None of the lords stood directly in the way of Apocalypse, yet their barriers still shattered, their ears buzzing.
They looked at the landscape. It was a blessing that Apocalypse hadn't been fired toward the city — or perhaps it had been intentionally aimed away from it. From above, the impact zone formed a triangular pattern.
The height of that triangle was estimated to be nearly 400 kilometers.
They quickly rushed toward Vorynthal, and all the lords capable of healing began to tend to the dragon.
Undine was filled with regret, but she continued to heal the Fifth Lord.
Suddenly, one of the lords shouted,
"H-He is healing!"
Undine, still channeling her healing magic, looked toward the boy who called himself Adrian Lewin. His lower half — previously destroyed — was now slowly but surely regenerating. The healing wasn't as fast as before, but at this rate, he would be as good as new within half an hour.
---
Adrian Lewin POV
"Ah!"
It wasn't physical pain that I felt, but something else.
Then I realized — I was awake. I opened my eyes.
My vision reflected a room — a large one.
I sat up slowly.
I was sure I wouldn't die even after losing my lower half. I wouldn't even lose consciousness.
But when I used Apocalypse, the sudden loss of an immense amount of Nature Mana created a huge potential difference that strained me heavily. It wasn't purely physical — it was a mental strain.
That was what made me lose consciousness.
"I'm still alive."
"Yes, you are."
"!!!"
I was startled and turned to see — it was Undine.
Why hadn't my Sixth Sense activated? Even Omniscient should have given me some kind of warning, even a faint touch of awareness.
I quickly checked my Nature Forces.
They were fine. Then what was going on?
Soon, I understood.
Maybe they were trying to avoid creating another potential difference.
So, I forcibly reactivated all the Nature Forces.
Undine looked at me and asked,
"Done? You don't really need to check if you're fine or not. Your regeneration healed you within forty minutes."
I asked,
"How is the Fifth Lord?"
Undine smiled.
"We fed him elixirs, and all the lords — including me — who possess healing abilities helped as much as we could. He's almost recovered, though not as fast as you."
"I see," I replied.
Undine continued,
"You failed the first test."
I laughed awkwardly.
Undine smirked.
"Let's move on to your second test."
"Second test?" I asked.
"Well," she said, "we should at least complete the procedure."
I nodded.
We both went to the meeting room.
Ten figures were already seated.
Undine took her place at the seat marked No. 4.
I stood a little farther away.
Undine suggested,
"It doesn't feel right if we all sit while someone stands. Why don't you sit at the seat of the Twelfth Lord for now?"
All the lords remained silent.
So, I went ahead and sat.
---
The Twelve Lords (by species)
1. Dark Elf
2. Dwarf
3. Giant
4. Undine
5. Dragon — Vorynthal, the Magic Lord
6. Werewolf
7. Vampire
8. Demon
9. Fox Spirit
10. Lamia
11. Lich
12. (Vacant )
---
Undine said,
"Everyone who doesn't care, raise your hand."
Two lords raised their hands — the Dwarf and the Lich. They generally cared only about their craft, so it was expected.
(And yes, I'm using the word craft for a lich — you understand what I mean.)
Then Undine announced,
"Those against Adrian becoming the Twelfth Lord, raise your hand."
None did.
Undine smiled.
"Since the majority is overwhelming, can I assume that those who didn't vote are fine with Adrian Lewin being the Twelfth Lord?"
They simply shrugged.
Undine looked slightly troubled, then said,
"So… he passed the second test."
She continued,
"Since he failed the first test, his request to become the Twelfth Lord is rejected."
Then, still smiling, she added,
"But since everyone wants him to become the Twelfth Lord, by the Law of the Original Twelve Lords… Adrian Lewin is hereby elected as the new Twelfth Lord."
This was a rule made by the founders for emergencies — and she used it now.
---
Let me explain my plan from the start.
I had to fight a lord.
Now, I could have fought a weaker one, but there were three possibilities:
I might accidentally kill the lord.
I might lose.
Or, my ability to maneuver and evade wouldn't impress anyone — and I'd fail the second test.
So, I chose the strongest. Killing him would be nearly impossible, but defeating him was even harder.
But my goal wasn't victory — it was to show my ability.
I knew I'd lose the first test, but if my display impressed them enough, I could win the second.
In fact, if even one lord had objected to me becoming a lord, the second test wouldn't have been held.
Undine had lied — she held the second test so she could invoke the Founders' Emergency Law, which stated:
> "If all lords wish for someone to become a lord, that individual shall be accepted as one."
Otherwise, they wouldn't even have allowed me to sit in that seat.
Of course, the second test could still be held, but when the results were already obvious, no one would care about it.
Everyone already knew I would become the Twelfth Lord today.
I was certain of it the moment I saw Undine at my bedside.
I became even more certain when she invited me to the second test.
And I was completely sure when no one objected as I sat in the Twelfth Lord's seat.
---
Vorynthal said to the Second Lord,
"Borin Stonebeard, enforce the ring."
Borin Stonebeard looked as though the mountains themselves had carved him from their own heart. Broad-shouldered and immensely thick through the chest and arms, his frame radiated unyielding power — not the fleeting strength of youth, but the enduring might of stone that had weathered countless storms.
His skin carried a dusky bronze hue, roughened by forge heat and battle grit.
His most defining feature was his beard — vast, braided into several thick cords that reached his belt, each bound by silver clasps engraved with ancient runes of endurance. Strands of gray shimmered like veins of mithril within the deep auburn mass. His hair, equally long and heavy, was tied back into a single knot, revealing a face of weathered dignity — square-jawed, scarred, and framed by eyes the color of smoldering iron.
Those eyes held centuries of memory — the patience of stone and the fire of the forge. His nose was strong and slightly bent from an old break, his lips set in a permanent half-frown of grim practicality.
He wore armor unlike any other: rune-etched plate forged from blackened adamant, its surface veined with faint glowing fissures where molten light pulsed like the breath of the earth. His gauntlets were shaped from dragonbone, his boots from tempered obsidian steel — each piece functional yet forged with reverence for dwarven craft. Across his shoulders rested a cloak of mountain wolf fur, its gray-white pelt contrasting the dark armor beneath.
At his back hung a colossal warhammer — Earthrender — a weapon said to have split peaks in a single swing. The hammer's head was carved from star-metal, inscribed with runes that thrummed faintly whenever Borin's temper stirred.
Despite his immense power, there was a solemn air about him — an aura of quiet gravity. When he moved, the ground seemed to take notice. When he spoke, even dragons listened.
Borin Stonebeard was not simply a dwarf — he was the voice of the mountains, the will of stone given flesh.
He was the Second Lord.
---
He drew a box from within his armor — plain and undecorated, yet the runes etched across its surface betrayed its extraordinary nature.
In his hand was a ring, its round crest marked with the number 2. The ring glowed faintly, and the box clicked open.
Inside were several rings, all identical to the one he wore — except they bore no numbers.
Every lord wore one just like it, each engraved with their respective number.
Borin took one of the unmarked rings and tossed it to me. I caught it and slipped it onto my finger.
The table before us had twelve slots, each shaped to fit the round crest of a ring.
All the lords inserted their rings into the slots. I followed their lead.
Then, each began channeling mana into their rings, which started to glow in unison. I did the same.
Suddenly, the underside of the table lit up with bright light.
I hadn't seen it before, but I knew — from the records I'd read — that beneath the table was a vast and intricate rune array.
After about a minute, the light faded. Everyone withdrew their
rings — including me.
Now, my ring bore a number.
Twelve.