The former Archmage of the Clyde Empire, Grania, held an extraordinary stature in many respects. During the age of war, he had been one of the Empire’s leading figures, famed across the continent as a conqueror alongside Dayton el Blanc, pushing Clyde’s borders ever outward.

He had reached the seventh tier in his early forties. As if that wasn’t a great enough feat in itself, he had devoted himself not just to his own research but to nurturing disciples, even producing his own successor as Archmage.

Had he been the sort to meddle in politics or factional squabbles, he might well have been granted the title of duke. The Lord of Portroi, the Marquis himself, was keenly aware of that history.

“Understood, Master Grania. I’ll ensure that no one sets foot near your quarters until tomorrow.”

“Much appreciated, Marquis,” Grania thanked the Marquis.

“Please, don’t mention it. To have the hero who once led our Empire’s golden age standing before me is honor enough.”

After the polite exchange, the Marquis turned and left; soon, the sound of fading footsteps and a heavy door closing echoed through the room.

Only then did Grania let his stern expression fade. Staring toward the opposite door, he said calmly, “You can come out now.”

Leon’s group emerged awkwardly. The Marquis of Portroi—a high noble—had treated this old man with near-reverence. That alone was enough to make the mage’s presence feel all the more imposing. The only one unbothered, of course, was Adela.

“‘Golden age,’ my ass. Can’t believe you can dress up that wretched history of invasion like that. You’re as shameless as ever,” she grumbled.

“The memories of victors and those of the defeated are bound to differ,” Grania responded, unbothered.

“You talk big for someone who declared war over a missing shipment of tribute goods.”

As Adela kept throwing verbal jabs, Grania raised his hands in mock surrender.

“The Empire was too powerful back then. Infighting among nobles was draining nearly a fifth of its strength—it was clear we’d end up devouring ourselves if left unchecked.”

“So you turned your eyes beyond the border?”

“Well, I won’t deny the title ‘invader’. If someone sought revenge for that war, we would have no choice but to face it head-on.”

It was hard to keep berating someone who admitted everything so easily. Adela scoffed, stepping back as Leon came forward and steered the talk elsewhere—the real reason they had come.

“Master Grania, where is your disciple?” he asked.

“Ah... Follow me.”

Rising from his chair, Grania led them across the room and stopped before a blazing fireplace. Then, with his finger, he traced an irregular circle through the air.

The fire split in two, and the narrow hearth widened with a deep rumble, revealing a hidden passageway. The four followed him inside. As expected of a place maintained by a Grand Mage, the air was perfectly balanced—neither too dry nor too damp.

It was also far larger than it should have been. Space magic must have been used; several sections didn’t line up with what one’s eyes could measure.

El Cid muttered, —It reeks of rot.

Leon silently agreed. To the naked eye, it was merely a secret chamber, but through the Stigma of the Observer, the scene was vile.

Power seeping from the exolaw had tainted everything around it. Had it not been sealed by magic, the corruption might have spread across Portroi itself. Even Elahan, sensitive to extra-dimensional forces, winced at the oppressive energy.

“This is the room.”

Stopping before a sealed door, Grania watched as Leon drew his sword. The power leaking from beyond was so foul that merely standing near it made one’s chest feel heavy. As the blade of the Holy Sword El-Cid gleamed into view, a radiant light surged forth, driving back the corruption that clung to the air.

Grania’s eyes widened in awe, and in awe, he muttered, “Pure, immaculate light...! So it’s true... That’s the Holy Sword said to have been granted by the Goddess herself.”

“Yes. I’m indebted to its power,” Leon said.

Then, without hesitation, he brought the sword down. Even touching the handle of that door was repulsive. It was better to cleave it apart entirely. With a clean strike, the door split in two, breaking through the useless sealing sigils etched upon it.

With a loud crack, the halves fell away. At that moment, a dark miasma shot out like a viper. Leon reacted instantly, slashing at its tip.

It was heavy. However, the moment it touched the Holy Sword, the exolaw shrieked and dissolved, retreating with an inhuman wail. Whether it had will or acted purely on instinct was unclear. The serpent-like exolaw recoiled, then slithered back into the body of the man lying upon the bed.

“Edgar!” Grania shouted, reaching toward him.

He tried desperately to drag the thing out, but he was too late. Even Leon, standing within arm’s reach, had barely kept up with its speed; no mage could have reacted in time.

Instead, Elahan stepped forward, saying, “Please step back. From here, it’s my and the Hero’s turn.”

“I’m counting on you... Please, save my disciple.”

Even after crossing the threshold of the eighth tier, the twilight mage felt powerless. Pride abandoned, he could only plead to these strangers to save his disciple and heir.

Elahan smiled softly at his earnestness and said, “You don’t even need to ask. This is what I’m meant to do.”

Adela moved to stand beside her, rolling her shoulders with a half-smirk.

“Well, can’t be helped. Dumping your sins onto your pupil wouldn’t sit right with me anyway.”

“Adela...” Grania said longingly.

“Been a while since you called me by name.”

A Cardinal, a Saintess, and a Hero—there could be no stronger combination to face an exolaw. The three surrounded the bed from different angles, ready for anything.

Elahan moved first. The foreign energy was so dense that it was visible to the naked eye. And there was no one else in the world who could peel it away without harming its host.

“O Goddess who gazes upon the earth bathed in Your light...”

Bringing her hands together in prayer, Elahan’s body shone with a brilliant dawnlight that filled the room. The darkness coiling around Edgar’s body writhed in response, recoiling as if scalded.

The serpent-shaped mass of corruption tried to endure, but each verse she spoke intensified the light. With every word, its layers began to peel away. After dozens of minutes, the darkness encasing Edgar had fully taken shape, its form clearly outlined at last.

El Cid’s voice echoed inside Leon’s head.

—Now. Use me.

The exolaw binding Edgar was vile by design. The darkness shaped like a serpent had rooted itself deep into his soul, not in a single strand but many, twisted together like chains. It was much like the “Gordian Knot” of old legend, impossible to untangle by wit, yet easy to sever with a single decisive strike.

“Hup!”

Leon swung down the Sun Sword, activating only its light. The darkness it touched crumbled like rotten straw, unable to endure even a heartbeat before being torn apart. A soundless, inhuman scream burst through the air.

“—————!”

Each time it thrashed, Edgar’s body convulsed violently, but the spell Grania had cast sealed his movement. Even if his muscles tore and bones snapped, he would not be released. So long as he lived, those wounds could be mended.

“Elahan!” Leon called out.

“Yes!”

The serpent lost more than half its hold from the Holy Sword’s strike. No longer fearing she’d burn away Edgar’s soul, Elahan poured out every last drop of her light. The radiance swelled to a blinding brilliance, and the exolaw serpent, unable to endure, fled from the glow.

It’s fast!

Leon realized his one miscalculation. The serpent was terrifyingly swift.

This was a snake that seized souls. That meant its nature lay not in the material but in the spiritual, and its speed was unbound by physical law, moving at a soul’s velocity. The serpent slipped through the air like lightning, darting past Leon and Elahan toward the door behind Adela. However, the Cardinal wasn’t just going to let it slip away.

“Coming in’s easy, but leaving? Not so much.”

A small hand blocked its path, tiny yet strong enough to warp the air around it. Adela grasped the serpent’s body and smiled coldly.

“Sorry, but reading trajectories happens to be my specialty.”

The serpent struggled wildly, but Adela’s grip only tightened, a sickening crack resounding as it writhed. The spirit itself—without even a physical form—was being crushed.

She was no Saintess like Elahan, but she was still a Cardinal, one whose divine power was lethal to beings of the outer realms. Enjoying the resistance under her palm, Adela whispered to the serpent—no, to the one who had planted it inside Edgar.

“Even exolaw follows the same principle as curses. When the spell fails to achieve its purpose, it rebounds on the caster. A trick of this level? I imagine the blowback’ll be quite something,” she said, her voice dropping to a chilling murmur no one else could hear. “Don’t think this ends here, you filth. I’m coming to kill you myself.”

Then, with a crunch, the serpent was crushed along with the space around it and vanished in her hand. It was a pitiful end for a spell that had incapacitated a seventh-tier Archmage.

Elahan checked over Edgar once more and said, “It’s over. His body and soul are weak, but I can no longer sense any trace of exolaw.”

“O-oh...!”

Grania’s face lit with joy as he stumbled to the bedside. It had only been a few months, yet seeing that face again felt like years. When Edgar had been wrapped in darkness, even approaching him had been impossible. He’d had to use magic just to move him.

The old man sat beside the bed and took his disciple’s frail hand. Perhaps the touch reached him. Edgar, who had been comatose, slowly opened his eyes.

“M–Master?”

His gaze was still hazy, unfocused, but the light of recognition was unmistakable. Grania nodded repeatedly.

“Yes, it’s me, you fool. Do you realize what happened?”

“I’ve... Caused you trouble.”

Eyes glistening, Grania barked harshly, “You idiot! You couldn’t have faith in yourself, even though you’ve inherited my place! How many times have I told you? You have the talent to surpass me! Did my words mean nothing to you!?”

“T-that’s not it, Master...”

“This is the last time, you hear me? Don’t make me scold you again. Understood?” 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

“Yes, Master.”

Watching their reunion, Adela clicked her tongue and grumbled, “Anyone watching would think that’s his long-lost son. Never thought I’d see that old fossil bawling.”

“Cardinal!” Elahan snapped and glared at her for the remark, and Adela shrugged, deciding not to press further.

Instead, Karen spoke up. She looked slightly miffed at having nothing to do during the fight.

“Mr. Hero, can I ask something?”

“Mm? What is it?”

“The Cardinal said that snake-like exolaw was a curse, right? Then wouldn’t the caster know right away that it was broken?”

“You’re right...”

Leon blinked as he caught her meaning.

A curse was unlike normal magic. It existed solely to harm its target, and when it failed, the backlash always struck the caster. So yes. They would know that someone had destroyed their curse, and Leon understood the implication a beat later.

“Damn.”

The exolaw binding Edgar had been powerful, somewhere between the seventh and eighth tier.

And if it required the divine strength of five Cardinals to safely dispel it, then the list of possible breakers narrowed drastically, which meant the caster could identify who had undone it.

—Well, we couldn’t just leave him like that. Looks like you walked right into a double-layered trap. Crafty bastards.

El-Cid was right. The Evil Order would have realized it by now. They might not yet know of the Hero, but they would know that the Saintess was in Portroi. It was the only conclusion, as no five Cardinals could have infiltrated this far unnoticed.

They had gained the Grand Mage’s cooperation, but at the cost of exposing themselves. Whether that would prove an advantage or a disaster, none of them could yet say.