Chapter 992
The old woman brushed the rain-soaked strands of hair from her face and glanced up at the sky. Hundreds of shamans were charging at the colossal underground god. She muttered through her toothless lips, displeased, as she tightened her robe.
“Damn it. Since when did they side with the mages?”
Had they all forgotten the past, when mages were revered as children of the gods, while shamans were scorned as mere remnants of twilight? Fools!
Pushing through the chaotic crowd, the old woman pressed deeper inside.
Bwooo—
Bwoo!
“Astana! Astana!”
Cheers erupted at the sound of the Astana warriors’ horn blasts. The old woman ignored it, pressing on toward the heart of the crowd.
‘Fine. Cheer all you want. Soon enough, those cheers will turn to screams.’
She surveyed the spire and the large building opposite it. The mages were all occupied facing the underground god near the palace, paying no attention to this side. A faint protective barrier seemed to hold, but it was only meant to shield the people from the god. It couldn’t stop the buildings inside from collapsing.
Crack. Crack.
She clenched her fist tightly. Veins bulged, muscles tensed.
‘Destroy the foundation of their faith.’
To paint cheers over with screams, to drown hope in fear, to scatter belief—she had no choice but to aid the underground god. If that happened, wouldn’t Crony come back to life?
No, it didn’t matter if he didn’t. A world ruled by the underground god would soon be hers.
Crunch!
Crack!
She pushed the wall with all her might, hearing something snap.
Everyone nearby was too focused on the battle between the underground god and the Gaia warriors. With the thunderous sounds shaking the world, who would notice a wall crumbling behind them?
‘It’s done.’
Just as she was about to strike with her fist—
“Found you.”
“…!”
Hail grabbed her shoulder firmly. Startled, the old woman swung her fist reflexively, but he raised both arms to block it as if expecting it.
Ka-bang!
The force was beyond human limits, but it didn’t matter. Hail’s strength came not from muscle, but magic.
“Hey, old lady. Don’t you know how easy it is to spot you when you’re mixed in with the soldiers?”
“Rude brat! Who are you calling old lady?”
“You’re one of Crony’s, right?”
The old woman had gone to Crony’s side, but seeing the forces split between the north and south gates, she moved to check on the south gate’s situation. She’d sensed a big battle brewing and wanted to avoid getting caught up in it. Her instincts were right—she even saw the gate collapse.
‘Even if the underground god hadn’t appeared suddenly—’
Their plan was to seize the palace with the soldiers, but with the momentum of the magic swordsmen, things were going badly.
She threw a series of punches at Hail, trying to keep him at bay.
Swish! Swish!
Thwack!
Hail caught her fist and threw her aside. Only then did the crowd notice the commotion, murmuring in confusion. Why was a young man attacking an old woman? But Hail pressed down to subdue her, and the old woman grabbed his neck and hurled him off instead.
Ka-bang!
“Ahhh!”
“What’s going on? What’s happening?”
“Is something wrong?”
Hail dusted off the falling debris and stood up. The old woman wavered, ready to strike again. But Hail hesitated—there were too many people around. And then—
Creaaak.
The spire was tilting.
The old woman glanced back with a satisfied smile. If that fell, it would bring down the adjacent building, burying the crowd beneath it.
“Strong build, but weak fists!”
“What? Weak fists…?”
Hail frowned, spat out his cigarette, and flicked his fingers in the air, drawing a small magic circle.
‘A mage!’
Despite appearances, he was a mage! Time to change the plan. The old woman leapt up, the cracked spire beneath her foot splitting further. She kicked off the leaning spire and soared onto the roof.
Grrrrk!
“It’s collapsing!”
“Collapse! The spire’s falling! Everyone get out of the way!”
“Ahhh! Move! Move!”
But—
“Hey, old lady. I need to join the others over there quickly.”
Ziiing! Zziiing!
Mandō (Late Arrival).
Tick-tock. A clock hand appeared on the magic circle. It was so small it resembled a pocket watch, its light faint.
But the beam shot straight forward, illuminating the old woman and the spire head-on.
“…!”
Bathed in light, the old woman froze midair. The collapsing spire below also halted, its roof suspended at a right angle.
The terrified crowd, who had been fleeing, stopped screaming and stared up in stunned silence. It was a strange, almost miraculous sight—as if time itself had stopped in that space.
“Guards!”
Hail pulled out a fresh cigarette and called to the guards. They rushed over, wary.
“The magic will wear off in about an hour. See the clock hand moving?”
“Yes, we see it!”
“Evacuate everyone from near the spire before then—”
He nodded toward the old woman.
“Take care of her.”
If she stepped inside the light’s boundary, she’d be trapped in the frozen time with them. They had to find a way to attack from outside. The guards drew bows and arrows, aiming at the old woman from all sides.
Ping! Ping!
Arrows flew toward her—and stopped midair. Dozens of arrows hovered, waiting for the magic to end. No matter how she twisted, once time resumed, she’d be a target and fall.
“Is that one really Crony’s subordinate?”
“Where? That one?”
“Damn it! Die!”
The angry citizens began hurling stones at her.
The only thing the old woman could move was her eyes—watching the arrow tips mere inches from her.
Thwack!
Hail, having dealt with her, flew toward the underground god. The crowd’s attention shifted back to the palace.
Then, a familiar sound rang out.
Ding—ding—
The bell at the south gate. Romandro was hanging from it, ringing it with all his might, sweat or rain dripping down his face.
It was a signal usually reserved for national emergencies. The citizens listened, drawn in by the faint ringing carried on the rain, murmuring without realizing it.
Ba-ri-el!
Romandro clenched his teeth. The magic department had confirmed that the key to victory against the underground god was ‘faith.’ The belief that they could win. A peaceful faith that would not falter in the face of primal terror.
Ding!
The beginning of the divine radiance held by the gods—
When the rain falls, Gaia’s heart turns golden—
Ding!
Lift your heads high, and you shall see—
The light above is Bariel’s beacon—
The voices overlapped, growing louder and stronger—a sacred melody calling Bariel, swirling through the air as if alive.
Ba-ri-el!
We already won a hundred years ago.
So we will win now.
The mages are here.
As long as those golden mages stand, Bariel is eternal.
“Bariel!”
Children who had been cradled by their parents ran toward the protective barrier. They pressed their faces close, gazing at the mages as if peering into a beautiful aquarium.
“We are Bariel!”
Though the palace had fallen, the flag had not been broken. As fear and darkness began to fade from their hearts—
“Ian! Ian Hadel!”
“We can do it! The mages—”
“Can do anything!”
A miracle unfolded.
The Astana shamans circled the underground god, chanting an unknown spell. The storm clouds above began to shift in reverse.
Flash!
Crash! Boom!
Lightning struck repeatedly, causing the underground god’s form to flicker between opaque brightness and darkness. What lay inside? The moment of curiosity was answered.
Inside the underground god was nothing but darkness—
Darkness, thick and smoky, filling it like a veil.
“Everyone, focus!”
Arena’s command rang out, awakening their spirits. The mages simultaneously spread their palms, preparing magic circles.
“One strike!”
“One strike!”
At their call, the magic swordsmen leapt forward. Though they couldn’t stand on air, they dared to climb onto the underground god’s body. Tat-tat-tat! They ran up toward its head, drawing their magic swords.
Shhhhhh!
Arena gathered her magical energy like a blade being honed, then paused to catch her breath. She was weighing which spell among her arsenal could defeat the subterranean god. Even among the highest-level magic, elemental affinities mattered—some spells would be far more effective than others.
“Director.”
At that moment, Ian called out to Arena. She turned her head, her eyes widening slightly. A faint glow was emanating from around him.
“Ian?”
“I don’t know what this is,” he muttered, staring down at his own body. It was a mysterious phenomenon—his form seemed bathed in a soft, shimmering light. But what was even more astonishing—
“Look over there!”
“Ian! That!”
Slender beams of light had sprung up all around the central area, just like the one surrounding Ian. Like piano keys being pressed one by one, the beams multiplied. Though faint, they clearly illuminated the world.
Dun. Dun-dun. Dun.
Fragile on their own, but as hundreds, then thousands, gathered, they began to form an immense wall of light.
When the pillar of white light encircling the subterranean god was complete, the darkness around it deepened.
“I’m not afraid.”
The deepening darkness was proof the light had grown stronger. As Ian’s gaze hardened with resolve, an indescribable energy surged through the air. Arena pulled out a cigarette, took a drag, and nodded toward the mages.
“Ian.”
She smiled and ruffled his hair affectionately.
“Looks like this was your destiny.”
So, you have to do this.
Ian gently grasped her hand.
“…Stay by my side.”
“Of course. Our youngest.”
Arena smiled warmly and turned Ian’s head slightly.
“We’re all here.”
The king of Astana, the shamans, the magic swordsmen, Beric who couldn’t run but shouted his heart out, Xiaoshi, Romandro, and even Naum and the other mages.
Ian smiled faintly and flexed his fingers.
“I’ll see this through.”
With Ian’s resolve firm, Arena patted his back and stepped back. When Heiji joined them, the circle of mages surrounding Ian was complete. Without a word, they all understood what was needed—brothers bound by fate.
Ziiing! Ziiing!
“Ian!”
“We’ll give you everything we have!”
The mages shouted in unison, pooling their magical power. It became Ian’s breath, his heartbeat, an energy that coursed through his entire body. With his eyes closed, Ian took a deep breath.
Ssshhh—
The world grew even brighter.
Still with his eyes shut, Ian whispered softly.
“Divine Palm.”
Kugugugung!
—…!
A colossal divine hand, as if holding the sky and embracing the world, unfolded behind the subterranean god.