In the whirlwind of blows he’d just taken, only one thought remained in Naktura’s mind.
‘I—I need to gain some distance.’
He didn’t know how to fight with his body. He had devoted his entire life to the study of magic.
So even as an 8th-circle mage, he was critically vulnerable in close-quarters combat. And if the ones clinging to him were superhumans? It was nearly impossible to shake them off with magic.
This situation was nothing short of a nightmare for Naktura.
“Guhk...! My legion...!”
He hurriedly summoned undead, but even that was of little use.
Naktura scanned the battlefield—and was utterly horrified.
‘To think they’re using elementals in such a vulgar manner!’
The spirits summoned by Ereneth were all grabbing and holding down the undead by the ankles. Even the flying specters were being hugged mid-air and headbutted by airborne elementals.
Earth spirits were constantly shaking the ground, making it nearly impossible for the undead to move properly.
It was the definition of shameless, no-holds-barred “practical survivalist elementalism.”
Taking advantage of the chaos created by the spirits, Osvald smashed through the undead with his hammer.
“Gahhh! Don’t come near me! I’m scared!”
Crash! SMASH! BOOM!
Each time an undead caught by a spirit was struck by Osvald’s hammer, their bones shattered and they collapsed.
Meanwhile, the superhumans continued to pummel Naktura, and even his bones, reinforced by undeath, were beginning to crack and break.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOOOM!
Crack! Craaaack!
The relentless sound of breaking bones made it impossible for Naktura to think straight.
‘W-Who are these bastards? What the hell do they do? Were they professional thugs in a past life?!’
Individually, they were weaker than him. And yet, he was the one taking the beating.
He had lived a long time, but never in his life had he seen a group so well-practiced in systematically dishing out beatdowns.
Not even the best knight orders could match this level of coordination. It was an assault so precise it was almost awe-inspiring.
Naktura found himself thinking that the world had changed a great deal while he was sealed away.
‘At this rate, I’ll be ground to dust!’
That wasn’t a metaphor. Bits of bone powder were literally drifting through the air.
The endless barrage of violence was driving Naktura to the brink.
‘What do I do? How do I escape this deranged rampage?!’
He tried to counterattack a few times, but every time he attempted to cast a spell, powerful mana interference struck.
He couldn’t focus long enough to cast any high-powered magic while getting pounded nonstop.
And though his opponents were technically weaker than him, they were all superhuman—fast enough to dodge or durable enough to tank any quick spells he threw at them.
‘N-No... If it ends like this, then my freedom...’
Once a mage allowed superhumans to close the distance, there weren’t many options left.
He was only holding on because he was a lich. Any other mage would’ve been beaten to death already.
If this kept up, the mission would fail. He’d never gain his freedom—only eternal imprisonment awaited.
‘In that case...’
Suddenly, hatred and madness lit up Naktura’s eyes.
He was a lich. Unlike other mages, he had a final card to play.
“You pathetic mortals! Do you even know who I am?!”
KRAAAAAA!!
An enormous surge of mana erupted from his body.
Near his heart, a brilliant light burst forth like a miniature sun. A massive storm of mana began to spiral out from within him.
Naktura was going to self-destruct—detonating his own existence to incinerate everything around him.
If he was going to disappear anyway, it was better to take everyone here down with him.
That alone would be enough to count as a completed mission. He’d regain his freedom.
“DIEEEEEEEEE!!!!”
With a berserk scream, his mana exceeded its limits.
At that moment, Ghislain released all of his own mana and roared.
“Fall back!”
KRAAAAAA-BOOOOOOM!!
A powerful shockwave exploded outward from Naktura’s position.
The party reacted quickly and retreated, but the blast was so massive that no one escaped unscathed. They were all caught in the aftershock and flung far away.
A massive crater had been carved into the earth where Naktura once stood. If anyone had taken that blast head-on, even a superhuman would’ve been torn apart.
The party was heavily injured. Bones were broken, internal organs battered—they were coughing up blood.
And that was just from grazing the edge of the explosion.
Hssssss...
At the center of the blast, black smoke swirled, and fragments of something drifted in the air.
They were the shattered remains of the Death Knights Ghislain had summoned.
They had encircled Naktura, taking the brunt of the explosion with their bodies.
Ghislain had also poured the last of his mana into shielding both the Death Knights and the party.
Even so, the Death Knights had been completely obliterated, and the party had suffered injuries just from the residual shockwave.
Within the scattering fragments, the Death Knights’ leader, Gascot, muttered weakly.
“Urgh... That bastard... again with this crap...”
This wasn’t the first time his body had been completely blown apart.
Come to think of it, he’d only ever had one proper fight. Every other time, the supposedly fearsome Death Knight had just ended up as a human (or undead) shield.
“Y-You...”
Gascot tried to say something, but his body vanished before he could finish.
It would take a long time before he could reconstitute himself.
Still, thanks to the Death Knights, they had managed to survive the explosion.
Clutching his aching chest, Lionel gasped out:
“Is... is it over? Is it really over?”
Ghislain lay on the ground, breathing heavily.
“Yeah. Nothing to worry about.”
“...If you say so?”
They had just taken down a terrifying opponent—but strangely, it had felt easier than expected.
Then again, the aftermath of that last explosion had been utterly horrifying.
If they’d failed to block it, they’d have been completely erased from existence.
It was certain that Naktura had been annihilated here. All of the undead that had surrounded him were now disintegrating into dust.
“Ghislain! Are you okay?!”
Ereneth rushed over to the collapsed Ghislain.
He had taken the most damage, having been on the front line and using all of his mana to block the blast.
Fortunately, Ereneth had stayed farther back and was relatively unscathed. She immediately summoned spirits to envelop Ghislain’s body.
They didn’t match divine healing, but spirits did have restorative effects.
Only then was Ghislain able to catch his breath.
Seeing that, Kyle let out a groan.
“Us too, please... I’m dying over here...”
The ones closest to Ghislain—and the blast—had been Julien and Kyle. They’d taken the brunt of the aftershock.
“Just a little more!”
Ereneth spoke urgently as she channeled more spirit energy into Ghislain.
Kyle, clutching his broken ribs, mumbled,
“This really sucks... Without Deneb around, moments like this are the worst...”
Deneb, their primary healer, wasn’t here.
As a result, the party’s recovery depended entirely on Ghislain’s magic and Ereneth’s elemental spirits.
Both were highly advanced, and their healing effects were decent—but they simply couldn’t compare to divine power.
Ereneth moved quickly, sending waves of elemental energy into the collapsed party members.
It wasn’t enough to bring them fully back on their feet, but with time, they would recover.
The battle was over, but no one rose easily.
It wasn’t just because of their injuries—they were exhausted from the long, grueling journey.
As they lay there, catching their breath, a voice rang out beyond the blizzard.
“...Impressive. I believe you’re the first to have held out this long here.”
It was a deeply satisfied voice—Arterion’s.
Moments later, a wave of magic rippled through the air, and the raging blizzard began to part. Through the rift came a warm beam of sunlight.
“Ah...”
A warmth that thawed their frozen bodies.
Sounds of relief escaped from everyone’s lips.
Ghislain used his staff to stand, then turned with a smile.
“Let’s go. Looks like the trial’s over.”
Everyone else mustered what strength they had left and rose to their feet. They slowly walked along the path cleared through the snow.
There were no more monster attacks. The countless horrors that had hounded them—gone, vanished, as if they were never there.
A short time later, they finally arrived at their destination.
“Wow...”
No one said it first—it just slipped out in unison.
The sight before them was overwhelming enough to leave them speechless.
A towering crystal spire rose from the endless snowfield and frozen earth.
So massive it could be mistaken for a mountain, the tower was covered in pristine, blue mana crystals.
Within the crystalline shell, ancient runes and dragon emblems glowed softly, floating in slow motion.
The area around the tower was eerily silent. No snowstorm. No wind. A heavy, reverent hush blanketed the place.
But within that stillness lay a crushing /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ sense of pressure.
It was obvious why no living creature dared come near.
This was the lair of the Dragon Lord.
Even Ghislain, not easily impressed, found himself murmuring in awe as he looked up at the crystalline tower.
“Amazing. So it wasn’t a cave. How did they even build this here?”
It was the only trace of civilization in this frozen wasteland. One couldn’t help but wonder how such a structure had come to be.
Creeeeeaaak...
The massive gate opened on its own. As if welcoming guests.
The group walked forward, expressions filled with awe.
Then, moments later—
“Julien!”
Deneb came running out, beaming with joy.
“Deneb!”
Julien’s face lit up as well, and the two of them ran to each other, embracing tightly.
Kyle clicked his tongue, contorting his face like he’d just seen something he really didn’t want to.
“Well damn, they’re not even trying to hide it anymore.”
Everyone already knew the two liked each other.
They’d just been trying to keep it low-key around the others—until now.
After the ordeal they went through in Vallscrum, the two had become a bit more honest with their feelings.
“Waaaah! You finally made it!”
The other mercenaries waiting inside ran out as well.
Everyone looked overwhelmed with emotion. After all, if the group had failed to arrive, they’d all have died.
Osvald struck a solemn pose and shouted:
“The mighty Osvald! Having stained the frozen earth with blood, having marched through this bitter land with thunderous strides, has slain the lich—master of death—and has finally arrived with pride! Now, we shall slay the wicked dragon and—wait, no, scratch that. Anyway, what a moving, revolutionary journey it has been!”
“WOOOOAAAHHH! OSVALD!”
“This bastard’s still alive!”
“Amazing! Truly amazing!”
The mercenaries lifted Osvald up and tossed him into the air in celebration. For once, his bombast sounded like the stuff of heroic legend.
Then Arterion appeared.
He scanned the group, then smiled softly.
“Well done. I’m truly surprised not a single one of you died. This time, I’ll acknowledge you.”
Only then did the party truly feel it—they had arrived. The tension unraveled, and they collapsed one by one.
The mercenaries who had been resting inside carried them on their backs.
Deneb rushed over, casting divine power upon them.
Fwoooooosh.
A radiant light spread out, enveloping the party.
They had suffered so much, and the warmth of that divine light sent them all into a deep, unconscious sleep.
Ghislain slapped his cheeks several times to fight the sleep trying to take him. Then, he turned to Arterion and asked,
“Is the trial over now?”
“Yes. I’d say you’ve passed the minimum qualifications.”
“Was this in case of... future contingencies?”
“Let’s just say... it was necessary in many ways.”
The two exchanged deliberately vague words.
But the others didn’t care.
The priority was getting the unconscious party into the tower.
Even Ghislain, who had stayed on his feet until now, didn’t have the strength to continue talking once they reached the entrance.
The party finally fell into deep, peaceful sleep.
After a full day’s rest, the group finally came to their senses.
Arterion addressed the still-groggy Ghislain.
“Now, tell me what you want. I’ll provide whatever you need for your training.”
“Now that’s the kind of answer I like. In that case, I’ll take it with a bang.”
Ghislain didn’t hesitate. He rattled off everything he’d been keeping in mind.
Harsh training—yes. But rest and preparation? He wanted the absolute best.
So, in line with that belief, he requested: gourmet meals to sustain training, top-tier equipment, massive amounts of rune stones to build mana focusing arrays, high-level magic tomes from every school, monsters for live combat simulations—you name it.
It was a list that would bankrupt most kingdoms.
But Arterion nodded without hesitation.
“Don’t worry. I’ll provide as much as you need. If it’s not enough, I’ll wring it out of every kingdom on the continent.”
The dragon’s primary duty was to fight the Demonic Realm and maintain the world’s balance.
It was the reason dragons had been created—and the mission bestowed upon them by the goddesses from the beginning of time.
So there was no reason for Arterion to refuse the strengthening of the Julien Mercenary Corps, who fought alongside the saintess.
At Arterion’s easy acceptance, Ghislain smiled with deep satisfaction.
He was finally able to handle a number of things he’d been forced to delay due to constant interruptions.
Now that it had come to this, he intended to stay here and grow far stronger than ever before.
Everything Ghislain requested was for the party’s training.
But—there was one personal request he had.
“There’s one thing I’d like to keep for myself.”
“Say it. If it’s within my power, I’ll grant it.”
“I’m glad to hear that. It is something you can give me, Arterion.”
“What is it?”
Ghislain’s eyes sparkled as he said:
“That lich—please, give him to me.”
“....”
Arterion stared at him in silence for a while.
His expression said everything.
‘What the hell is wrong with this guy?’
