Amid the chaotic pile of rocks, Student Allen was crushed to death on the spot.
The end of the book.
—Of course, that was a joke.
Before coming here, Allen had deliberately purchased the legacies of Jarvan IV and Taliyah, making thorough preparations specifically for dungeon-delving. Although they hadn't been particularly useful earlier, legacies didn't exactly come with an expiration date.
Trying to crush Taliyah with rocks?
This nameless old man had clearly lost his mind.
While Allen still had plenty of ways to prevent himself from being flattened into paste, expending effort to destroy something that was basically being delivered to his doorstep would be a massive waste.
These weren't ordinary rocks.
Every single stone being manipulated had been refined with the old man's magic over hundreds of years. They had long since surpassed the category of mundane stone and had become genuine magical materials—materials that could be exchanged for Galleons if thrown into Diagon Alley.¹
Now that these precious stones were far away from their creator and had run headfirst into a near-perfect counter at point-blank range, Allen happily began stuffing money into his pockets.
These weren't rocks.
They were cash!
Sure, they weren't as valuable as gold, but silver-grade value was still valuable!
Unfortunately, this joyful money-picking journey ended very quickly.
The old man's control over those stones was practically an extension of his own limbs. Naturally, he could immediately sense the loss of his treasured materials.
When he hurriedly withdrew the rocks, he had already lost nearly one-tenth of them.
That was the result of years—no, centuries—of constant magical refinement. He had originally planned to turn them into a powerful magic item after leaving this place. The loss hurt so badly that he nearly spat blood.
"Tsk tsk, thanks a lot, old man!" Allen grinned shamelessly, though his hands never stopped moving.
With a wave of his wand, an enormous swamp spread out beneath his feet, gradually engulfing the entire room.
Morgana — Tormented Shadow
Against an opponent as slippery as a rat, AoE was the answer.
If you could blink around the entire room, then fine—pollute the entire room.
Let's see how you dodge that.
The purplish-red swamp, reeking of rot, greedily devoured every inch of the chamber. Against that backdrop, Allen looked exactly like a final boss straight out of a dark fantasy.
Meanwhile, the white-haired, white-bearded old man standing opposite him looked more like a prophet desperately resisting a demon king's invasion.
The art style was completely broken.
"Damn it! You're a dark wizard!" the old man roared furiously. "I knew it! Someone this young who could infiltrate a top-tier wizard's domain had to have dabbled in Dark Magic!!!"
The corrosive ground wasn't just an attack—it severely weakened his control over the entire room.
After all, "corrosion" wasn't just a fancy name.
Forced by the situation, the old man floated into the air. At the same time, an enormous number of fireballs formed around his staff, then fell toward Allen like meteors.
Each fireball didn't glow with the red of ordinary flames, but with a blinding white light. Even the old man's own hair curled slightly under the heat. Clearly, the spell was so powerful that even the caster himself couldn't remain unaffected.
A rain of fireballs slammed down with unstoppable momentum—
—and did absolutely nothing.
A flash of yellow light.
Allen reappeared in another corner of the room, openly marveling at the spell's power. The surface of the ground had already turned glassy. If that had hit a person, the result was obvious.
What a pity—it didn't hit anyone.
Has this old man gone insane?
Wasting that much magic without being sure you can hit your target—this is just pure waste.
To Allen's surprise, the old man was even more shocked than he was.
"You've got to be kidding me! Under such intense Dark Magic, you can still move?!"
Allen found that expression deeply satisfying.
If only the old man hadn't used that moment of shouting to command the last remaining wooden puppet to attack again, it would have been perfect.
Clearly, he had no intention of surrendering. Even his astonishment had been an act.
In his calculations, Allen shouldn't have been able to move just now—that was why he'd gone all out.
Given his opponent's mistake, Allen's next spell was still AoE.
He swung his wand down hard.
A massive magic circle instantly formed on the ground.
Azure flames erupted throughout the entire area. The moment the fire leapt up, the wooden puppet—just intercepted and forced back into stealth—let out a single wail and collapsed.
Nasus — Spirit Fire.
Another absurdly powerful spell that looked exactly like Dark Magic.
AoE.
And it targeted the soul directly.
Honestly speaking, with just these two spells alone, if the Ministry of Magic saw this, Allen would be enjoying a nice long vacation in Azkaban.⁴
But right now, no one was there to interfere.
And the only one being hurt by this spell was screaming in agony—
—and then died.
Yes.
Just died.
No discounts. No conditions.
Allen even launched a few follow-up probing spells. The old man didn't dodge a single one. There wasn't the slightest trace of life left.
He died without even leaving behind a final word.
To be fair, that last spell was the most damaging attack the old man had landed on Allen.
It almost knocked the wind right out of him.
What about the promised three hundred rounds of battle?!
What about the thrilling, evenly matched fight?!
Get up! I haven't even gone all out yet—I only blocked your escape route!
Don't be this fragile!
A wizard who had lived for three hundred years wasn't cabbage you could just bump into on the street.
He should have had countless unknown spells and life-saving artifacts.
And yet, before using any of them, he was dead.
Dead without even leaving behind a name.
What kind of what the hell was this?!
Not just for him—but for Allen as well.
A proper fight, where both sides tested each other and gradually revealed their trump cards, would have been amazing. Watching the opponent use original spells and unique techniques would have let Allen learn an incredible amount.
But the guy died before showing anything.
A wizard who had dared to scheme against Orochi—and even dragged a mythological being in a coffin into his calculations—was undoubtedly a once-in-a-generation genius.
There was no need to think about it; he must have had countless hidden cards left unused.
And yet… he just died.
The reason was simple.
Over those three hundred years, although he had survived through meticulous planning, his soul had been continuously weakening as long as his plan remained incomplete.
If he had succeeded, his soul would inevitably have grown powerful again.
Unfortunately—
At his weakest moment, he ran into a soul-targeting attack.
And so, he died.
Died so cleanly that even Allen was left completely dumbfounded.
After finally catching his breath, Allen exhaled slowly and moved on to the final step.
Opening the loot chest.