The battle had erupted with terrifying suddenness, and though Lucian had fought desperately to minimize the devastation at first, circumstances spiraled beyond anyone's control. As the conflict intensified, especially after the arrival of Master Fujimaru and Lord Lioren, Velkairos inevitably slid toward ruin.
Even with the Velkairos Cardian Master Association's swift response, the casualties mounted.
Azrael surveyed the devastation surrounding him and couldn't help but sigh. The streets where families had lived and worked just hours ago now lay in ruins, buildings reduced to skeletal frames wreathed in smoke.
Seeing his expression, Lucian forced himself upright despite his exhaustion and stepped forward, placing a weathered hand on the young man's shoulder. "Don't take it to heart, Azrael. This kind of thing is inevitable."
Even so, a flicker of profound sadness welled up in the old master's eyes. Over his long years, he'd witnessed countless things he'd sworn to protect reduced to ash time and again.
But Azrael wasn't so fragile. He quickly gathered his composure and turned to Lord Lioren and the two other Sovereign-level Lore Cardians. "I managed to save many civilians in this secret realm. Let's have the association send someone to escort them out."
The three Sovereign-level masters exchanged stunned glances. They hadn't expected Azrael to have the presence of mind, let alone the strength, to protect others while facing a Master-level Lore Cardian.
Lord Lioren nodded curtly. "We'll handle it."
A moment of silence fell over the group. Ultimately, this sudden catastrophe had exacted a heavy price from the Empire of Aetherlight.
In the silence, Azrael glanced at the newly manifested Master-level secret realm looming in the distance and asked with some confusion, "Teacher, when you fought Jin and the others, did you notice any significant decrease in their strength compared to normal?"
The question stemmed from Azrael's own experience. He remembered how dramatically Chris's condition had deteriorated after descending into a Diamond-level secret realm, let alone attempting to descend into a Master-level one.
But Lucian seemed taken aback by the question, then slowly shook his head. "No, at least I didn't notice anything unusual."
He turned his gaze to Lord Lioren and Master Fujimaru. Sensing his inquiry, both shook their heads slightly, indicating they hadn't detected anything amiss either.
Azrael frowned. He didn't believe Jin and his cohorts hadn't paid some price for their descent. After all, if that were true, they wouldn't have waited this long while he was still embedded in the Crimson Oath Society.
At that moment, Azrael suddenly recalled the task Jin had assigned him before his defection.
"Teacher, have you sent anyone to check on those secret realms Jin had previously targeted?"
Hearing this, Lucian and the two Sovereign-level masters immediately grasped what the young man was implying. They quickly dispatched their subordinate Lore Cardians to investigate the current status of the secret realms that had experienced unusual activity.
Soon, an Emerald-level Lore Cardian returned with a peculiar expression. "Reporting to you, Masters."
He hesitated, then continued. "Those secret realms... they've disappeared."
Azrael's expression darkened instantly. He muttered under his breath, "As I suspected. Jin used those secret realms to offset the cost of descending."
Upon hearing this, Lucian immediately offered reassurance. "Azrael, this isn't your fault. Even without you, Jin would have found another way to connect to those secret realms."
The old master believed his disciple was feeling guilty about the situation.
While Azrael certainly felt some remorse, he refused to dwell on it. His energy would be better spent planning how to kill Jin and bring peace to the souls of those who'd perished at that old bastard's hands.
At this moment, Lord Lioren spoke up, his voice carrying the weight of exhaustion. "You all must be tired. Let's leave things as they are for now. We'll reconvene tomorrow to discuss our next steps."
Velkairos would likely never be rebuilt, not with two Master-level secret realms standing prominently on the coast. Even though this Sovereign-level Lore Cardian had nearly beaten two Master-level demons to death, the danger in this region continued to escalate.
Azrael nodded slightly and, utilizing Shiraori's spatial magic, departed.
A day later, in Riverock City.
Though the city had sustained some damage during the recent battle, it retained most of its basic functions and had been chosen as a temporary shelter for Velkairos's refugees.
Azrael currently rested in his temporary residence. Lucian had asked if he wanted to join the strategy meeting, but he'd declined. After all, he had more pressing matters to attend to.
Knock, knock!
A crisp knock sounded at the door, and Azrael opened his eyes slightly. As a Diamond-level Lore Cardian, he knew exactly who stood outside, so he simply called out, "The door's unlocked. Come in."
As soon as he finished speaking, a young man pushed open the door and stepped awkwardly inside.
It was Geralt.
Seeing this, Azrael lightened the mood with a joke. "You didn't even think of running away."
Geralt froze at that, a wave of helplessness washing over him. He'd certainly wanted to flee, but after witnessing yesterday's devastation in the secret realm, that impulse had evaporated.
The young man didn't think he could escape such a monster.
More importantly, Geralt desperately wanted to know why he'd come to this world.
After a moment's deliberation, he said carefully, "Senior, you jest. If one has done nothing wrong, one need not fear ghosts knocking at the door. I don't believe I've done anything to wrong the Empire of Aetherlight, so why should I run?"
Azrael was momentarily speechless at the response. He shook his head, not dwelling on the evasion. "Then I'll get straight to the point and save you from further speculation."
His gaze sharpened. "Junior, you're not the original owner of this body, are you?"
Despite his mental preparation, Geralt couldn't help but feel panicked after hearing Azrael's words. Anyone whose painstakingly hidden secrets are revealed would react similarly, especially when those secrets relate to one's life and safety.
After a brief moment of shock, Geralt swallowed hard and forced himself to speak calmly. "Why do you say that, Senior? I, "
Before he could continue, Azrael interrupted. "There are only two of us here, so stop testing the waters. I've dealt with your card, Gulan, in a secret realm before."
He paused, then summoned Artoria in a flash of golden light.
His certainty stemmed from the fact that Gulan and he were the only ones who'd crossed paths in that particular secret realm of medieval Britain, making it impossible for outsiders to know any details about the kind man who'd gifted the world consciousness that mysterious object.
Geralt stared at the blonde girl materializing before him, sensing a vague familiarity. But he was certain he'd never met her before.
However, combined with Azrael's words, an absurd thought quickly occurred to him. "Senior, are you suggesting Lord Gulan transformed into a demon, and then you slew him and used the materials to craft cards?"
Overwhelmed by psychological pressure, Geralt forgot to conceal his true identity.
But then rational thought reasserted itself. "Impossible. Absolutely impossible. Memphislan's strength should be at least Master-level."
It wasn't that he looked down on his senior, the boy simply remembered the prototype of his card as terrifyingly powerful.
But more chilling than that realization was another thought that crashed over him like ice water: If Memphislan transformed into a demon, doesn't that mean my world became a secret realm too?
He had no memory of that happening.
Azrael keenly grasped the key information hidden in Geralt's words. He frowned deeply and asked in a puzzled tone, "Junior, before you came to this world, your original world hadn't been destroyed yet?"
Geralt opened his mouth, unsure what to say. After a long pause, he spoke with a dry voice. "Senior, I won't hide anything from you now. I came to the Empire after I died."
He took a shaky breath. "Before I died, I remember being conscripted by the Earl as a militiaman to fight against the Demon King's army. However, before I could even reach the battlefield, I was killed by a low-level demon."
At this point, Geralt hastily added, "By the way, the Demon King's army I'm referring to isn't the Secret Realm demons you know."
Azrael didn't bother complaining about the Dragon Quest-esque quality of the boy's backstory. He finally understood the discrepancy plaguing him.
Geralt's timeline didn't match his own.
According to the young man, he'd never witnessed any Secret Realm phenomena before his death.
So he transmigrated here before the world's end? Or perhaps...
Azrael's eyes flickered as various possibilities churned through his mind. Then he thought of the mysterious object Gulan had given to the world consciousness.
After briefly organizing his thoughts, he asked Geralt, "Junior, do you feel your mental power is significantly greater than normal people's?"
Geralt was stunned by this. He'd never expected his senior to know such a thing about him.
But then a possibility struck him. Hesitantly, he ventured, "Much greater than normal. But how did you know that, Senior?"
He paused, then his eyes widened. "You too?"
Azrael nodded slightly, confirming Geralt's suspicion.
He didn't really care about revealing his origins anymore. He was just a transmigrator, it wouldn't change anything. Considering his contributions to the Empire of Aetherlight, Azrael felt confident that even if he started openly claiming to be from another world, the Empire's high-ranking Lore Cardians wouldn't care.
A wave of relief washed over Geralt's face, followed by genuine joy. People always want to find their own kind. God knows how terrified he'd been when he first opened his eyes in this world.
Before arriving in the Empire of Aetherlight, the concept of transmigration hadn't even crossed his mind.
Unaware of Geralt's thoughts, Azrael was lost in his own contemplation. "So I might not be a transmigrator after all."
Before today, Azrael had always believed himself to be an ordinary transmigrator, someone who'd died in one world and been reborn in another.
But considering the information Geralt had provided, that seemed increasingly unlikely. The Earth he originally came from had probably been destroyed and converted into a secret realm.
His expression darkened at the thought. Although he'd been a loner before crossing over, he'd still had a few friends.
But at least I don't have to worry about social death, Azrael consoled himself wryly. When he'd first arrived in this world, he'd been genuinely worried about what to do with the study materials and browsing history on his hard drive back home.
At that moment, a classic line from an old anime flashed through his mind, and he couldn't help but mentally narrate it in a dramatic voice:
"Azrael! Why have you always possessed more mental power than others? Why do you find it so easy to break through to new ranks? Why couldn't Jin forcibly demonize you before? Why is card creation so effortless for you? There's only one answer!"
"Azrael! You are the first man born from a secret realm!"
Azrael's lips curled slightly as he banished the mental image of Eina's dramatic facial expressions from his mind.
However, he wasn't entirely certain he'd been born from a secret realm. After all, he didn't know the exact nature of the item Gulan had given the World Consciousness. He'd have to ask the World Consciousness for more specific information about his origins later.
Compared to Azrael, whose mind churned with increasingly complicated thoughts, Geralt seemed remarkably relaxed.
After observing his senior lapse into prolonged silence, the young man couldn't help but ask, "Senior, do you have any other questions?"
Azrael's thoughts snapped back to the present. He let out a slight sigh and said calmly, "No. You should head back now."
He paused, then added seriously, "Also, it's best not to tell anyone about our conversation today."
This warning was primarily to protect Geralt. Azrael himself didn't particularly care about such matters, after all, there were few threats left in this world that could genuinely endanger him.
As he spoke, he seemed to recall something. A Shadowkhan soldier emerged from the shadows at his feet, carrying a dimensional storage pouch.
"Here are some Bronze-grade materials. Take them."
Azrael was ready to invest in Geralt. If he himself had made it this far, there was no reason Geralt, with his similar background, couldn't do the same.
These were just Bronze-level materials anyway, hardly a significant investment. Of course, he still needed to assess the young man's character over time to avoid cultivating an ungrateful wretch.
But after the rigorous selection process performed by the World Consciousness, Azrael figured such an outcome was unlikely.
Geralt was already dazed by the sudden windfall. The young man hadn't expected such a tremendous boon from this meeting.
He hesitated for a long moment, but finally gritted his teeth and accepted the materials from the Shadowkhan soldier. Then he bowed deeply to Azrael, his voice thick with emotion. "Senior, I will definitely not let you down!"
Azrael chuckled at this display, then waved his hand dismissively. "Go on. Be safe."
"Yes!" Geralt practically floated out of the residence, clutching his new treasures.
Azrael sighed imperceptibly as he watched the young man happily depart. But he quickly regained his composure.
Life had to go on. No matter what the truth of his origins was, it didn't stop him from being the person he was now, Azrael. Instead of dwelling on philosophical questions about identity, he should focus on how to improve his own strength.
With this thought, Azrael flipped his hand and retrieved the material he'd obtained from yesterday's battle in the secret realm.
Diamond-grade [Diamond Wooden Figure] (Red).
His eyes gleamed with anticipation as he examined the precious resource. The path forward was clear, he just needed to keep getting stronger.