Chapter 681

Chapter 681

Guided by Leo and Chelsea, the scouting party comprised of Luke, Aina, and Habitden pressed forward with their intelligence gathering. Their path led southward, extending past the borders of Tartaros.

“Is it just my imagination, or are we encountering way more fiends, corrupted beasts, and monsters compared to our journey here?” Luke inquired, panting heavily after they had successfully wiped out a horde of more than two hundred orcs.

Unsheathing a compact magical wand, Chelsea confirmed his suspicions. “No, you’re right. Their numbers have definitely surged.”

The distinct, foul odor of the orcs, mingled with the metallic tang of fresh blood and rotting flesh, assaulted their senses. Grimacing slightly, Chelsea executed a light wave with her staff.

Whoosh—

A sudden gust of wind swept through the area, dispelling the horrific stench. Inhaling the newly purified air, Chelsea looked visibly relieved.

“Much improved,” she remarked. “Though the surrounding view leaves much to be desired.”

Luke observed her minor complaints with genuine curiosity.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s just that seeing Aina wield Klesis got me thinking,” Luke explained. “Senior Chelsea, isn’t that staff of yours an exceptional piece of equipment too?”

“Indeed it is. It’s called Flamen, a treasured heirloom passed down through the Rwallyn family,” Chelsea noted, shrugging her shoulders. “However, since Aina’s Klesis is a masterpiece forged directly by Lord Dweyno, my staff falls a bit short by comparison.”

Despite her casual demeanor, an artifact with the capabilities of Flamen was incredibly scarce. True Divine-class armaments only originated from Dweyno himself, and fully operational divine relics were almost legendary myths. Flamen sat comfortably at the Legendary tier, which was positioned right beneath the Divine classification. Throughout the vast chronicles of the Age of Heroes, only a handful of Legendary-tier armaments had ever been forged. For context, Lightning Storm—the weapon wielded by Duran and revered as a national treasure of the Moira Kingdom, which met its demise during this very trek—was merely a Heroic-tier item, placing it a rank lower than Legendary status.

“Incredible,” Luke muttered, his eyes gleaming with admiration.

“Are you hoping to acquire a high-quality weapon yourself?” Chelsea inquired.

Luke offered a sheepish grin in response. While excessive reliance on top-tier gear was foolish, heading into battle under-equipped was equally reckless. After all, a champion’s gear constituted a major pillar of their overall fighting capability.

A subtle smile played on Chelsea’s lips. “While securing a Legendary or Heroic weapon might be a stretch right now, would you like to know a trick to obtain a premium-tier Magic-grade item?”

“Haha, my pockets are completely empty,” Luke admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Chelsea’s expression turned playful. “Who said anything about paying? You can secure it entirely for free.”

“Wait, really? How?” Luke asked. Given that Magic-grade equipment was typically only manufactured by the advanced fourth- or fifth-year pupils at Damian, the prospect of acquiring one free of charge was impossible to ignore.

“You simply need to serve as a model for Dyriana.”

“What?!” Luke exclaimed, his face instantly turning crimson. “M-Model for Lord Dyriana? That’s…”

“Precisely. A life model—without clothes. She’d gladly craft a weapon for you under those terms, don’t you think?”

“Oh, boy…” Luke groaned, utterly flabbergasted as his ears burned bright red.

At that moment, Aina extended her hand protectively. “Don’t do it, Luke. Maintain your self-respect.”

Luke offered a strained chuckle at Aina’s stern, mock-horrified countenance. “Come on, Aina, it’s not like I’d actually…”

“Oh? Ready to sacrifice your dignity for ultimate power. Truly a commendable mindset, Luke,” Habitden chimed in mockingly.

“Habitden, cut it out. You know perfectly well I have no intention of doing that,” Luke retorted.

The camaraderie between Luke and Habitden had deepened to the point where they could comfortably trade barbs. Naturally, Aina, who often missed social cues, blinked in confusion.

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like looking at it will make it degrade—”

Smack!

“Watch your mouth!” Aina scolded, striking Habitden across the back of his head using her sheathed sword. “Stop filling Luke’s head with nonsense. I will personally ensure he never does something so shameless.”

“Guys, I already told you, I am not modeling naked for anyone!” Luke protested.

Observing the chaotic banter of her younger companions, Chelsea clutched her torso, roaring with laughter.

She really does have a mischievous streak, Leo thought, shaking his head at Chelsea’s antics before refocusing on the path forward. Ahead of them, a heavy, dense mist blanketed the landscape. Leo’s expression darkened as he observed it.

“Ah, that was golden! Teasing Luke and Aina is too easy because of how pure they are!” Chelsea chuckled as she walked over to Leo after stirring up the second-years. Looking ahead, she noted, “That mist is incredibly dense, though.”

“That isn’t normal mist; it’s a hex,” Leo corrected.

“What?” Chelsea blinked in surprise.

“It bears the magical signature of an entity at the level of a Legion Commander,” Leo explained.

“Are we talking about the Necromancer King or the Giant King?” Chelsea asked, visibly tense.

Leo shook his head to dismiss her fear. “If either of those monarchs had deployed this, it wouldn’t look anywhere near this clumsy.”

Chelsea clicked her tongue, thoroughly stunned by his assessment. She hadn’t even recognized that the fog carried a magical affliction, meaning the spell was highly complex and potent. It makes sense if a Legion Commander deployed it, she thought. Yet, Leo dismissed it as rudimentary.

“This is the handiwork of the newly appointed Legion Commanders who rose to power in this current generation,” Leo added.

“Honestly, Brother Leo, your expectations are absurdly inflated sometimes,” Chelsea muttered. Calling Legion Commanders—universally feared as the pinnacle of demonic might—”newbies” was wild.

“The times have changed,” Leo replied with a soft laugh, shifting his gaze back to the corrupted mist. “It’s an illusion-type hex designed to isolate this area from the outside world.”

“Is that why our sending spells and communication channels are completely dead?”

“In all likelihood, yes.”

In fact, the entire reason Leo had organized this scouting unit was the abrupt failure of their long-distance communications. He had intended to lead a small detachment beyond their perimeter to establish contact and summon reinforcements.

“Brother Leo, do you have a way to break this hex?” Chelsea questioned.

“I do,” Leo answered, taking a step toward the swirling wall of dark energy. “To begin with, curses don’t really affect me anyway.”

Having endured an astronomical number of hexes throughout his past existence, Leo could analyze the fundamental formula of even an unfamiliar demonic spell and unravel it effortlessly. It wasn’t a biological immunity, but rather an incredibly rapid cognitive countering mechanism—a skill forged through unparalleled, hard-earned experience.

However, as Leo walked toward the fog, he abruptly halted his advance and took a few steps backward.

“What’s the matter, Brother Leo? Did you find—oof?!”

Confused by his sudden retreat, Chelsea walked right past him only to collide face-first into something unseen. She gasped, grabbing her nose as she staggered backward in shock.

“W-What on earth? A solid wall?” Chelsea looked utterly bewildered.

Following her reaction, the second-year students stretched out their hands into the empty air surrounding Chelsea. Sure enough, their fingers pressed against a completely invisible, impenetrable barrier barring their way.

“Is this some kind of protective ward?” Luke guessed.

“If it were a standard barrier, I would have detected its mana signature immediately,” Chelsea countered, her brows knitting together as she brandished her staff. She unleashed a powerful concentrated gale, but the wind simply crashed against the empty air and dissipated harmlessly.

Witnessing this, Chelsea’s expression turned grim. “Brother Leo… don’t tell me this is…”

“You’re likely correct,” Leo confirmed, sliding his palm along the unseen boundary. “This is the Wall of Restriction.”

The phenomenon known as the Hero’s World, generated via the Hero Record, permitted contemporary individuals to relive the historical exploits of ancient champions. It offered a flawless simulation of bygone ages. Yet, regardless of its staggering authenticity, the Hero’s World remained a fabricated reality. The simulated territory was strictly confined to the specific geographical bounds documented within that particular chapter of the Hero Record. Should an individual attempt to traverse past those historical parameters, they would inevitably collide with this Wall of Restriction.

“So the severed communication wasn’t caused by the demonic hex after all,” Leo murmured, his gaze turning cold. “We are effectively sealed inside.”

By the time the scouting group made their way back to camp, darkness had fallen completely. Leo directed his steps toward the quarters where the rest of their companions were lodged. A group of five, with Artian among them, were gathered around the crackling campfire.

“Ah, welcome back, Student Leo!” Artian greeted him warmly.

Leo took a seat opposite Artian, while the rest of the scouting detachment gathered around the warmth of the fire to unwind.

“I figured you all would be starving after your trek, so I made some food,” Artian noted with a gentle smile, gesturing toward a simmering cauldron of stew that filled the air with a mouthwatering scent.

“Incredible! Thank you so much, Professor Artian!”

“Much appreciated.”

“Thank you for looking out for us.”

Luke, Aina, and Habitden voiced their appreciation before eagerly digging into their meals.

Prior to tasting her food, Chelsea locked her eyes onto Karl. “Hey Karl, what’s your ideal number of kids?”

“I’ve already made it clear that I have zero interest in getting married,” Karl sighed.

“Can’t an older sister just satisfy her curiosity?” Chelsea teased.

Nearby, Kana, a half-dwarf whose diminutive stature made her look deceptively young despite outaging Karl, chimed in. “We just spent the whole day struggling out there, yet you’re sitting here taking things easy.”

As Chelsea squinted at him judgmentally, Karl offered a deadpan, exhausted stare. “Trust me, grinding out alchemy recipes all day isn’t exactly what I’d call taking it easy.”

Chelsea dismissed Karl’s complaint with a shake of her head, shifting her focus to Eliza. The young woman sat quietly with her eyes closed, sipping herbal tea. Even though the lack of proper porcelain forced her to use a rugged, everyday earthenware mug, her poised movements carried the unmistakable grace of a successor to an illustrious heroic lineage. Despite earning a reputation as a problematic student due to her detached nature, her basic etiquette remained flawlessly aristocratic.

That prideful princess actually has feelings for Karl? Chelsea wondered, tilting her head in disbelief.

Her thoughts drifted back to the chaotic scene Illiana had caused two days prior.

“I called it! I totally called it! Eliza has a crush on Karl!”

“Wipe the blood off your face before you start gossiping.”

“I’m leaking this straight to the journalism circle! Hehehe! A juicy rumor like this is going to fetch me a massive payout—”

“Uh oh, that’s Eliza’s pager.”

Chomp!

“Aaagh!”

Illiana had nearly been eaten alive for baiting Eliza before, yet failing to learn her lesson, she had pushed her luck again and ended up being gnawed on by the Wind Wyvern once more. Even remembering that display, Chelsea found it hard to believe. Sure, Eliza behaved oddly, but someone like her falling for Karl?

It was common knowledge across the student body that the two had developed a closer bond following the previous year’s Hero’s Festival. However, the general consensus was that their relationship was strictly platonic. Eliza Helgin was notorious among the third-years for her intense elitism; she flatly ignored anyone she considered beneath her notice. Given her status as the future head of the Helgin household, such aloofness was practically expected. The mere fact that Eliza acknowledged a common-born student like Karl was shocking enough, but harboring romantic affection for him seemed impossible.

There’s no way, Chelsea reasoned. Even if Karl had achieved remarkable feats at such an early age, it defied logic. To a dynasty as prestigious as the Helgin family, a basic “hero” title held very little weight. What does she even see in that irritating guy? The future matriarch of an ancient lineage paired with an ordinary citizen—it read like a trashy romance novel plot.

“Hey, why not skip the wedding and just start with a baby first?” Chelsea prodded playfully.

Crack!

A sharp, jarring noise echoed from the ceramic vessel resting against Eliza’s mouth. Because Chelsea had been monitoring her closely, she was the only one who caught it. Eliza calmly spat out the fragments of the heavy mug, which she had literally shattered using her teeth, and locked eyes with a thoroughly stunned Chelsea.

“Is there something you want to say?” Eliza asked coldly.

“N-No, not at all,” Chelsea stammered.

Eliza’s voice lacked its typical aristocratic composure, replaced by an aura that was far more intimidating than usual. Despite Chelsea’s own stubborn nature, she instinctively shrunk back, pulling her head away to look elsewhere. Eliza rose to her feet, gathered the ruined cup, and walked away from the fire.

Wow, unbelievable! She is totally compromised! Having confirmed her suspicions beyond a doubt, Chelsea clicked her tongue in amazement while glancing over at Karl, who merely looked bewildered by the sudden tension. How in the world did that guy manage to reel her in?

“So a Wall of Restriction has manifested… This implies the dungeon’s corruption and expansion are progressing much faster than we estimated,” Artian noted.

“Correct,” Leo agreed. The emergence of the boundary barrier proved that the physical environment was being systematically swallowed and overwritten by the Hero’s World.

“That rules out any chance of outside help reaching us.”

“Yes. Our only options are to completely disrupt their operations or systematically destroy the Legion’s Record.”

“I see.”

“Starting tomorrow, I intend to enlist Dweyno to help survey the perimeter of the citadel,” Leo outlined.

Typically, the primary Hero’s Record anchoring a Hero Dungeon resides within its absolute depths. Gaining access to that core required navigating through the simulated historical realm—meaning they had to plunge deeper into the Hero’s World. This structural rule would apply equally to the Legion’s Record, which meant their objective lay within the historical version of Ivaldi. Since this zone operated under dungeon logic, a gateway connecting their current position to the historical setting of this specific chapter had to exist somewhere nearby.

“I take it the forces of Tartaros are reinforcing that gateway?” Artian inquired.

“It’s highly likely that the Giant King himself is overseeing its defense,” Leo replied evenly.

Artian’s expression filled with heavy anxiety. “Do you possess the strength to match the Giant King, Student Leo?”

“With Gias by our side, we stand a perfectly fine chance,” Leo stated confidently, putting Artian’s worries to rest. “After all, the God of Blacksmiths is backing us up.”

Whoosh!

Clang! Clang!

Blazing golden fires roared within the forge as a heavy hammer repeatedly struck a fractured blade. Keeping her distance, Enniha quietly observed the blacksmith’s work.

Sizzle…

Plunging the repaired weapon into a vat of cold water to temper it, Dweyno rested his hammer and took a moment to recover his breath. “Is there a reason you’re observing me so intently, Enniha?”

“I’ve simply never witnessed you dedicating yourself to weapon crafting with such intensity,” Enniha remarked.

“Is that a fact?”

“It is. You’ve never genuinely enjoyed forging tools of war, have you?”

Despite holding peerless mastery over the forge, Dweyno derived no pleasure from producing weaponry. The devastating implements born from his anvil inevitably caused widespread ruin. Having once lost mastery over his immense capabilities and reduced his entire homeland to cinders, he despised creating instruments of death—even when intended for the defense of the realm.

“What brought about this sudden change?” she pressed.

“I have discovered a definitive purpose,” Dweyno answered softly.

“A purpose?”

“Correct,” Dweyno affirmed with a firm nod. “I want to secure a future where the populace of Ivaldi can experience true, unadulterated tranquility, even if only for a short while. Place your faith in me, Enniha.”

Enniha looked at him, caught off guard by his words. “You… you’ve grown a bit different since arriving at this place.”

“Do you think so?” Dweyno responded with a warm laugh.

Studying his expression, Enniha inquired further, “Though, why establish your workshop in this isolated corner? Back in Ivaldi, you always chose the absolute heart of the city.”

“I simply took a liking to this particular spot,” Dweyno replied, seating himself on the rough earth. “Staring up at the stars in absolute silence provides me with excellent creative insight.”

“What use do you have for creative insight?”

“I mentioned it before, didn’t I? I’ve taken up an interest in artistic endeavors. I’ll make sure to share my latest canvas with you in the near future,” Dweyno said with a soft smile. “Which means, Enniha… you must survive.”

“I have no plans of perishing. At least not until I witness a true sunrise,” she countered.

“Lean on me. I will guide you to that tomorrow, by any means necessary,” Dweyno vowed, his closed fist quivering with intense emotion. “…Without fail.”