As the floors increased, the barriers along the way grew ever more resilient.
Even so-called Legend-rank mages could only chip away at them slowly with specialized equipment.
But against Orsaga's impact, those walls proved utterly meaningless.
Propelled by supersonic speed—hundreds of times faster than sound—and wrapped in a shield of magic, he was like an unstoppable blade, slicing through everything like a hot knife through butter.
Whether it was advanced alloys, rare magical stone, or intricate defensive wards, all of it was forcefully shattered by sheer brute strength.
In just over ten seconds, he blasted through all obstructions, roaring straight to his target with overwhelming momentum.
Though he didn't immediately attack, the shockwaves and debris trailing his flight path were already enough to become deadly projectiles, capable of piercing most defenses with ease.
Then, as Orsaga came to a halt, all four wings behind him flapped forcefully in unison, unleashing a massive burst of wind that further accelerated the already blinding storm of shrapnel.
Such a chaotic and indiscriminate entrance made many Mages on that floor, who had been prepared to fight, immediately pale.
The overwhelming speed and volume of airborne debris and wind blades felt like countless high-powered arrows, triggering an intense sense of danger in them.
The mage leading the opposing group didn't hesitate in the slightest.
Raising his right hand, a golden barrier of flowing light instantly expanded, enveloping him and the Mages behind him.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!!!
Books and walls surrounding them weren't so lucky—they were shredded by the onslaught, engulfed in plumes of dust and smoke.
It was only when they saw the shockwaves rippling across the barrier and felt the explosions erupting all around them that many of the mid- to low-ranked Mages finally realized they were under attack.
Truth be told, had the lead mage not acted in time, most of them wouldn't even have understood how they died.
Standing amidst the wreckage, Orsaga glanced at the shattered bookshelves around him. Only after confirming the attacks had fully dissipated did he casually ask the lead mage:
"Did you already collect all the books from here?"
"Yes," the mage replied flatly.
Though he looked like a middle-aged human male, his skin was a deep purplish-brown—a clear mark of a demigod-level mage.
Calmly, he continued, "I don't know how you managed to get into the city or corrupt the outer defensive barrier, but you filthy creatures better give up any hope of obtaining the knowledge stored in the Library. Everything has already been hidden where you'll never find it."
Hearing this, Orsaga just shrugged, clearly indifferent.
Hidden was fine—so long as it wasn't destroyed.
With a tone of mild interest, he said, "In that case…"
He didn't even get to finish his sentence before a tremendous force struck him out of nowhere.
It was so sudden, he hadn't even detected the slightest indication of an incoming attack.
The sheer impact distorted the surrounding space, blasting his body away like a cannonball.
After smashing through more than a dozen walls, he finally came to a halt, his upper body embedded into a wall like a nail.
Bracing both hands against the surface, he pulled himself free and looked down at the cracks spreading across the exoskeleton of his chest. A rare look of seriousness crept into his eyes.
Ever since mastering magic, he had layered his body with numerous persistent defensive spells.
Their main function was to activate automatically whenever he was struck by an attack he couldn't react to—serving as a safeguard against ambushes.
Most attacks weren't even strong enough to trigger them.
But this time, all of them had shattered.
Even the residual force of the blow had nearly pierced his exoskeletal armor.
That alone was manageable—but what truly troubled him was the fact that he had no idea how he'd been hit.
From beginning to end, he hadn't sensed any attack.
The only thing he could discern was that the force used against him carried exorcistic properties.
It had... hurt.
As the mage began to close in, Orsaga didn't hesitate.
He immediately began casting a series of detection spells to identify the source of the attack.
But just as the spells reached halfway completion, the same mysterious force slammed into him again—without warning, without buildup.
And this time, with no layered defenses to shield him, the strong exorcistic energy took full effect.
Over a dozen different types of exorcistic powers simultaneously erupted across his body.
The defense granted by his innate ability, [Crimson Exoskeleton], was instantly corroded.
His tightly clinging armor sloughed off like melting fat, mixed with blood and pus as it slid to the ground—burning holes into the floor as it fell.
Looking down at his now-exposed abdominal cavity, his dissolving face broke into a smile.
"Nice hit. Didn't expect to run into someone of your caliber here."
But before the last word left his lips—BOOM—another strike landed.
This time, his head and upper torso were completely obliterated.
Even seeing Orsaga's body dissolve, Malcairon, the mage, didn't let his guard down. He followed up with another volley of attacks.
He reduced the creature to a bubbling, high-temperature pool of bloody sludge.
Only then did he let out a small breath and prepare to lead his team to assist elsewhere.
But before he could take more than a few steps, an ominous energy pulse rippled behind him.
A blood-red crescent blade of energy suddenly sliced straight through his body and continued on, cutting a deep gash through the entire floor of the library.
Yet… there wasn't a single scratch on him.
It was as if the attack had been an illusion.
He turned to see a narrow staircase of blood rise from the pool of gore.
From it, Orsaga emerged completely unscathed.
"Hey now, don't leave so fast. We're just getting started."
Without a word, Malcairon launched another attack.
Orsaga was once again struck before he could react—taking heavy damage.
Still, he laughed it off. "I still can't figure out how you're doing that. Fascinating technique."
A moment later, his body once again dissolved into blood-red sludge.
But this time, Malcairon didn't stop.
He unleashed a barrage of attacks and magic items—devastating everything.
He completely annihilated the pool of blood, erasing it from existence without a trace.
But it was all in vain.
Orsaga's passive innate ability, [Unholy Wraith Body], continued to activate.
[Unholy Wraith Body]
Hatred. Malice. Greed. Pain... All negative emotions become your fuel. Any being that perceives you will be tainted, and as long as malevolent intent surrounds you, your wounds will regenerate rapidly.
As blood-red light pulsed again, Orsaga's form reassembled from the void—solid and whole.
Still smiling, he said, "Hurts a bit, sure. But it's clear your attacks aren't really working."
No injuries. No weakening of energy.
Faced with this bizarre situation, Malcairon's expression turned grim.
The surrounding Mages—unable to interfere at all—could only watch in confusion.
One side had a completely inexplicable method of attack.
The other… possessed an utterly unkillable body.
A confrontation between two truly unnatural beings.
____
T/N:
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