Chapter 263

Chapter 263 – Something More Important Than Moonlight Stone

Ultimately, it was the Tower Lord who triumphed in the contest of sheer stamina.

“Urk.”

Letting out a low grunt, Koksen spat a mouthful of crimson fluid. He desperately tried to re-establish his focus, but stabilizing a fractured incantation proved immensely difficult.

Naturally, the opening lasted only a split second, yet for a sorcerer who had scaled such heights, such a window was more than sufficient to take control of the battlefield.

Swish!

Capitalizing on that minor lapse, the Tower Lord blinked through the dimensions, breaking free from the magical restraint before launching himself forward off the turf.

“…Curse it!”

“Maintain your composure. His strength is waning as well… Wait?”

Zaifo, who had been attempting to reassure Koksen, widened his eyes in astonishment as he witnessed the Tower Lord rushing toward them. His shock was entirely justified—the features of the Tower Lord, now liberated from the sensory-altering magic, were completely unlooked-for.

‘…How can this be?’

Savage, piercing eyes. Fangs smeared with fresh blood. A countenance terrifying enough to cause nightmares, yet incredibly youthful.

However, Zaifo lacked the luxury of hesitation.

Snap.

“…Aaaagh!”

The barreling Tower Lord ripped Zaifo’s left arm clean off. Had the warrior not reacted defensively at the last moment, his throat would have been torn open instantly. There was no leeway to cry out in agony.

“You… witnessed it, did you not?”

The Tower Lord’s subsequent assault followed immediately.

Clutching the severed limb, the Tower Lord slammed his forehead straight into Zaifo’s face. Crack! With a sickening crunch, Zaifo’s head jolted backward.

“Zaifo!”

Koksen belatedly unleashed a spell, predicting the next move, but the Tower Lord vaulted away, slipping right past the pair.

Discerning his ultimate objective, Zaifo gripped his bleeding left shoulder and roared hoarsely.

“Stop him! Don’t let him past!”

Hearing Zaifo’s shout, Koksen called off his current magic to lock onto the Tower Lord once more. The Decullan mages rapidly materialized protective walls as the adversary charged down upon them. Scores of spellcasters aligned themselves to form a vast semi-circle of defensive barriers. Concurrently, chants began to resonate from every direction.

Yet.

Flash!

The Tower Lord vanished from sight once more.

“…!”

While the Decullan mages reeled in shock from this unanticipated turn of events, a freezing whisper brushed past their ears.

“Heh, let us take a moment to breathe.”

What was the meaning behind those words?

Before the Decullan mages could process the question, the Tower Lord materialized right within their defensive perimeter, discarding Zaifo’s severed arm and clamping his jaws viciously onto the shoulder blade of the foremost spellcaster.

“Aaaaah!”

The sorcerer writhed in pure torment. As that horrific shriek echoed through the air, the Tower Lord drove his alternate fist straight into another caster’s skull. Thud. Under the devastating impact of the Collision Formula, flesh and bone shattered helplessly.

Crimson droplets sprayed everywhere.

From that moment onward, it turned into an absolute slaughter executed by the Tower Lord.

Complex incantations were entirely superfluous. He merely pulverized, mangled, and shattered whatever came within his grasp.

The Decullan mages attempted to fight back, but avoiding the knight-like mobility of the Tower Lord proved an impossible feat.

A few casters tried to retreat swiftly to hurl spells from a distance. Even that, however, was nearly impossible.

Whenever he anticipated incoming offensive magic, the Tower Lord simply pulled the nearest captured mage ahead of him to serve as a human shield.

“P-Please… have mercy…”

The sorcerers faltered upon hearing the weeping entreaties of their companion. They had no other option; they were, after all, only human.

Consequently, the unmitigated carnage continued.

The shattered alignment caused the local mana field to disintegrate entirely.

Zaifo and Koksen tried to execute high-precision strikes solely targeting the Tower Lord, but on every occasion, he leaped directly into the cluster of mages, disrupting their attempts.

Watching this unfold, Zaifo could not conceal his overwhelming hopelessness.

‘…I believed they were arriving as reinforcements.’

His calculations had been entirely wrong.

The subsequent arrival of the Decullan mages had not only benefited their own side but had provided the perfect opportunity for the Tower Lord as well.

Treating the Tower Lord like an ordinary sorcerer and deploying a standard mana field had been their initial error.

Had they adhered to their primary strategy and utilized an anti-Ten Swords formation…

No, that was not the sole problem.

— You… witnessed it, did you not.

That solitary phrase had sent shivers down his spine. He had anticipated that the Tower Lord would attempt to execute him while holding the upper hand, simply because his face had been exposed.

Even though he had braced for that outcome, the Tower Lord had instead lunged directly toward the ranks of the mages, and that brief lapse in judgment had triggered this catastrophic outcome.

It was a truly devastating oversight.

“Cough!”

Straining his body to move, Zaifo spat blood due to the violent backlash of internal mana. Koksen stepped up to take his place.

“Do not move. When it comes to close-quarters combat, I still possess the advantage over you.”

If the adversary intended to engage like a knight, they would adapt to that methodology.

Koksen was a seasoned veteran of historic conflicts, well-acquainted with this style of engagement. Naturally, he had no intention of playing directly into the Tower Lord’s hands.

“I will secure some time. Reorganize the lines. My endurance will not last long.”

“…Understood.”

One of the pair of leaders gave a nod in response to Koksen’s directive and promptly ordered the squad to scatter.

The Tower Lord did not remain passive either.

“Where do you think you are fleeing to? The entertainment is only just beginning.”

The Tower Lord had already hidden his features beneath the sensory-altering spell once more. Nevertheless, that malevolent smirk was far too intense to be fully concealed, and Koksen stepped into his path.

“I am the one you are fighting.”

The Tower Lord halted, studying Koksen, before looking down at the spellcaster trapped in his grip.

“Co-Koksen, sir, please… save me…”

“He is pleading for his life?”

“It cannot be helped.”

Following those words, the Decullan mage was suddenly engulfed in roaring flames. The wretched individual crumbled into cinders without even uttering a final cry of pain.

It was a brutal action, yet Koksen’s veteran eyes betrayed no hint of remorse. They could not permit the Tower Lord to continue his rampage indefinitely.

The true challenge was commencing now.

Rustle, rustle.

Decullan mages were taking up positions all across the area. They were attempting to structure the defensive array originally designed for the Ten Swords, but due to their heavy casualties, completing it would require additional time. Furthermore, the most vital element… was Zaifo.

“Hoo, haa.”

Zaifo used unfamiliar incendiary magic to sear his own wound to stop the bleeding, then swiftly swallowed two vials of internal trauma recovery solution back-to-back.

[My apologies. Restrain him for five… no, just sixty seconds.]

Koksen nodded upon hearing Zaifo’s voice. Despite his advanced age, he could certainly endure for a single minute.

And within sixty seconds, the spellcasters’ defensive grid would be fully operational.

“Shall I make the first move? Or perhaps you would prefer to initiate.”

Koksen posed the query simply to delay the confrontation. Yet, unexpectedly.

“Do you wish for me to wait?”

“What…”

“Heh, very well, I shall wait.”

Spit.

The Tower Lord discharged blood-flecked saliva right at Koksen’s feet and settled down onto the ground with his legs crossed.

Koksen’s eyebrows twitched at this bizarre behavior. It defied logic. Granting them time should logically place the Tower Lord at a severe disadvantage.

What trick was he orchestrating?

Dismissing his doubts, Koksen prepared to invoke his magic. Regardless of the foe’s motives, the Tower Lord was currently exposed from every angle. There was no sense in passing up the chance.

Consequently, just as he commenced the manifestation of the incantation—

“Would you care to view something entertaining while you wait?”

The corners of the Tower Lord’s mouth turned upward. At that precise moment, the sensory-altering magic dissolved. Upon catching sight of his true face, Koksen completely froze.

“…!”

“You see? Quite a surprise, isn’t it? What, do I look too young? But do you want to know what is even more amusing?”

The transformation occurred immediately following those words.

Bzzz, buuuuuuzz—

A bizarre vibration vibrated throughout the vicinity, resembling the sound of thousands of swarming insects.

Koksen snapped his attention around toward the sudden noise, his expression darkening significantly.

“What is this…?”

Crimson spheres began to well up from the earth. They multiplied exponentially within mere moments. It took very little time for the entire vicinity to be inundated by them…

“You ought to have remained grouped tightly together.”

A solitary phrase.

That was the final thing Koksen managed to hear.

Screeeeeeeee—

A high-pitched ringing blasted through his ears. A colossal detonation obscured his vision, and amidst the blinding radiance, Koksen generated a defensive wall and attempted to leap backward. Or rather, he attempted to do so.

Wriggle—

An anomalous flow of mana coursed beneath his feet.

Acclimatizing his vision to the brilliance in a fraction of a second, Koksen instinctively cast his eyes downward. The origin was the crimson spheres. No, it was actually blood. The blood that had saturated the earth was ascending…

Splurt!

“Guh, urk…”

A Crimson Jade slammed through his solar plexus like a projectile. Moments afterward, a merciless hand clamped tightly around his throat.

“Quite spectacular, wouldn’t you say?”

Naturally, Koksen was unable to hear anything. His auditory senses had already been utterly destroyed…

Then, his neck snapped.

Crack!

With the sound of fracturing bone, the light faded from Koksen’s eyes as they became vacant. In that fleeting final instant, a thought crossed Koksen’s mind.

‘W-What sort of… anomaly is this.’

The holder of the fifth seat among the Seven Mages.

The Double Master Koksen von Kallador had perished.

…For a sorcerer who had once commanded an entire era, it was an incredibly miserable demise.

Was it a final surge of determination in the face of death? Or perhaps a pre-prepared incantation triggered automatically by his passing?

“Cough!”

Concurrently with the detonation that marked Koksen’s demise, Aster buckled over and expectorated a torrent of blood.

‘…If you were destined to pass, you could have at least done so quietly.’

The unlooked-for magic had jarred his core entirely. He had managed to quickly shield himself with a defensive barrier, but he could not entirely deflect the concussive ripples.

However, he could only spare a moment to process the physical agony.

“Phew.”

Aster surveyed the landscape enveloped in debris from the Crimson Jade’s blast.

As expected of the Decullan mages—they had successfully finalized their array during that abrupt onslaught, and a respectable number of them had managed to survive.

Aster detected the presence of each remaining individual through his mana perception, and then re-activated Transcendence.

‘…Is this the correct method?’

His mental perception expanded to an entirely new level, deciphering the airborne currents of mana with absolute precision. Aster steered them precisely as Zaifo had done previously, conjuring a spell.

In that exact moment, the suspended dust particles transformed into razor-sharp glass slivers, saturated with lethal intent. And then…

Pew-pew! Pfft!

A succession of miniature detonations rang out. Agonized shrieks reverberated from within the shroud of dust immediately afterward.

“Gah!”

“…Urk!”

“G-Guhk.”

The remaining Decullan mages who had barely survived collapsed to the ground simultaneously.

Aster deactivated Transcendence and assessed the remaining numbers.

‘…Zaifo, and… four? No, roughly five?’

Just as he suspected, reproducing magic without a profound understanding carried intrinsic restrictions—a handful of sorcerers still remained standing.

Yet, his disappointment lasted only a moment.

“Phew.”

Aster finally extracted a vial of internal injury recovery solution and consumed it.

He had secured it from the Young Patriarch as a precaution, and it undeniably brought relief to his internal organs. The issue remained that a single vial was insufficient to mend such profound trauma.

“…Cough.”

Ejecting blood once again, Aster let out a low chuckle amidst his coughing fits.

Just then, a voice drifted out from beyond the settling dust.

“…What do you find so amusing?”

“So you are still here?”

“There appears to be no further purpose in concealing your identity, I see.”

“It makes no difference, since everyone is about to perish anyway.”

Aster smirked at Zaifo’s inquiry, wiping away the crimson fluid from his lips. He lifted his gaze toward Zaifo, whose eyes were bloodshot and weeping crimson fluid.

Whether it was tears of blood or mere drainage mattered little.

“We are going to keep going, correct?”

“…”

Zaifo offered no reply. He merely fixed a fierce stare upon Aster, projecting an intense aura of homicidal intent.

Aster stared back perfectly composed, when the voice of the wyvern resonated in his mind.

[Companion, cease this. Escape, run away. You cannot. Cease.]

‘I shall hand over every single one of the moonlight stones to you. Just remain patient for a little while longer.’

Aster paid no heed to the wyvern’s warnings and forced his aching body upright.

The wyvern had stopped taking flight. It uttered no further cries. It desperately wished to mourn loudly, but suppressed the sound entirely, terrified that it might disrupt him.

‘The moonlight stones do not matter. They mean nothing at all.’

…An admission it could never bring itself to voice aloud.