After several hours of heated discussion, everyone in the throne room finally came to a consensus—they decided to go with Lark's suggestion, but under one strict condition: The ritual should be done in a place far from the capital, a desolated place with no innocent civilians.
It was decided that the ritual would be done at Fork Meadow. A vast grassland to the east of Golden Wheat City, right next to the border of the Dwarven Kingdom.
Lady Ropianna revealed to everyone that the moment things went out of hand, she planned on including the dwarves in this mess. Even if she was unable to subdue the demon, she was confident of luring it toward the border of the Dwarven Kingdom. Surely, the dragon guarding its border wouldn't sit still if a powerful demon suddenly appeared near its protected territory.
Lark was amazed that the elderly female magician thought of this tactic. Shrewd, shameless, but ingenious regardless.
Without further delay, the royal family started mobilizing the army. A thousand elite soldiers, three royal court magicians, a dozen priests capable of healing spells, two hundred mercenaries, and two hundred royal guards made their way toward Fork Meadow.
Over a dozen carts filled with rations, weapons, and sundries moved out of the capital. Coupled with the army marching toward the east, the residents of the capital feared that war had erupted once again. ?arious rumors about why the army stationed in the capital had been mobilized spread among the masses.
The army moved relentlessly toward the meadow, eventually reaching it after almost two weeks.
During this time, Lark refilled the mana inside the mithril cubes. He also started enchanting the sword he bought from Garma, fortifying its strength severalfold.
By the time they'd arrived, the villages in the meadow were already empty. All villagers had already been evacuated to the Youchester Duchy.
Lark and his disciples disembarked from their carriage.
"What a huge mountain," said George.
A colossal mountain range, comparable to Yorkshaire, formed a natural barrier to the east, its tip touching the clouds.
"It's even larger than Yorkshaire." Austen had to look all the way up to see the top.
"That's where the dwarves live," said Lark. "Do you see that white haze over there?" George and Austen stared at the white haze obscuring the lower half of the mountain range. "That's the famous barrier protecting the Dwarven Kingdom." George and Austen gawked at the white haze after hearing Lark's words.
Nickolai was right. It was Pinnacle Grade Magic. Lark was sure of it.
Even from this distance, he could feel the vast amounts of mana maintaining the spell. The dragon must have been supplying it with mana on a regular basis, since the barrier was still at its strongest even after centuries had passed.
Seeing the barrier with his own eyes confirmed the presence of the dragon. Those creatures, which could live for more than a millennium, would sometimes hibernate for several years, and he was worried that it would have been sleeping since winter was looming. But now, he was sure that the dragon was awake after seeing the barrier at its full strength.
Lark looked around. The soldiers were currently making camp, the royal guards started setting up defenses, while the mercenaries started installing traps.
Lark told everyone in the throne room back then that High Demons and above were capable of summoning lesser demons at their beck and call.
Agares wouldn't be their only problem once the phylactery failed to contain the fragment. If worse comes to worst, they might face a demon horde. This was why the royal family enlisted the help of these mercenaries. Unlike your regular soldiers, these unruly men had vast amounts of experience in dealing with monsters.
"Sir Lark, we're done with the preparations. We've gathered all the necessary materials," said a soldier. He pointed at a large clearing where several sacks filled with ormatane and gold dust sat.
The phylactery and the high?grade mana stone were with him, the flower was with Lady Ropianna. Lark decided to draw the magic formation now.
Lark cast his spell and a fire serpent manifested before him. It slithered around and started burning the grasses around him, creating a fifty?meter wide scorched clearing, before finally dissipating.
Lark nodded in satisfaction at the now grassless patch of land. He grabbed the sacks containing the ormatane and gold dust and started mixing the two. Using magic, the large sack flew up, tilted to the side, and the mixture of ormatane and gold dust started pouring on the ground, forming a twenty?meter wide magic formation.
The three royal court magicians watched wordlessly as Lark drew the magic formation on the ground. As layers upon layers of runes were drawn, they realized that the magic formation greatly resembled the one inside the phylactery's. If Lark's words were indeed true, then right now, they were witnessing with their own eyes the creation of the magic formation of a Pinnacle Grade Spell.
"Hey, the kid's quite skilled, isn't he?" said Farsight.
Nickolai remained silent, while Lady Ropianna bobbed her head.
Impressively, the dust mixture didn't stop flowing and continued drawing the magic formation, without interruption. It seemed simple at first glance, but the three royal court magicians knew more than anyone here how hard it was to achieve this. This was how the mana was supposed to flow once the magic formation was completed—freely flowing, without halt or disturbance. This went to show how familiar Lark was with this Pinnacle Grade Spell.
After half an hour, Lark finally stopped. The large sack filled with the dust mixture was almost empty by now. He placed the sack down to the side.
"Lady magician, the flower," Lark said to Ropianna.
Lady Ropianna walked gingerly toward Lark, as though afraid of breaking the small wooden chest in her hands. Upon reaching Lark, she opened it and handed him the flower.
"Thank you," said Lark.
The elderly female magician wore her usual benign smile. "That was… quite enlightening to watch. The technique you used to circumvent the overlapping runes at the third and fourth layer was ingenious. Farsight and Nickolai probably won't admit it, but they definitely learned something incredibly useful today."
"Is that so?" chuckled Lark. He looked at Farsight and was immediately greeted by a frown. It seemed that the best archer of the Kingdom had keen hearing; he definitely heard the words Lady Ropianna said just now.
"I'll grind this flower into dust," said Lark. "Lady magician… After this, there's no going back."
"We know," said Lady Ropianna.
After Lady Ropianna moved back to where the rest of the royal court magicians were standing, Lark started grinding the flower into dust. Its petals, which looked as though they'd been sculpted from ice, formed cracks and shattered into numerous minute pieces. Even its core was pulverized.
Lark used the dust created from the Tears of Ubroxia to complete the innermost layer of the magic formation.
Lark approached the king, who'd been watching him from a distance.
He bowed. "Your Majesty, the magic formation is almost complete. All that's left is the blood of the sacrifice."
"My blood, huh?" said King Alvis. "Of course. Take as much as you need."
It sounded as though the king was willing to give him half a bucket of blood if needed. Lark politely smiled. "Three drops should do, Your Majesty. Please follow me."
Lark led the king to the center of the magic formation. He handed him a small knife. "Whenever you're ready, Your Majesty."
King Alvis unhesitatingly pressed his thumb against the blade. Blood dripped down the wound and fell into the phylactery's mouth. Upon the third drop of blood, the magic circle came into life. Beautiful azure runes glowed and the layers of magic formation started spinning around.
Lark amplified his voice using magic. He said to everyone present, "Listen. We will now conduct the ritual to sever the curse running through the blood of the royals. Soldiers, priests, mercenaries, magicians—battle could break out moments from now. Ready yourselves."
The tension in the air became palpable.
The military officers began issuing out commands. The soldiers and mercenaries pulled out their weapons, all the while the priests and the royal court magicians readied their spells.
Elias 'Farsight' had already moved a kilometer away, his arrow pointed in Lark's direction. If the phylactery broke and the demon appeared, he would immediately fire his strongest magic arrows at it.
Lady Ropianna started preparing the spell—Grand Sanctuary. A ninth?
tier spell capable of healing hundreds of people at once. At the same time, she also cast Indomitable Shield on the King. Although it was only a fifth?
tier barrier spell, it was a lot better than leaving His Majesty unguarded.
Nickolai, on the other hand, cast the ninth?tier spell—Trident of the Lightning God. Three fifteen?meter large lightning spears appeared at the sky, all of them pointed at the direction of the phylactery.
Seeing the spells cast by these famous magicians reassured the soldiers and mercenaries. Some of them even thought that it was overkill. No matter how they thought of it, it'd be impossible for a creature to survive after being impaled by those three gargantuan lightning spears.
"Your Majesty," said Lark. "Your safety will be our top priority. If the demon breaks out of the phylactery, just as we planned, we'll immediately flee in the direction of the Dwarven Kingdom."
The King nodded. He also agreed with this plan, since they'll be luring the demon away from the direction of the Kingdom of Lukas.
Lark breathed in deeply and said in a firm voice, "Let's start."
He took out the high?grade mana stone and forced the mana stored inside to break out. Large amounts of mana started oozing out of the stone.
Lark forced it to move into the phylactery, activating the magic formation engraved inside it.
Like a glutton, the phylactery sucked in all the mana oozing out of the high?grade mana stone. Slowly, the runes carved inside it activated. As though it had a life of its own, it tasted the drops of blood inside it and started yearning for more. King Alvis felt an indescribable force pulling him toward the mithril jar. For a moment, he was afraid that the phylactery would suck him inside.
"It's uncomfortable, but please endure, Your Majesty," said Lark as he continued guiding the mana inside the phylactery. "What the phylactery is yearning for isn't your blood, but the fragment flowing through it."
True enough, King Alvis felt something separate from his body, before going inside the phylactery. It was a peculiar sensation, as though a piece of himself had been torn away and eaten by the mithril jar.
After confirming that the fragment was finally inside the phylactery, Lark immediately started gathering the mana required to activate the Pinnacle Grade Spell—Heaven's Dominion. By this time, the high?grade mana stone had already been wrung dry. It was now the turn of the flower to supply the amount of mana needed for the ritual.
The ground rumbled as the twenty?meter large magic formation was activated. The runes came to life, starting from the inner layer of the magic formation, spreading toward the outside. At the same time, the grinded pieces of the flower started sucking in ambient mana. The amount being gathered was so colossal that even the non?magicians could see the torrent of mana. This process went on for several minutes, until the mana in their immediate surroundings had been sucked dry.
Finally, they'd gathered enough mana for the Pinnacle Grade Spell.
Lark wordlessly activated the spell—Heaven's Dominion.
A barrier made from the strongest defensive spell started enclosing the phylactery. It wrapped around it several times, forming a translucent shield resembling glass.
The ground stopped rumbling.
Now that the fragment was inside the phylactery, with a Pinnacle Grade Spell protecting it, all that was left was severing the link.
"I'll sever the link now, Your Majesty," said Lark, his face a bit anxious compared to before.
In his current state, even he would find it hard to win against a High Demon, moreover if it was on the level of a Demon Lord. He knew that there was a high chance that he'd die here, the moment he tried severing the link. Well, he could probably make it out alive if he ran away by himself.
But that was the last resort he decided he'd make.
Seeing the conflicted expression of Lark, who remained stoic even after being mocked and threatened by Nickolai, the king knew that the most dangerous part of the ritual had come. He nervously swallowed the lump in his throat.
King Alvis closed his eyes. "Do it."
Now that the fragment had been separated from His Majesty's body, severing the link was a trivial thing. Cutting it using mana should do the trick.
Lark manipulated his mana and started separating the small, inconspicuous thread linking the fragment and the King.
And cut it.
The moment the link was severed, an eerie screeching sound echoed from the phylactery. It was so incessantly loud that Lark and King Alvis reflexively covered their ears.
After the screeching sound died, loud thud sounds reverberated in the meadow. It was the same sound as a battering ram hitting a portcullis, only ten times louder.
With bated breath, everyone stared at the phylactery. The sound was coming from that small silver?black jar. With each thud sound, the jar shook, almost toppling over from impact. Whatever was currently contained inside the mithril jar was struggling to get out.
"W?What's that?" One of the soldiers watching the ritual cried out.
Black wisp seeped out of the phylactery and flew up into the sky, forming a massive ball of black smoke the size of two carriages combined.
At the center of the black smoke, a golden, slit?like eye looked at the humans on the meadow below.
"Kid," Nickolai gnashed his teeth. "Did the ritual fail?"
The three colossal spears of lightning pointed their tips at the black smoke at the sky. Nickolai was ready to fire his spell at the demon at any time.
A kilometer away from this place, Lark felt the undulating mana from Elias 'Farsight'. It seemed that the best archer of the Kingdom had gathered vast amounts of mana into his arrow, ready to strike down the demon.
"No," said Lark. He looked at the phylactery. The mithril jar showed no signs of breaking as of this moment. "As long as the medium is intact, that demon will still be bound by Heaven's Dominion."
Nickolai didn't seem to be convinced of Lark's answer. His lightning spears aimed at the black smoke crackled dangerously.
"If the demon's still bound by the spell, then... what the hell is that?"
The golden eye inside the black smoke continued observing the humans below. Even Lark found it peculiar. He could not understand the actions taken by the demon just now. It seemed that instead of using the fragment to open a portal to this location, the demon opted to just observe the humans using vision magic. It no longer tried breaking the mithril jar the moment it saw the humans.
After heavy silence, an eerie voice spoke. It was as though five men were speaking the same words, at the same time. The voice resounded in the meadow.
"I see. You are the descendant of that human," said the black smoke.
The golden eye was looking straight at King Alvis. "Interesting. Truly interesting."
The golden eye quickly scanned the surroundings. The army below, the mountain range to the east, the colossal lightning spears and magic arrows aimed at it, and finally, at the mithril jar sitting on the ground.
The golden eye clad in black smoke slowly hovered down. Lark signaled the royal court magicians not to fire their spells at it. Right now, Heaven's Dominion was still enclosing the phylactery. The demon would be unable to do anything to them as long as that spell was still active.
The moment the golden eye was directly above King Alvis, it said, "Tristan… You really resemble that snotty brat. Now… this brings back fond memories. How pleasant."
The eyes of King Alvis slowly grew wide. He hadn't expected such words to come out of the demon's mouth.
King Tristan Lukas I was the founding king of this nation. According to the history passed down the royal family, he was the king who made a pact with the demon called Agares.
"A?Are you the demon called Agares?" said King Alvis.
The black smoke closed its eye for a moment. "Agares. Indeed, Tristan used to call me by that name." Although the demon's voice sounded eerie, it seemed that right now, it was laughing, as though the mention of its name brought pleasant memories.
"That cheeky brat's descendant managed to sever the curse in the end, huh? I'm glad." The demon chuckled.
Slowly, the black smoke started dissipating.
"I would have loved to stay some more and listen to stories, descendant of Tristan. But the miasma shrouding this fragment will damage the medium, should I linger in this plane any longer. Listen, Barkuvara is going to wake up soon. Strengthen your forces. Seek the protection of the dragons. The moment he wakes up, my tribe will no longer be able to prevent the demon race from slaughtering the humans. Everything… is only a matter of time. Descendant of Tristan, use everything you have to ensure your survival."
And the smoke and the golden eye disappeared completely.
Silence fell.
Everyone was too stunned about what had just transpired to utter a single word. They'd expected to fight a life?or?death battle, but the demon they feared ended up giving them a warning about an impending doom instead.
Lark grabbed the phylactery on the ground. It was still in fairly good condition. For some reason, the demon called Agares made sure not to damage the mithril jar. Even the mana maintaining the Pinnacle Grade Magic was left untouched. Truly, that demon was a peculiar one.
For some reason, it felt as though Agares deliberately suppressed the fragment to avoid damaging the phylactery. Lark smiled wryly at this thought.
They'd been worried for nothing, after all.
"Barkuvara," mumbled King Alvis. He'd heard that name several times before.
The Blue Moonlight Troupe frequently performed plays reenacting the battle between the avatar of the Sun God and the Demon Lord Barkuvara.