Chapter 180

The enemy was utterly relentless, to the point where it was hard to believe he was already on the brink of death. His magic sent chills down their spines countless times, and both Ihan and Raq were forced to tumble across the ground over and over.

…Ironically, the monster became its strongest only at the very end.

It was as if he had undergone a grand awakening.

Like he was burning his very soul to keep fighting, he lunged at them with unyielding tenacity.

However—

Thunk!

—victory belonged to them.

In Ihan's hands were a sword broken in half and its shattered blade. Although the blade had snapped during the battle, it had ultimately pierced the monster's heart, while the broken sword plunged into its throat.

There was still a risk that it might regenerate, but—

Drip...

The monster no longer had the magical energy to use its spells. This time, it had poured everything into the fight, and its body was beginning to dissolve.

Fwoosh.

It was reminiscent of how demonic creatures turned to ash upon their deaths. The monster was meeting its end in much the same way.

"Ah… such a pity... If I had just a little more mana, I could’ve dragged one of you down with me. That would’ve been… amusing. Hehe…"

"Shut up."

"Such vile words, even now."

He was disgusting to the very end. Hardly even human...

How could he still speak, even with his throat impaled?

That question lingered as—

“…You know, Pendragon… no, you targeted the Magic Tower because of the 'Cursed Blade,' didn’t you?”

"……"

…It was sudden, but not something they could ignore.

"Ah, you must’ve heard from my apprentice that we were aiming for Pendragon’s secrets. Hehe."

"What are you trying to say? Do you want to beg for forgiveness now?"

Raq exuded a chilling aura. It was a coldness that could even drive away the warmth of spring.

Hearing the confession that they had dared to target the Cursed Blade, Galahad, seemed to ignite a deep-seated fury within him.

"Heh, heh… so, you’re one of Galahad’s knights..."

Turr let out a feeble laugh, seemingly satisfied by Raq’s reaction. Though he was at death’s door, barely clinging to life, his words did not cease.

"To be honest, we knew that trying to claim Galahad’s Cursed Blade was an absurd idea. That blade absorbs even mana, making it a terrible match for mages…"

"……"

His remarks displayed a suspicious familiarity with the Cursed Blade.

It was not something they could easily brush off.

"How could you possibly…"

The Cursed Blade contained five distinct mysteries. Yet, its true nature was shrouded in secrecy, with Galahad going to great lengths to conceal its power. Only a select few knew its capabilities.

For Turr to reveal such classified information naturally left Raq’s face rigid with tension.

"Are you curious? How we came to know all of this?"

Turr’s lips quivered. Speaking seemed to drain what little strength he had left. It would’ve been easier for him to stay silent, but instead, he chose to continue.

"Three years ago, some… figures came to us and asked, ‘If you had the chance to steal Pendragon’s secrets and claim the Cursed Blade, what would you do?’"

And so, he kept talking.

"At first, it sounded absurd. But the power those ‘people’ possessed was… substantial. The way their organization was structured in small, isolated cells was impressive. They resembled parasites, thriving in the shadows. Hehe…"

"……"

"I believe they called themselves the [Blood Crusaders]? Haha, they boasted that they could claim the Cursed Blade and offered to let us have it if we helped. So we mobilized the exiled children of the old Magic Tower. It made manipulating the Sultanate easier, and we used that as a pretext to infiltrate Pendragon… Well, looking at us now, I’d say it was the worst decision we ever made."

The monster grinned brightly, as if amused by his own downfall.

"In a way, we were just pawns on a chessboard. Used to achieve their ‘objective.’ Looking back, it feels ironic. But then again, we also intended to exploit them, so I suppose we have no right to complain."

The knights focused intently on his words.

Hearing the name of the Blood Crusaders again was unsettling enough, but to think they had meddled in the Magic Tower’s affairs…

When he mentioned their ‘objective,’ the knights’ attention sharpened. Perhaps this could lead to the extermination of those wretched parasites.

But then, as Turr’s lips trembled—

"Hehe… but I won’t tell you anything more."

"……"

"I just… wanted to see those faces of yours. Haha."

"You son of a…!"

So, he had only revealed the secrets to provoke them.

Truly vile to the very end, Turr…

"...Hah… I wanted to play… just a bit longer…"

Crack!

At last, his head shattered like fragile sand, scattering into nothingness.

For a Grand Mage who had lived for 400 years, his demise was pitifully anticlimactic.

And those who had killed him wore expressions of deep frustration.

"He was despicable to the bitter end."

"This is why I can’t stand psychopaths. Damn it!"

Regretting the very idea of conversing with such a lunatic, they shook their heads.

"Instructor…?"

From the sidelines, three individuals had been listening in but were too overwhelmed by the grim atmosphere to step forward.

One of them, Irene, mustered her courage and murmured a question.

"Is something wrong…?"

To her inquiry—

"…Ah, you’re here? Well done. Truly."

He greeted them with a bright smile, as though the earlier tension had never existed.

"Hehe!"

[Our simple Irene. She beams the moment someone smiles at her.]

As he gestured for them to come closer, Irene dashed to him like an eager retriever.

"You know what? It was really tough for us! When we got to the location you mentioned, there were so many mages and artifact-wielding golems—!"

The girl eagerly recounted their struggles, clearly seeking praise.

"Really? You’ve worked hard. I’m sorry for putting you through something so dangerous."

"No, that’s not what I meant…!"

"If it makes you feel better, tell me what you want later. I’ll grant it, as long as it’s reasonable."

"…Now that I think about it, it was kind of dangerous."

The instructor patiently listened to all of Irene’s complaints.

The atmosphere was incredibly gentle, so much so that it was hard to believe he had just been exuding such a deadly aura toward the mage moments ago.

…However, unlike Irene, the two boys couldn’t bring themselves to voice their struggles.

“…It feels like we’ve been through a war.”

“Even a battlefield wouldn’t be this much of a mess.”

Thanks to the mysteries invoked by the Spring Spirit, the surroundings of the floating castle had transformed into a blooming flower field. Yet, such illusions couldn’t deceive those with heightened senses like theirs.

What they saw wasn’t the vibrant spring scenery but rather the remnants of a brutal battle—two knights clashing ferociously amidst a frozen wasteland.

The boys shook their heads as the scenes of the fight replayed in their minds like a mirage.

The sheer intensity sent shivers down their spines.

Even indirectly experiencing the clash between the Grand Mage and the knights was enough to leave them dizzy with unease.

And yet, in the midst of their thoughts—

Thud!

"You two did well too. Like I told the fledglings, if there’s anything you want, let me know later. I’ll grant it if it’s reasonable."

"Uh, Instructor, I’m not a kid, you know?"

"I know."

"……"

They were forced to abandon their tension.

The sudden embrace and reassuring pats on their backs from the instructor left them flustered and awkward.

They were adults, after all.

But—

"Even if it’s embarrassing or awkward, you should accept praise when you’ve done something commendable. Whether you’re a child or an adult."

"……"

"Thank you, truly."

"……"

"…Hmm, was that a bit too sentimental?"

"…Yes, incredibly so."

"Looking at you, one would expect you to laugh heartily and say something like, ‘A man should experience fights where he might die.’"

"…Aren’t you talking about your uncle?"

"You’re cut from the same cloth."

"…Hey, Blackie, do you know what Muscle Destruction Technique is?"

"…I’d rather not find out."

"I’ll teach you."

Loen tried to flee, but Ihan quickly caught him.

Though Loen wasn’t weak by any means, the gap in their physiques was far too great for him to escape.

"Puahaha!"

Watching this sitcom-like scene unfold, Derek couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

It had been such a serious and heartfelt moment just a short while ago, but now…

"Well, no, this is even better," he thought.

Derek had always preferred sitcoms with a slice-of-life feel over comedic movies.

Because—

"It feels like listening to the daily lives of family and friends."

As someone who had never experienced such warmth, Derek found it enviable and deeply admirable.

And now—

"I’m part of it."

The boy was overjoyed to realize he was part of this sitcom-like scene.

[Kyaa!]

"Huh?"

Just as Ihan was about to teach the insolent Blackie a life lesson, he noticed a tiny aurora swirling around him.

It carried the warmth of spring—

[Thank you for saving ‘us.’]

"……"

[Hehe, why are you so surprised?]

"…Y-You can talk?"

[That’s what surprises you? Hehe, you’re a funny knight. Well, Pendragon’s knights are always an interesting bunch.]

"……"

It was the Spring Spirit.

A beautiful fairy in the shape of a woman circled around him, speaking warmly. Ihan pinched his cheek.

…The situation felt so surreal that he thought it might be a dream.

But his cheek didn’t hurt.

It seemed this was…

[Hey!]

"…Ow."

The fairy, noticing his impenetrably tough skin, pinched his cheek for him. This time, he felt the pain.

It hurt.

…A lot.