[Central Lands · Voll Basin]
"So this is the labyrinth entrance?"
Lifting her staff, Serie stood at the location marked by the Labyrinth Entrance Seeking Magic, placed down her luggage, and raised the staff to level.
With a surge of powerful magic, a beam blasted away the debris sealing the entrance.
As the dust cleared, Serie lightly dusted off her robe and carried her suitcase straight inside.
"Hmm…"
"There's a magic-restraining setup inside the labyrinth. What a bothersome sensation."
——
Elsewhere inside the labyrinth.
"So, Grausam of the Miraculous,"
"You're telling me…"
"In just a few years since my sealing, my Killer Magic has already been deciphered by humans?"
"And the Demon King was defeated by the same party that sealed me, correct?"
"That's right," Grausam replied.
"There's no reason for me to lie about the Demon King's defeat. As for your magic—here, I'll prove it."
Grausam raised his hand and conjured a flicker of the infamous Killer Magic, once feared as Qual the Corrupted Sage's ultimate spell.
"Nowadays, humans call this Basic Attack Magic. Nearly every mage can learn it."
"Incredible…"
Staring into the dancing black glow, Qual murmured in awe.
"It's been less than forty years, yet so much has changed."
"Tell me everything, Grausam. What evolutions have occurred between demons and human magic during my absence?"
"And why did you unseal me, then bring ten elite Generals into this labyrinth in secret?"
"You know full well we demons don't hold meetings or 'help each other out.'"
"Heh…"
Grausam shook his head with a chuckle. "Still as impatient as ever."
"But as hunters—we've got time."
The black magic faded, replaced by a shimmering hexagonal blue barrier.
"As a response to the overwhelming offense granted by Killer Magic, humans developed powerful new Defensive Spells and resistant gear."
"They've come a long way over the decades."
"Still the same old balancing act, I see," Qual muttered, summoning a similar hexagonal shield himself.
"This uses synchronized counterspell matrices to disperse energy…"
"Pretty effective, but the complexity of the formula must eat through mana."
"With human reserves, they can't cast this often."
"Alright then—who's our target?"
Now full of confidence, Qual pressed on.
"Our target is—Serie the Great Elven Mage."
"I'm out."
Without hesitation, Qual turned on his heel to leave.
Shff! Shff!
Ten demon Generals immediately surrounded him, sealing off the retreat.
"Move!" Qual barked, clearly wary of a close-quarters brawl.
"Grausam, are you insane? You think this bunch can challenge her?"
"Not directly."
Grausam spread his arms. "This labyrinth already hinders magic usage."
"We're not here to beat her—just stall her. Meanwhile, this assassin-type General will strike down her disciple."
"Her disciple, Gut, is the variable mentioned in Schlacht's prophecy—he poses a threat to the demon race's future."
"He must be eliminated."
Qual fell silent.
He looked once more at the surrounding Generals, sighed, and turned back.
"If things go south, I'm the first to run."
"You won't get far."
Grausam lifted his shirt, revealing fresh scars still etched in his skin.
"Only if we finish the job and escape together, do we have a chance."
"Fine…" Qual muttered. "I wish you hadn't unsealed me."
"But tell me this—how can you be sure Serie and her disciple will walk into this trap?"
"With her magic sense, she'll detect us from miles away—even we can't fully mask our aura."
"These Generals will be obliterated before they get close."
"You don't need to worry about that. They'll come—willingly."
From his cloak, Grausam pulled out a fragile, glowing artifact.
A pointer hovering precisely over their current location.
"A Prophetic Compass…?"
Qual's voice trembled. "You actually used that priceless artifact?"
"No wonder you're so confident."
"Indeed."
"A rare magic tool created by Schlacht, at the cost of his mana core."
"It points to the best location matching the user's defined condition."
"And I asked it to find—'A location where Serie and Gut will arrive, and where Gut can be assassinated.'"
Grausam looked at the flickering, almost-faded compass.
According to its usage, when it vanishes, the prophesied event is about to occur.
That moment was mere hours away.
With a deep breath, Grausam spoke:
"From this moment—silence. Prepare the ambush."
——
Current Location:
[To be continued.]
----------
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates