Chapter 475
A Horrifying Imbalance.

Rutherford couldn’t help but frown at the strange, unsettling sensation washing over him.

For centuries—nearly a millennium—he had inhabited countless bodies, parasitically surviving through time. Even as his soul weathered and the name “Bandor” faded into obscurity, this feeling from the Abyss had been etched indelibly into his mind.

What could one call a being for whom everything else fades away, leaving only this repulsive sensation behind? Overcome by despair, fear, and helplessness—as if the Abyss itself were his very self—Rutherford wept for a long, long time.

A very long time.

“Sir Rutherford, are you alright?”

“Is this… the Rift?”

“Good heavens, what exactly is this Abyss…?”

“Don’t stray too far! We must not lose sight of Sir Rutherford! Everyone, straighten up and gather close!”

“Some corpses came through with us!”

“Leave the dead to drift away. Only the living will follow Sir Rutherford. The dead will fulfill their roles beyond death. This way, quickly!”

“Damn it, where did all the treasure go?”

“W-what’s that? Something’s approaching!”

“Fall back! I said fall back!”

Rutherford, lost in thought, slowly opened his eyes. The Abyssal Sea. Ian—damn him—had managed to set the coordinates with his dying body.

He glanced back at his subordinates being dragged away, caught in illusions.

“Ughhh!”

To those a step behind, it was a faint shape, but to Rutherford, it was a vivid hell unfolding right before his eyes.

Writhing in agony, begging to be killed—perhaps unsettled by the sight, his men backed away, clinging to one another.

“W-what is that?”

“It’s the hell each of us carries within. The Abyssal Sea is where all those hells converge and are trapped.”

“Th-then what do we do…?”

“Leave it be. At worst, you’ll go mad, but you won’t die. More importantly, how many mages do we have left?”

“Including me, about five.”

“How much magic power remains?”

“After the heavy drain at the palace, it’s almost gone.”

“Hmm.”

Rutherford ran a hand through his hair, deep in thought.

They were beneath the Rift, in the Abyss. Since they hadn’t fallen here through forbidden magic, escaping wasn’t impossible—just like Bandor had done in the past.

‘But that brings its own problems.’

Namely, Rutherford could lose his body.

When Bandor escaped the Rift before, he entered a stranger’s body and became trapped in an eternal cycle of death. There was no guarantee this time would be any different.

After countless reincarnations, the gears of fate that had always been misaligned finally clicked into place. If he lost this moment, this body, and died again only to awaken in another timeline, he might truly break.

“Sir Rutherford, what did you do then?”

“Please, tell us how to get out of here!”

The mages surrounded Rutherford, clinging to him with blind faith shining in their eyes.

It wasn’t a lie. The Abyss beneath the Rift was real, and the one who had returned alive from it was their very master, Rutherford. Could anything be more wonderful?

Their fear of the unknown lasted only a moment. The mages looked around the Abyss—likely connected to their very essence—with curious eyes, though they stayed close together.

“…Then?”

Rutherford recalled that faded day at their question. He wasn’t sure exactly when, but suddenly, a divine voice had brushed through his mind.

‘Your tears have reached me.’

Though the voice was like a ray of light, Bandor had responded not with joy but with harsh reproach—questioning if he was truly close to the gods, and if so, why they had abandoned him so cruelly.

“Sir Rutherford?”

“Ah.”

When Rutherford fell silent, the mages urged him, grabbing his sleeve. Normally, he wouldn’t have allowed it, but the oppressive new environment weighed heavily on them all.

Rutherford shook his head slightly and explained.

“The Abyss is a place where space and time intertwine. There’s no up or down, left or right as we usually think. If you wander long enough, you might reach the Rift—”

“The Rift?”

“The place between Gaia’s land and the Abyss, where monsters are born.”

Escaping the Abyss wasn’t the end. They had to survive the Rift, the birthplace of monsters.

The mages’ faces darkened as they realized the journey ahead was longer than expected.

“Be careful not to get caught in illusions. Especially you mages. If trouble arises, help each other escape. Death here means death of the body.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“You’ll lose your magic power. Just like me.”

Hearing this, the mages hurriedly checked on their comrade trapped in an illusion. Fortunately, he wasn’t a mage—though he was unconscious, frothing at the mouth.

“Then our priority is to move safely from the Abyss to the Rift. Is there a path? Or must we wander aimlessly?”

Please say no.

Reading their silent plea, Rutherford sighed softly. It had been that way before, but not now. And he wouldn’t allow it. If the gods gave those bastards the same chance he had, the unity gathered under the name ‘Rutherford’ would shatter.

“No, we can leave anytime.”

“Really!”

“Ian opened a portal. We can’t return to Gaia, but we can ascend from the Abyss to the Rift.”

“So, who’s going to open it? Come on,” Rutherford said with a relaxed look, urging the mages.

Flustered, they glanced at each other and raised their hands, signaling how little magic they had left.

“I have nothing left.”

“Same here. I used it all fighting the palace mages. It’ll take at least two days to recover.”

“Two days? Is there even a concept of a day here?”

“Isn’t it a bit bright now? There’s light all around.”

“Wait, so none of you have any magic left?”

“Opening a portal from the palace was impossible. Even if we could open one, the next step is the problem. Once you get above the Abyss, you’re at the Rift—and you have to face the monsters.”

“Exactly. Without enough magic, it’s annihilation. And we don’t even know what kind of creatures are there.”

“Sir Rutherford, maybe we should wait until we gather more strength before ascending to the Rift?”

The mages seemed to agree, falling silent as they awaited Rutherford’s permission.

Their leader wore a strange expression—not quite approving, not quite denying—caught in ambiguous feelings.

“If you stay submerged in the sea too long, you’re bound to encounter unseen dangers. Better to hurry and escape before that happens. Unless you want to end up like ‘that.’”

Rutherford pointed to the ‘shell’ of the one caught in illusions. Lifeless and limp, endlessly drifting, it resembled a drowned corpse.

“What do you suggest then?” The mages fell silent, waiting for an answer. Rutherford snapped his fingers.

A soft sound.

From his fingertips, molten gold lava bubbled up. As the droplets solidified, they formed the shape of Idgal. Rutherford laughed, wondering what everyone was so afraid of.

“I have no magic left, but I have this. What is there to fear?”

“But if we don’t recover, we can’t even try.”

“Use forbidden magic. Someone must sacrifice themselves.”

“…!”

Rutherford stared at Idgal sinking to the Abyss floor and murmured,

“One sacrifice lets everyone ascend to the Rift. This place is a kind of alternate world we can reach anytime. If we wait a moment, help will come again. The fact that we came here—and that I came twice—is proof that it’s possible.”

Since Rutherford wasn’t a mage, he needed a volunteer from the rest.

But no one stepped forward easily. Those who had sacrificed their limbs for Rutherford at the palace were all dead, and this place was strange and dangerous.

All they saw were bodies drifting, minds lost. To be left alone here? It was no easy choice.

“Is there really no one?”

Disappointment was clear in Rutherford’s voice. He silently scanned the surroundings with his eyes. The heavy stillness of this world pressed down on them.

“…It’s not my will. It’s the will of the gods.”

Rutherford was the one who communicated with the gods to regulate the world. As proof, the gods had bestowed Idgal upon the world to command the mages, and granted Rutherford a portion of the divine power over life and death.

King Damon had done so, Rutherford had done so until now, and so would they in the future. To live, to live again, and to continue on.

“I—I’ll do it.”

One of the mages, after much hesitation, raised a hand to volunteer. A faint sigh of relief escaped the others, and Rutherford patted the mage’s shoulder with the hand holding Idgal.

“It’s forbidden magic, but since this is the Abyss—the destination—it should be fine. I believe you’ll come back, Sir Rutherford. Please, come back…”

Rutherford smiled, as if to say, “Trust me.”

In truth, he didn’t know how to bring someone out using forbidden magic. And he had even less idea what would happen to someone who used forbidden magic in the Abyss.

One thing was clear: right now, trivial matters weren’t what mattered to him. The flow of time in the Abyss and the outside world was vastly different, so his entire plan was simply to hurry back and carry on the great work.

“Trust me alone. I will engrave your sacrifice deep within me.”

“…Yes. I will honor it with all my glory.”

The mage drew a dagger from his waist and slashed his arm. As blood dripped down, a golden eye flared to life. The mages stepped back, and soon a dark mist began to rise and churn around them.

Ziiiiiing! Ziiing!

Whoosh!

“Ahhhhhh!”

“Damn it!”

What appeared was not the neat, black crescent Ian had seen before. It looked more like a distorted black stain, as if blurred by water.

The mages glanced nervously at Rutherford, wondering if he was alright. He stepped forward without hesitation. Once they got past this, they could ascend the rift without the hardships they’d faced before. If that happened, they could escape without a single death. No problem.

Swish.

At that moment, a strange current was felt from somewhere. Even Rutherford, who had no magic, sensed it, so it was no surprise the mages noticed it too.

They all furrowed their brows, staring in the same direction.

Far off—

“Rutherford!”

Something enormous was swirling violently.

Was this what it looked like when light streaked past your eyes? The mages quickly tracked the magic rushing between them, turning their heads.

Fwoooom!

Crack! Crackle!

An attack slammed down, heavy with overwhelming pressure.

The forbidden magic portal they’d summoned cracked, then shattered into countless pieces. Black shards scattered through the air, and Rutherford’s eyes widened as he searched for the source.

‘Ian?’

Whoosh!

Ian was approaching at incredible speed.

Rutherford roared, dazed but fierce.

“Ian—!”

No more interference would be tolerated. The god had said that his mortal shell was beyond saving now. Even if it meant killing him and tearing him to pieces to take it away, it had to end here.

Rutherford activated his contract magic, reaching to seize Ian’s heart.

Swish!

But as if defying fate, Ian closed the distance in an instant.

Rutherford’s hair briefly obscured his vision, and when it cleared, a platinum-haired, pale-eyed figure was pressed close, eyes burning with deadly intent.

“…How dare you speak such a name so carelessly.”

“You—”

Ziiing! Ziiing!

Suddenly, his pale eyes flashed golden.

Rutherford realized that this was the true form of the soul inside Ian. Had the contract magic been severed? If so, that meant his body had died, trapped by an illusion. But how? How could he still wield magic after death?

Clench.

Ziiiiiing!

Ian grabbed Rutherford by the hair and unleashed his magic. May he drift forever as a cold corpse in the Abyssal Sea. May his limbs scatter and wander eternally.

Ian smiled faintly without realizing it, studying the reflection in Rutherford’s eyes.

“Rutherford, you wondered who I truly am.”

The image in his eyes sharpened.

The Emperor of Bariel, Ian Verosion, stood before him.