Episode 387

Eldert swung his sword reflexively, barely having time to order his men to protect Eriphony. Was it because he was a magic swordsman? He hadn’t sensed the approach at all.

Clang!

Barsabe deflected Eldert’s blade with an arrow lodged in her side. At the same moment, the sword she held shattered into dust and vanished.

It wasn’t just Eldert who was shocked. Barsabe’s pupils dilated, her body stiffened, and she clenched her teeth tightly before attempting to leap down the hill again.

“Catch her!”

The broken bowstring must have scratched Eriphony’s cheek. The king clutched his wounded face and shouted, while Eldert and his soldiers chased after Barsabe, leaping down the hill.

The sword Barsabe wielded was a unique weapon forged from her own magic. But having been struck directly by an Idgal arrow, her magic was nullified.

Barsabe tumbled down and snatched the sword from a fallen soldier’s grasp.

“Damn it.”

Clang! Clang!

Unable to use her magic, she wondered if she still had any value in this battle. She pulled the arrow from her side with her own hands, watching the blood gush out like a fountain. How was she any different from the scattered corpses around her?

Eldert caught up swiftly, his teal hair whipping as he grabbed Barsabe by the nape.

“So, a magic swordsman of the Royal Palace Guard.”

“Let me go!”

Thud! Thwack!

Barsabe drove her knee into Eldert’s stomach, but all she hit was solid armor. He forced her to her knees and pinned her firmly.

She knew the magic-nullifying effect of the Idgal arrow was temporary. It was better to capture her alive for future use than to kill her outright.

Though wounding the king was a punishable offense worthy of death, Eldert muttered as he twisted Barsabe’s shoulder behind her back.

“You’ll face punishment later.”

He intended to dislocate her shoulder.

A chill ran down Barsabe’s spine as she squeezed her eyes shut. Pain was coming—she told herself not to panic, to accept it. She wouldn’t let the honor of the Royal Palace Guard be stained with a clumsy scream.

Just as she bit her lower lip hard—

Whoosh!

An axe flew toward Eldert’s neck as if to sever it.

He barely turned his head in time, sacrificing some hair to avoid death.

Barsabe raised her gaze from the ground. Standing on the opposite hill, chewing on a cigarette, was Maxim Tweller—the new Minister of Defense for the Bariel Empire, someone she’d seen a few times in Ogada.

“After a lap around the dead land, it’s a mess.”

“Bariel reinforcements!”

Maxim immediately recognized Barsabe, noting her wounded side and the broken bow of Eriphony.

With a nod from Maxim, his men charged down the hill to rescue Barsabe.

Whoosh!

Seizing the opportunity, Barsabe slashed the Achilles tendon of the soldier from Luswena holding her, then staggered toward the Bariel troops.

In the chaos, where friend and foe were indistinguishable, Barsabe fought desperately to survive, cutting down anyone in her path as she ran toward Maxim.

Bariel and Luswena soldiers thundered forward, colliding with full force around her.

Pat-pat-pat!

“Don’t let her escape!”

“A magic swordsman! Bring her down!”

“Arrgh!”

“Move! Damn it, move!”

With her magic suppressed, her stamina was reduced to that of an ordinary person. Sweat poured down Barsabe’s face as she pushed through the crowd.

Eldert reached for her hair, but just before he could grab her, one of Maxim’s men caught her hand. Guided by that grip, Barsabe climbed onto the soldier’s horse, leaning against his back and clutching her side. From the opposite hill, Eriphony glared at her with burning eyes.

Barsabe met that gaze without flinching, a faint smile playing on her lips.

While Eriphony and Luswena were focused on her, what was happening in the skies?

Whoooosh!

A wave of scorching heat rippled through the air. Even Eriphony, standing some distance away, shielded her face with her sleeve.

Ian and the Bariel magic corps were locked in a fierce battle against Luswena’s mages. Judging by the situation, it wasn’t so much a fight as a one-sided push.

“Ugh!”

The old man and Luswena’s mages surrounded themselves with a thin protective barrier, barely holding back the onslaught.

The slightest misstep in breathing could shatter the shield. Everyone was tense to the point of panic. Honestly, it felt like the enemy was holding back, and a deep sense of impending defeat churned low in their hearts.

Swish.

Ian lightly brushed the Luswena barrier with his fingertips. Even the ice on an early spring pond would be harder.

He smiled faintly and applied more pressure. Cracks spread like shattered glass along the point he touched.

“Mages are those closest to the gods. Though we come from different nations and now stand opposed, honestly, I do not relish killing you. Aren’t ‘we’ bound by a special power?”

“Grandmother!”

Blood began to trickle from the old man’s nose and ears. He had overexerted his magic despite his frail body. The child cried out in alarm, only to be sharply scolded by Luswena’s mages.

“Zaira! Focus!”

Ian’s gaze shifted from the old man to the child, whose eyes were red and cheeks flushed.

“…Surrender now, and I will spare your lives.”

“What should we do?!”

“Don’t speak—just keep the shield up!”

“This is not Bariel or Luswena land, but the soil of Clifford. You may not know, but the more power we use, the more it agitates the rift in Gaia’s continent.”

The old man frowned. Whether from the unfamiliar news or sheer exhaustion, it was hard to tell. Perhaps both.

“Burgos’s plan is to distribute the northern rift’s energy southward. If Clifford is overrun by monsters, both Bariel and nearby Luswena will suffer. This is your last chance. Surrender and live; resist, and I will shatter this shield. Magic or time—there’s nothing to gain by prolonging this.”

Ian pressed harder on the shield. The cracks widened. The old man felt the heat seeping through and his mind went blank.

A rift? The king never mentioned such a thing.

And more importantly, was there any proof of a rift beneath Clifford’s land besides the author’s words?

The old man glanced at his sobbing grandson and took a deep breath.

“Ian Hielo, I doubt you expect gratitude for your mercy. This is a battlefield, I am a Luswena citizen, and our king holds our lives in his hands.”

They had families. If they surrendered to Bariel here, their loved ones left in Luswena would be kneeling before the god of death.

Just as the old man seemed to make a decision and reached into his pocket—

“Foolish—!”

Whoooosh! Boom!

Ian’s fury shattered the shield completely. Those barely holding on were thrown back by the blast, and the fighters on the ground dropped flat in terror.

“Ian!”

“Grandmother!”

Ian’s fiery spirit unleashed a storm of rage—wild, brilliant, and unfathomably powerful.

Yet, there was a hint of sorrow in the attack. A silent, minimal mercy offered to one who had made a wrong choice.

Ka-boom!

Luswena’s mages shrank back, bracing for pain.

But strangely, no heat reached them. The child cautiously opened her eyes and saw her grandmother slumped, muttering something.

“Kill the old man! Now!”

The magic corps froze, unsure how to respond. Ian shouted, then realized—the old man had sacrificed his own blood to magic, summoning a forbidden spell to face an insurmountable foe alone.

The Curse of Eternity.

A magic that defies nature’s order, plunging mages into despair.

Whoosh! Ka-boom! Bang!

But just like with Wesley, the ordinary mages’ attacks couldn’t touch the old man. Their strikes vanished into darkness like tiny sparks shot into the void.

Ian gritted his teeth, pouring all his strength into burning the old man away before the author’s desired power could be fully realized.

“Ian!”

The fiery spirit bent its massive form, reaching to seize the old man.

But it wasn’t easy. Like with Wesley, Ian could approach, but the power gap was overwhelming.

Wesley’s rage had been fueled by breaking the magic seal and confronting Gale, but the old man sought a power that could win the war. He was willing to sink into the abyss for it.

The standoff between Ian and the old man remained tense.

“Ian! Wait, Ian!”

“Do not interfere with Ian!”

“But—!”

Even within the magic corps, cracks were beginning to form.

Those trying to stop Ian from bleeding, and those trying to stop those who tried to stop him. Even after taking the enhancer, it was no use. The members of the Magic Department felt the bitter sting of despair like never before.

Everyone was drenched—some in sweat, some in tears, and some in blood.

“Damn it!”

Acorella frantically rummaged through her pockets, hoping to find another enhancer.

There was no hope left. If only Bariel or the Imperial Palace were here, maybe they could help…

“We…”

Someone muttered.

“Shouldn’t one of us also use forbidden magic?”

If Ian was struggling this much, wouldn’t it be right for someone from the Magic Department to sacrifice themselves? If they were going all out on their side, shouldn’t we respond in kind? Were they really supposed to just stand behind Ian and watch?

Sensing the chaos in everyone’s minds, Ian wiped the blood from his hand and shouted,

“One foolish choice is enough!”

That old man—the foolish elder who warned of the Cleaford Rift but still threw him into hell.

“Do you not trust me?”

Ian clenched his teeth.

Any further stimulation of magic would only poison them all. And he no longer wished for Bariel’s magic users, those who followed him, to fall into hell.

That was Naum’s burden alone. Surviving through someone’s sacrifice, not by overcoming but by avoiding, was a burden only Naum should bear.

Recalling the faces of the Magic Department members who had been laughing around him, Ian shouted once more.

“What did I say earlier?!”

KRAAAASH! BOOM!

The Flame God roared fiercely. The old man’s fingers twitched, and the body infused with forbidden magic regained its senses and lifted its head.

The old man was crying. Whether it was genuine emotion or not, no one could tell.

“You are my back.”

Ian coughed, blood spilling from his mouth.

Acorella cursed under her breath and stepped closer to Ian. She might not be able to touch the forbidden magic, but she could reach Ian—because she was his back.

“JENZAAANG!”

ZZZZZZ! ZZZING!

Acorella poured all her magic into Ian. Seeing this, the Magic Department members one by one flew in, their golden eyes shining brightly.

A faint smile flickered across Ian’s blood-streaked face. It was warm. He felt the fierce heat of the Flame God intensify.

“Ian-nim! We’ve got your back!”

“Yes! If you want to fall back, throw yourself forward!”

“Even if you don’t want to retreat, tell us! We’ll hold the line!”

“We can hold on!”

“HAAAARRRGH!”

WHOOSH! KRAAASH!

In Ian’s stead, the Flame God engulfed its entire body in flames and charged at the old man.

The old man waved his hands as if to part the raging firestorm, and the world was once again bathed in a blinding, overwhelming light.