Chapter 476

A scorching gust swept across the barren fields, carrying the stench of ruined flesh and shattered armor that littered the landscape. Amidst the carnage of this brutal war zone, a lone elven woman clad in a dull brown mantle knelt upon the blood-stained earth, her voice a repetitive, hollow whisper.

“I will never forgive you… I will never forgive you… I will never forgive you…”

The rhythmic clatter of footsteps broke the heavy silence. A group of figures clad in spotless white armor and matching ceremonial robes advanced toward the solitary elf.

“You certainly put on quite a performance here,” remarked the elderly spellcaster leading the party, idly stroking his silver beard. “Am I speaking to the legendary Iron-Blooded Mage Tiara?”

Despite the deceptively gentle inquiry from the old man, Tiara remained motionless, refusing to grant him even a passing glance.

“I shall take your silence as confirmation,” the old spellcaster murmured, chuckling softly as if highly entertained by the circumstance. “Good heavens, history takes the strangest turns. The famed Iron-Blooded Mage was a legendary savior who walked this earth a millennium ago. To think you would suddenly manifest in this current era.”

Even through his mocking observations, Tiara merely clutched at her head, her maddened chant never faltering.

“Oh, do not misunderstand, I am not questioning your true identity,” the old man added smoothly.

The heavily armored knight flanking the wizard nodded his agreement. “Indeed, this current epoch is a wondrous one. We live in an age where the great Savior Arion, Luna the esteemed matriarch of the Nebula, and the renowned Comet Mage Seyrun have all undergone reincarnation.”

At those specific names, the spell broke. Tiara, who had been mindlessly repeating her mantra like a malfunctioning mechanism, froze completely.

“What… what did you just say?” Her gaze lifted, glassy and bewildered, locking onto the knight. “That is a falsehood. It cannot be true. They… they would never commit such acts… They could never become like me… They could never degrade themselves to something as hideous as I am…”

As Tiara degenerated into hysterical ravings, the woman beside them—an elementalist draped in the pristine vestments of a high priestess—let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

“Of course you are nothing like them. Their return to this mortal realm represents the divine mandate of the heavens.” A look of profound revulsion marred the priestess’s features. “You, on the other hand, are merely a foul aberration brought back through the forbidden, dark sorcery of Tartaros.”

Yet Tiara seemed deaf to the insult, continuing to rock back and forth while whispering, “It is impossible.”

Observing her pathetic state, the old leader in the white robe stepped forward. “I shall grant you eternal rest now, you miserable phantom of a bygone era.”

With a roaring whoosh, a torrent of blazing fire ignited from the wizard’s palm.

“In deference to the monumental triumphs you achieved during your mortal life, I will ensure your end is peaceful. However… there is little I can do to prevent your reputation from being dragged through the dirt.” The elder’s tone turned profoundly righteous. “Saviors are holy instruments destined to guide the world. A legendary figure who allowed herself to become a puppet for the malevolent Necromancer King is an abomination that cannot be overlooked.”

Even during her golden age among her kin, the Iron-Blooded Mage Tiara had always been viewed as a volatile, unorthodox champion.

“I shall use this opportunity to completely strike your existence from the historical records.”

A massive detonation shook the plains as a colossal column of flame erupted skyward. Turning his back to the raging inferno, the old man adjusted the hood of his white vestment and muttered quietly, “All actions are justified in the service of righteousness.”

“That concluded far more easily than I anticipated,” scoffed the elementalist Keleini, the renowned champion known across the lands by her moniker, White Inferno. “Regardless of her ancient reputation, she is nothing more than a degraded spirit bound to the Necromancer King’s whim. She never stood a chance against true, living champions like ourselves.”

“Lord Nerugian speaks the truth,” added Nogern, the champion titled the Staff of Purification, offering a respectful nod to the old man.

These three individuals were prominent figures recorded within the prestigious Hero Record and held high ranks within the influential Justice Guild.

“Hahaha! Surely, with the glory of destroying the Iron-Blooded Mage attached to my name, my elevation to the Queen Class is virtually guaranteed, wouldn’t you say?” Keleini mused aloud.

“Was it not Nogern-nim who delivered the decisive blow?” Nerugian countered mildly.

“Oh, what does it matter? We subdued the target as a cohesive unit, did we not?” Nogern replied with a dismissive wave. “I have no desire to hoard the accolades for myself. Though, considering she was a legendary figure of antiquity, I do wonder if the council will grant a promotion for merely dismantling an undead thrall.”

“Regardless, this feat will immensely elevate our faction’s renown throughout the territory, won’t it? Ahahaha!”

Nerugian simply sighed, watching Keleini dissolve into self-satisfied laughter. Shaking his head at the frivolous behavior of his comrades, Nogern suddenly froze as his eyes drifted to the path ahead. He narrowed his gaze and whispered a name.

“Leo Plov.”

“What did you say?!”

“Did you just utter the name Leo Plov?”

Both Keleini and Nerugian whirled around in absolute astonishment. Standing a short distance away, looking down upon the trio of champions with an unreadable expression, was Leo Plov.

“Ha! It appears this conceited child has hand-delivered himself to his own execution,” Keleini sneered.

“The blood of our fallen comrades cries out for vengeance, and I have not forgotten the slights against our banner,” Nerugian growled.

“How peculiar,” Leo responded evenly, his voice carrying across the quiet field. “I have no recollection of taking the lives of anyone belonging to the Justice Guild.”

Nogern took a step forward, his elderly face hardening. “Do not play the fool, Leo Plov. You are well aware that our forces have been actively supporting the Kingdom of Petiman.” He adjusted his stance. “The Light Seeker himself, the grand guild master of Justice, conveyed deep sorrow regarding your adversarial movements.”

“There is absolutely no need for him to waste his grief on me,” Leo replied, a faint, mocking smile touching his lips.

“Be that as it may, he also expressed a strong desire to offer you a place within the ranks of the Justice Guild. He explicitly stated that should you choose to align with us, your elevation to the prestigious Queen Class would be guaranteed immediately. Furthermore, he is willing to entirely absolve you of any past skirmishes involving our personnel.”

“Nogern, what are you saying?! This is preposterous!” Keleini shrieked in outrage. “Bestowing the Queen Class upon an untested outsider?!”

“Exactly!” Nerugian chimed in, his face flushing with anger. “The rank of Queen is far too sacred to be handed to a boy who has contributed absolutely nothing to our cause!”

The two companions openly revolted against the revelation. Within their hierarchy, the Queen Class represented the absolute pinnacle of leadership beneath the guild master himself, whom they revered as the ‘King.’ The upper echelons who managed the guild’s vast influence were granted the title of ‘Queen,’ while the subordinate champions were categorized by their specific martial roles: frontline warriors were dubbed Knights, spellcasters were called Rooks, and divine elementalists were designated as Bishops. The rank-and-file members were relegated to the status of Pawns. Because a member of the Queen Class was viewed as a legitimate successor to the throne, it was a station reserved exclusively for those who had bled for the organization and proven their absolute loyalty over years of service. To offer such a sacred seat to an adversary was an insult to them all.

“This directive does not merely stem from the King’s personal whim,” Nogern explained firmly, quelling their outbursts. “It represents the unanimous consensus of the executive council. Leo Plov possesses the raw capability to justify the exception.”

Turning his focus back to the youth, Nogern waited. Leo looked at him coolly. “Is this ‘Queen’ designation truly supposed to impress me?”

“Its worth is beyond measure,” Nogern stated proudly. “Commensurate with that rank, you will be granted administrative lordship over vast territories within the grand empire our organization is destined to forge.”

“An empire?” Leo echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Indeed. The Justice Guild is on the verge of establishing a flawless, utopian nation entirely governed and protected by chosen heroes.”

“Sovereign territories ruled by extraordinary individuals have risen and fallen throughout history,” Leo pointed out dryly. “What makes your vision any different from the failures of the past?”

“Our collective is entirely different. We are building a realm where the will of the hero is the supreme law of the land.”

Leo remained silent, watching the old man.

“A true hero acts as a living vessel for divine authority,” Nogern continued, his voice adopting a paternal, benevolent cadence. “Only a select few are chosen by the heavens to bear this mantle. Therefore, is it not entirely righteous that the governance of this world should fall to us? We hold both the divine right and the solemn obligation to lead the ignorant, ordinary masses out of darkness and into the light.”

Leo’s gaze sharpened. “Tell me, do you harbor even a shred of remorse for intentionally instigating a bloody conflict that could have been avoided, all so you could artificially harvest the karma required to elevate your status to that of a hero?”

“None whatsoever,” Nogern replied without a hint of hesitation. “The demise of the common folk serves as the necessary foundation upon which a truly righteous world will be constructed.”

Sighing deeply, Leo closed his eyes for a brief moment. “You bear no resemblance to the true heroes I hold in my mind.”

“And what ridiculous fantasy does a child like you envision?” Keleini mocked.

“Someone who is willing to forfeit their own life and everything they possess to safeguard the innocent.”

“That is the naive babble of an idealistic youth,” Nogern dismissed with a cold sneer. “An absurd sentiment spoken only by someone utterly blind to the harsh realities of existence.”

“Whether it is a fantasy or not is irrelevant,” Leo countered, his tone dropping to a freezing register. “The undeniable truth is that none of you deserve the title of hero. You are nothing more than self-absorbed fools intoxicated by your own perceived superiority.”

“Your petty judgements are meaningless to us,” Nogern spat back. “Our status is validated by the immutable laws of the Hero Record and the grand designs of the deities themselves.”

“Then those deities are just as foolish as you are.”

Leo understood the true, fickle nature of the entities residing in the higher realms far better than they did. There were gods who genuinely sought order and justice, just as there were those who thrived entirely on chaos, alongside hedonistic higher beings who viewed the mortal plane as nothing more than a stage for their personal amusement. If such entities were looking down upon this squalor, watching these arrogant frauds claim the mantle of salvation and cause a scene would be prime entertainment for them.

Nogern’s face contorted with malice. “Mind your tongue, blasphemer. If you reject the generous hand extended by our guild, your existence ends today. We will hunt you down and slaughter you on this very field.”

In response to the threat, Leo merely crossed his arms, completely unbothered. “Before you worry about dealing with me, perhaps you should pay closer attention to what is manifesting directly behind you.”

“What…?” Nogern faltered.

An immense magical vibration tore through the air. The towering inferno that had consumed the elven woman vanished instantly, replaced by a massive, sinister crimson magic circle that expanded across the sky. The sheer intensity of the fluctuating mana caused the three guild members to pale in terror.

“T-This is impossible!”

“An ancient relic of the past could not possibly wield this level of destructive magical energy!” Keleini and Nerugian screamed in sheer panic.

Leo narrowed his eyes as he analyzed the swirling pattern of the incantation. Is that star magic?

It was a severely warped variation of the craft, so twisted that it sent a genuine chill down Leo’s spine. The unique sorcery perfected by the Iron-Blooded Mage had survived through history as a form of hero magic, eventually integrated into the curriculum at Lumern. However, due to the staggering complexity of its geometric formulas and the extreme mental toll required to execute its devastating effects, most contemporary mages actively avoided studying it.

The only living practitioner I know who resembles this is Elena, Leo mused, recalling Elena Zeron, a volatile fourth-year scholar within Lumern’s Department of Magic who possessed a notoriously dark temperament. It makes perfect sense why the elven enclaves condemned her as a dangerous heretic.

The magical energy pouring from Tiara was saturated with pure, unadulterated malice. A soul burning with that depth of hatred would have been the ultimate raw material for the Necromancer King to forge a perfect undead weapon.

As Leo analyzed the spell, Nogern gripped his staff with white knuckles, shouting over the din, “Lord Nerugian! Keleini! Establish a defensive perimeter immediately! We must obliterate this abomination!”

Answering the call, Nerugian unleashed the full force of his combat aura, while Keleini desperately summoned her highest-tier elemental thrall. “We shall demonstrate to this foul wraith, who dares defile the sacred legacy of a hero, what the authentic might of a chosen champion truly looks like!”

The clash of cataclysmic forces eventually subsided, leaving the landscape utterly ruined. In the center of the charred wasteland, a pitiful figure dragged himself through the dirt.

“Curse it all… How could this happen… How dare a filthy, rotting corpse humiliate me…!” Nogern hissed, his lower torso completely obliterated as he clawed at the earth in a desperate bid to escape.

Tiara advanced with slow, deliberate steps, her gaze fixed on the dying wizard to deliver the final strike. Suddenly, a firm footstep echoed nearby. Leo stepped into the path, standing directly between the dying man and the approaching elf.

“Le-Leo Plov… Please… I beg of you, assist me…!” Nogern wheezed, looking up.

Leo looked down at the ruined champion, his eyes devoid of any warmth.

“W-we are both registered within the sacred Hero Record… Is it not our collective duty to unite our strength against the malevolent undead forces of Tartaros?”

Without offering a single word of comfort or acknowledgment, Leo walked straight past the agonizing wizard, focusing entirely on Tiara.

“Argh! You arrogant, wretched brat! Save me! Save me! I was destined for greatness… I cannot perish so insignificantly in a place like this… cough!” Nogern’s desperate tirade cut short as a torrent of blood erupted from his throat, his body going completely limp upon the scorched earth.

The absolute annihilation of the three celebrated icons of the Justice Guild had occurred in a mere matter of moments. The chasm in raw capability between the ancient Iron-Blooded Mage and the contemporary trio was an unbridgeable gulf.

That is the inevitable threshold of artificial champions, Leo thought grimly.

Unlike the dead trio, who had manufactured their status through calculated manipulation of karma, the elven woman standing before him had been a genuine, peerless hero in life. Even though she had been dragged back to the mortal coil as a hollow undead through the deceptive machinations of the Necromancer King, the monumental training and authentic triumphs she had earned during her lifetime remained entirely real.

Leo studied Tiara’s visage. Her eyes were completely vacant, stripped of all human consciousness. The only tangible emotion radiating from her form was a boundless, consuming malice directed at all living existence. Every undead creature raised through the forbidden arts of necromancy naturally harbored an instinctual desire to eradicate life; having put down countless numbers of them throughout his journey, Leo was intimately familiar with the condition.

Yet, this woman’s essence is fundamentally different from the rest.

A master of the craft could read a person’s history and soul simply by observing the nuances of their magical output. The Iron-Blooded Mage’s unique sorcery was inherently distorted by a deep-seated resentment. From what Leo understood of elven culture, every member of her race held Luna in absolute reverence, deeply cherishing the stellar magic she had bestowed upon their lineage. To a mage, their magical essence was a direct reflection of their innermost soul. Altering or degrading the sacred arts left behind by Luna was widely considered the ultimate act of sacrilege against her memory.

In the beginning, she would have cherished those traditions just as deeply.

A low, resonant rumble vibrated through the air.

“Eisen un Blut.”

The incantation slipped from Tiara’s pale lips—a notoriously merciless spell designed to violently shred adversaries apart using a combination of iron and blood. There was no trace of intellect left within her mind; she had become a creature of pure, feral malice, driven by the singular impulse to tear the world asunder.

I cannot allow her to roam free.

A high-tier undead completely consumed by wrath was a walking disaster, an entity that would continuously butcher every living thing in its path until its physical form was utterly demolished.

I will end her suffering.

The moment Leo prepared to unleash his own reservoir of power, a sudden anomaly occurred. A thick, ink-black mana spontaneously erupted from his extended palm.

“What is this?” Leo’s expression stiffened as he felt the foreign energy surging beyond his intended manipulation. Did my core destabilize?

The terrifying thought crossed his mind for a fraction of a second, but the dark energy did not turn destructive against him. Forcing his body into motion, Leo swiftly evaded a barrage of Tiara’s incoming blood-iron spikes, pivoting gracefully to land back on the solid ground. He looked down intently at the dark, roiling energy still cascading from his right hand.

Is this… Lisina’s energy?

As confusion clouded Leo’s thoughts at the unexpected manifestation of Lisina’s unique power, the dark shroud suddenly began to emit a blinding, brilliant radiance.

With a sharp intake of breath, Leo shielded his eyes from the intense glare.

“I offer my prayers… may your troubled soul finally find absolute tranquility in the next life.”

The memory flickered vividly in his mind: Lisina kneeling in the heart of a devastated war zone, offering her solemn prayers as a pure white spiritual aura enveloped her form. It was the image of the gentle spirit medium honoring the freed souls of thousands of Death Knights she had just dismantled, liberating them from the cruel subjugation of the Necromancer King.

The intense light receded as quickly as it had appeared, and the ink-black mana transformed into a serene, pure white spiritual energy.

Leo stared at his glowing hand, murmuring in bewilderment, “Are you asking me… to save her?”

The spiritual energy responded with a gentle, pulsing resonance, hummed softly against his palm as if confirming his words.