When Yuhran reached the city gate, what greeted his eyes was Shaton standing calm and unhurried, firmly in control of the entire battlefield.
The scene he had imagined earlier—Milialde cutting down everything in her path—had not come to pass.
He couldn't quite tell whether that was good or bad. After all, if she won, there would be no need for him to step in. And if he wanted to catch up to her level, it would take far more time.
He took a deep breath.
That clear inhalation reached Milialde's ears.
She instinctively turned her head. When she saw who it was, her pupils tightened.
"Yuhran? Why are you—"
No matter how she thought about it, she never expected Yuhran to appear here.
The trial should be over by now. What was the result?
No—this wasn't the time to dig into that. You're a human with no abilities whatsoever. Why would you come here?
"Oh?"
Shaton also tilted his head slightly, looking toward the late-arriving human.
Uncertain of the man's identity, he didn't act immediately, instead sizing him up with a scrutinizing gaze.
…His perception told him that the total amount of magic power in Yuhran's body was zero.
Shaton narrowed his dark eyes.
Useless?
Even the frail elderly—people in their seventies or eighties—had at least a trace of magic power in them.
With that thought, he gave Yuhran a brief, dismissive glance before looking away in disdain.
He didn't believe this human could be the third person who had helped Milialde defeat his clone.
Judging that the time was ripe—and that this elf could no longer help him improve his strength—Shaton lifted a finger lightly and directed the giant toward the city walls ahead.
Rumble—!
The ground wailed beneath its trampling steps.
Shaton calculated calmly:
"At present, the shadow giant's only weakness is its lack of agility."
"But to protect those ants, even knowing they're no match, they'll still step forward to block it, won't they?"
And once they blocked it, death was guaranteed.
If they didn't, then once he devoured those humans and grew stronger, their fate would be sealed regardless.
Shaton could already see the future—himself after evolution, rampaging across the southern continent.
"Weak creatures…"
As expected, when the priest saw this scene, his eyes nearly split with fury.
He led the late-arriving clergy and launched a frantic barrage of attacks at the shadow giant.
Holy light exploded across the giant's body, yet it was like stones tossed into water—not even a ripple formed.
Milialde remained unmoved. In her eyes, resisting when defeat was certain was nothing more than a waste of magic power.
Right now, she was far more concerned about Yuhran's condition. Her gaze swept over the book in his hands, and her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
"This is…?"
"Elven woman, do you still have other means?"
Shaton's voice suddenly rose, cutting off her thoughts.
Victory and evolution were within reach. He no longer maintained his earlier composure, his gaze sharp and pressing.
"Tell me—besides you and that priest, who was the third person who killed my clone?"
"Say it, and I'll grant you a swift death. Otherwise—"
"Otherwise what?" Milialde replied coldly.
She brushed the dust from her clothes and walked to Yuhran's side, signaling with her eyes—
"You succeeded? Then run. He's not an opponent you can deal with."
Then she raised her voice:
"A mere beast—do you really think that just because you wield magic, you can rival us elves?"
She lifted her chin, hair fluttering in the wind.
"Don't make me laugh. I haven't even gone all out yet. Yuhran, step farther back."
Yuhran was observing Shaton's every move, quietly asking the holy tome whether there was any way to deal with him.
Hearing her words, he retreated a few steps.
"Farther."
Milialde gestured again with her eyes. Only when Yuhran had withdrawn to over thirty meters away did she finally nod.
Yuhran narrowed his eyes, sensing the increasingly dense magic power surging through the air.
"A big move?"
That seemed the only possibility. Though he desperately wanted to turn the tide, his lack of understanding of Shaton's abilities and trump cards forced him to remain cautious for now.
Not far away, the seven-story-tall shadow giant was wreaking havoc.
The force of its punches could be felt even hundreds of meters away. The city walls crumbled like papier-mâché; shattered stones grazed his cheeks and smashed into deep craters, making Yuhran's eyelids twitch.
Good thing I woke up late.
Otherwise, even with a sacred artifact in hand, facing this kind of pure physical power… I probably wouldn't stand a chance.
This world—
was far too dangerous.
...
...
Milialde had been born in an elven village along the southern border.
Like most elves, simply accumulating power over a long lifespan was enough to make one strong.
At just over two hundred years old, if measured by human standards, she undoubtedly ranked among the powerful.
However, there was always someone stronger, always a higher sky.
The elves' inherently laid-back and indolent nature destined them to be inferior, at the same age, to the demon race—who excelled in slaughter.
For the first time, a gravity unlike any before filled Milialde's eyes. In that instant, all the magic within her body erupted at once.
A surging gale blew backward even Yuhran, who had been thinking, forcing him to take an involuntary step back.
In magical vision, the white currents swirling around her were like an erupting volcano, shooting straight into the sky and stirring the clouds into a violent spiral.
"Oh?" A trace of seriousness flashed through Shaton's eyes. Going all out, are we?
As expected—humans, elves, monsters… they were all the same. Before death, they would fight with everything they had.
Calling him a beast…
Heh.
Shaton stepped forward, robes billowing, as his own magic power exploded outward.
"Keen instincts. How could weak, fragile creatures like humans ever be mentioned in the same breath as us?"
He waved his hand. The shadows of nearby trees—and even buildings—began to twist and writhe, like living tides, forming a pitch-black domain around him.
This was the third stage of shadow magic: the shadows of all things could be turned to his use.
Originally, he hadn't planned to use his full strength.
But now, he'd changed his mind.
—A battle was only fun if taken seriously.
Milialde's heart sank straight to the bottom.
She glanced toward Yuhran and saw him still standing there. Though annoyed that he hadn't listened to her advice, she immediately made the most correct decision.
"One strike at full power. Even if I can't win, I must create an opening to retreat."
She couldn't stake her life here. In the end, this was nothing more than a human city.
When her magic reached its peak, time itself seemed to freeze for an instant.
Then—
Boom!!
A deafening explosion shook the heavens. Blinding white light swallowed everything!
Amid the overwhelming blast, Milialde was struck like a boat hit by a tidal wave, her body sent flying uncontrollably.
She twisted midair by force, using her remaining magic to cushion the impact, and landed precisely beside Yuhran.
The moment she steadied herself, coughing twice, she ignored the pain. Her icy fingers clamped around his wrist.
And then—
Run!
No hesitation whatsoever.
Yuhran stumbled as she dragged him along.
"Wait—"
Wait, what are we running for? He can fly!
Sure enough.
Before his words had even faded, after only a few steps, a black figure burst out of the smoke and dust.
Shaton looked utterly wretched, floating in midair. His robes were reduced to tattered rags, his body drenched in blood.
—He had blocked the elf's full-power strike.
He raised a hand and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, staring at the two fleeing figures, his gaze cold and vicious.
Run?
With your trump card gone, where exactly do you think you can run?
Slowly, he raised his hand.
Shadows gathered in his palm, condensing into a pitch-black spear.
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