Only when Leyndell's army reached the underground depths of Volcano Manor did Margit suddenly realize something was wrong.
He had led the knights at the very front, intending to cut off the traitor's head as quickly as possible, then return before Leyndell's throne, return to his own body, and quietly await the new Lord.
But as the Leyndell knights pushed open the doors leading underground, each door yielded with only a few men putting their hands to it. At last, there were no more doors to be seen.
Thick magma spread across the entire underground like a crimson carpet, as if warmly welcoming the army's arrival, welcoming a battlefield warrior named Margit and his brave soldiers as guests.
At the center of that crimson sea, a jagged road carved from rock through the magma twisted forward, stretching all the way to a grand and magnificent castle.
That imposing castle possessed the majesty of a Demigod, as if declaring to everyone: this was Rykard's true main city. O Gold, come and conquer it.
An indescribable fear exploded through Margit's mind like a storm-tossed sea.
That fear was not directed at the in-law brother who had been granted the name of Demigod, but at something deeper, something far more terrifying...
Even the name of a god seemed unable to bear the weight of that fear.
He did not want to remain in this strange place for even a second, but he could not take a single step back. Too many people stood behind him, and all of them were watching him.
Margit took a deep breath and pulled hard on the reins again, trying to drive his warhorse forward.
The warhorse let out a strained neigh, but still forced itself to lift its hooves and move slowly ahead. Even the animal's instincts made it afraid.
The rocky path was empty, without a single figure in sight. Only the faint smell of burning drifted from the distance, sharp and choking.
This place felt like a crematorium. A crematorium where a man could be burned to ash anywhere.
Time in that scorching heat became unbearably slow, as if everything were being devoured and burned away by some wicked power.
Margit continued forward. There was no other path. Fear came from instinct, but though he looked like a beast, he was not one. He would not be ruled by instinct. The army followed behind him, advancing slowly.
They encountered no enemy resistance, yet strange tremors struck them several times in succession.
Cracks caused by the shaking could even be seen clearly on the ground, proof that something enormous must be hiding nearby.
Was it a golem, or a dragon? If it were one of those puppet monsters, that would be manageable, but this feeling clearly belonged to something far stranger.
The farther Margit went, the stronger that unease became.
His beastlike instincts had always made him nearly unstoppable on the battlefield, yet now they felt unbearably hateful.
He had not even seen the enemy's true form, and fear had already risen in his heart. That was a great taboo on the battlefield.
He would rather have been like the men behind him, unable to sense this eerie feeling at all.
That restless irritation slowly ate into Margit until he could bear it no longer.
He suddenly clamped his legs against the horse's belly and galloped madly down the empty rocky road.
Hooves echoed through the valley, accompanied by his roar, as if he meant to scatter that unease by force.
Seeing this, the army hurried to follow, sweeping forward like a surging flood.
The sounds of hooves and footsteps intertwined. The ground shook violently, as if the entire earth were trembling.
That tremor grew stronger and stronger, even surpassing anything the warhorses' hooves could produce. It still had not stopped by the time they reached the castle, and then all they could see was...
Snakes. Countless snakes.
Margit saw clearly what garrisoned that castle. A swarm of red-scaled Man-Serpents with short arms and legs, walking upright.
They were packed tightly together, stuffing the entire castle until not even water could pass through, like a suffocating serpent pit without the slightest gap.
The soldiers' ears were filled with hissing.
It was the sound of the Man-Serpents flicking their tongues, echoing through the castle and layering over itself, as if those sounds carried some strange magic that could pierce the eardrums and reach straight into the depths of the brain.
The Man-Serpents seemed to sense the humans' presence. They grew abnormally restless, each of them desperately trying to squeeze outside.
Some poured out through narrow windows, while others fell from the towering walls, accompanied by cracking sounds and heavy breathing.
Margit, standing at the very front, was soon swallowed by the sea of snakes. But he ignored the serpents climbing over him. He only raised his head, then slammed the staff in his hand heavily onto the ground.
The instant the staff struck the earth, a tremendous crash rang out. The ground seemed to split under a powerful force, sending out a shockwave.
That shockwave spread outward at astonishing speed. Wherever it passed, the snakes surging wildly forward were swept away like leaves in a hurricane.
They flew through the air, then smashed heavily into the walls and ground, instantly becoming lumps of mangled flesh and blood.
Margit's gaze remained fixed above. His breathing grew heavier and heavier, his chest rising and falling violently.
A visible ferocity slowly spread across his face, a savage, uncontrollable rage.
Finally, he could bear it no longer and roared in fury.
"Rykard, how dare you commit such a grave sin! Your crimes cannot be forgiven. The Golden Order Dynasty will strip you of your Demigod name. Crawl out here!"
Among Leyndell's army, one soldier happened to look up, his gaze falling on the space above.
His pupils suddenly contracted, as if he had seen something unspeakably horrifying.
A massive serpent was coiled overhead, its body covered in scarlet arms like a twisted nightmare.
That great serpent moved between the castle walls, winding along them. As its enormous body twisted, it scraped loose chunks of stone, and the falling rocks occasionally crushed unlucky soldiers into pulp.
"I am right here. Can you not see me? Blind Margit, has the dazzling gold blinded your eyes?"
Rykard's voice suddenly rang out, as if mocking Margit's ignorance.
"You bastard! Do you know what you're doing? Your sins are even heavier than I imagined!" Margit's eyes widened at once, his face full of fury as he roared.
He saw a face. Just behind the great serpent's head, on its back, there was an enormous face, one familiar to everyone.
It was the face of Rykard, master of Volcano Manor on Mt. Gelmir, second son of the Full Moon Queen, Praetor of the Golden Order Dynasty, and a glorious Demigod.
Margit felt anger from the bottom of his heart. The first moment he saw that serpent, he had already known its origin. It was an ancient monster that devoured gods, one known by the name of blasphemy.
As a Demigod of the Golden Order Dynasty, bearing the name of Gold, Rykard had actually fused with that serpent. This was without doubt the greatest blasphemy against the dynasty.
He knew what this in-law brother pursued, but he had never imagined the man would go this far, to the point of abandoning even himself.
"How could I not know? I know very well how perilous the road of blasphemy is. If one fears sin, how can one walk this path?" Rykard said indifferently.
Margit tightened his grip around his staff and exerted a little force. With a crack, the surface of the staff split open, wood chips scattering like snow.
Inside the staff, a long blade of many colors was revealed.
"Then, blasphemer..." Margit's voice was low and majestic. "I will be the one to bury you."
His first instinctive fear had come from the unknown. Now that he had seen the enemy, he no longer felt afraid. Only the fury to bury that brother here remained.
He would cut down this sinner who had blasphemed the dynasty, here and now.
Margit leapt from the ground. Aspects of the Crucible: Wings bloomed in golden light behind him, and he raised the long blade above his head before swinging it through the air.
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