The moment Nolan met those wicked eyes, he froze in place as if being stared down by a petrifying lizard.

What kind of eyes were those—burning with violet mana-flame, so deep they seemed like an abyss poised to devour his soul.

In that instant, countless scenes flashed through Nolan’s mind.

He saw himself as a boy lifting a longbow for the first time, his father behind him, rough hands correcting his stance; back then he hadn’t yet split with the man who had been gone for ten years.

He saw himself standing in the clan’s meeting hall, full of zeal as he laid out a plan to head south to the Merchant Alliance, scheming to secure more wealth.

He saw the day he first met Samuel, the archmage wearing a luxurious deep-blue robe, a sapphire at the tip of his staff larger than Nolan’s fist.

He even saw his wife’s look when she left.

She said nothing, only smoothing the folds of his cloak, her eyes holding so many unspoken things.

Too bad... there was no going back.

These images flashed like a lantern show and were finally swallowed by darkness.

That darkness was viscous like swamp muck, creeping over his mouth and nose, blotting out his vision, consuming his last consciousness.

So be it.

Nolan closed his eyes.

He forced his spine straight, trying to look less like a failure.

Even in death, he would die with dignity. This was his final pride to leave to his father, his clan, and himself.

Then he heard a faint—

“Hm?”

Immediately afterward, Nolan felt weightless.

The terrifying pressure that had enveloped him vanished, replaced by a strange pulling sensation, as if invisible ropes had looped around his waist and were dragging him in some direction.

He opened his eyes instinctively.

Before him was a whirl of distorted light and shadow—purple, blue, and silver bands weaving and spinning like lightning detonating in a stormy night.

Seconds later, the light dispersed.

Nolan’s feet hit solid ground, he stumbled and then flipped to his feet. He realized he had been carried several kilometers, transported from before that Demon King back to where they had started.

Samuel stood before him.

The archmage held his staff in his left hand, his right still frozen in the finishing gesture of a spell, and the arcane gate behind him was fading.

“Commander Nolan,” Samuel said, voice grave, “the situation is beyond our control. We must withdraw immediately. We have to abandon the legion now.”

Nolan blinked, not yet fully recovered from the life-and-death instant. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was parched and no sound came.

He looked back.

There, at the canyon’s center, that enormous purple thing still towered.

It... spared you?

Nolan drew a deep breath and finally found his voice.

“Master Samuel...” He turned to Samuel, right hand clenched into a fist over his left chest, bowing slightly, “thank you for your aid.”

In that moment, he had no more doubts about this colleague.

If Samuel were truly untrustworthy as Lucas had hinted in private, there would have been no reason to risk saving him.

He could have let the Demon King crush him and surrendered to that monstrosity.

That would have been simpler, safer, and avoided suspicion.

But he did not.

At the critical moment, Samuel opened the arcane gate and pulled him out of the Demon King’s clutches.

“It’s what I should do.” Samuel returned the bow gracefully, “but this is not the time to relax, sir.”

He raised his staff; the tip glowed a pale blue again—the sign the arcane gate was about to open once more.

“We must leave immediately,” Samuel said, eyes passing over Nolan to the collapsing battlefield in the distance. “The legion cannot be saved, but if we also fall here, no one in the Merchant Alliance will ever learn the truth.”

Nolan followed his gaze.

In the canyon, the purple Demon King had started to move; each stomp rattled the ground and sent rocks tumbling from both walls.

Yes... we must go.

Nolan forced down the guilt of abandoning his troops.

He told himself this wasn’t running—it was a rational retreat to prevent the entire legion from falling into the Demon King’s hands... all right, he admitted it: he was running.

When faced with a creature beyond comprehension, flight is an instinct and a rational choice.

“Lord Nolan.” Samuel’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “please.”

The arcane gate had opened.

The doorway of light hovered over the rock platform; beyond it, warped light and shadow hinted at a concealed cave at the other end.

Nolan inhaled and stepped toward the gate.

Before stepping through, he stole one last look at the disbanding legion.

May the god of wealth protect you.

He prayed silently, then turned and stepped into the arcane gate.

Light swallowed him.

After Nolan disappeared through the gate, Samuel did not immediately follow.

He stood beside a warhorse made of rock, staff resting on the ground, eyes fixed on the distant Slime King.

No one knew what he was thinking. Seconds later, as the arcane gate’s light began to flicker—about to close automatically—Samuel finally moved.

He looked back at his apprentice standing beside him, his most proud pupil.

Samuel moved his lips soundlessly; only Ryan could understand what he meant.

“Ryan, take care of everyone. When I return next time, I will bring victory.”

Ryan froze.

He opened his mouth to reply, but Samuel had already turned and stepped into the arcane gate as it was about to shut.

The light flashed, and the doorway vanished.

Only Ryan and the bewildered construct-school mages remained on the rock platform.

“...”

Ryan stared at the place where his teacher had disappeared, amid the clamor of soldiers and mages.

Some feared the Demon King, others denounced Nolan’s betrayal of the legion. Ignorant apprentices sat ashen, collapsed on the ground muttering. People argued, shoved, tried to seize horses—each preparing to run for their life.

Their mixed noises boiled like a pot of filthy water, exposing the basest side of humanity at that moment.

Ryan stood motionless—only he understood why Samuel had done what he did.

It was simple: it was the only way to let them live.

The Gargoyle Legion’s attack had indeed caused heavy casualties, but a closer look revealed that the gargoyles mostly targeted heavy infantry, archers, and construct golems; few mages were hurt. The construct-school mages had survived intact.

They stood on the battlefield clutching their staffs, trembling but unharmed.

But that was not something to celebrate.

Any attentive person could see the anomaly and conclude the same thing—this Demon King favored the construct-school mages.

One conclusion followed—

Samuel and his construct school had already colluded with the Slime Kingdom.

That was betrayal.

If that “fact” became established, what awaited them?

If they fled with their teacher and returned to the Merchant Alliance, their fate would not be good.

As the only mage school to survive entirely, they would be the first to face suspicion and purging from the Merchant Alliance.

Families who’d lost heavily in the battle would demand traitors pay, petition the council to seize their property, seal the mage tower, and send them to the tribunal.

So they couldn’t go back.

He did not know why his teacher had suddenly left, why Samuel had returned to the Merchant Alliance alone, but as the teacher had told him before leaving, Ryan was now the construct school’s pillar in the Dark Realm.

His task was to lead the construct school to survive, even if that meant turning to the Demon King.

Perhaps, if he waited for the teacher’s return, answers would come.

Ryan closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, then opened them.

When he reopened them, fear and confusion were gone. He turned to face the stunned mages.

“Listen to me!”

His voice rose loud enough to overpower the surrounding noise. The mages looked at him, stunned.

“Samuel Emond has fled the battlefield!” Ryan announced loudly. “From now on, I am the leader of the construct school!”

The mages exchanged glances—some cried out, some questioned, some were angry.

“We’ll wait for the master to return!”

Ryan ignored them and said, “If anyone opposes this, leave quickly. You are not welcome here.”

After a few seconds of silence, a small group turned and ran deeper into the canyon.

Ryan did not stop them.

That was exactly what he wanted: let those who wished to flee go first, then he would protect those who wanted to resist.

When they had run off, he looked to the remaining thirty-odd mages. They stared at him with looks of fear, hope, bewilderment, and despair.

“What do we do next?” asked a bold apprentice.

Ryan inhaled.

He knew how much scorn he would face for his next actions—

Traitor, coward, weakling, betrayer... such labels would follow him for a long time.

So what?

If he could preserve the construct school’s spark, the sacrifice would be worth it.

Ryan said calmly, “Everyone listen—put down your staffs.”

Those words caused an uproar.

The informed mages had no hesitation; instead, they felt affirmed. They began to quietly lower their staffs, some even raising their hands in surrender.

Unaware mages were confused; they had thought Ryan was preparing to resist and couldn’t understand why he now demanded surrender.

But the biggest shock came from the soldiers guarding them.

Bloodied infantry, archers with broken arrows, knights who’d lost their warhorses—none of them expected the mages they had desperately protected to be the first to surrender.

“You cowards!”

“Traitors!”

“We should’ve let the gargoyles tear you apart!”

“I spit—after all we did to cover you!”

Ryan shouted again, voice cutting through the clamor: “I repeat—drop your weapons immediately. This is a meaningless war. No number of deaths can stop the Demon King. We must preserve living forces.”

“You’re a coward!” a blood-smeared soldier charged, swinging his sword at Ryan.

Ryan didn’t dodge.

He watched the soldier, watched the sword falling.

The blade stopped midair.

Not because the soldier had a change of heart, but because the sword was struck by a suddenly appearing petrification ray.

Gray-white light spread along the blade; in an instant the fine steel sword crumbled into rubble and clattered to the ground.

The soldier looked up in horror.

Above, a gargoyle hovered, crimson eyes locked on him.

“See.” Ryan said calmly, “that’s the difference. You can’t even beat a single gargoyle; how can you oppose that Demon King? Continuing to resist will only get everyone killed here.”

The soldier stared at him, then at the pile of shattered stone, and finally collapsed to his knees, powerless.

One led, then others surrendered.

Weapons clattered down in succession, creating a ringing metallic chorus as soldiers raised their hands.

Ryan watched it all.

He had succeeded.

Thirty or so mages and over two hundred soldiers had survived because of his decision.

But this was only the beginning.

He looked toward the distant Slime King. That enormous creature seemed to have noticed the commotion and tilted its head to look over.

When its gaze met Ryan’s, unlike others, Ryan did not feel overwhelming fear.

He sensed curiosity in those eyes, a pure curiosity directed at him.

He prayed silently that both his and his teacher’s judgments were right.

.....

And what was Chen Yu, the accused, doing?

Watching the show.

His massive body had shrunk back to normal size, and he was savoring the spectacle in the distance.

“Tsk tsk, these mages are impressive—they act like it’s real.”

Of course he had seen Samuel rescue Nolan.

He had also seen that young apprentice’s performance—from despair to resolution, from panic to composure—such a quick shift, such exquisite acting, he could hand out awards.

But Samuel had promised him a few things before leaving, which was precisely what interested him.

Samuel seemed respectful toward him, and misinterpreted something; he had said he would present Chen Yu with the grandest fireworks.

In any case, the Kingdom had suddenly acquired a planted agent inside the Merchant Alliance.

With the Coinminters Legion and Blood Oath Legion trapped in the Dark Realm, the Merchant Alliance would soon have no armies to resist the Slime Kingdom.

Add Samuel’s promise... it wouldn’t be surprising if the Merchant Alliance’s theater played out soon.

With Nolan and Samuel gone, the Merchant Alliance’s legions’ defeat was declared. The remaining troops were led away by two Extraordinary professionals blocked behind the shadow slimes.

After Arno joined the battlefield, the two Extraordinary warriors trapped by the blizzard quickly fell and surrendered, bound together with the unconscious Lucas.

Chen Yu shrank and settled back on Arno’s shoulder, returning to his adorably squishy slime form.

At that moment, Sekashi and Semiaya flew back riding Penny; before landing they excitedly shouted, “Envoy, there are so many gold coins on the ground—we picked up lots!”

Penny touched down on the rock. Sekashi slid off impatiently, clutching gold as she hopped over to Chen Yu, her tail flicking behind her with excitement.

“These are it. There’s so much more on the ground I couldn’t collect it all, but if we gather it it can go to the treasury.”

Before Chen Yu could respond, another figure emerged from the shadows.

Nilly strolled back leisurely, wearing a smug smile, swinging a heavy money pouch. Every step made it jingle, and the clink assured that it was full of gold coins.

“Snort.” Nilly rattled the pouch, “these soldiers were rich—came here and still brought so much coin with them.”

She suddenly remembered something and hugged the pouch protectively.

“Say... Your Majesty, does this have to go into the treasury too?”

Her big eyes looked up at Chen Yu pitifully; the way she guarded the pouch resembled a squirrel clutching food.

Before Chen Yu could speak, Sekashi chimed in: “Sister Nilly, according to regulations, battlefield spoils must be turned into the treasury for unified distribution. Teacher Tam taught this in class.”

Nilly glared at her. “Teacher Tam taught a lot—how do you remember all that?”

“I remember.” Sekashi nodded earnestly. “Teacher Tam said, according to Kingdom War Law Article 373, battlefield-captured supplies, except for personal necessities, must be submitted to the treasury and registered by logistics for distribution. No one may keep them privately.”

Nilly: “...”

She ground her teeth and glared at Tam.

The slime scholar stood on the ground, tidying his body with a gel hand, still shaken from the experience of being carried in Nilly’s arms.

“Teacher Tam.” Nilly complained, “what do you even teach in class?”

Tam blinked innocently. “I only follow the syllabus... Miss Nilly would have known this article had she been paying attention.”

Nilly bit her lip and reluctantly went to Chen Yu, placing the money pouch down.

“For... you.” she muttered, “Treasury it is. Auntie is contributing to the Kingdom—no regrets...”

Chen Yu watched her pathetic expression and almost laughed.

But he held back.

As king, he had to maintain dignity.

“Nilly,” Chen Yu said slowly, “your glory will spread across the Kingdom, and your family will benefit. That will be worth more than money. The Kingdom will award you a medal representing honor.”

Nilly paused.

Chen Yu added, “Of course, it will be made of gold and mithril.”

Nilly’s eyes lit up.

They shone bright enough to work as an illumination spell.

“Really?” she squealed, voice shooting up eight octaves. “A gold and mithril medal for me? Really, really?”

Chen Yu nodded politely, his gel head bobbing.

“Long live His Majesty!”

Nilly leaped and hugged Chen Yu, planting a big kiss on his round body.

Sekashi stood by, stunned.

Chen Yu was hugged so tight he couldn’t move, only letting out a resigned bubble as he mentally tallied the spoils’ value.

Not counting the captured legion soldiers’ and mages’ equipment, the constructs, enchanted scrolls, and piles of scattered gold... a rough estimate put the haul at at least one hundred thousand gold coins.

The Merchant Alliance sure was generous.

Chen Yu thought with glee.

They always brought him gold when they knew he needed it.

Like a money monster in a game—punch it and it drops coins.

So wealthy.