Chapter 384: An Unexpected Battle

Francis II had fallen. Though his body still twitched faintly—thanks to the extraordinary vitality inherent to the supernaturals—the old king had truly reached the end of his life. In this state, not even a saint’s presence could save him.

“To be honest, if it weren’t absolutely necessary, this would be the worst possible choice,” Duke—or rather, Clement—said, looking down at Francis II as the king took his final breaths. He shook his head slightly and sighed. “I didn’t want to get my hands dirty.”

“You overestimated the flesh-constructed body’s capabilities,” Edmund said quietly. “I warned you long ago—a king isn’t so easy to deal with. My father always wore the Shadow Signet Ring. Over his decades on the throne, at least four high-level assassins died by its power.”

“The Shadow Signet Ring, huh… I know that thing,” Clement murmured, watching as Francis II exhaled his last breath. Then he bent down. “Now that His Majesty the King no longer needs it, let me—”

Edmund reached out to stop him, a cold edge in the young prince’s voice. “Master Clement, this is still my father.”

Clement gave him a half-smile. “It’s rare you remember that.”

“All of this is just to save this…” Edmund frowned, but before he could finish, Clement abruptly waved him silent. The high-ranking bishop—disguised as a “legendary mage”—fixed his gaze on the dark rift hanging in midair. “Looks like we have an uninvited guest…”

As Clement’s words fell, a powerful magical shockwave radiated outward from him. The air between the rift and Francis II began to warp and tremble. Then, a small figure cloaked in shadowy mist appeared before them.

The figure was hazy all over—its lower half almost dissolving into smoke—yet its upper body was solid and distinct. This form, somewhere between a real creature and a shadow dweller, stunned both Edmund and Clement. And in that brief moment of hesitation, the small figure dashed toward Francis II with astonishing speed and dexterity, snatching the Shadow Signet Ring from the king’s finger before turning sharply and heading for the shadow rift.

“Hmph!” Clement snorted coldly. He had sensed a definite, tangible life force from the figure—clearly a real being. Realizing this unexpected visitor was the greatest uncontrollable factor, he didn’t hesitate to follow the figure into the violently shaking, nearly collapsing rift.

Edmund, however, couldn’t discern the figure’s true nature. His first thought was the strange danger posed by the shadow dwellers, so he shouted a warning: “Wait! Master Clement!”

But by the time he called out, Clement had already vanished into the shadow rift. The unstable portal, pushed beyond its limit by these extra shocks, emitted a strange, piercing shriek before disappearing entirely.

The lavish lounge was left strewn with twisted, shattered remains of the “flesh-constructed body,” Francis II’s corpse, and the silent, standing crown prince.

Amber felt her consciousness rapidly falling between the Shadow Realm and the real world. But her heart sank even faster than her mind—

“I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die… Why did I have to poke my nose in? Why did I have to look for clues? This time, I really stumbled into something big!”

Regret gnawed at Amber’s guts as she cursed her reckless boldness. Yet the ring she’d ripped from Francis II’s hand at the last moment remained clenched tightly in her palm—no matter what, she couldn’t let it go.

The dizzying sensation of falling lasted only a moment. Then, the familiar black-and-white landscape of the Shadow Realm appeared before her. As soon as she landed, she confirmed she was beside the “black mist vortex” from before—still within the corresponding area of the Rebellious Fortress’s shadow experiment zone.

The next second, a terrifying pressure slammed down on her—sure enough, that formidable old man had followed her into the Shadow Realm!

The Shadow Realm was home to dangerous natives. Even legendary powerhouses risked death here at any moment. But Amber was certain: before those shadow dwellers could get angry and attack the old mage in the starry robe, she would be the first to die. She didn’t doubt her own combat ability—if anything, she was confident she’d be the one getting killed…

“Solderin better be as tough as Old Bastard said!”

Clinging to that last hope, Amber decisively dispelled her shadow form and let herself fall back toward reality.

Back in the shadow laboratory, as soon as Amber “set out,” Solderin immediately ordered the soldiers to stand guard nearby. This was the mark of an experienced ranger and good team coordination—when exploring ancient ruins, any action could trigger unexpected dangers. So when a teammate says, “I’m going ahead to scout,” it basically means, “Get ready, enemies might show up soon.”

This wasn’t abandoning teammates; it was standard procedure for team exploration.

As Solderin stood alert at the platform’s edge, a vague shadow suddenly emerged from the circular pit.

The high elf ranger raised his hand sharply. “Alert—”

Amber’s figure quickly took shape within the shadow. The half-elf barely touched down before bouncing and sprinting outward like a spring, shouting, “I’m drawing aggro!!!”

What followed was a flurry of panicked, incomprehensible shouts: “I’ve got big news!” “Something huge is happening!” “This intel’s worth at least two hundred gold from Old Bastard!”

Solderin ignored Amber’s frantic yelling. He had already spotted another figure emerging from the pit—a stranger clad in a starry robe.

“Fire!”

Solderin swung his hand down hard, then swiftly pulled several specially made heavy grenades from his gear and hurled them into the pit.

The robed figure reacted instantly, but before he could raise a shield, the Steel Cavalry combat squad opened fire. Sharp detonations rang out as four heavy explosive grenades, glowing faintly with pale blue magical light, streaked toward the target almost simultaneously.

What followed was a blast even Solderin hadn’t expected. The four explosions merged into one thunderous roar, the shockwave so fierce it knocked Solderin off his feet!

Explosive fire—one of the ranger’s common skills—could be unleashed by compressing powerful arcane energy into arrows to trigger massive blasts on impact, or by slapping a heavy grenade on the enemy’s head.

The second method was currently exclusive to the Cecil Territory.

The power was immense.

Amid the massive explosion, Clement felt as if caught in a violent gale, losing his balance. His senses blurred into chaos. This was no ordinary magic—it was a raw, savage force tearing at his defenses. The attack came too suddenly. Even with his lifetime of spellcasting experience, he never imagined a high-level spell could be unleashed so swiftly and without any magical fluctuations. Unprepared, his shield never formed. Instead, two protective talismans he wore activated automatically, absorbing at least half the damage.

Still, as a high-level supernatural, he barely survived.

He wasn’t the true “Legendary Mage Duke,” but he was a powerful fallen druid—one of the most adept at self-preservation among all supernatural classes. Relying on his talismans and sacrificing part of his own flesh, he managed to cling to life in that brief moment.

This might be a trap. Realizing this, Clement immediately decided to escape the chaotic situation and regain control. First, he needed to find out who had attacked him.

Solderin stared in shock as a bloodied figure burst from the fiery blast. What shocked him more was that beneath the torn mage robes, the man’s skin looked like rough, gray-brown bark.

Epidermis manipulation—a druid’s power?!

Solderin’s mind raced, but his hands moved faster. Against a swiftly moving enemy, grenades were less effective. He drew his favored short bow, nocked three arrows glowing faintly with arcane light, and loosed them in rapid succession. From all directions came the sounds of rune triggers and beams slicing through the air—continuous scorching rays and small arcane missiles rained down on the enemy.

Several attacks struck Clement. The high-level druid gritted his teeth against the searing pain coursing through his body. Stopping beside a pool of water, he raised a hand and pointed toward Solderin. “Wither!”

A chilling sensation of life draining surged over Solderin’s hands, which quickly became coated in an ominous gray-white layer. He had to cease firing and use his internal magic to resist the spell. But the Steel Cavalry soldiers didn’t pause—the grenade shooters swiftly reloaded and aimed their launchers at the bloodied enemy by the pool.

Every hair on Clement’s body stood on end.

But in the next moment, an even greater sense of danger overwhelmed him.

Solderin and the Steel Cavalry froze instantly.

The pool behind Clement churned violently. Accompanied by strange squelching sounds—like some soft-bodied creature stirring underwater—and a flurry of bubbles, several thick tentacles suddenly shot out, wrapping tightly around the terrified fallen druid.

More tentacles emerged, one after another, coiling around Clement. From the water came an angry voice: “I was just trying to sleep! Did you have to blow the place up with grenades?!”

(End of chapter)