A profound stillness pervaded the tower, laden with the echoes of sorrow and the weariness of many hearts.
The fourteen who remained drew together in quiet refuge. Ultimare lingered alone in a distant corner, while Tobias leaned upon the wall, steadfast in his silent watch.
A subtle, psychic chime resonated in Ultimare’s mind, a sensation like a single, clear note struck on a crystal bell. He didn't startle, his composure remained unbroken.
Lucien’s voice, stripped of all inflection and transmitted directly into his consciousness, followed. “Ultimare. I have dealt with the situation. Meet everyone at the spot of the carriage. We will be leaving this very moment.”
A faint, sardonic smile touched Ultimare’s lips.
Of course. No details, no questions, just a new directive.
“And what about them?” he projected the thought back, his gaze flicking towards the huddled captives and Tobias. “Leave them as it is?”
No voice came. The order was given, discussion was irrelevant.
Ultimare’s smile widened slightly. “Guess that’s it,” he murmured aloud.
He turned away from the window where his gaze had lingered, and addressed Tobias with a light, almost careless tone. “It seems the matter has been resolved. There is no greater danger now. You and the others may rest.”
Tobias frowned, confusion shadowing his face. “What… what do you mean?” he asked.
Ultimare’s reply was calm, almost detached. “I mean exactly what I said. Yet, if you still fear danger, I shall leave a barrier around the fourteen. Only you may enter. They may leave at any time, but once you all depart together, the barrier will fade within the hour if none of you return.”
With that, Ultimare began to stride toward the tower’s great doors, his steps graceful, unhurried.
Tobias’s voice rang out, rough with suspicion and edged with defiance, halting him mid-stride. “And where are you going?”
Ultimare did not turn, nor did he break his pace. “Where I belong,” he answered simply.
A brief silence followed, heavy yet unspoken. Then Tobias spoke again, his voice softer. “Just so you know… we won’t tell anyone about you. Consider it repayment for what you did for us.”
Ultimare lifted his hand in a casual backward wave. Without a backward glance, he stepped out into the world beyond.
The world outside had transformed. A powerful, cleansing wind was sweeping across the land, tearing the oppressive, gray blanket of mist to shreds and carrying it away. As the veil lifted, it revealed the full, horrendous scope of the carnage—the field of desiccated undead, the mountains of slaughtered monsters, the glassy, cratered earth from titanic clashes. It was a panorama of absolute devastation.
As the last tatters of mist swirled around him, his own form seemed to dissolve into them. One moment he was there, a stark figure against the nightmare landscape, and the next, he was simply gone, vanished without a sound.
The carriage door opened with a soft click. Lucien entered without a word, the scent of ozone and cold ash trailing him.
He sat in the very seat he had occupied before, his posture unchanged despite his disheveled state. Half his clothes were melted away, his one hand burned a little, and a darkening bruise on one arm.
"Move on," he said, his voice low.
The carriage lurched forward as Eisen urged the horses into a gallop. In an instant, they were airborne, the landscape below blurring into streaks of green and gray as they reached a breathtaking speed. Arika and Pelta exchanged a glance, their eyes lingering on Lucien's injuries.
Finn broke the silence, his tone dry and practical. "Brother. How about stopping for a change of clothes first? Your current attire isn't quite in one piece. How come Ultimare is completely fine while you're in this state?"
Max let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Finally! Someone said it. It's been bothering me most of all. What were you doing taking a bath in lava? Or perhaps it is a newly launched trendy clothes for warriors, I mean, who wouldn't want all this ventilation? “
Ultimare: "What do you mean, 'this state' Finn? Only his clothes are burned a little, with minor bruises. It's likely the result of his usual antics—'let's hold back to give the opponent a chance.'" He turned his gaze to Lucien, a spark of genuine curiosity in his eyes. "You must have found a worthy match to go to such an extent."
Lucien's eyes remained closed as he reclined slightly. "It was quite acceptable. A helpful test spar before the real deal."
"This is so bad," Ultimare lamented with a theatrical sigh. "You hogged all the fun. All I got was a weakling and some undead. The 'action' you offered me was as pale as it could possibly be."
"Well, I also fought a very clingy opponent," Max added, a grin playing on his lips.
Finn shot him a withering look. "A 'fight'? All you did was jump around like a monkey. Oh, wait, My apologies, I forgot that's what you are like."
Arika, who had been listening quietly, interjected with a hint of frustration. "I should have been the one to go after that one. It would have been the perfect chance to test myself against a real foe."
"Don't mind that," Finn said, his tone shifting to one of pragmatic instruction. "You will get many such chances in your future. For now, stick to the basics."
"A rare sight," Ultimare mused. "Finn and I are in agreement on this matter. You see, we must have you in perfect condition to do our bidding in the future. I hope you understand. Lucien has trained you; have a little confidence and fight in a manner that suits you."
Arika nodded, her resolve firming. "If you say so. I will make sure not to disappoint any of you"
Throughout the banter, Pelta's analytical eyes had remained fixed on Lucien. Silently, she offered him a clean handkerchief and a small vial of pale, colorless potion. "Brother, please use this. Do not worry, it is not from the main inventory. I brought a few extra with the journey in mind."
Lucien accepted them without opening his eyes. He applied the potion to the minor injuries, and it faded to nothing in an instant. He stretched slightly, the motion fluid and controlled, then reclined further.
"Eisen," he said, his voice cutting cleanly through the chatter. "Don't stop anywhere for now. Go as fast as you can to cover the time we have lost. Stop at the first destination."
From the driver's seat, Eisen's voice shouted back, clear and sharp. "Aye, sir!"
The carriage surged forward, a bullet of dark wood and purpose against the sky, leaving the scarred plains and their questions far behind.
[Back At The Ritual Site]
In the center of the ruined ritual circle, Noburu knelt. The flames were long gone, their power stolen, leaving only cold ash and the scent of his own failure.
His lower half was a blackened, skeletal ruin, consumed by the same dark energies he had sought to command. The rest of him trembled, a pale, broken vessel for a hollowed-out soul.
His mind, shattered against the immovable reality of his defeat, saw only one path left.
The ritual, the safe path to his goal, was gone, but the devil it had been meant to please was still listening. He would offer everything: his soul, his body, his very existence for revenge. It was a desperate, final gamble. The devil would judge his worth and might grant him nothing.
Even when a man gave everything, there was no guarantee the devil would listen. It might reject him, twist his wish into mockery, or take everything for a pittance of vengeance.
But Noburu no longer cared about the outcome. All that mattered was being seen, refusing to die forgotten.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The sound of footsteps made his head snap up.
Maeve and Lena entered the cavern, weapons held ready, their eyes scanning the gloom. Behind them, Flower slunk, her face a mask of terror.
Noburu’s glazed eyes locked onto her. A spark of pure, undiluted hatred ignited in the void of his despair.
“You…” he rasped, his voice like stone grinding to dust. “You treacherous bitch! You betrayed me!”
His body began to shake, a bloody foam forming on his lips as his life force guttered. “But I will have my vengeance! I will take you all with me!”
He slammed his hands onto the cold stone. A sigil, black and corrupt, flared to life beneath his palms, drinking the last dregs of his vitality. “Gephir! CONSUME THEM ALL!”
His body convulsed violently. The last of the color drained from his face, leaching into the sigil.
His skin shriveled, his eyes sinking into his skull as a final, rasping laugh of pure madness tore from his throat. He collapsed forward, nothing more than a desiccated husk.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, the ground beneath them turned to ice-cold shadow like liquid.
“Run!” Maeve screamed.
They scrambled back up the tunnel, bursting out onto the scarred surface, gasping in the open air. For a single, heart-lifting second, they thought they had escaped.
The ground in front of them coalesced. A form pulled itself from the earth, not by breaking the soil, but as if the earth were mere water. This was no longer Noburu. This was the payment for his soul—Noburu, an eternal slave of darkness.
It stood ten feet tall, a humanoid shape woven from solidified gloom and the whispers of the damned. It had no face, only a smooth, blank expanse that radiated an ancient, predatory hunger.
An immense, hostile aura poured from it, a physical weight that stole the breath from their lungs and filled their minds with a primal, soul-chilling dread. The very air grew dark and heavy around it.
Flower stood frozen, paralyzed by the aura. “No… Master, I… forgive me…”
Noburu’s head—or the space where a head should be—turned toward her. A limb, more like a tendril of concentrated shadow, lashed out. It phased into her stomach.
There was no external wound. No blood.
Flower’s eyes widened. She looked down, a small, confused sound escaping her lips. Her body convulsed, as if something inside her was tearing its way out. Blood trickled from her mouth as a sharp, unbearable pain flooded her senses.
The shadow spread through her like a living thing, eating away at her from within. Her cries echoed through the air, growing raw and desperate as the thing inside her continued its work.
Lena screamed, her ice-encrusted sword swinging in a desperate arc. The blade passed clean through the tendril as if cutting smoke.
Noburu’s blank gaze turned to her. The single tendril retracted, and a dozen more sprouted from its form, all lancing toward Lena and Maeve.
“Get away from her!” Maeve roared, leveling her spear. A lance of concentrated fire, capable of piercing steel plate, erupted from the tip and struck the entity square in its back. The attack dissipated into harmless embers. The hostile aura intensified, flooding the area with the devil's own cold, nihilistic energy.
A shadowy limb snapped out, wrapping around Maeve’s leg. Instantly, a paralyzing cold shot through her, freezing her in place.
The original tendril was now an inch from Lena’s chest.
Suddenly, the sky tore open.
A sound like a roaring inferno split the silence, and a streak of crimson and gold fell from the heavens. It was not a fall, but a controlled, divine descent with the fury of a falling star. His sword, blazed with a light that burned away the oppressive aura of the demon.
His trajectory was perfect. With the swiftness of lightning and the finality of his judgment, He pierced through the entity like lightning, his sword a sliver of solar fury. Noburu was unmade in a flash
Cedric landed gracefully, his back to the point of impact. The surrounding flames winked out, and the fierce light of his sword dimmed to a soft glow.
He did not even glance at the space where the creature had been. Its destruction was a foregone conclusion the moment he had entered the battlefield.
His demeanor was calm, yet the air around him crackled with residual intensity. Without a word, he began walking toward Lena and Maeve.
The oppressive silence after the entity's destruction was broken by Lena's sharp intake of breath. She took a half-step forward, a shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes at the familiar, powerful presence, but she quickly steeled her expression. Maeve felt a massive wave of relief, her shoulders slumping. They were safe.
Both of them moved toward Cedric, Lena instinctively starting to open her arms for a hug, Maeve ready to begin strategizing. They stood before him with relieved smiles, expecting his typical, worried concern.
They were met with a gaze of cold fire.
"Both of you," Cedric's voice was sharp, devoid of its usual warmth. "I told you not to take any job until I arrived from my training. Didn't I?"
A shiver ran down Lena's spine. "Mmm—ah... Maeve can explain it!" she stammered.
Maeve tried to compose herself. "It—it was not my idea, trust me! I just tagged along because they begged me for it!"
Cedric's gaze held a mix of care and simmering anger. "You idiots. What would have happened if—" His tone then shifted, urgency overriding the reprimand. "Where are Tobias and Rowan? Are they okay? Hurry, tell me!"
They exchanged a guilty look. "Tobias is okay," Maeve said. "Rowan is missing."
Cedric's face paled. "What? How did this happen? Tell me everything in detail. I have to save him immediately." He became visibly agitated. The sword at his hip glowed faintly.
A new, resonant voice spoke, from the blade itself. "Do not worry. While coming here, I sensed the heat signatures of two individuals hiding behind some bushes. One has the heat of active mana circuits—he must be your friend. And there are fifteen others in that tower."
Lena jumped back. "That sword just spoke!"
Maeve, trying to process this, said, "It must be a sentient weapon. Is this what helped you get here so quickly?"
"Yeah," Cedric confirmed bluntly. "It is my new blade."
Both women were shocked. "What do you mean, 'new blade'? What happened to your royal blade?"
"Dumped it," Cedric stated with unnerving calm. "It was of no actual proper use. Just a flashy, high-end sword. I found this one more usable, so I switched. I call it the Phoenix Blade."
Lena was aghast. "That's the blade most swordsmen dream of having, and you're saying it's useless?"
"Oh, you want it?" Cedric offered, as if discussing a spare tool. "Just take it. It's in the dining area somewhere there. Maybe you can have it."
Lena quickly declined, thinking of the immense responsibility. Maeve barged in, her voice rising. "You're keeping a royal gift in that filthy place? What if some noble saw it?"
The sword's voice chimed in, offended. "Hey! Are you saying I am inferior because some royal didn't gift me? Just so you know, I was the one who made this kiddo fly here to help you."
Lena's eyes widened. "Now you mention it... I did feel like you came flying."
Maeve pressed, "Where did you get it? And what is it, to hold this much power?"
The sword laughed. "Foolish human, I am—"
Cedric cut it off. "It's a secret." He looked at them with genuine, pleading eyes. "Even though we are extremely close, and I don't like hiding things from you, I have to keep this one. Please understand."
They looked at him, then smiled softly. "Got it."
Cedric immediately shifted back into his concerned, urgent mode. "Now, give me all the details. What happened? Every single bit of it, from the start, especially who sent you on this mission."
"Most of us just followed Rowan, who received the order from someone," Maeve explained. "You have to ask him personally. Other than that, we will tell you everything."
Lena and Maeve then recounted their entire harrowing experience in detail—the horrors they faced and witnessed. For a moment, reliving it all brought raw, pained reactions to their faces.
But it was Cedric who cried. Hearing what they endured, what the captives went through, his composure broke. He pulled both of them into a tight, fierce hug. "I'm sorry I was this late. Had I come earlier, I could have prevented so much. You did a good job. You guys are amazing."
Maeve, flustered, pushed back slightly. "Stop it, what is up with you today?"
Lena gasped, "I can't breathe, leave a gap for a moment!"
He released them, brushed his tears away, and looked at them with renewed determination. "Let's all regroup and talk properly. I will get Rowan."
They smiled and nodded, turning to head toward the tower, while he moved toward the bushes where Tobias and Rowan were hidden.
As they left, the sword's voice echoed. "The end result of all this intel is just that they don't know anything. All they did was hop around, get beaten, and repeat. Seriously, you are working with them?"
Cedric's grip on the sword's hilt tightened. He channeled a surge of his aura directly into the blade, a silent, painful warning.
"Shut up, you rotten sword. Mind your tongue."
The sword laughed, undeterred. "Aren't you a brute? Didn't you see the scale of the fight that happened here? Those undead, the craters created by clashes... This level of destruction... Don't you want to know how it happened? It definitely wasn't because of your friends. In fact, if they had been alone, you wouldn't have even gotten to see them."
Cedric poured his aura to its maximum, a visible corona of power flaring around him, and forcefully drove the sword point-first into the mud.
"I said, keep your mouth shut."
"Fine, fine! Get me out of this mud first, or I will not obey you right now. Both of us need each other. You sure are flaunting this aura now that you've actually learned how to use it."
Cedric pulled the blade out and kept walking, his mind racing.
Something definitely changed this time. I don't know what, but it did. In my past, all four of them would have died on this mission. That's why I prevented them from taking any missions until I exceeded my past self in terms of power. But they were still sent here. Was someone actually trying to push them to their deaths? But why? Why would anyone do this?
Still, as he spoke what happened here is a mystery, was there a fight among the enemies themselves? Should I investigate deeper? No. I need to focus on building myself up, stronger and better, for future events. I must prevent as many misfortunes and tragedies as I can. Save as many as I can. Fix my mistakes.
I planned to stop this macabre event by showing up earlier, and I would have, if not for those guys interfering. Once again, I failed to protect anyone in time. Thanks to some great fortune, they survived… even after my failure. But I promise those I failed again, I will deliver justice for everyone who suffered at the hands of these evils and punish them. And When the time comes, if that monster ever comes back, I will take him on.
what should the next extra be about
