Just how powerful was the founding emperor of the Lyon Empire?

Even the epics and histories passed down through the ages failed to fully capture the magnitude of his strength. No one had witnessed his final battle against the Dragon Tyrant. All that was known was that he entered the resplendent palace alone—and then emerged some time later, drenched in blood and dragging an enormous dragon's head behind him.

According to the chronicles, half the palace had been reduced to ruins by the end of the battle. It had been a vast structure forged entirely of gold. Holy light and dragon breath had melted that gold into rivers, pouring molten streams down the mountain.

But since no one had seen the fight itself, the details were lost to time. People were bound to exaggerate.

Now, Ambrose was seeing it firsthand.

Aige appeared. Dark magic surged from her fingertips like a tidal wave, crashing toward Arthur Lyon, only to be cleanly split apart by his phantom blade.

Holy light stood like a reef dividing the sea. It did not budge in the slightest.

The severed wave of darkness spilled outward, turning a two-kilometer radius into a land of death.

What had been dense forest was now charred black ash, all life extinguished. Even the soil itself was tainted by necrotic energy.

But the attack hadn't been a waste. Ambrose's perception swept across the ruins. Skeletons began clawing their way up from the ashes.

Who knew how many beasts had died in that ancient forest? Some bones had long since merged with the earth, but others simply needed to be roused.

Under Ambrose's control, bones assembled into grotesque forms, forming an undead army that surged toward Arthur Lyon.

Ordinarily, these skeletons would be mere cannon fodder. But as Aige raised her right hand, the phantom image of a colossal warship materialized in the sky.

Within its shadow, every undead was wreathed in pale flame, even Ambrose himself.

"Acceleration, reinforced defenses, flame enchantment, regeneration..."

Ambrose lost track of how many enhancements were layered upon him. The disposable skeletons instantly transformed into elite undead, hurling themselves fearlessly at Arthur Lyon.

The paladin remained calm, swinging his sword in steady arcs. Each stroke shattered the undead before him. His pace was unhurried, yet every movement was perfectly placed. Hundreds, thousands of undead charged at once—and still failed to pose the slightest threat to him.

He was like the eye of a funnel. No matter how fierce the tide, everything that reached the center vanished.

Even undead enhanced with regeneration lost all their buffs the instant his holy blade touched them.

Aige couldn't help but exclaim, "What incredible holy light! So this is the strength of Arthur Lyon..."

When Arthur slew the Dragon Tyrant, Aige had been nothing more than an ordinary ghost ship drifting the deep seas, hunting fish by instinct. By the time she gained self-awareness and could assume human form, Arthur had long since died. They had never crossed paths.

Now one had become a heroic spirit, and the other separated from her true body. Both were in weakened states. Her fighting spirit ignited.

"I'll handle this," Aige told Ambrose. "Go deal with the Ragetide Kingdom's humans."

With that, she transformed into gray light and merged with the phantom warship in the air.

The massive vessel descended like a falling star, ramming into Arthur Lyon head-on.

Aige was a ghost ship. She had no elaborate technique to speak of. Aside from her dominion over the sea, her fighting style was simple: overwhelming force. She had been born in an era before magitech cannons were widespread. What she knew best, and what she had perfected over centuries, was how to ram into her opponents.

Holy light and dark magic collided with earth-shaking force. Even Ambrose was blasted back a hundred meters.

Dust engulfed the battlefield. Explosions rang out in rapid succession. The earth split like a spiderweb.

What absurd power. Was this the force of a demigod? Aige was launching casual blows with the destructive force of ninth-tier spells.

This was no place for a "frail mage" like him. Ambrose withdrew completely from the battlefield, only to encounter Ragetide soldiers rushing toward the disturbance.

Still wearing Monge Greywater's face, he strode toward them with an arrogant, domineering expression.

From the memories he had seen, this was precisely how Monge treated common soldiers.

Sure enough, the troops panicked at the sight of him. They saluted hurriedly, and some even dropped to one knee.

Ambrose struck first. "What are you doing here?"

The lead soldier pointed toward the battlefield. "Lord Greywater, we heard explosions over there—"

In mere seconds, Aige and Arthur had clashed umpteen times. Smoke towered dozens of meters high, easily visible from afar.

Ambrose snorted. "That is classified military business. Common soldiers are naturally not privy to that knowledge."

The men stiffened. "Yes, sir!"

"Relay my orders. Seal off this plaza—no, evacuate everyone within a ten-kilometer radius. No one is to approach. Understood?"

"Ten kilometers? But—"

"No arguments. Ten kilometers is barely enough. If you don't want to die, begin the emergency evacuation immediately!"

The soldiers dared not disobey. Ambrose's orders were relayed at once.

Ambrose didn't relax. Given the commotion, the kingdom would inevitably respond. He needed to buy Aige more time.

In the entirety of the Ragetide Kingdom, only two people ranked above Monge Greywater: the king and the princess. If he could get their approval, he could cordon off the combat zone for good.

Without hesitation, he headed for the palace.

As the highest-ranking military commander of the kingdom, Monge could easily request an audience. He entered the palace to find it in utter chaos.

Grabbing a nearby maid for information, Ambrose learned the king and princess were preparing to duel. If the princess won, she would inherit the throne.

What in the world? He could not fathom the logic of the father-daughter duo. Was now the time for a succession drama?

Soon, he was ushered before the king.

To his surprise, the king was not training for battle, but seated sternly upon the throne. Three robed figures stood beside him.

Ambrose sifted through Monge's memories. These were the Ragetide Kingdom's court mages, essentially consultants retained at enormous cost.

Judging by the atmosphere, they had been arguing.

Ignoring whatever dispute was underway, Ambrose stepped forward. "Your Majesty, I bring urgent news."

"Is it about the battle outside?" the king asked gravely.

The explosions echoed even within the palace. There was no hiding that.

"Indeed, Your Majesty. One of the combatants is the captain of the Silent Sea Pirate Company, a powerful undead."

"What?!"

The king shot to his feet. "Are the undead launching an invasion?!"

"No, Your Majesty. Please remain calm. Everything is proceeding according to my plan."

"What plan? Explain!"

"I lured their captain out alone. It is not a full-scale invasion. I prepared a trap, and she is currently ensnared. This is our opportunity. As previously planned, let's mobilize the Ragetide Legion. She will remain confined for days."

The king's expression brightened. "You managed to isolate their captain?"

"I discovered their true objective: an ancient seal containing an artifact crucial to them. I'll spare you the details. For now, she is trapped by the seal's guardian. We must evacuate nearby civilians and prepare the legion. Once her strength is sufficiently depleted, we can eliminate her permanently."

Ambrose glossed over the supposed specifics and changed the topic.

To prepare the legion meant reconstructing a large-scale magic array. That alone would take a day or two.

That should be enough time for Aige and Arthur to decide the outcome of their fight. If Aige won, she would take the artifact and depart. He could regroup with her later. If she lost, he would use the kingdom's forces to overwhelm Arthur Lyon with modern magic, then claim the artifact through his authority.

It was a flawless plan, provided no one asked too many questions.

Unfortunately for Ambrose, his wish was not to be. One of the court mages spoke up. "This is highly irregular, Lord Greywater. Every prior operation was reported in advance. Each voyage required magical support from us. Why was this plan known only to you?"

The king's gaze turned sharp with suspicion.