless trick.”
The demon resisted with his bare body. Then, a white lightning bolt struck him directly.
Crack!
His torso froze, and he fell from the rock. As he lay there, Rosalia muttered.
“I can’t stand someone looking down on me. This is how we equalize the height.”
The ice shattered immediately. Flauros smiled, amused.
“Yes, you have the power to be arrogant.”
But at that instant, dozens of flasks shattered over him.
With a swing of his spear, Flauros broke them. The contents spilled—some to the ground, some onto him.
Crackling!
The holy water reacted fiercely on contact with his body.
“What a repulsive energy.”
His expression hardened.
“You always carry holy water, huh?”
“I never forget it.”
“Doesn’t seem to do much.”
“A mosquito bite doesn’t kill, but it itches and annoys.”
To a true demon, holy water was nothing more than that.
“Support me.”
“No, you should support me, Professor.”
“What do you mean?”
Fernan responded by removing his necklace.
— Kyuu!
Wooden transformed into a two-meter knight and stepped forward. Facing the demon, he couldn’t hide his excitement.
His first battle had been against a demon, at his most vulnerable.
Now he had the chance to show how much he had changed since then.
“…I see. Very well, I’ll support.”
“Let’s fight together.”
“I’ll protect the young master.”
“A golem?”
“A golem like this…?”
The two mages prepared for battle, and the guards stuck close to Fernan.
The Red Turtle Knights, seeing Wooden for the first time, looked confused, but there was no time to calmly explain.
“Everyone escape from here! This is not a fight you can endure!”
It was a cruel blow to the knights’ pride—but it was the truth.
They were far too valuable to be lost in a place like this.
Before they could respond, Wooden was the first to move.
He wielded the enormous sword, charged it with aura, and drove it into the ground. In an instant, space tore and clashed against the demon.
─!
The broken aura and demonic magic intertwined.
“What is this? A mere cheap toy!”
In a blink, dozens of blows were exchanged. Cold seeped through the cracks from Rosalia.
When the demon’s legs froze, Wooden’s sword took advantage of the gap. Several streams of aura struck the monster’s body.
But with the rebound force, it was Wooden who ended up pushed back.
Sensing Wooden wasn’t an ordinary foe, Flauros growled ferociously.
“Ha! How could they create something like this? Pulling you from the Academy was, without a doubt, the right decision.”
“What do you mean?”
“What else? It means that place you call the Cradle will cease to exist.”
The image of Silver suddenly flashed through Fernan’s mind.
So that’s why the unease—and yet he himself had said nothing was wrong.
“I asked you what you mean.”
“Are you that curious? If you want to know, go and see for yourself. Though you’ll die by my hand before you get the chance.”
“Demons are all equally arrogant.”
Rosalia raised her gaze.
An icy ray that froze everything surged in a straight line, and Wooden followed closely behind.
At the same time, Fernan, who hadn’t stopped reciting spells, unleashed his magic.
A steel lance infused with the energy of the Dragon’s Heart, created to inflict lethal damage.
Blood dripped from Fernan’s nose. The lances pushed through the gaps Wooden and Rosalia had created.
Crack!
The demon reacted to most of the attacks but couldn’t dodge one.
And that one struck him directly in the abdomen.
“Kraaaaaaah!”
But the effect was far greater than expected. More than the holy water, more than Wooden’s sword, more than Rosalia’s magic.
Flauros’s face turned pale as the lance pierced him.
“You… you bastard…!”
His eyes, wide with horror, locked directly on Fernan.
“How is it possible that you have that cursed power?!”
“…What?”
Cursed power?
Wasn’t that the term demons used to refer to Armian’s power?
____
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