Grania explained the spells sealed in the artifact.

“The first spell stored within is a sealing spell, Dimension Lock. It’s the same spell I mentioned to make Nekator retreat. Even if one could slice through space itself, without knowing the exact coordinates, it would be impossible to return to this world. In other words, it can neutralize an enemy completely.”

“I see,” Leon said, nodding in recognition, then paused, struck by a question. “I don’t mean to be rude, but... if you had such a spell ready and it didn’t consume your own circles, why didn’t you use it?”

It was a perfectly reasonable question. The second-ranking bishop of the Evil Order, Nekator, was quite literally one of their core forces.

If Grania had sealed him then and there, the coming battle in the imperial capital, Calelum, would’ve been much easier. By the time the seal unraveled, nearly every Master on the continent could have gathered to annihilate him completely. The fact that Grania hadn’t done so meant there had been a compelling reason.

“Hrmm... I’ve no excuse for that,” Grania admitted, clearing his throat. “The answer’s simple: I left the amulet stored in my vault. I should’ve taken it with me before facing Nekator.”

He hadn’t expected Nekator to appear, and going unprepared had been his mistake. Legendary artifacts were consumables of immeasurable value, kept safe in the heart of his subspace unless absolutely necessary.

Besides, with five Masters gathered, he’d felt confident that no opponent could truly threaten them. Grania groaned, his expression one of embarrassed regret.

El-Cid muttered dryly, —Well, he’s not wrong. If not for that Edgar idiot, you would have won pretty easily. That lunatic Nekator is nothing compared to Kasim. His purity as a warrior is weak. Not valuing one’s life is the same as failing to grasp one half of the martial path.

The purpose of martial arts could be divided into two: To defeat one’s enemies, and to protect one’s own life. Nekator, born with monstrous talent and instinct, had mastered the former to perfection, but since he could cast away his life like a pebble, he was disastrously poor at the latter.

Even Leon, who was several steps below him, had sensed something off in Nekator’s Naturality. A warrior of equal standing could have easily exploited that flaw.

“Now then, let’s move on.” Grania began explaining the second spell. “The second is Deceleration. It’s an eighth-tier magic that slows the flow of time itself within a set area—the complete opposite of acceleration. It doesn’t target individuals, so it can’t be resisted. Only transcendent beings like Grandmasters would be free from its effects.”

Leon thought for a moment before asking, “If it doesn’t specify a target, does that mean it doesn’t distinguish between friend and foe?”

“Exactly. You’ll need to take care not to drag your allies in.”

It was one of the major flaws of space-time magic. Contrary to popular belief, acceleration spells like Haste didn’t actually interfere with “time.” They merely enhanced reflexes and physical capability, making the target seem faster.

True space-time magic interfered with the world itself and thus could sweep even the caster into its influence. It was a truly volatile art that could self-destruct with one mistake.

“And since it defies the natural flow of order, the world’s resistance grows stronger,” Grania added. “Acceleration is even harder than deceleration. With Deceleration, I can hold it for about five minutes, but Acceleration rarely lasts more than one.”

“Ah, that’s why you chose slowing over speeding.”

“It’s a matter of efficiency,” he said. “Whether I get faster or the enemy gets slower, the result’s the same.”

Leon nodded in admiration. Even this alone was worthy of being called a legendary artifact.

Then, what was the third spell? His eyes lingered on the amulet, anticipation rising.

“And now, the last one,” said Grania. “Unlike the first two, this final spell is purely offensive. But it must be used after the other two have been expended.”

“Why’s that?” Leon asked, curious.

“Because the eighth-tier space-time spell Arcane Burst begins with an explosion from the moment of its release.” Then, he pointed to the jewel set in the amulet’s center and said, “This is the mana crystal. The focal point of the detonation.”

Leon’s eyes widened. “You’re saying it consumes the entire artifact?!”

“Materials that can endure three castings of 8th-tier magic are extremely rare,” Grania said. “Perhaps a dragon heart could handle more, but with a mana crystal? Three times is already impressive.”

“But still...!”

“Tools are made to be used. If I can use this to strike back at the ones who put me in this shape, it’s a small price to pay.”

Leon, ever perceptive, immediately understood. The look in Grania’s eyes as he gazed upon the amulet was regret and longing. That made it clear that this had once been meant for his disciple.

“Then I will accept it with much gratitude.”

Leon curled his fingers and took the amulet in both hands. Only then did Grania finally avert his gaze and nod.

“Yes. I hope you can use it well.”

The old mage closed his weary eyelids, lighter than before.

***

While the gateway city of Portroi was in chaos, struggling to recover from the storm that had swept through it, the Revolutionary Army was steadily advancing northward from the southern edge of the Empire toward Calelum.

They were no mere rebels. They called themselves a Revolutionary Army because their commander was none other than Lyon, the legitimate heir of the Clyde Empire, though only a few knew that truth.

Among those few, Cedric was a rare, unexpected variable.

“Hmph, still more to go? So damn far,” Cedric grumbled, eyes closed atop his horse. The moment he spoke, the low murmur of conversation around him vanished into silence.

Cedric, the Sword Demon. A man known to strike down nobles and royals alike if they so much as offended his temper, and an incarnation of slaughter itself. Those who had fought alongside him came to know his true nature, and their reaction was unanimous.

It was fear. He cared nothing for tactics or formations, only for cutting down as many enemies as possible.

“The Empire’s lands are vast,” Lyon replied calmly, the only one unfazed by Cedric’s presence. “But we’re almost there. Cross two more hills, and we’ll see Portroi.”

“A ‘gateway city,’ you called it? A forward base for the capital, then?” Cedric asked.

“Not exactly,” said Lyon. “Portroi is merely the entrance. Consider it the threshold of Calelum. The capital itself has formidable defenses, so the gateway city mainly serves as a hub for transport and logistics.”

“Then another dull fight, it seems. Shame. Fighting aboard ships was at least a bit of fun.”

Not long ago, they had repelled the Hispania forces that had been eyeing the backdoors of Golden Whale, seized the Aurum Fortress, and turned the tables on the cooperation between the Maritime Union of Meril and Hispania, luring the Union’s fleet right into the harbor of the fortress where hundreds of modern cannons awaited.

Nearly two hundred enemy vessels were reduced to molten wreckage in under two hours. Those who tried to flee across the water met Cedric instead, who sprinted across the waves and annihilated them all.

“Well, you never know,” Lyon said lightly. “There could be a Master stationed in the city for reconnaissance.”

Cedric narrowed his eyes and asked, “Trying to baby me?”

“I’m only speaking hypothetically.”

“You’ve grown bold. Your skin must’ve grown thicker, too.”

Cedric shot him a cold look, then turned his gaze toward the distant horizon where the outline of a fortress began to rise. Just as Lyon had said, the gateway city didn’t seem particularly difficult to capture.

During their battles with the Hispania forces and the Meril Union, the Revolutionary Army had also absorbed several nearby territories. They were met with a warm welcome thanks to their shining reputation for repelling foreign invaders while the imperial capital remained idle. After several such victories, the strength of the Revolutionary Army had grown beyond all comparison to what it once was.

“I don’t intend for a prolonged siege,” Lyon said, looking in the same direction as Cedric. “We’re in no condition to build rams or catapults. We’ll open the gates quickly, take the city, and prepare to strike the capital.”

“And your plan?” Cedric asked.

“A direct assault. You, myself, and the elite troops will strike under the cover of night. Destroy the gates and launch a surprise attack.”

Cedric let out a sharp, derisive laugh and ran a hand over his sword’s sheath. The weapon vibrated faintly, as if eager for battle, its hum reverberating through his palm.

Just then, a sharp voice called out to Lyon.

“Your Highness!”

It was Chloe, who had been riding ahead, now galloping back toward Lyon.

“What is it, Captain?”

“We’ve detected traces of at least a seventh-tier magic from the direction of Portroi. A spell that once covered the entire city as its domain was unleashed, and then it was destroyed.”

At those words, both Lyon’s and Cedric’s expressions changed. The former’s face turned cold, while the latter’s lips curled into a chilling grin.

“Seems your prediction was right,” Cedric said. “A pity it’s not a swordsman, but a Grand Mage will do. They’ll cut nicely enough.”

“This could take time,” Lyon murmured.

“Can’t be helped,” Cedric replied. “Few things are worse than a mage holed up in a fortress. Like a hedgehog living in a hole like a mole—annoying creatures.”

Even knowing it would be a difficult fight, Cedric’s eyes gleamed with delight. His hand twitched at the hilt of his sword, barely restraining the urge to draw it that very instant. He truly lived up to the name Sword Demon.

Gilbert, who had silently followed behind, finally spoke up.

“Your Highness! If it’s one of Clyde’s Grand Mages, that leaves only two—Master Edgar and Master Grania. I doubt either of them would still serve the Mad Emperor. Would it not be worth trying to persuade them?”

Cedric, whose excitement had just been doused in cold water, glared sharply.

“You trying to die?”

The killing intent that poured from him, honed to a needle’s edge, pierced into Gilbert. His heart stopped for a beat before it resumed several seconds later. Even so, Gilbert did not back down.

“My duty as His Highness Lyon’s vassal is to offer my counsel. And this opinion I will not retract. Whether to make a Grand Mage our ally or to simply kill one—it should be clear which brings greater benefit.”

“You’re out of your damned mind. Say one more word, and I’ll cut that tongue out.”

Before Lyon could stop him, and just as Gilbert’s lips began to move again, Chloe cried out, “Your Highness! Portroi is...!”

“Hm?”

“What?!”

“Oh?”

Following her voice, everyone turned their gaze forward, and each one froze in shock. It was only natural.

“The inside of the fortress... It’s a complete wreck. Was there a large-scale battle?” Lyon muttered.

Gilbert shook his head and answered, “If so, the walls and gates wouldn’t be intact like that.”

“Strange.”

“Doesn’t look like we’ll even need a siege.”

Lyon furrowed his brow in thought. If another rebel faction had already seized the gateway city, or if the Ferma forces had descended from the northern border, it would have been disastrous.

To them, Clyde was an embodiment of evil, and they made no distinction between the Mad Emperor and Lyon himself. Even if Lyon tried to ally with them until the Emperor was overthrown, they’d laugh in his face and charge him down, shouting that he should save the nonsense for the afterlife.

“There’s no banner flying over the walls... nor any troops visible inside. Could they have already advanced toward Calelum?” Lyon queried.

“Unlikely,” Chloe replied. “Every nation near the capital knows how impenetrable its defenses are.”

“Then we’ll have to go in and see for ourselves.”

As the commanders debated, Cedric alone spurred his horse a little farther ahead and closed his eyes. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

Let’s give it a try.

They were still several kilometers away, but that distance meant little to him. His Aura Blade, refined solely for cutting power, let him channel Aura into extremely fine, compressed threads. By releasing those threads like filaments, he could sense presences even kilometers away.

From horseback, Cedric sent out dozens of strands of Aura, probing for signs of life within Portroi. And then—

“Hah!”

He felt them. Three familiar, powerful presences, and two more that were strong yet unfamiliar. One of them seemed weakened, but the fact that there were four such presences in total thrilled him.

His blood boiled. Gripping his sword hilt tightly, Cedric turned his horse back toward Lyon.

“So we meet again after all,” he muttered under his grin.

An ill-fated encounter was returning once more for Leon.

woo: Leon has a secret admirer, hehe