Rumble—

The elevator doors slowly began to open. Miguel stared at the view of the middle level emerging before them, his face tense, then soon let out a sigh of relief.

"Just like you said, it really looks like everything’s over."

"I told you," Ian replied indifferently as he stepped out before the doors had even fully opened.

When they had boarded the elevator, a quest completion window had suddenly appeared. Guilt and Nightmare, the quest he had received from Ohara, had been completed.

It was reason enough to be certain that the situation had ended.

Come to think of it, there’s no way to let her know it’s done.

It wasn’t as if he would ever return to that lawless place again.

Ian casually stepped out onto the streets of the middle level.

Miguel followed behind him, frowning. "The smell is awful. Is it because we’re underground?"

Just as he said, the stench of blood and burned flesh stabbed at their noses.

It wasn’t hard to figure out the source. It had already been like this on the upper levels, but now that the spell circuits had been restored, the entire scene was revealed in even starker detail.

"Yeah," Ian said, glancing around.

The burning smell must have been coming from the scorched stone slabs, outer walls, and the masked slaves scattered across the area.

The foul stench and coppery scent of blood rose from sticky pools of gore, mingling with chunks of flesh and torn organs strewn across the ground.

When the area eventually fell quiet, Miguel muttered in confusion, "There’s no one here."

"They probably went to the lower levels. This place isn’t the whole tower."

"Ah." Only then did Miguel let out a small, sheepish sound.

They had walked all the way here together, yet he apparently hadn’t even considered that.

"Right... it wouldn’t be strange if they all rushed upstairs trying to escape. No, that must’ve been what happened," Miguel added awkwardly.

"Either way, they’ll all come down soon. Let’s go meet them." Ian casually tilted his chin in agreement.

Looking around the area still bearing the clear marks of chaos and fierce battle, Miguel said, "I’ve been feeling this for a while, but your familiar has become far too dangerous. ...Though I suppose that’s only natural, considering it holds a fragment of an ancient god."

"Well, I didn’t expect it to cause this much chaos either." Ian shrugged. His tone was light, but it wasn’t empty talk.

Even accounting for Yog’s growth, the results had exceeded expectations.

Of course, most of the destruction had likely been caused by the masked slaves and the others. Still, the fact remained that Yog had created the situation in the first place.

"Well... if even you didn’t expect it, that’s even worse—" Miguel stopped mid-sentence, then cleared his throat awkwardly. "I nearly said something out of line again without realizing it. I’m sure you’ve already thought everything through. And it seems you’ve got it under control anyway."

"I’m not sure I can promise that."

"Huh?" Miguel raised his eyes in surprise.

After staring at him for a moment, he cautiously said, "You mean... it might be slipping out of your control?"

"Not yet," Ian answered calmly.

But he added inwardly that it might not stay that way for long.

The sight before him was more than enough to remind him of the vision he had seen not long ago. That was why Yog’s overwhelming success didn’t feel entirely reassuring.

"Not yet?" Miguel tilted his head in confusion, but Ian did not elaborate further.

"Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it," Ian simply added without even glancing his way.

Of course, he had not yet decided to turn Yog into a roasted snake. It wasn’t out of sentiment. The vision he had seen had been frustratingly fragmentary, and visions could be changed.

Not only might Yog’s deception have been more than simple betrayal, but depending on how things unfolded, it might even be possible to make it something that had never happened at all.

It seems like this incident is the perfect excuse.

With that thought settling in his mind, Ian continued walking and soon approached the area near the central plaza.

Miguel, who had been following while watching Ian’s reactions, let out another low groan. "Damn it... I knew the smell was too strong."

To the left, the main road leading toward a passage in the wall revealed a gruesome sight.

The ground was drenched in dark red blood, and the area was littered with bodies—burned, torn apart, and crushed beyond recognition.

"Looks like they didn’t just run blindly. They tried to set up a defensive line first." Ian remarked casually as he walked toward the scene, though he did wrinkle his nose slightly at the stench.

"Seems that way," Miguel replied quietly. Despite grimacing in disgust, he still scanned the scattered remains of masked slaves, mages, and mutated corrupted ones.

After spotting traces left behind by their companions among the carnage, Miguel added, "It looks like they broke the formation."

"Yeah, probably," Ian answered indifferently.

His gaze had already shifted past the trail of countless bloodstained footprints toward the corridor leading deeper into the wall.

"Either way, we arrived at just the right time."

"Huh?" Miguel tilted his head at the remark and soon turned in the same direction.

At that moment, a figure suddenly emerged from the shadows of the corridor.

"I was planning to get here first and wait."

It was Thesaya, a long, heavy staff resting over her shoulder. As soon as she stepped out, she spoke while looking between Ian and Miguel with a smile.

"You came faster than I expected. I guess things on the top level went smoothly."

"Something like that. This magic tower’s mine now." Ian shrugged.

Thesaya’s smile deepened as she approached them lightly. "The master of the magic tower, hmm. You’ve really made it, Apprentice Mage Ivan."

"That apprentice mage nonsense again..." Ian let out a dry laugh.

Thesaya’s gaze shifted toward Miguel. "By the way, why are you still walking around with flames on you, Prosthetic? Scared?"

The sacred flames were still faintly flickering on Miguel’s steel fist and hand axe.

An awkward smile spread across Miguel’s face. "Well, the thing is—"

"That’s the aftermath of the heroic battle he fought on the top level." Ian cut in casually at that moment.

Miguel’s eyes widened as he turned toward him.

Ian didn’t even look at him as he continued. "Things went smoothly thanks to the secret weapon doing its job."

"Really? That’s a shame I missed it. Must’ve been quite the sight." Thesaya replied, one eyebrow twitching.

Her tone was clearly teasing, but Miguel, completely oblivious, simply puffed up with pride.

"No, it’s not like it was that impressive... I didn’t really do anything special..."

Ian ignored the rambling and asked, "So, is everything upstairs cleaned up?"

Thesaya’s smile turned slightly awkward. "Yeah. Though a small, predictable variable did end up happening."

"Some of them escaped, didn’t they?" Ian guessed immediately.

Thesaya nodded without hesitation. "Two of them. Red Hair and Moro went after them. Moro has already shifted back to its original form, so catching them shouldn’t take long. I made sure to give them the magic tower’s insignia too, so getting back won’t be a problem."

Insignia alone won’t be enough.

Ian clicked his tongue. Besides, according to the original plan, chasing the escaping spellcasters had been his job.

"Even if they get away, there’s nothing to worry about, Ian," Thesaya quickly added, misreading his expression. "Unlike the tower master, they never suspected the Council of Elders at all. They completely believed we came from the Blue Magic Tower."

"And you played along with that misunderstanding?"

"Of course. Very enthusiastically." Thesaya answered immediately, a sly smile forming on her lips. "That was our original plan, remember?"

Ian nodded casually and came to a stop.

In case things went wrong, they had planned to act as though the Blue Magic Tower was behind them. The Blue Tower was just as corrupt anyway, so there was no need to feel guilty about it.

Many parts of the plan had been improvised—but in the end, it had still worked.

"Anyway, things were pretty easy here too. There were a lot of them, but honestly it was kind of underwhelming—" Thesaya stopped mid-sentence.

Ian’s eyes also twitched slightly.

—Oh, good. You’re here.

Yog’s whisper brushed against his mind. The creature let out a low snicker.

—Hurry down, you clumsy and sluggish things. Your savior, the one who granted you freedom, is waiting....

It was enough to make one of Ian’s eyebrows slowly rise.

He turned toward Thesaya and asked, "Don’t tell me Yog was commanding the slaves."

"Seems like it. That’s probably why the chaos dragged on so long."

Tilting the staff resting on her shoulder, Thesaya casually wiped beneath her nose with a finger.

"Redhead and I couldn’t hear its whispers at all without you around, though."

"You mean those masked slaves are coming down here?" said Miguel, who had been listening in confusion.

Thesaya nodded. "Of course they are. We fought together."

Then she smiled meaningfully. "And... that’s not all."

She stepped up beside Ian. Ian didn’t ask further, his gaze shifting toward the corridor along the wall.

Footsteps were drawing closer.

"Unbelievable... damn it..." Miguel’s groan followed soon after.

Masked slaves had begun walking out of the darkness of the corridor in two lines.

They were drenched head to toe in blood, their red eyes glowing faintly—but the rage and madness they had shown earlier were gone. Now they looked eerily calm.

Quite a lot of them survived.

Ian crossed his arms and let out a long breath through his nose.

Freeing them had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. He hadn’t given much thought to what to do with them afterward. Exterminating them was the simplest and cleanest solution.

—I told you I’d create a truly magnificent chaos, my friend...

Yog’s amused whisper followed, utterly unaware of Ian’s thoughts.

Ian’s gaze narrowed slightly and shifted past the rows of approaching masked slaves.

So that’s what you crawled into this time.

A gray test subject walked out of the corridor behind them. It stood two heads taller than the others, its muscles grotesquely swollen to an unnatural size.

Thud... thud...

Violet veins writhed beneath the skin of its bald head and twisted face, distorted by bulging muscles. The same eerie glow pulsed behind its sewn-shut eyelids.

—Looks like I succeeded in surprising you. You’re curious how this happened, aren’t you?

Yog’s violet eyes flickered as it chuckled at Ian.

Then a familiar voice followed.

"You arrived quickly, my lord. Though I already knew you had finished the task successfully." Nasser stepped forward beside Yog.

The smile on his face looked more strained than usual—unsurprising, given that he was standing among the grotesque byproducts of dark magic that should normally be destroyed.

"I already explained the situation. Just come over here, Half-Ear." Leaning lightly against her staff, Thesaya tilted her head toward the open space beside her.

Nasser glanced briefly at the hulking Yog before turning and walking over.

"As you say, Elder." He rested the sword in his right hand diagonally over his shoulder. It was clear he had no intention of sheathing it.

—You know, the old Black Lion suddenly came to mind. And the chaos we injected to break the prohibition seals must have seeped into their brains as well... so I simply whispered for them to stay still.

While Yog’s leisurely whisper continued, the leading masked slaves stopped at a reasonable distance from Ian.

Those behind them spread out to the left and right, forming a loose semicircle.

—As you can see, they could hear my voice. So I kindly informed them. That the savior who granted them freedom had come here...

Yog stopped behind them, its grotesque facial muscles twitching as if the memory itself delighted it.

—I was discovered earlier than expected, but that only made it more entertaining.

Ignoring the laughter tickling the inside of his mind, Ian looked over the slaves standing like a wall before him.

Some had masks caved in on one side. Others had their arms blown apart. Several wore armor vests scorched black, as though lightning had struck them. One even remained upright, balancing on a single leg after losing the other.

Like a damned army of corpses.

Ian clicked his tongue again. They were soaked in blood, making the sight even worse.

—Yes, this man is your savior and my master.

As the slaves’ movements quieted, Yog’s sinister whisper continued.

—Offer your reverence to the greedy avatar of chaos, you pitiful things...

As Ian’s eyes twitched, the masked slaves began dropping to their knees like a crashing wave.