Round 31: The Night of Conclusion (Part 2)
The battle among the three women in the vast underground passage continued.
Morrill was the main force holding off Aresa—partly because her genius-level predictive spells could barely counter Aresa’s endless illusions, and partly because Daguras had paid a heavy price destroying Aresa’s duplicates. As a perfect duplicate, it possessed nearly as much magical power as Aresa herself; otherwise, it might not have been able to deceive Daguras, who was her student.
“Haven’t you found her true form yet?” Daguras shouted at Morrill, unleashing a wave of fire to melt the ice needles flying like arrows. Unfortunately, some missed, but fortunately, none hit her. These ice needles weren’t just capable of causing cold damage—in fact, Aresa’s winter storms could easily tear apart enemies with their blade-like snowflakes and ice crystals, turning them into pieces of red ice and snow.
“Find me?” A cold wind blew out from the half-ruined corridor, swirling with snowflakes and dust to vaguely form Aresa’s face. “Maybe in thirty years!”
“Daguras!” Morrill pointed upward, and energy colder than Aresa’s ice and snow erupted from her fingertips.
Three white figures shot out at extreme speed from Morrill’s fingertips, vaguely resembling skeletons. They overlapped, clashed, screamed—more terrifying than all the vengeful ghosts and undead in the world.
Daguras began retreating as soon as Morrill called out to her, simultaneously swinging a multi-headed whip made of flame around Morrill’s waist, pulling her back with it.
The skull that let out a shrill cry disappeared into the corner where the wall met the ceiling, followed by a burst of fine white mist. Even though she managed to escape the impact of the skeleton’s trap, the residual force still caused Morrill’s hair tips to turn yellowish.
“Can’t you teach me this too…” Daguras said with envy, staring at the raging death storm ahead.
“Be serious! Aresa probably hasn’t been fatally injured yet!”
As if to emphasize her words, colorful lights, like colors on oil, surged from the dust and rushed toward Morrill and Daguras. Morrill screamed, covering her eyes and falling to the ground. Aresa’s rainbow-like flashes caused excruciating pain in her eyes, leaving her blind. Daguras, however, was unharmed since Morrill had taken most of the impact. “Morrill? Damn it!”
“Cough, cough… It’s dangerous… Even Kiskein’s spell sequencing?” It seemed like an illusion—large sections of the wall and ceiling vanished. Aresa stepped forward, coughing while covering her mouth.
She stared coldly at the two of them. “I can’t believe I was hurt by you two brats… You’ve really angered me!”
Aresa lowered her hand, a trace of blood still on her lips. A series of indistinct syllables came from her mouth, as mysterious as her illusions. But with her gestures, large shadows rose from the ground, almost covering her figure, while a vague, strange shadow took shape under her control.
Dagulas knew she had to stop Aresa’s spell, but her gaze was involuntarily drawn to the path of Aresa’s arm, preventing her from concentrating. Her imagination ran wild, conjuring up the most terrifying images deep in her heart—starting from the mage stepfather who had raped her as a child, to the Flame Monarch who had inflicted unprecedented agony upon her… She was utterly unable to move.
Moryel reached out and grabbed Dagulas. Though her eyes were still streaming tears, her vision remained blurred, and her mind was clouded by the chaotic colors of the prismatic flashes. Yet Aresa’s deadly attack was even more terrifying—it was a phantom drawn from the depths of her soul. Aresa unearthed the fears Moryel thought had been forgotten and buried, telling her that these were instincts she could never resist, monstrous shadows that should never exist in any normal world. Those shadows grew clearer, eventually swaying gracefully as they approached her…
The monstrous figure Aresa had conjured was almost fully formed. The old woman was enraged; she wanted to bring utter terror to these two girls who disrespected the archmage. She drew on their subconscious fears, shaping them into hallucinatory beasts that could only appear in the most insane nightmares, then seized them and dragged them into eternal death.
A sharp pain shot through her vest, almost disrupting Aresa’s spell and causing her to fail. Aresa could feel a cold blade piercing her heart, forcing each contraction to spew blood into the gaps between her organs and bones. As the blade twisted and pulled, her remaining life force drained from her body.
“Who! How dare you attack me!” Gathering her last strength—something unrelated to her physical body, but rather the result of a Council Archmage using immense magic to hold her fading soul within her dead body—she turned. There, floating awkwardly in the slightly distorted air, was a slender, pale arm wearing expensive bracelets and rings, clutching a snake-tongue dagger still stained with Aresa’s blood.
“Isabella—” Aresa fell backward. But before that, she released the shadow killer. The vague outline of the shadow paused for a moment, then narrowed and rushed into the space around the arm. The arm floating in midair trembled and retracted rapidly, dropping the dagger as well.
Isabella, in her private residence in the port district, stepped back abruptly. At least three of her ornaments shattered at once. She closed her eyes, her right hand trembling slightly. Only when the magical fluctuations in the air finally subsided did she open her eyes again, her dignified face expressionless.
Not far from her, the bald man in red robes and the young boy who had assisted her with the spell lay on the blood-red carpet, their twisted faces showing incredible horror and fear. Their wide, staring eyes seemed to still hold the terrifying images they had just witnessed.
Isabella discarded her broken ornaments as if they were trash, unconcerned about their former magical power or value.
“Morrill… my child.” A cold, sweet smile touched her lips. “It was I who discovered you and nurtured you… and it can only be me who destroys you!”
Morrill picked up the snake-tongue dagger that Isabella had dropped. The sharp blade reflected her still-swollen eyes, filled not with a trace of gratitude, but only anger, disgust, and hatred.
She’s been tracking and spying on me this whole time… Morrill’s pupils spun like turbines, and the hidden magical powers that had long lurked within her began to disintegrate under her icy gaze. Yet this did not quench her fury—after all, she had been unknowingly under Isabella’s surveillance for so long! When did it start? When the Council handed her over to Isabella? Or when she was taken back from her?
But Morrill quickly turned that anger into disdain. Isabella, your madness and paranoia have brought me suffering, but they have also given me an opportunity—now, I am one step closer to you. Next time, I will surely uncover your vicious schemes. Your shadow will no longer cover me for long…
As Morrill thought this, she turned to see Dagulas gnashing his teeth as he used his dagger to cut off the head of the dead Aresa.
“What are you doing? Do you hate her that much?”
Without looking up, Dagulas focused the remaining power of the Hellfire on his dagger, cutting and burning Aresa’s corpse. “What if someone revives her? That would be a huge problem!”
“Revive her?” Morrill reached out to pull Dagulas away. For some reason, the unpleasant memories Isabella had given her faded considerably upon seeing Dagulas, who had done the same thing to his teacher. “I’ve never heard of anyone on the continent capable of such a god-defying spell as bringing the dead back! Come on, we still have things to do—”
Suddenly, the corridor they were in shook. An earthquake? Morrill and Dagulas immediately dismissed this plausible yet unlikely idea. Then, rumbling vibrations came from all directions, as if countless giant snakes were moving and colliding underground, sending chills down their spines.
“That’s bad!”
All Morrill could manage to say was that. The large corridor seemed to fold upward, throwing them into the dark cave exposed by the tremors, with rocks collapsing and pressing against each other behind them.
By the time this upheaval occurred, Tanolanti had already been climbing down the massive cylindrical tunnel. Fortunately, he encountered no obstacles, not even any experimental mages—something that might have forced Tanolanti’s steel golem avatar to shed even more blood.
Right below! The powerful magical aura emanating from that darkness was utterly intoxicating to Tanolanti. It was like a carefully crafted fragment of the magic web! The magic and knowledge gathered within it made him feel as if a fish in the Tanori River had seen the vast, boundless Storm Ocean!
Tanolanti’s excitement was beyond measure.
This time it was truly rewarding! Even if I can’t get into that old Singh’s heavily guarded final room, just studying this magic shielding array, which must have been continuously improved by the great mages of the Council over the years, will allow my magic skills to leap forward qualitatively. So, it’s time to reverse the transformation into the steel golem’s body now…
Talananti adjusted his posture, positioning the golem’s huge foot on the suspension ladder, ready to revert to his human form—yet a sudden shock shattered the fragile footing beneath him, causing Talananti’s heavy body to fall downward. Fortunately, he reacted quickly, plunging one hand into the stone wall just in time to avoid continuing down into that magically protected abyss.
What was going on? At first, Talananti was only surprised to see cracks appearing on the cylindrical stone wall hanging in midair. But when he realized he was trapped inside this steel shell, unable to transform, he became terrified. He frantically turned his cone-shaped iron head but couldn’t think of any way to cope—normally, he could reverse the golem’s transformation with just a thought, but now it didn’t work. Moreover, though that force was intangible and formless, it was vast, oppressive, and omnipresent, controlling all metal, making Talananti feel as if he were submerged in water, falling into an abyss like any other ordinary metal object.
The pressure was almost suffocating Talananti. He could no longer even activate the teleportation stone, as his mind had failed, and the body of the iron golem prevented him from casting any spells, not even a single sentence or gesture to activate it.
The walls began to collapse piece by piece. Suddenly, with a thunderous roar, countless steel snakes of varying thicknesses burst through the walls, pressing down with overwhelming force. Helpless, Talananti was swept up in this torrent of moving metal, crushed, torn apart, and driven toward the infinitely dark expanse created by magic below…
Before being completely destroyed, Talananti’s mind suddenly cleared.
Tower Eight… Tower Eight. He wanted to laugh, but the iron golem wouldn’t allow such an action. He had once wondered why such a nonsensical code name was used—Tower Eight, naturally, because there were seven others before it. That old Singh had actually been working on such a massive plan all along… Suddenly, all the pressure vanished, and endless darkness swallowed him up.
The control room was completely unaffected by the changes outside, like the calm center of a tornado. In the hall, magic energy was almost tangible; thousands of magical runes flew along their respective paths, never colliding, forming numerous light bands that surrounded Singh, Kiskain, and the other old mages. Their expressions were solemn, with some already showing signs of fatigue.
“Elder Council Leader, the first phase of the work is complete, and everything is ready,” said one of the old mages, catching his breath as he watched the runes in action, reporting to Singh.
“Very good. Prepare for the next step,” Singh replied, a hint of fanaticism in his clear eyes.
Kiskain frowned slightly, hesitated for a moment, but eventually spoke up.
“I still suggest you think it over again… If we stop now, the situation can still be under our control. We can continue to explore the Sleeping Forest in search of another ‘Divine Weapon’ while studying the one we already have—after all, it’s already complete now… I think that’s the safest approach.”
“You old fool!” Singer turned to glare at the old mage who had been with him since his youth. “Safe? We’ve been safe for hundreds of years! If we took a little risk, maybe the ‘Divine Weapon’ buried in the Sleeping Forest could already have been precisely located! But now? After all these long conflicts and wars, we can only determine its approximate location! How old are you and I? How much time do you think we have left to act cautiously? Do I have to waste all my energy on the ‘Divine Weapon’ like the previous two council leaders, only to end up with nothing? I will never allow it!”
His tone softened a bit. “Haven’t we discussed this before? As you know, the ‘Divine Weapon’ had its core essence extracted by Lum’s magic, and it has changed to some extent. We can even suspect it may have been damaged… Besides, that core was later used by Lum in that strange construct. When I retrieved it, I accidentally split it into two parts. So, studying this ‘Divine Weapon’ in our hands no longer makes much sense. If that’s the case, why not use Lum’s method to extract all its energy and supply it to the Seven Sins Tower? Through the notes, we’ve thoroughly studied the magic used by Lum and adapted it into a method to extract the energy of the ‘Divine Weapon’ and inject it into steel machinery to activate it as a combat weapon. So today, we’ll inject all its energy into the Seven Sins Tower and turn them into giant combat weapons that belong entirely to us! I believe with our combined wisdom, we’ll surely succeed! By then, the Seven Sins Tower will possess a power no less than that of the ‘Divine Weapon’! And it could even become a sky city belonging to the mages!”
“And then we’ll go to the Sleeping Forest,” Singer said, suddenly excited like a child. “With the activated Seven Sins Tower, we won’t need to worry about anything! Even if we have to level the forest, we’ll get the other ‘Divine Weapon’ predicted by the great mages back then! Only then will we truly start studying it in depth… We won’t need to hide the secrets of the ‘Divine Weapon’ anymore, because no one can stop or interfere with us!”
Kiskain didn’t argue. He just sighed and focused his attention back on the console and the magic runes. Lum… if only you were still here.
When Kant left “Between the Stars” and stepped out through the massive tower doors, he happened to meet O’Sullivan, who was coming up the long staircase together with the Minister of Military Affairs, Darnar.
“Uri, regarding your father’s misfortune…” Darnar, dressed in light golden armor, looked imposing, but his expression was somewhat strange, not quite fitting his triumphant mood at the moment.
“For the Agus royal family, and for the O’Sullivan family, my father had no regrets.” O’Sullivan, dressed lightly and striding forward, clearly didn’t care how Darnah had learned about it. His calm tone, as if discussing some unimportant minor issue, sent an unexplained chill down Darnah’s spine.
Kant stood on the last step, glaring at O’Sullivan, without bothering to go down and join them. Around him were his loyal Council mages and elite guards—such a sense of supreme dominance was truly pleasing.
“Hello, Archmage Kant,” O’Sullivan bowed slightly and posed a series of questions that Darnah also wanted to ask: “How is the cleanup of the Tower of Seven Sins progressing? Have you taken control of the Council? Or have you completely eliminated the rebellious mages? What about the former Council leader, Singer? Has he taken any action?”
Kant stroked his goat beard and glanced at O’Sullivan, not speaking immediately. Instead, one of his trusted mages answered for him: “The operation is going very smoothly! Don’t be impatient, Count O’Sullivan. Don’t you know that haste makes waste?”
It seemed that although Kant hadn’t yet officially taken on the role of Supreme Council Leader, he already carried considerable authority.