Regardless of whether they belonged to the orthodox or the unorthodox factions. But Damon knew that, from the very beginning, it was an impossible plan.
He had absolutely no medium by which he could return to the world where he had once lived.
“I have the Dragon Heart. I have also perfectly memorized the method of dimensional travel. But crucially, I have no item I brought with me, no possession that can serve as coordinates for dimensional travel. Because of that, I can never guarantee that I will be able to return.”
Roughly five hundred years had passed since he came here. Of course, there was no way any object he had brought from the Central Plains would still remain. Only with such an object could he return to the Central Plains where he had lived.
“Besides, I’m not confident I can take revenge with my current strength, so first I’ll deal with the dragons. No matter what it takes, I must avenge my master and rescue Daphne. If possible, driving the orcs out of Truvenia wouldn’t be bad either.”
Damon quietly renewed his resolve. That was the realistic task that lay before him.
“First, I’ll head north. If I gain an ally there and then cross over to Arcadia to build up my mana, a way will open up…”
Recalling his destination, Damon quickened his steps.
“Failure, then.”
A look of utter disbelief appeared on Verkis’s face. He had conscripted no fewer than five thousand troops from the nearby orc tribes. He had made them search the area around the lair without a single gap for nearly a month, and yet in the end they had failed to find even a single hair of the man.
Before him, Gedenhide stood with his head bowed, as if he had no face to show. It was only natural, since he had let the man escape right under his nose.
“He must have left this place immediately after committing the deed.”
But even that was filled with questions. He had certainly sensed no trace of teleportation. Nor had there been any sign of Invisibility or Aviation being deployed. Both were high-level spells of the 5th Circle or above. Therefore, it made no sense that he had left not even the slightest trace.
“That leaves only one possibility: that he escaped on foot…”
That, too, was certainly not an easy feat. Every lich guarding the lair had been on high alert, keeping watch over the roads. At the same time, a large-scale extermination order had been issued against wandering orcs, so his trail should have been uncovered without fail.
Verkis knew very well that, by his own orders, over ten thousand wandering orcs had already been slaughtered. Even so, the man had vanished without a trace, as if he had sunk into the ground or flown into the sky. A troubled light appeared on Verkis’s face.
“It was a mistake. I should never have made him a guardian…”
But no matter how quickly one regretted something, it was already too late. Verkis had never dreamed that the man would do such a thing. He had merely kept him alive as a way to stave off boredom, and yet he had caused such a catastrophe…
What he especially could not understand was how the man had overcome his brainwashing magic. Brainwashing magic, a 10th Circle mental spell, possessed absolute power that no human could dare resist. He had never imagined there could be a human capable of overcoming such absolute magic.
“If it comes to sheer audacity, he must be the greatest among humans. To dare enter my archive of spellbooks and steal my magic, and not content with that, to murder Zicrate and steal Incresia…”
This was precisely why he had to capture the man named Damon. Letting him go would be somewhat irritating, but it was not a particularly grave matter in itself. A mage who had reached the level of a 9th Circle Master was not a threat to a dragon.
What mattered most to Verkis was the magical treasury, Incresia. Inside it were not only his own precious treasures, but also those of all the dragons who shared his purpose. It contained only the most valuable treasures they had gathered over their lifetimes, so it was only natural that Verkis felt sick to his stomach. He, too, could not escape the nature of a dragon who loved treasure to an extreme degree.
“I must recover Incresia, no matter what. If I eliminate him, the magical treasury will surely return to me, the next in line…”
But there was no method. If the man had already slipped through the encirclement, then finding him in the vast land of Truvenia was literally no different from searching for a needle dropped in the desert.
“But it does not matter. Wherever he may be, we possess the lifespan to wait. A man with a purpose will surely reveal himself. When that time comes, I will finish him off.”
In the end, Verkis decided to stop the search. Having continuously cast search magic, his mind and body were extremely exhausted. Moreover, he had not even completed his appointed sleep period. Feeling that he would be unable to endure any further strain, he released the magic he had been maintaining.
“In ten years, all the dragons will awaken from their sleep. If they join together and cast search magic, we will surely be able to find his trace. There is no way he will not use magic… Even if he has crossed over to Arcadia, it does not matter. The invasion of that place will soon begin, so I can say with certainty that, across both continents, there will be nowhere for him to hide.”
Having sorted out his thoughts, Verkis looked at Gedenhide.
“Withdraw all the liches.”
“Understood.”
“From now on, you will focus only on protecting the lair. The pursuit of that man will begin ten years from now, after all the dragons awaken from their sleep. Do you understand?”
“I shall carry out your august command without fail.”
Looking at Gedenhide, who bowed his head as if deeply humbled, Verkis nodded.
“I must go sleep.”
He soon rose. As Verkis headed toward his quarters, an expression that was by no means pleasant appeared on his face.
“Phew.”
After Verkis entered his quarters, Gedenhide let out a long sigh. He had thought he would receive severe punishment for letting the man escape, but unexpectedly, Verkis had not paid it much mind. It seemed entering sleep was perhaps the more urgent matter for him.
However, this was not yet the stage at which Gedenhide could feel at ease. Dragons were, by nature, a race that did not forget. Even if he awoke ten years later, Verkis would surely remember this matter clearly. Therefore, there was no telling when he might call him to account. Suddenly, a murderous gleam appeared in Gedenhide’s eyes, and he ground his teeth.
“Detestable wretch. To drive me into such a state…”
But the more he thought about it, the more Gedenhide could not help but marvel at the man’s abilities. He could not help but be astonished that the 3rd Circle fledgling, who in the past would not have escaped death had Gedenhide so much as lifted a finger, had already surpassed him.
For Gedenhide, who had seen almost no improvement in his magical ability over the course of five hundred years, the change in that man’s strength was nothing but enviable.
“How did he pass through the wall of a 9th Circle Expert?”
Gedenhide did not think at all that it was due to Verkis’s brainwashing magic. Thus, he believed it was simply a wall that humans could not cross.
The fact that, throughout the history of Truvenia, the number of archmages who had reached the level of a 9th Circle Master could be counted on one hand also contributed to that belief. Because of that, he had no choice but to be astounded by the man’s talent.
“In any case, it is none of my concern. It is already a foregone conclusion that he will die at Lord Verkis’s hands.”
No human mage could stand against a dragon under any circumstances. Even if he had reached a realm beyond that of a 9th Circle Master, it would be impossible. The only way one could oppose a dragon was by forming a party with outstanding Sword Masters and attacking together; otherwise, it was not even worth considering.
Therefore, Gedenhide erased all thoughts of Damon from his mind. The immediate task that now remained for him was to command the liches and defend the lair as if it were an iron fortress.
Whooooosh.
The wind blew. A sharp, knife-like gale raged fiercely, as if refusing to allow any living thing to approach. It was a merciless wind of death, so bitter that even beasts with the thickest fur would have their body heat stolen away in an instant and freeze to death. No matter where one looked, all around lay a desolate plain where not a single tree grew. In such a place, the wind swept even more savagely over the ice that covered the earth.
And yet, upon this field of death, there stood a single human figure, his clothes fluttering in the wind.
His clothing was shabby. He had no proper equipment against the cold, and yet he stood motionless, gazing at one place as though the chill had nothing to do with him. The way he did not move, like a stone statue, might have made one think he was already a corpse frozen to death, but the breath escaping through his nose and immediately freezing proved that he was still alive.
The one standing upon the land of death was a young man. And an extraordinarily handsome one at that.
Though it was uncombed and tousled, his glossy blond hair was beautiful to behold, and his blue eyes shone deeply, as though stars had been embedded in them. His high, straight nose and the slender lines of his face seemed to prove that he was a peerless beauty not easily found in the world. In contrast, however, his tightly pressed lips revealed that his will was firm as iron.
It was only a long while later that those lips, which had seemed as if they had frozen solid, opened. He slowly turned to look behind him and murmured.
“Has it been exactly five hundred years?”
Looking at the steep mountain range covered in perpetual snow that he had just crossed, Damon muttered as if overcome with emotion. The peerless handsome man was none other than Damon. As he looked around, an indistinct light appeared in his eyes.
“This brings back memories.”
He was now recalling the events of five hundred years ago. The memory of entering this place among four hundred heroes while carrying Daphne on his back. What happened then was as vivid as if it had taken place only yesterday. Of course, for him, it could hardly be called a pleasant experience.
Damon had finally arrived at his destination. It had been exactly three months since he had escaped Verkis’s grasp. This place was the Northwood Plains, a land of death and isolation. The very place where the four hundred heroes who had tried to save humanity’s fate had been mercilessly buried.
On his way here, Damon had fought countless battles. It was because he had taken the appearance of a wandering orc as a means of hiding his identity. The number of times he had been attacked by medium-sized monsters or wyverns was beyond counting.
There had also been many times when he was attacked by orcs from other tribes, but by using physical techniques along with magic at a level that Verkis could not detect, Damon had finally arrived here after overcoming countless hardships. In truth, Verkis had long since entered his sleep, but there was no way Damon could know that.
The place he reached after such great hardship was the spot where the hero corps had teleported from Feldrian. Alone, he had crossed the Wall of Death that he had once crossed together with the heroes five hundred years ago. He had overcome every hardship by himself.
Of course, crossing the ice lake was not very difficult. Though he had no particular equipment, his magical ability, which had reached the 9th Circle, protected him perfectly from the bitter cold of this place. The ice trolls living in the mountain range were not difficult opponents either. With his senses and physical techniques honed to the utmost, Damon was able to defend himself against the ice trolls’ attacks without difficulty as he crossed the mountains.
The problem was the magical barrier where the hero corps had been annihilated. Though he entered alone, the barrier did not easily allow Damon to pass. Despite the fact that he had entered by himself, all manner of demonic beings and monsters appeared to block his path. But because Damon had mastered not only the black arts but also magic, he immediately realized that they were nothing more than illusions. No, even if that had not been the case, Damon was not someone who would be frightened by mere illusions.
“Do not try to test me. I have already undergone far too many tests.”
Without so much as twitching an eyebrow, Damon leisurely walked into the teeth and claws swung by the monsters. An illusion formation could only function when its opponent was afraid.
Thud.
The moment their bodies touched Damon’s, the phantoms of the monsters vanished into thin air. In that way, Damon passed through the final gate and was at last able to enter the Northwood Plains, where the Temple of Verhazel stood.
After briefly recalling the process by which he had crossed over, Damon looked around. For the time being, the scenery in every direction was not particularly different from five hundred years ago. The heaps of stone that had once transformed into stone golems of monstrous strength and played a part in annihilating the hero corps were still scattered about just as they had been then. The ruined castle walls were even more collapsed than they had been at that time.
Only the Temple of Verhazel in the distance stood in perfect form, proudly displaying its majesty. Unfortunately, however, that was not Damon’s destination. He had no need to enter it, nor any reason to do so. After sweeping an expressionless gaze over the temple once, Damon moved on. He was heading toward the place where the final battle had occurred, the place where the hero corps had been annihilated.
“This is the place.”
Arriving at the spot where the remains of the stone golems lay scattered in disorder, Damon’s eyes gleamed. Of course, the corpses of humans and monsters had been buried by the passage of time and vanished without a trace, but the weapons and armor they had used remained, rusted red, proving the existence of their owners.
As Damon looked around in every direction, the urgent moments of that time flashed through his mind. Those moments when he had lacked strength and could do nothing but watch.