Leo felt it immediately, the same twisted pressure he sensed from the Harbingers of Madness, but this time it was overwhelming. It pressed against his lungs like a physical weight, a suffocating, monstrous presence. Dozens of times stronger… It felt less like a creature approaching and more like the darkness itself had decided to walk toward them.
Then, without warning, a figure wrapped in white flame burst out of the shadows. Its speed blurred the world around it, so fast Leo's mind compared it instantly to Lucius at full strength. In the heartbeat before its sword pierced Leo's chest, Paul's arm swung into its path, catching the blade cleanly.
The impact was catastrophic.
A shockwave blasted outward, shattering the maze walls. Dust rained down like ash.
Paul guided the burning sword downward with one hand, steady and calm despite its heat, then snapped forward with a punch from the other. The strike unleashed a continuous wave of compressed force, a shock current that hurled the monster backward and carved a trench through the ground.
Paul didn't wait to look at the damage. He turned to Leo. "Run."
Leo didn't argue. His hair flashed white as he triggered his transformation and launched himself backward, sprinting through the collapsing corridors. Behind him, he heard Paul's enormous footsteps and the violent booms of more punches, each one directed behind them, creating shockwaves to slow whatever was chasing them.
While running, Leo lifted his hand. The Sphere of Creation materialized, humming with raw power. In a flash they were a thousand meters away.
Leo also left behind two phantoms, copies of himself and Paul, illusions designed to stall the monster and buy precious seconds.
They didn't stop moving. Even after teleporting, they ran for what felt like an eternity, at least half an hour, until the pressure behind them faded enough to breathe again. Only then did they skid to a halt.
Leo bent forward, sweat dripping down his face. He'd run so fast he forgot to disable the heavy bracelets still weighing down his body.
"What the hell was that?" Leo asked between breaths.
Paul brushed dust from his shoulders and spoke evenly, though his eyes remained sharp.
"You said you fought powerful creatures called Harbingers of Madness, right?"
Leo nodded.
"That," Paul continued, "was their king. An S1-class monster, stronger than anything I've ever fought."
"An… S1 monster…" Leo repeated under his breath.
Paul continued with the calm of someone reliving old nightmares. "Long ago, I fought them. Five queens and one king. Our battle lasted a full week. In the end, I finally brought the king down."
"Then why did we run?" Leo demanded. He couldn't imagine Paul running from anything.
"I said I brought him down," Paul replied, voice dropping. "But as you saw… he's still alive."
Leo stared at him. "You mean he escaped?"
"No." Paul met his eyes. "I'm certain I killed him."
Leo's blood chilled. "You're telling me they come back to life?"
"It seems like that."
The thought of immortal S1 monsters made Leo's stomach twist. But he straightened after a moment.
"You need to tell me everything you know about them," he said firmly. "We'll face them eventually, and I need to be ready."
Paul nodded. "I will. But as your teacher, I'll say this, it's still far too soon for you to face something of that level." He then lifted his wrists, showing the massive bracelets Leo had crafted. "Also… can you make these a little heavier?"
Leo stared at him like he was insane.
"…Fine."
…
In a city buried in the heart of a vast, sun-scorched desert, within the largest and most fortified residence its people possessed, a man sat calmly upon a cushioned sofa. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but the air around him felt heavy, as if power seeped from him with every breath. His black robe draped over the floor like a pool of ink, absorbing the warm lantern-light instead of reflecting it. Even someone without mana sensitivity would feel the pressure radiating from him, a quiet but overwhelming presence that made the room feel smaller.
Across from him, behind a wide stone desk covered in reports and maps, the city's leader watched him with a tight jaw and restless hands. His gaze remained fixed on the man as though afraid to blink.
"Julian… are you certain you want to go?" the leader finally asked. "You know how much we depend on you to keep this place standing."
The man, Julian, didn't lift his head. His eyes remained on the floor, half-lidded but sharp. "You can survive without me for at least a year," he said, voice calm and flat. "If our people want a future, I have to go. Staying here will change nothing." Then, without emotion, he added, "And don't use my real name."
"I apologize, Great Sage," the leader corrected himself immediately.
Mr. Sage rose from the sofa. Despite his lack of effort, the movement carried weight; even the air seemed to tighten. "I'll return before the year is over," he said. "Until then, everything falls to you, Arnould."
Arnould swallowed hard and nodded. "I'll do everything I can."
A circle of enchantment unfurled beneath Mr. Sage's feet, thin lines of blue light racing outward like veins awakening beneath shadowed skin. The air vibrated with soft, metallic hums.
"You don't need to tell anyone I'm leaving," he said. "It will only cause panic."
And then, in a blink, the man of black robes vanished, leaving Arnould alone in the silent room, his heartbeat suddenly too loud in his own ears.
A moment later, Mr. Sage appeared atop an obsidian platform, smooth, cold, and utterly dead. Before him stretched the Shadowland. The ground was pitch-black and cracked like the hide of some ancient beast. Wisps of black fog crawled low over the surface, swirling around his legs. The air was thick, cold, and tasted faintly metallic, like blood left too long in the open.
The information gathered from his own gathering had named him an S2 Enchanter, a level of power high enough to enter this place without immediately dying. It wasn't confidence he felt, just certainty. He had to find a way to save his people, whether by carving a path through this cursed land or by discovering something beyond it.
Anyone who stood in his way, even a god, would be removed.
His eyes narrowed. With unwavering resolve, he stepped off the obsidian platform and into the Shadowland.
He moved only a few steps before the darkness ahead twisted and surged. A monster burst out of the gloom, massive, grotesque, and wrong. Its shape resembled a horned cow, but its body was grossly swollen and pulsed with corruption. Tentacles writhed from its sides, slapping the ground and dragging sludge as it charged. Thick, wet snarls gurgled from its throat.
The creature lowered all four of its horns and barreled toward him.
Before it reached him, a blue enchantment circle snapped into existence between them, precise lines of power intertwining like a clockwork of magic.
The beast collided with it and froze as though its body had struck solid steel. Cracks of light spider-webbed across the circle. Then the blue shifted to a deep, violent red, and a torrent of fire erupted outward. It roared with enough heat to scorch stone and reduce a whole village to ash.
When the flames died, not even bones remained, the creature had been vaporized.
Mr. Sage didn't spare the ashes a glance. Creatures like that were only obstacles, shadows brushing against his path.
His true goal lay far deeper, somewhere in this endless darkness.
He needed to find Mr. Clone.
…
Marco sat alone in the quiet of his rented house, the room dim except for the faint glow of the street lanterns slipping through the window. Night had settled fully, and with all his training and daily work finished, this should have been the time for his usual last round of exercises. But tonight was different. Tonight he had something far more important to do.
He pushed himself up from the chair and settled on the floor, crossing his legs at the center of the room. The wooden boards beneath him were cool, squawking. He closed his eyes and drew a slow breath.
Feel the blood. That was the first step. Control over blood before anything else.
Mana came naturally to him; as an enchanter, his mana felt like a familiar extension of his will. But blood… blood was something else entirely. It was alive, moving on its own. Trying to sense it felt like reaching into darkness without knowing what he was searching for.
For the next hour, nothing answered him. No warmth, no pulse, no sensation. Just silence and growing frustration.
His jaw clenched. He could feel irritation rising, a pressure behind his ribs. He wanted to punch something, burn something, do something. Then he remembered Luciana's words,
The feeling he had when he pledged. The pain. The shift in his core.
He exhaled slowly and let himself sink into that memory. The stabbing heat. The twisting pressure. The surge of foreign power slamming into his soul.
Then, faintly, something stirred.
About thirty minutes passed before he truly felt it: a subtle warmth threading through his limbs, a faint rhythm echoing in his fingers. His blood. Not just the physical heartbeat, but the flow itself, like sensing a river from within.
He tried to push on it, move it, influence it. Nothing happened.
He growled under his breath but forced himself to keep going. Another thirty minutes passed with only failure waiting at the end. His head felt hot, his patience worn, his back stiff from sitting so long.
Finally, he let out a long breath and opened his eyes. It wasn't a failure. Feeling the flow at all meant he had taken the first real step. That was enough for tonight. Tomorrow, he would push harder. Tomorrow, he would gain control.
He stood, muscles stiff, and made his way to the bed. As he lay down, exhaustion sank into him, but beneath it was a spark of satisfaction.
For today, it was enough.
…
In the Hans mansion in Flesa City, Liam stood in the training hall with his sword raised. The polished floor reflected the candle light, and the walls were lined with old family weapons, all of them watching silently as he faced his brother. Steve Hans stood a few meters away, steady and relaxed, the older sibling who had pushed himself from B– to a firm B rank over the past few years.
Liam was still C+, but with his new power finally under control, the jump to B– felt close enough to reach. That was why he trained with Steve. No one else pushed him harder.
Their eyes locked for a heartbeat. Then Liam launched himself forward.
An eel-like creature appeared beside him in a flash, slipping around his forearm like a living coil of wet leather. Pale blue sparks flickered across its skin, then surged into his sword until the blade hummed with electricity. As a C-rank conjurer, Liam could pull many low-level monsters into the world with almost no effort. Most didn't require a pact at all. Knowing their form and nature was enough for him to summon them.
His main pact still belonged to Alad, the Gatekeeper of Ethereon, though Liam hadn't seen it since the day of their agreement. Three other, much weaker creatures were bound to him as well. Everything else came from basic conjuration, simple and instant as long as the creature was beneath his level.
Liam struck. A bright bolt of lightning shot across the room toward Steve.
A small, fairy-like creature appeared at Steve's shoulder, its wings stirring the air. Wind gathered around Steve's palm in a tight spiral. He pushed forward, and the compressed air shattered the lightning bolt before it reached him.
Liam froze for a moment. He knew that fairy. It was one of Steve's main pact creatures. He still didn't fully understand Ethereon, but most pact beings came from that place, and this one clearly held command over the wind.
Liam didn't hesitate. His veins tightened under his skin as he forced his blood to surge faster, power spreading through his limbs like a rush of heat. The floor trembled. A deep crack split across the training ground as a dragon-shaped creature, smaller than a true dragon and built of stone instead of flesh, pushed its way up from below. Dust rolled off its rocky plates in heavy clouds. Chisel-long claws scraped against the stone floor as the creature hauled itself free. Its amber eyes blinked open, glowing from beneath layers of hardened earth.
Thornak, one of Liam's main pacts, rose with a low rumble and immediately hurled itself forward, spinning its massive body like a living drill.
Steve's fairy darted ahead, wings flashing as it whipped up a tornado. The swirling wind smashed into Thornak, stopping its charge, but the stone beast refused to retreat. It drove against the gale with grinding determination.
While the two summons clashed, Liam had already moved. He appeared at Steve's flank, mana coating his blade in a sharp, concentrated layer. He struck without hesitation.
A green radiance burst across Steve's body the instant before impact, his pact creature's buff spell, boosting both strength and speed. Steve turned with practiced precision, his sword rising to meet Liam's.
Steel collided with a thunderous crack, sending a burst of wind across the hall.
They held the clash for a moment, staring at each other across crossed blades. Then both eased back with small, matching grins.
"You've grown a lot, Liam," Steve said. "You almost had me there."
"Almost," Liam replied. "That fairy of yours is ridiculous. Buffing you while holding Thornak in place?"
"Well, a B-rank should have B-rank creatures," Steve said, smirking. "What surprises me is your physical power. You're already stronger than me in raw force."
Liam shrugged lightly. "Maybe I've got talent in the warrior path."
Steve didn't argue. "Maybe."
They took a short break, steadying their breaths and preparing for the next round.