Chapter 245 – King of the Underworld (2)
Within Grond, cold rage surged.
As a violet-tinged aura erupted from his body, his senses began to resonate.
This was a power far beyond that of any member of Vintert he had faced until now.
The presence of one who ruled Roafra, broader than a great city, the master of the East Continent's largest underworld, a being who considered himself a king.
Naturally, he was no Transcendent, yet he had reached a realm that was far from ordinary.
'The provocation worked perfectly.'
Verden had no intention of merely excluding Grond.
As a Quasi-Transcendent, Grond was a suitable opponent to test his strength against, as well as a chance to experience a kind of power he had never encountered before.
In other words, it was a stepping stone toward viewing the world in broader terms.
Grond rose from his throne.
As he stepped forward, he planted his foot on the head of his suffering guard, Meraden.
"You said you would show me who the greater one is."
"Y-Your Majesty…?"
Crunch!
The skull was crushed like tofu.
Even after killing a servant who had given him fervent loyalty, Grond's expression remained unchanged.
The life of a worthless weakling meant nothing to him.
The King of the Underworld looked down at Verden.
A pressure composed entirely of killing intent.
Grond bared his fangs in a small grin.
"To think you boast, all for defeating mere trash."
Grond cast aside his cumbersome cape.
Immediately, his armor, greaves, gauntlets, all the defenses encasing him, split apart like puzzle pieces and recombined once more.
A full suit of armor, engraved with strange patterns.
At its very center, a small inexplicable gap was present, while the metal formed at the nape rose to enclose Grond's head, completing the helmet.
No matter how one looked at it, this was no ordinary magical item.
Verden sent him a gaze filled with curiosity.
"That armor, is it an artifact."
"You have a sharp eye. 'Full Armor of Insert'. An artifact that responds to aura, maximizes resistance against magic, and reduces impact. Ever since I acquired it, I have never once been wounded."
And that was not all.
Shing.
Grond drew the weapon at his waist.
With the sound of air being cleaved, a sword of deep navy emerged into the world. At its centerline, indented grooves ran deep, four full blood grooves carved into the blade.
Next, the ornament of the throne detached.
A triangular metal fragment floated, spinning in midair.
"Together with the artifact 'Demonic Sword Cadence', and the shield 'Floated'. Asher, the armaments you hold may be extraordinary, but compared to me, who has ruled the underworld for countless years, they are nothing."
The number of artifacts in the world was extremely small.
To possess not just one, but three, was proof of wealth and decadence fitting for one who dared call himself king.
'Well, I suppose I'm in no position to talk.'
The Center of the Three Primary Colors, and Ainber.
The weight of the two artifacts he bore pressed upon Verden's mind once more.
"So then, should I grant you more time to prepare."
"Feigning composure, are you. I wonder if you will still wear that calm when you stand at death's door."
Grond activated his aura.
Energy spread in all directions, shimmering across the audience chamber. A peculiar gleam lit his eyes beneath the gaps of his helm.
"From this moment, I will trample your arrogance."
Domain.
The currents of the air warped, then snapped back.
Feeling the unpleasant sensation, Verden clenched and unclenched his fist.
His body itself bore no issue, but within the flow of his magic power, a faint resistance was now present.
"A martial technique?"
"My domain disrupts the strength of any who enter. Those who wield aura find their flow disturbed, those who wield holy power find their miracles weakened. And mages…"
Grond twisted his lips.
"…have their calculations hindered, and their flight obstructed."
Boom!
The audience chamber quaked as Grond's figure shot forward. Straight, but at a speed no mere mage's reflexes could follow.
Verden drew upon his magic power.
Forcibly ignoring the suppression of aura, he aimed Orient.
Triple Casting.
Three rays of flame burst forth.
Even as the magic neared him, Grond did not evade. From top to bottom, lowering his speed, he swung his sword.
With a violet slash, the spell was torn apart.
The
'He unraveled the magic?'
It was not raw power that destroyed the spell.
The very array of mana constructing the magic was severed. Without doubt, this was the performance of the artifact sword.
'A blade that cuts magic.'
Come to think of it, this was his first time facing an artifact bearer. This battle promised a wholly different flavor than any before.
Light of mana surged across Verden's body.
In an instant, he cast reinforcement magic, strengthening his physical body, fusing mana into Orient, and struck hard at Grond who was now within reach.
Kwooooom!
The rune shockwave imbued with gravity collided with the sword aura.
***
Robert and Gail returned to Aurofl.
They had spent busy days directing and overseeing the civil war from behind the scenes, with no time for leisure or rest.
'I must report quickly to His Majesty, and secure reinforcements to aid Slay.'
It was not loyalty, nor belonging, nor camaraderie that drove him.
The reason was singular, because he was one of the leaders of Vintert.
Unlike the outside world, here in the underworld, only ability was needed to seize power and wealth.
Quick and precise in calculation and foresight, possessing innate insight, discarding emotion, always pursuing rational judgment—this mindset was perfectly suited for life in Roafra.
For Robert, a lowborn without foundation, not yet thirty, this was the only path to advancement.
He was merely fulfilling his duty.
"…?"
Heading toward the underground passage, Robert looked around.
The streets seemed normal, yet, a subtle sense of wrongness lingered.
Some merchants hurriedly gathered scattered goods and food from toppled stalls, while citizens stood still, tilting their heads and tapping their feet against the ground.
Trivial, yet oddly irritating.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, don't mind it."
Robert shook his head at Gail.
Soon, the two reached the underground passage and descended the stairs.
…Strangely quiet.
Looking along the corridor, the usual procession to and from Roafra was absent. Even Aurofl's guards had vanished.
The broad passage was utterly empty.
"It seems, it is not just your imagination."
Silently, Gail drew a curved dagger.
He was not only Grond's secretary, but also the bodyguard assigned to protect Vintert's key figures. With nerves on edge, they boarded the mana lift reserved for VIPs, descending straight toward the underworld.
And through the glass, Roafra came into view.
"…What…?"
Robert's face showed shock.
The same was true for Gail.
Both stood frozen, unable to believe their eyes, staring blankly at the streets of the underworld.
'What in the world happened here?'
They could not comprehend.
It was a sight wholly divorced from reality.
The ground was shattered by a twisted axis, the terrain collapsing everywhere.
Streets split open, irregularly rising and sinking in ruin. Buildings crumbled into silence.
The clocktower by the plaza was left with only its top.
Its halted second hand indicated when this calamity had struck—not long ago at all.
Now, a third of Roafra lay destroyed.
The trail of devastation stretched from the plaza all the way to the ashen castle. Only then did Robert realize.
This was no natural earthquake, but a scene wrought by an artificial force.
'Could it be… Leonil?'
It could be no other.
The only one in this kingdom capable of wreaking such widespread destruction was Leonil, a 6th-tier Magus.
Thud.
The lift arrived, and they hurriedly moved.
Even if Leonil had grown impatient with waiting, to attack Roafra itself was beyond reason.
'Then there must have been conflict between Vintert and him while I was unaware.'
In other words, the King of the Underworld and Leonil had, for some reason, become enemies.
But why?
Robert's head burned, overwhelmed by the unprecedented crisis.
Then, amid the wreckage, he saw a man kneeling, hiding among the debris. His appearance was disheveled beyond recognition, yet his face was familiar.
"Reniden?"
Reniden the gambler.
One of the southern powers of Roafra, he now knelt with hands clasped, head bowed. Even after he called again, no reply came.
Only when Gail shook his shoulder did he react.
Slowly, Reniden raised his head.
Blood from abrasions on his brow and chin had dried. His vacant eyes gradually regained light.
"Ah… Robert…?"
"So you've finally come to your senses. Then answer me. Reniden, what in the world happened here?"
"What happened, you say?"
Reniden's shoulders shook.
A hollow laugh, within it lurked fear.
"They are all dead."
"What?"
"Every single one who dared to oppose him has vanished. The living terrain swallowed them into those fissures, pierced them, erased them without a trace. The only ones he spared, were those who knelt like me. Thanks to Marco over there, I learned how to survive, hahah."
Robert narrowed his brows at the incoherent speech, but Reniden went on regardless.
"Robert, if you don't want to die, kneel. Before the monster who destroys cities alone, that is the only path to life."
Reniden quietly closed his eyes.
The cruel gambler, who used to play with lives at whim depending on his mood, could no longer be found.
What could have terrified him so?
Perhaps… the culprit was not Leonil after all.
For if a flame-element Magus had wrought this, there should have been signs of fire, yet none were present.
Robert lifted his head.
Looking around, he saw many others kneeling like Reniden. The nonsensical sight, one he had never witnessed in his life, sent chills down his spine.
At that moment, a tremendous roar echoed.
A tremor from the Ashen Castle spread all the way here. At the sound, everyone flinched and clutched their heads.
Something was happening within that castle.
"…Let us go see His Majesty."
Biting his lip, hesitating, Robert put Gail at the front and headed toward the source. There was no other choice.
***
Shoooosh!
Verden skimmed just above the floor, toes barely brushing it, flying low and moving swiftly.
In an instant, Grond overtook him, swinging the demonic sword.
"Haap!"
The density of sword aura lessened, spreading its range.
Swept within, Verden crashed into the audience chamber. The impact cracked the wall, but wrapped in Ainber, his expression did not change.
Grond leapt forward, thrusting his arm.
Orient deflected the altered trajectory of the sword, which embedded itself into the wall.
Yet Grond did not stop, kicking off the wall to dash again.
Kagagagagak!
Deep scars carved into the chamber walls.
Verden, moving with the flow of force, was driven back, then detonated compressed air to open distance in a flash.
A crimson bolt traced a straight path.
Grond manipulated Floated.
The three metal fragments formed a triangle, a translucent barrier appearing between them, perfectly blocking the spell.
A 5th-tier composite magic, absorbed without ripple.
'Truly the performance of an artifact.'
Floated then split apart again, rushing at Verden.
A shield, yet also an attack, offense and defense in one. Not powerful, but distracting.
A gravity sphere repelled Floated, while against Grond's sword aura, Verden countered with
"Quadra Casting. As expected, a 6th-tier Magus. Even if you stand at the same realm as Leonil, nothing changes."
Bzzzzzt!
Eight bolts of lightning struck.
Though current surged wildly, Grond did not halt his charge.
The Full Armor of Insert possessed tremendous magic resistance.
A navy aura flickered upon the demonic sword Cadence.
Breaking Slash. At point-blank, the martial technique collided with Verden's barrier.
Though it was formed with
Mana tore apart.
Craaaash! Blocked with Orient, Verden was driven sideways, his whole body numbed with shock.
Grond let out admiration.
"Ho, to think you could block that. Quite a durable staff you have. And even within my domain, you sustain such swift magic calculations and precise flight. Could you be, a War Mage of the western empire?"
"..."
"Fine, don't answer. Soon enough, you'll spill everything, whether you want to or not."
Grond raised his blade.
Boom! Boom!
Clash upon clash, until the vast chamber began to collapse.
Accelerating his thoughts, Verden's mystic eye flashed.
"…?!"
Waves of chaos spread.
Too sudden for Floated to block. Grond reflexively tried to cut, but he could not erase the spell's scope.
Clang! He plunged the sword into the floor.
Magic engulfed him, heat and force following, yet could not pierce the artifact's resistance.
Leaving a scar upon the floor, Grond stretched his stiff muscles once.
"Unfamiliar attribute, and eyes that conjure magic circles. Mado and a peculiar trait? Hidden trump, it seems. Powerful indeed, but alas, it did not reach me."
He pointed the sword at Verden.
"And now, your mana must be nearly exhausted. If you hadn't wasted it wrecking Roafra, you might have lasted longer, but there is no helping it. Coming to Roafra, opposing me, these were your choices."
Grond clicked his tongue, shaking his head.
His tone was one of leisure, certain of superiority.
"..."
Verden gauged Grond's overall level.
His speed, with artifacts, surpassed even the Blood Sword Leira, candidate of the Ark, his strength as a warrior exceeded Rupel, Fang of Gluttony.
On top of that, his martial techniques and artifacts formed perfect opposition to a mage.
Therefore.
"How disappointing."
"…What?"
Cold blue eyes sank.
Grond could not grasp the meaning, and questioned again. But instead of answering, Verden fully activated his mana circuits.
With
Rumble…!
A storm of mana raged violently.
The physical force cracked the chamber. Witnessing it firsthand, Grond's eyes widened.
'What is this mana amount.'
Far beyond what he had seen before.
Had he been hiding this strength all along? Against him?
Grond gripped his sword, emotions a tangle of anger and confusion.
Hoo.
Verden lifted Orient.
In the mystic eye's vision, a crimson sea of flames swelled in the air, countless fire lances forming from the boundless Mado.
The King of the Underworld possessed the advantage of artifacts.
But advantages, could at times turn into grave weaknesses.
'Grond may not realize it yet.'
But soon, he would, whether he wished it or not.
First.
The bombardment fell.
Kwoooom!
Chain explosions engulfed Grond.
Not a number he could cut.
Enduring the shock, he created a shield with Floated.
When the magic ceased, he stomped the ground, sweeping aside the flames, readying a counter.
But he could not move recklessly.
For above him now, countless ice lances floated, aimed at him.
Second.
"…Damn…"
A rain of ice fell.
Cold burst, freezing the air. Continuous bombardment forced Floated to recoil.
At its limit, it would take time to reuse.
"Ghhk…!"
He slashed magic down with sword aura.
Those lances he failed to stop struck his armor.
But even resisting elemental effects, he could not nullify all impact. Slowly, his balance faltered, driven back.
Though he avoided collapsing into disgrace, landing with weight centered on his toes.
'Such magic cast twice, he must now reveal a gap.'
That was common sense.
Grond's eyes sharpened as he looked up.
Yet, as if mocking him, the sky was filled once more, with countless lances of lightning flashing toward him.
Verden stood calmly.
He had indeed consumed much mana, but his reserves remained.
That Grond did not understand, was natural.
For even incomplete, the realm of Transcendence could not be judged with the common sense of a lesser being.
Third.
Grond flinched.
Through the helm's slit, ripples spread in his eyes.
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