Hearing this question, Ulrich raised his head, staring beyond the ravine cliff with cold apprehension. The storm of emotions rising from the Knight’s ominous words was tugging on his heartstrings, and yet, an equally powerful feeling was slowly welling up in his chest.

  “So what?”

  Tenderness, this was the feeling that he found suffocating, swelling within his heart. Not knowing how to process all of this, he simply blinked a couple of times and whispered in a flat tone:

  “Since when have I ever cared about others?” Saying so, his eyes flickered with affirmation.

  My goal will never change. Home. The people that I meet and encounter are but fleeting dreams. In the end, when I wake up, they too will disappear!

  Staring at Ulrich’s expression, Henrik's face shifted, his tone amused as he shook his head. “H—Human, you and I are not much different.”

  Ulrich sneered, finding his statement rather inaccurate. “You are dead, I am alive. You are an undead, and I am human. How can we not be any different?”

  Henrik’s voice grew louder with a hearty laugh.

  “Dead and alive matter not. Undead or human makes no difference. In fact, there are undead that possess more humanity than some humans; does that not make them human?”

  Noticing Ulrich's displeasure, Henrik continued with great coherence. “Young man. One day, you will have to offer a part of yourself to ascend further… By then, you will understand the truth about humans.”

  “…”

  Ulrich hesitated for a few moments, wondering if he should refute his words or not. Ultimately, he found Henrik’s words rather reasonable and profound. After all, it hasn’t been long since Ulrich became a Rank 1 Shadowmancer. So there was much to learn, including matters and secrets which still elude his grasp.

  He’s a Royal Knight, once under a Rank 5 Weaver of the Rune of Shadow… There must be something I don’t know yet!

  Either way, Ulrich no longer finds the Knight irritating. As a matter of fact, just the knowledge and wisdom from Henrik can be considered a form of ‘treasure’, maybe even beyond what he could hope to find in the Castle’s Keep.

  Suddenly, he lost the urge to kill the Fallen Knight. At the same time, there was a burning desire rising from his heart as he asked:

  “Do you know the higher ranks formula for the Rune of Shadow?”

  A formula for a Vital Rune and its subsequent ranks holds significant meaning, not just to a Shadowmancer, but to all Weavers. Even if Ulrich continued to accumulate lesser runes, eventually crystallizing his Vital Rune. Without the corresponding Rank 2, Rune of Shadow, he’d remained a Rank 1 for a long time.

  I am certain that he knows at least the Rank 2 formula for the Rune of Shadow!

  The truth was, every rune formula was a closely kept secret—within the Ministry, and within any organizations. At the moment, there are only three ways in which he could obtain such a formula:

  1. Contributing to the Ministry, thus granting him the chance to obtain a Rank 2 Rune of Shadow directly. The formula will be omitted. This is the safest, but also the most time-consuming method.

  2. Explore the other realms, scavenging the formula himself. This is extremely dangerous.

  3. Trade with other Weavers. Formula exchange is rather risky as it’s almost impossible to verify the truth of the content.

  Ulrich grinned, knowing that there’s a fourth option:

  4. Praying to a Great Existence for the bestowment of said formula or knowledge.

  Immediately, he shook his head.

  Wouldn’t I die on the spot doing that?

  Henrik thought about it for a moment, then pointed his sword at him. “An honorable duel, human.”

  So you do know!

  Despite his current condition, Ulrich found the Knight's request for a duel rather enticing. If Henrik's words were true, entering the Keep was impossible, which meant the storage room was equally out of reach. That made Henrik's offer all the more worth considering.

  In the end, he succumbed to his desire and agreed, not without raising a compelling question:

  “What constitutes an honorable duel?” He said, staring at Henrik’s grotesque face.

  “A face-to-face fight! A fair battle! No trickery or dirty tactic!”

  Ulrich nodded his head. “That’s right.”

  “S—So you agree?”

  In that moment, he sighed with clear distress:

  “Look at me! I am just a frail, young man who never trained a day in his life, fighting against you, a Great Royal Knight under Lord William. How is that considered fair and honorable?”

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  Hearing this, Henrik blinked.

  The silence grew, and he blinked again.

  “…”

  Recalling their initial clash and the subsequent ‘harassment’, he wanted to expose the shamelessness of this human. And yet, for one reason or another, he couldn’t.

  “Y—Your words… make sense.”

  Saying so, he raised a question that Ulrich had been eagerly waiting for.

  “What do you suggest to make it an honorable duel?”

  Since the beginning, the greatest obstacle between him and killing this Knight has been its armor and weapon, especially the armor. Although half of it was exposed at the moment, the other half essentially rendered his attack ineffective. As such, Ulrich raised his condition:

  “You have to take off your armor and weapon; only then can it be considered fair!”

  Henrik nodded. “I will not use my armor or weapon. But you cannot use a weapon either! Are you satisfied, human?”

  Ulrich grinned and bent low, gripping the two black spears, and began his descent once more. As he was descending, Henrik took the time to remove his armor, revealing the ghastly decomposed flesh beneath, as well as numerous scars and bone-deep holes.

  After doing so, he laid the armor flat on the moist ground along with the steel sword, then met Ulrich face-to-face. They both stood about ten meters apart, their eyes locked with one another.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Always,” Ulrich said. Immediately, a whisper of Hermes hummed in the air:

  “Dark Arrows.”

  The five arrows materialized from his shadow and shot forward like hungry vipers.

  Henrik didn't move.

  The arrows struck his exposed chest, shoulder, and abdomen with a spongy sound. Black ichor oozed from the wounds, but the Knight merely tilted his head, his hollow crimson eyes burning with something resembling disappointment.

  "Is this your idea of an honorable duel, human?"

  Ulrich's grin widened. "You said no weapon. But my spell cannot be considered a weapon."

  "Despicable—"

  Another arrow shot forth, piercing Henrik's right thigh. The Knight staggered but didn't fall.

  "Face-to-face, you said. Fair battle, you said." Ulrich circled slowly, keeping his distance. "We're facing each other right now, aren't we?"

  Henrik's dried face twisted into what might have been a snarl. "Clever human. Very well."

  The Knight lunged forward with shocking speed, his massive frame closing the distance in two strides. Ulrich barely rolled aside, feeling the violent air as Henrik's fist slammed into the ground where he'd stood.

  The impact cracked the stone.

  Goddess! Even without the sword, he's still dangerous!

  "Dark Arrow!"

  The spell formed more slowly this time; his spirituality couldn’t quite keep up. Two arrows manifested and struck Henrik's back as the Knight pivoted. He grunted but continued his charge.

  Ulrich backpedaled, his boots slipping on loose rocks. He couldn't keep this up forever. Each spell drained him, and Henrik showed no signs of slowing despite the arrows jutting from his body.

  Think! There has to be a way!

  Henrik swung wide with his left arm. Ulrich ducked, but the backhand caught him across the shoulder, sending him sprawling against a decayed tree. Pain surged through his body as he tumbled across the ravine floor, followed by prickling pain from wood splinters.

  "Gah!" He spat the clotted blood on the ground. His right arm screamed in protest as he pushed himself up.

  Henrik advanced slowly, almost too leisurely. "You are skilled, human. But tricks alone cannot win battles."

  Ulrich's vision blurred momentarily. He blinked hard, forcing himself to focus and stay lucid. His spirituality was nearly depleted. Maybe two more casts; three if he pushed it.

  The Knight was covered in arrows like a porcupine; black ichor dripping from a dozen wounds. Yet he wasn't weakened. If anything, Henrik seemed to be as vigorous and lively since they first met.

  Ulrich softly whispered.

  This time, only three arrows formed—thinner, weaker, like a pencil rather than an arrow. They struck Henrik's legs, but the Knight barely flinched.

  "Is that all?"

  Haha, no. But you'll think it is.

  Ulrich let his shoulders sag, his breathing heavy and labored. In that moment, he stumbled backward, making a show of exhaustion. It wasn't entirely an act; he truly was running on fumes.

  Either way, Henrik took the bait when he stepped forward, reaching out to grab Ulrich with both hands.

  "It was a worthy attempt, young huma—"

  Ulrich smiled imperceptibly.

  A single arrow materialized, not from his shadow this time, but from the shadow cast by Henrik's own arm. It shot upward at point-blank range, punching through the Knight's throat and erupting out the back of his skull.

  Henrik froze.

  Ulrich collapsed to one knee, gasping. His remaining spirituality was reserved and saved for this final moment. With that arrow, he felt it; the arrival of spirituality weakness. Trying to clear his throat, he coughed.

  The Knight's hands trembled. He touched his throat, feeling the arrow lodged there. When he looked at Ulrich again, his crimson eyes held something unexpected.

  Respect? Admiration? Or perhaps, it was both.

  "Clever... human... Just like Lord William…"

  Henrik's voice was already raspy, and now, it became even more incoherent. His body shudders; dark-gray matter slowly oozes out from his throat, spilling on the moist ground.

  "The treasure artifact..." He coughed once more, black ichor spilling from his mouth. "Behind the Inner Gate... in the eastern tower... Lord William's study... Formulas…”

  His legs slumped, and he fell to his knees facing Ulrich.

  "The Rank 2 and 3... formula... is there... along with... his research notes..."

  Ulrich forced himself to stay conscious, to hear every word without missing a single one.

  "But beware... the Keep..." Henrik's voice faded to a whisper. "Never... never enter... the Keep..."

  His body shattered like dried clay, crumbling into ash and bone fragments. The crimson light in his eyes flickered once, twice, then died out like the remnant of a dying ember. Where Henrik had fallen, a small crystal core remained—deep crimson, pulsing with faint light.

  Ulrich crawled forward, his body screaming in protest. He reached for the core, fingers closing around its icy surface.

  It’s my first time seeing it… The core of a Great Fallen Knight, fully crystallized. This contains as many runes as hunting fifty, if not a hundred, normal skeletons!

  He collapsed beside it, too exhausted to move. The adrenaline has since left, leaving him with nothing but sheer willpower to keep his eyes open.

  Just... need to rest... for a moment...

  The wind howled through the ravine, carrying away the ashes of Henrik, the once-great Royal Knight of Lord William, to a faraway place. In that moment, Ulrich's eyes flickered with starlight, and he felt it.

  His Vital Rune had gained almost thirty percent more lesser runes, pushing it past two-thirds toward completion.

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