Chapter 386

“Ian!”

The wizards turned around in shock. The shoulder of Ian’s cloak was torn, revealing blood beneath, and droplets dripped steadily down his sleeve.

Having already faced a major crisis in the Kingdom of Clifford, they had all vowed to keep Ian from bleeding again—but now, that resolve seemed in vain.

As everyone hesitated in confusion, Ian raised his left arm slightly behind him and shouted, “Focus on what’s ahead!”

Even as the wizards looked at him, the Idgal arrows rained down relentlessly. Some of their protective shields began to falter, and soon others, like Ian, were grazed by the arrows.

Ian withdrew the magic circle he’d been using to attack the necromancers and instead conjured a massive shield alone in the sky.

Ziiing. Ziiing.

Bang! Boom!

His blazing golden eyes never wavered.

The shield enveloped the wizards warmly. Hundreds, even thousands, of Idgal arrows struck the barrier, but the wall that formed instantly could never harm the mages inside.

A single drop of sweat trickled down Ian’s jawline, unnoticed by anyone—including himself. With a firm voice, he steadied his troops’ spirits.

“I haven’t bled, and I won’t. So don’t worry about me—just keep doing what you’re doing. If you show your backs, it’s as if I’m showing mine.”

Trust in one another was paramount. Ian was asking them to keep their composure so he could trust and lead them.

“I-I’m sorry!”

“We’ll reactivate the shield!”

Ziiing! Ziiing!

The wizards, who had been anxiously watching Ian, snapped back to attention. Without Ian’s shield, they would have been pierced through by the Idgal arrows. They rallied to maintain the barrier, blocking the incoming attacks once more.

Ian frowned, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his left arm.

There was an unfamiliar magic lingering in the Idgal arrows—probably from the Luswena wizards. If they got any closer, the chaos would only deepen, and the war would spiral into disaster.

“Ian, are you really okay?”

Acorella, flying nearby with her back turned, asked. She was lending her strength to the wizards as well.

Ian’s mind flashed to Nakina. During the recent civil war, Nakina had been hit by an Idgal arrow and temporarily lost her ability to use magic.

“I was grazed. My senses are dull, but I’m fine.”

“Oh, really? Nakina was hit directly, so that makes sense. Then we should finish this quickly. Honestly, if you get hurt, there’s no reason for us to be here in Clifford.”

Without answering, Ian activated his magic and soared even higher.

“Recollection.”

Flames burst from the nape of his neck, forming wings that slowly shifted into a human shape, enveloping Ian. Below, the mixed crowd of people and synthetic monsters came into view.

Bang! Boom!

Following Ian’s gesture, the fiery figure moved in unison, bringing its fist down on a single point.

The first necromancer’s location, as Hasha had told him. Then another to the left, and another at ten o’clock…

Ziiing. Ziiing.

“That fire! It’s the Flame God!”

“Ahhh! Get out of the way! We’ll be burned alive in an instant!”

“That’s the one we saw before!”

The soldiers panicked, and the necromancers froze, staring up at the descending fiery deity. How could they have known their positions in this dense forest?

They moved to shield themselves behind the synthetic monsters, while the general swiftly turned his head from side to side.

“They’re targeting the necromancers! Evacuate and protect them!”

“P-Protect? How?”

“Pathetic!”

Gripping his sword, the general charged toward the necromancers, but it was difficult to push through the soldiers. Above all, Ian’s attacks were relentless and decisive.

Kraaaang!

Bang!

“Ahhh!”

The Flame God completely crushed a necromancer, then, engulfed in flames alongside the synthetic monsters. The soldiers tried to douse the fire with sand, but this was no ordinary blaze.

One necromancer burned alive, and at the same time, the synthetic monsters lost their strength and collapsed. These impure creatures, long overdue to return to the earth, lay sprawled, their tongues slack and motionless.

The general, furious, glanced back. Vargas’s main force had yet to move. The king was still watching.

“The wizards know the exact locations of the necromancers. How?”

At that moment, a man with striking blue hair caught his eye—Hasha from Astana. He was controlling the synthetic monsters but kept his gaze fixed on Ian.

The general felt a tug at the back of his head. Instinctively, he drew his sword and charged at Hasha. Meanwhile, another necromancer was engulfed in flames and died.

Whoosh!

The left wing formation was completely shattered.

With Beric pushing from below and Ian taking out necromancers from above, the soldiers were trapped, unable to advance. Unlike the raging Clifford soldiers charging like bulls.

“Kill the necromancer from Astana!”

“Huh? Ah, yes!”

The troops obeyed the general’s order and swarmed Hasha.

Unaware of the incoming attack as they signaled each other, they were blind to the traitor among them. This would be reported to the king, and Astana would be utterly wiped out.

Ian twisted his body, and the Flame God followed his movement. Just as it was about to strike again to protect Hasha—

Boom! Boom!

The Flame God’s hand exploded in midair, releasing a tremendous roar and heat. It was like pouring cold water on hot oil.

The ‘Recollection’ was severed. The Flame God ignited itself and vanished, leaving the wizards stunned and staring ahead.

They wanted to look back at Ian, but he had said it himself: if they didn’t do their part, it was as if they were exposing their backs. The wizards shouted as they blocked the Idgal arrows.

“Ian! What’s going on?”

“Are you okay? There are still many synthetic monsters left!”

“Damn it! Stop shooting already, you brats!”

Ian turned his head toward the source of the attack—the Luswena wizards. Foreign mages returning after a long absence, but the timing was terrible.

Led by an old man, they flew in formation, keeping steady intervals. Beside the leader was a child, about Jin’s age or slightly older.

Ian brushed his throbbing left hand through his hair and sighed.

“…Why bring someone so young to the battlefield?”

Their movements were steady, as if trained. Luswena’s wizards were said to live secluded, not in the royal palace, so their coordination was probably as tight as the magic department’s.

“Are you Sir Ian?”

The old man’s gaunt hand shimmered with blue light.

What magic was that? ‘Cold Orb’? Ian couldn’t be sure—he hadn’t seen it cast or been hit by it directly.

“Yes. I am Ian Hiel, Minister of Magic for Bariel. You must be Luswena’s wizards. Are you officially joining the war between Vargas and Clifford? Do you understand the meaning and consequences of this?”

Ian made his allegiance clear. Any further attacks here would be considered an assault on Bariel itself.

But the old man’s golden eyes flashed as he lunged at Ian, followed by the Luswena wizards guarding him.

‘It is Cold Orb.’

“Is there anyone here who doesn’t understand the meaning and cost of war?”

Cold Orb was a magic that fired a cold sphere of mana to destroy the target. Ian blocked it with his mana-sealed sword, and cold snowflakes swirled in the air.

The general from Vargas assessed the situation and ordered:

“Cease Idgal attacks! Luswena wizards are among them! Stop! Do not shoot!”

Good. Reinforcements had arrived at just the right moment. While Bariel’s wizards faced off against Luswena’s, the synthetic monsters could hold the line against Clifford’s forces.

The rain of Idgal arrows gradually subsided. Bariel’s wizards realized Ian was fighting the Luswena mages.

“Ian!”

“Damn it! Where did these bastards come from?!”

Bang! Boom!

A small Luswena mage faced off against multiple wizards at once. The child’s black hair whipped around, eyes blazing fiercely.

“Don’t come near Grandma!”

“Hey, you—!”

“What do we do? She’s just a kid!”

“That kid’s trying to kill us, idiot!”

Bang! Boom!

Magic clashed, bursting into vivid colors across the sky, while on the ground, Vargas and Clifford soldiers fought fiercely. And once again, golden arrows aimed straight for Ian’s heart.

Swish!

Ian narrowly felt an arrow graze past him and glanced toward Eriphoni.

She stood on a hill, gracefully drawing her bowstring, as if she were in a familiar hunting ground.

“Too bad. Next.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Arrows imbued with the magic of the wizards were fully prepared. At Eriphoni’s gesture, Eldert handed her the arrows, and she closed one eye, taking careful aim at Ian.

“Be cautious of the wizard Luswena, Your Majesty.”

“Maybe it’s because he’s old, but his strength feels lacking. If only Ian could hold him off, we could pierce through together.”

Eriphoni’s muttering was swallowed by the chaos of battle. That was a relief—nothing made soldiers more miserable than the king’s cruel temperament.

At Eldert’s signal, Luswena’s soldiers joined the ground fight. Clifford’s forces fought desperately against the combined armies of Burgos, Luswena, and the hybrid monsters, but casualties kept mounting.

Clang! Clang!

“Ughhh!”

“Prince Noah! They’re flanking us from the side! We’re about to be surrounded! Please order a retreat!”

Shhhhk!

Noah, who had just severed a Burgos soldier’s throat, glanced at the advancing Luswena troops.

The sky was a dizzying blur, making it impossible to tell day from night, and the enemy numbers had swelled. Earlier, Burgos’s left wing had been in shambles, seemingly beyond recovery.

But with the arrival of reinforcements—wizards, no less—the tide of battle seemed to shift once more.

“Damn it.”

Thud.

A drop of blood fell onto Noah’s cheek as he looked up at Ian. Whether it came from Ian’s arm, he couldn’t tell, but a foreboding chill gripped him, as if time itself had frozen.

Had they entrusted too much autonomy to Bariel? Had they relied too heavily on outside forces?

Seeing Ian and the wizards struggle made Noah realize, albeit too late, how easily their strength could be sapped. Gritting his teeth, he cut down the soldiers rushing at him and prepared to order a retreat.

Bang!

Ian, blocking the old man’s magic with ease, rummaged through his inner pocket with his right hand.

What he pulled out was a tiny pill. His condition had nearly improved, but not completely; his left hand was already starting to grow numb. He judged it necessary to draw power up from deep within.

“Amplifier!”

Acorella shouted upon seeing it.

“Everyone, take out your amplifiers!”

Bariel’s wizards bit down on their pills in unison, and their golden eyes deepened in color.

The old man, sensing the strange flow of energy from the enemy, hastily gathered his magic and unleashed a barrage of attacks. The child beside him did the same.

A torrent of icy cold swept through like a waterfall, forcing the soldiers to stop fighting and drop flat to the ground.

Shhhhk!

“…!”

But then Ian’s ‘Huiruk’—the Flame Record—was reborn.

His fiery wings brushed aside the cold with ease, and a colossal flame deity emerged. The searing heat seemed capable of burning everything in the world to ash.

Ian felt his left hand lighten, and his golden eyes flashed fiercely. The blaze in them was like witnessing the wrath of a god.

“You all understand the meaning and cost of war. But to truly grasp it, one must die. Watch closely—this is the choice you’ve made.”

The descent of a god, and divine punishment.

Everyone who witnessed it was gripped by terror.

Ian clenched his teeth and charged at the Luswena wizards, who followed behind him, shouting battle cries.

“Arrows! Arrows!”

Eriphoni’s face hardened as she shouted urgently. Just as she aimed her bow at Ian—

Shhhhk!

Bloodied Barsabe leapt forward and snapped her bowstring. An arrow, now off course, pierced Barsabe’s side, but her momentum remained unbroken.

Startled, Eriphoni swung her bow to strike back.

“You…!”

Bariel and Luswena.

The two nations had entered full-scale conflict.