A soft light filled the underground passage.
It was Demia, who had survived Azadin's surprise attack, casting a spell.
Surprisingly, it wasn't a spell of the Beauty of Nature, but white magic—a healing spell once only used by kings, now inaccessible even to holy knights or priests of the king's church.
Perhaps thanks to the massive amount of white mana she had drawn from the throne, she astonishingly used a restoration spell reserved for royalty to mend her broken limbs.
Not just her, even Krasley's wounds were healed.
"Ooh!"
"This is the power of a king!"
Demia, seemingly using it for the first time herself, marveled at her restored arm. She had lost much blood and felt weak, yet the miracle was undeniable.
"Azadin!"
Having recovered from his injuries, Krasley rose to his feet, shouting Azadin's name in fury.
"Yeah, what?"
Azadin picked up a black steel arrow from the ground and looked at Krasley. He was preparing to reuse the arrow he had previously fired.
Black steel arrows, though they weakened with each shot as their embedded curses and spells were consumed, were still far more powerful than ordinary arrows. When fired by the Herald Clan members, even the Yaegas Divine Clan would tremble at their power.
That's why there was an unspoken gentleman's agreement not to use black steel arrows in internal conflicts among kin. But Azadin was blatantly ignoring that agreement.
"Wha… Hey! You rude bastard!"
Krasley, flustered, reached for his quiver. He, too, had a black steel arrow.
Krasley's and Azadin's black steel arrows crossed mid-air, clashing in a ridiculous scene of arrows striking arrows.
And the victor of that absurd duel—was Azadin. His arrow effortlessly deflected Krasley's and flew straight toward him with deadly intent.
—Purification!
In haste, Demia cast a spell to neutralize the black steel arrow.
Azadin's arrow exploded mid-air as its mana ran out.
But Azadin simply picked up another black steel arrow and nocked it onto his bow. This time, he used the one Krasley had fired earlier.
The Nagas rushed at Azadin, but when he shot the arrow at them, two or three were pierced and fell with a single shot.
"A harvest of corpses. It's a corpse harvest."
Scott eagerly used necromancy to turn the dead Nagas into undead.
Now, the number of undead Nagas under Scott's control exceeded the number of living ones.
There had been over thirty Nagas and members of the Herald Clan, but in an instant, the tide of battle had turned.
Scott's role, as the necromancer, was significant. His undead minions protected Azadin from being surrounded, allowing Azadin to display his full prowess.
Yet Azadin showed no sign of ease on his face.
'The power of the Nether is surging. A Reaper has descended. Is this… another partial descent like the Wendigo?'
The Reaper of the Nether had not yet acted directly.
But even that was enough to drive people mad.
The Era of Jupiter had arrived, and the era of the Yaegas Divine Clan was coming to an end. The prophecy of destruction was palpable—how many could remain sane under such pressure?
'I need to wrap this up quickly… The surface is in danger.'
Just then, a flash of white light spread out.
—Banish Undead!
As black smoke poured from the bodies of the undead Nagas Scott had raised, flames erupted across their skin.
Astonishingly, Demia was wielding holy magic like a high-ranking priest. The white mana she had drawn from the throne using the Book of the Divine King was rampaging within her.
Even Azadin could see it clearly. Right now, Demia was the embodiment of power itself, a manifestation of magic essence. She radiated a force of light that seemed capable of contending with even the Reapers of the Nether.
However, her usage was crude. To use such overwhelming mana as if it were basic magic?
'Restoration and other holy magic… She's likely only mimicking them without a proper grimoire.'
Even that was astonishing.
Grimoires like the Beauty of Nature were either inherited by bloodline or earned after years of cultivation. To bestow one artificially upon Demia—how could that be possible?
'Well, I'll just have to ask her directly.'
Azadin approached Demia.
"You!"
Demia tried to confront him, but she couldn't properly use her Beauty of Nature grimoire right now. Too much foreign mana was coursing through her.
So Krasley stepped in to block Azadin…
—Thud!
But with just one strike, Krasley's body crumpled. It hadn't even been a direct hit, just a graze—yet his body lifted into the air, and his knees twisted under the shock.
'Sorry, but even I'm afraid of myself right now.'
Azadin appeared calm, but he was struggling to control the power of Beauty of Nature, Kazas Haeseo.
Using the copy of the Book of the Divine King to infuse white mana, he had further amplified and unleashed the power of Kazas Haeseo.
His physical strength had become so overwhelming that he risked injuring himself if he wasn't careful.
His limbs ached from the sheer force, tendons and muscles pressing so tightly against his bones that even a slight lapse in focus could cause a fracture. His entire body creaked like the rigging of a ship caught in a storm.
But showing weakness now would mean defeat, so Azadin subdued Krasley with ease and approached Demia, wearing a composed expression.
"Die, Demia."
Azadin drew Wendigo's dagger, aiming it at Demia's throat.
But something unexpected happened.
"Wa-wait!"
Demia raised her hands.
"Azadin. Alright! You win here!"
"…What are you trying to say?"
"A peace negotiation."
"Peace negotiation? Not surrender?"
"Our mission was already accomplished once we extracted the white mana from the throne to summon the Reaper of the Nether. The Reaper is here, so our part is done. Dying in battle with you afterward isn't the worst outcome, but dying fighting the little brother of Lady Arael? That's just stupid."
"Whether you live or die now is up to me."
"Exactly."
Demia smiled.
"No need to kill a charming woman like me, right?"
"Trying to seduce me? Don't waste your time."
"Oh, don't misunderstand. What I mean is—if you kill me, you'll draw the hatred of our kin. It's not something I should say myself, but there are quite a few who follow me and my younger sister. I'd say at least triple digits within the clan are in love with us."
"And you're saying that yourself?"
Azadin laughed as he looked at Demia bargaining for her life.
To her, it was a good sign.
"When is Arael planning to seize the throne?"
Azadin asked about the next move of Arael's faction.
"Ah, that's… kind of a different matter."
"If you won't talk, I'll kill you right now, Demia. You've taken in white mana you can't even use properly, so the Beauty of Nature isn't functioning, is it? If I let you live, I might be in danger next time. Killing you here is in my best interest too."
"What, is that how you interpret what I said, Azadin?"
"I'm used to being hated by our kin, Demia."
Saying that, Azadin kicked up Demia's quiver with his foot, snatched it, nocked an arrow to his steel bow, and fired it behind him.
—Thunk!
The arrow pierced through the head of one of the remaining Nagas. With that, all the Nagas had fallen.
To fire an arrow backwards with Demia standing in front of him—such a feat couldn't be done without immense confidence. Demia swallowed dryly.
'How did he get this strong? Is this really that Azadin?'
Demia had once seen Azadin during training, serving as an assistant to the instructor.
The Azadin she remembered had been a runny-nosed child, constantly bullied by others. The instructors and assistants had deliberately ignored it.
By letting someone weaker be tormented, the rest could relieve their stress and endure the brutal training.
In other words, Azadin had been a scapegoat approved by the entire clan.
And yet… that scapegoat had become this?
"I don't want to give away enough information to disrupt Lady Arael's plans. And I can't fight you either, so if you're going to kill me, do it. But Azadin, if you let me live, it'll benefit your path moving forward. There's no need to kill me and earn our kin's hatred, is there?"
"So, you don't want to betray Arael, but you still want to live. That's how I hear it."
"That's exactly right."
"Hmph. Shameless. If you were the one holding the upper hand, you would've killed me without hesitation."
"Please understand. It's the position I'm in. Anyway, Azadin, won't you spare me?"
"How many pages of copy of the Book of the Divine King are here?"
"Sixty-four."
"..."
For a moment, Azadin almost jumped for joy. Sixty-four pages—that was a staggering number.
It might not be all that Arael's faction possessed, but recovering this many pages of the Book of the Divine King would earn him unmatched merit among the Herald Clan.
But Azadin maintained a composed demeanor and cleared his throat.
"Hmph. I'll be taking them. You have no objections, right?"
"Sure. Then we have a deal?"
"No. Demia, you're coming with me too."
"Huh?"
"Tied up, arms and legs."
"Come on, is that really necessary? You don't need to do that, do you?"
"No, I do."
Azadin was focused on the white mana stored within Demia's body. He couldn't let her go freely.
"Mm…"
Demia looked at Azadin with a troubled expression.
His stance was firm, and there seemed to be no way to change his mind. In truth, she had nothing more to offer in negotiation.
With no bargaining chip, no deal could be made.
"Shati!"
"Yeah?"
"Pick up the copies of the Book of the Divine King. All the ones lying around."
"Ah, right."
While Azadin kept his guard up against Demia, Shati gathered the scattered copies of the sacred text.
"No, stop!"
Krasley, lying on the ground with a fractured body, tried to stop Shati, but it was no use.
"What should we do with this guy? Should I finish him?"
"Don't. He's one of the few kin I have. The battle's decided—there's no need to hurt him further."
When Azadin said that, both Krasley and Demia felt a pang of shame.
The power of life and death belonged to the strong.
Azadin, once the scapegoat of the Herald Clan, now showed them mercy and grace—they felt humiliated and uneasy.
"Demia."
"…Yes?"
"Heal him, but only enough that he won't be disabled. Understand? Just enough to avoid lasting damage. Heal him more than that, and both of you die."
"..."
For Demia, one of the Four of the Beauty of Nature, it was an unbearable demand.
The lowest-ranked Herald, once considered a failure and disregarded by all, had become so fearsome he was now issuing her commands.
And threatening to kill her if she disobeyed. How could a command be so arrogant?