Over the course of a year, the safe zone had changed in many ways.
The old house where Kreutzwald and Hio lived remained the same, but the scenery outside it had transformed.
First of all, the ash that had fallen like snow in every season no longer fell within the zone.
It was because Hio’s Shield magic never turned off, twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year; it was even active while he slept.
This, too, was thanks to what he had learned from Kreutzwald.
Reduce the mana consumption drastically, find the point just before the spell’s continuity broke, and keep it activated at all times.
That had been the content of his training.
At first, it would cut off while he slept, and he would fail to lower the amount of mana required, causing the spell to consume mana faster than he could recover it. But after a few months, he became able to maintain magic as naturally as breathing.
This was a fairly remarkable achievement. Although what he was currently maintaining was only the 1st Circle Fire and the 2nd Circle Shield spell, other sustainable high-difficulty spells could also likely be maintained for long periods by a similar principle.
Of course, in such cases, the mana consumed would be far greater than the mana recovered.
For that reason, ash no longer fell within the safe zone.
That alone made it so much cleaner.
When he asked why Kreutzwald, at his level, had not blocked the ash from the beginning when creating the safe zone—when it should have been no particular difficulty for him—
“Khehehe… Does it not have a certain charm?”
That eccentric answer was what came back.
In any case, that was the first change. The second change was the labor force bustling within the zone.
Namely, the 255 undead.
The 255 undead linked to Hio—no, including Teordo, a total undead corps of 256.
He had deliberately taken them all out of the Death Sarcophagus, assigning some to sweep the yard, ordering others to make jerky strand by strand from meat, having some dig the ground, and putting others in charge of guarding the outer edge of the zone.
He was deliberately making them do things that might be rather meaningless.
If one asked why, this too was a form of training.
Training to control all the undead at once and give each of them different orders.
No matter how outstanding Hio’s mana control was and how exceptional his mental fortitude, controlling such a large number of undead—each one of them exceedingly powerful—inevitably required training.
Normally, this would be impossible, so one would appoint middle managers, but Hio was controlling every single one of them in detail himself.
Teordo helped from time to time, but as he was not a Death Knight born through ordinary means, his limitations were considerable.
And the third change brought about by this was the noticeably diminished Abyssal energy within the zone.
With so many powerful undead consuming the energy of the abyss in place of death energy.
On top of that, Hio himself was steadily storing up abyssal energy as well.
While outside was an abyss where one could hardly see an inch ahead, within the zone it had become only a little darker than an ordinary night.
How remarkable was it that light spread widely?
How remarkable was it that ash no longer billowed up with every movement, and that a place once so silent it felt as if one might go mad, with not a trace of anyone around, now bustled with presence—even if it was the presence of undead?
In the year and several months Hio had been there, it had at least changed into something resembling a place where people lived.
Hio could neither imagine nor understand how Kreutzwald had lived here alone all this time.
As he stared blankly at the undead moving busily about with that thought in mind, Kreutzwald approached and asked,
“Are your preparations going well?”
“Well, is there anything to prepare? As long as I pack plenty of food, that should be enough.”
With Gegegi and Ttuntun as the last of them, all the nearby anomalies had been dealt with.
The 256 undead followed Hio’s control perfectly, and he had also grown accustomed to mixing the abyss into his magic to produce vastly superior destructive power.
He had even personally received instruction in magic up to the 6th Circle from Kreutzwald.
“No amount of preparation is ever enough. The road ahead is long. Prepare thoroughly.”
“Yes. After everything I’ve learned, don’t worry.”
It was now time to leave.
For Tetradia.
To leave the end of the world and return to the continent.
“But am I really going alone?”
However, Kreutzwald would not accompany him on the road to Tetradia.
“Did I not tell you? In order to grow one step further, you must not have someone you can rely on by your side. Of course, there may be those who advance to the next stage despite that, but such cases are nothing but terrible coincidences. In the end, one has no choice but to realize it oneself and move forward oneself.”
The reason was that this was the path toward the 7th Circle.
In ordinary circumstances, even the 6th Circle had to be ascended to with enlightenment.
But thanks to Kreutzwald, Hio had learned another method and had forcibly created his sixth ring.
Well, even if it was forced, its effect was the same. The problem was the next stage: the 7th Circle.
For the 7th Circle, no such forced method existed at all. One could only realize it for oneself and advance. And Hio had no understanding whatsoever of this thing called enlightenment.
“Enlightenment that comes at the moment when life and death hang in the balance. This is not a saying that applies only to martial artists. Whether mage or anything else, it is a phenomenon common to humans. After all, avoiding death, seeking life, and striving to transcend it are human instincts.”
The road to Tetradia was long.
There would be beings he needed to avoid, and even ordinary anomalies would likely possess strength incomparable to Gegegi or Ttuntun around the safe zone.
As he pushed through a space surrounded by the abyss, broke through or evaded such anomalies, and overcame countless crises on his way to Tetradia, enlightenment might suddenly come to him and allow him to move on to the next stage.
Or he might at least grasp a clue.
That was Kreutzwald’s explanation, and the reason Hio had to leave alone.
…Quite plausibly put, indeed.
[Hidden Trait: Violence Is Not the Answer! (Patience: 641 / 1000)]
He had to endure.
This chilling sensation.
He must not let it show.
This feeling, as though he were thrusting his neck into the jaws of a monster.
Had he not endured it well for more than a year?
Even after suspicion had become half-certainty, had he not avoided being discovered and made it this far in the end?
Eventually, something would happen, but not yet.
He had grown stronger at an incredible speed over the year and several months, but if that monster set his mind to it, Hio would be devoured in an instant.
So he had to endure.
He had to smile naturally and act.
The part of a disciple who was moderately rebellious and moderately respectful toward his master.
“Instead of that, why don’t you come with me? If we go to Tetradia and head out to the continent together, I feel like the continent would be peaceful for the next hundred years.”
“Khehehehe… Did I not tell you? If I leave, who will manage the Tower of the Abyss?”
“Oh, come on. It didn’t really look like you were managing much of anything.”
“Foolish disciple. What you see is not everything. And in any case, if you arrive safely at Tetradia, you will be able to see me.”
“…Are you going to come out to meet me or something?”
“Should I not? My one and only disciple is returning to the continent to become a hero.”
“Haha… You really don’t have to go that far…”
It was an utterly ordinary conversation, just like the conversations they had been having all this time.
An ordinary exchange between a master who cherished his disciple moderately and a disciple who treated his master moderately well.
“Then I’ll just pack the subspace full of food, and this disciple will be off on his long journey.”
“Khehe… Do so. Avoid the Watchers whenever possible, and if you cannot avoid them, kill them before they even have time to notice.”
“Yes, yes. I know that well. Don’t worry.”
He called back all the undead that had finished their tasks and stored them once more in the Death Sarcophagus.
Moving with too many would only draw the attention of anomalies, so Teordo alone would be enough as a companion.
After finishing all his preparations, Hio left the safe zone and began moving.
With Teordo, who had grown considerably stronger, at his side.
With enough food in his subspace pouch to last several weeks easily.
And behind his back—
“I sincerely hope that by the time you reach Tetradia, you will have crossed the wall and entered the realm of a true superhuman, my disciple.”
He left behind a chilling, unpleasant sensation.
And so, he set out on the road.
* * *
Dark clouds hung heavy over the continent.
The failed conquest of the 66th floor, following the 62nd and 63rd floors.
The aftermath had become too much to recover from, and now a decision had to be made.
What they would give up.
“We must abandon the Abyss expedition!”
“That is correct. We have not even fully overcome the aftermath of the failures on the 62nd and 63rd floors, let alone the 66th. And now you speak of organizing another expedition? Absolutely not!”
“Rather than forming an expedition, we must take more time and think about defending the continent.”
The argument that the expedition should be abandoned.
The reason was clear.
By abandoning the expedition, they could save the time and manpower poured into it.
All across the continent, Abyss monsters unleashed by failed conquests were still running rampant, and those capable of suppressing them were limited.
Several villages had already been erased from the map, and there had been multiple crises in which several major cities had nearly been annihilated.
The only reason the damage was limited to its current extent was because the system was well established and gate control had been prioritized above all else.
At this point, organizing an expedition and setting out on a conquest was itself no different from a gamble.
Abyss monsters were still rampaging all over the continent, and abyssal energy was spreading. What would happen if that many elite personnel departed on an expedition instead of working on recovery from the damage?
And as if that were not enough, what if they failed again?
What if massive casualties occurred?
The dark clouds hanging over the continent would become impossible to dispel.
“To abandon the expedition? Absolutely not!”
“Do you not understand that such words are no different from saying we should let go of the future?”
“How can you speak of deliberately failing when you know how much damage a single failure causes?”
On the other hand, those who argued that the expedition had to continue also had clear reasons.
The monsters that poured out with every failed conquest.
Abyss gates were spread across the entire continent, and the number of strong individuals was limited.
In such a situation, saying they would abandon the expedition was no different from saying they would abandon every nation except the Empire.
And what of the tremendous amount of Abyssal energy that burst forth with a single failure?
The number of priests who wielded divine power was dwindling by the day, and the only mage who had handled it was no longer here.
“This is truly frustrating!”
“That is exactly what we should be saying!”
“Hah…”
Both sides’ arguments had merit.
They did not merely have merit; both were correct.
That was why the central nobles, more loyal to the Empire than anyone else, were raising their voices and clashing so fiercely.
At the highest seat of the conference hall, where shouts flew back and forth.
Seated on the throne, Sylvia took in the sight of them with haggard eyes.
What should she do?
What was the correct answer?
No, did a correct answer truly exist?
If they went on an expedition, the state of the continent was a mess, there was little time to prepare, and the expedition members would have no rest at all.
If they failed, it would be the end.
But if they did not go on an expedition, she could almost see the continent accumulating damage until it ultimately sank into the abyss.
Just what was she supposed to do?
‘…What am I supposed to do?’
When she looked back, it felt as if Teordo would still be there.
It felt as if Hio might kick open the door to the conference room at any moment and enter with his usual relaxed smile.
It felt as if, in this situation where no answer was in sight, he would casually present a solution.
But the two people she had relied on most were no longer here.
They had died.
Just like that.
So terribly in vain.
There were still a few who denied Hio’s death, but they were an exceedingly small minority.
Moreover, even they must have acknowledged it inwardly now that more than a year had passed.
That Hio Pavlenko was truly dead.
Therefore, she had to make a decision without relying on anyone.
After long contemplation, she reached one decision.
The decision that fell from between her dry lips was utterly realistic.
“As of today.”
It was inevitable.
For this world was not a world in a fairy tale.
A world without miracles.
Without even magic that could bring one about.
“We abandon the expedition.”
A world where even hope had died.
“Prepare for destruction.”