Chapter 597 – Transcendence
In an instant, Adrian and Osgar suffered fatal wounds. And the blue light did not spare Yurgien and Melard either.
A condensed lightning bolt shot down from the sky, crashing onto the two men's heads. Screams echoed everywhere, and the stench of burning flesh filled the air.
Rumble––
Out of the lightning that struck the ground, a human figure emerged.
"Haa, haa, haa... as expected, it happened just as the tower master predicted. To think they'd dare to come after a transcendent without knowing their place."
Angelo's voice crackled with thunder, fierce and sharp, yet his appearance was that of someone utterly drained.
Naturally so. He had crossed an impossible distance in a short span of time, arriving just barely in time to intervene.
"A, Angelo...!"
Osgar tried desperately to rise, but his body no longer obeyed him. All he could do was clutch the stump of his severed left arm and suppress a groan of agony.
Then, in his stead, a fierce gust swept past.
Whoosh––
The trembling spearhead stopped precisely before his throat. A chilling killing intent reverberated, echoing pure madness.
Angelo, still catching his rough breath, frowned.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"It was the moment... the moment, moment, moment I was about to shine the brightest...!!!!! And you dare to interfere!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
A piercing surge of power erupted, shaking the area, yet Angelo showed no sign of flinching.
Sandir had been brainwashed to be unable to harm or resist anyone belonging to the Bohemirn Magic Tower, and the commander who could control him was none other than Angelo himself.
Clack.
Angelo raised his eyebrows, then sneered as he struck aside the spearhead.
"So that's what you were rambling about. The ideals of the transcendent? Seems you're not the only one here who doesn't know their place. Jinryeon Sandir Paen, your existence isn't yours. You belong to the Bohemirn tower master, Lord Balrog Bessias––"
Suddenly, a radiant blade slashed down. Even with a hole in his right chest, the attack came with astonishing speed––but Angelo stood at the pinnacle of magic.
And beside him was Sandir Paen.
Clang!
Sandir's sword moved against his will, blocking the strike, and Angelo's fingertips turned toward Adrian.
Lightning pierced his heart and detonated.
The radiant blade flew far away.
And Adrian's body along with it.
Osgar clamped his mouth shut, quickly darting his gaze––and Yurgien, understanding his intent, desperately opened his circuits once more.
(The potion Isabella gave us! Use it on Adrian right now! Forget my arm––just hurry!!)
The one and only potion made from Lysandro's fruit was in Yurgien's possession, stationed at the rear of the formation.
Osgar's urgent thoughts echoed within.
As Yurgien, who was closest to Adrian, began to move, Melard, unable to cast any spells, forced her body to move to draw attention.
But the command that came was merciless.
"Seize them."
Thud!
Sandir's blade pierced through Melard's body and struck Yurgien's temple. The potion in his grasp rolled across the snow.
"Simple."
Angelo pressed his staff against Osgar's neck.
"Still, I can't quite understand it. The former War Lord of the Empire, the current Supreme Elder of Ostea Tower, and the 89th experimental subject, the Heavenly Sword, who should have been disposed of in the autonomous territory… What the hell is going on here? Why are you all siding with Black Hour? Or, is it even really Black Hour?"
"You… think that's the only thing you don't understand...…"
Osgar tried to provoke him to buy time, but it was a futile struggle. The opponent had no intention of engaging in deep conversation.
"Sandir Paen, find the magus controlling that mutant Arch Lich and bring them to me. Capture them all alive. They seem to know a lot."
Angelo tilted his head slightly.
"After that, bring Adrian Chambers. And the corpse of Number 89 as well."
Because of the intrusion of a single man, the faint hope that had flickered turned into a stain of despair. The shadow of defeat fell upon them.
...
Adrian, dazed, gazed up at the ashen clouds.
Not just those––but the merciless, snow-laden sky.
'Am I… dead?'
His heart, struck squarely by that tremendous impact, had stopped. His lungs, pierced through with a gaping hole, were filled with blood.
Every function of his body had ceased, and time was flowing in the world––how could he dare to say he was alive?
The boundary between life and death.
He had already crossed it.
And yet, strangely, Adrian's consciousness did not vanish. Instead, it took a heavy step forward toward somewhere unknown.
It was utterly foreign, and because of that, he understood––it was the very place he had longed to reach.
'...I see. It was never a path for the living.'
Not to be chosen, but to choose.
Though one might momentarily draw closer to one's lord, to completely follow in his steps, there was a single, indispensable condition.
'You must surpass your existing existence.'
Just as his lord had overcome his own limits through Defying the Heavens, it was not something mere resolve could accomplish.
Only now did he grasp that truth.
Then how does one transcend what one is? By overcoming something absolute––something impossible to overcome.
For his lord, it had been the finite magical talent bestowed by the heavens.
For Adrian, now facing the perfect silence that came with the extinguishing of his life's flame, it was death itself.
To resist death, the inevitable law of a life that had reached its end––that was the answer.
'By my choice alone.'
As if mutilating himself, he clawed and wrung his own consciousness, willingly embracing agony. He poured nonexistent strength into his limp, puppet-like body.
There was no 'if'.
No regret.
As the proud disciple and adopted son of Raymon the Perfect, as the sword of Verden.
There was only one possible outcome.
Thump.
His dead heart pulsed. Like a fragile yet vivid spark of the world's first life.
His sunken consciousness gradually rose to the surface.
Faster and faster.
As he neared the world once more, magical roars and multiple voices resounded from all around.
They were distinctly different from the three magi from before.
Then, Adrian opened his eyes.
Splash––
The special Lysandro fruit potion was poured all over his body. The horrific hole in his right chest closed up.
And so did every other wound across his body.
"Even though I came earlier than scheduled, I almost didn't make it. Looks like I did after all, though. Anyway––I get that you're tired, but you can't sleep right now, okay? I'll tell the lord if you do."
Isabella Argyle eyes gleamed as she tossed the empty flask behind her. She, too, was drenched in blood.
Her Devouring Magic forcibly expelled the blood that had pooled inside Adrian's lungs.
Adrian's first word came out hoarse.
"Sword."
"Sword? Wait, I'll go find––"
Whoosh––
From afar, the radiant blade flew into his right hand, where emptiness had lingered. At some point, Adrian had already stood up.
"You, right now…"
Isabella's eyes widened, and only then did she perceive, through her True Sight, Adrian's essence.
"Judging from your face, I guess you killed Crodon Olentia yourself. Seems you're the first among us to achieve your revenge. Congratulations."
Adrian took a step forward. Having just died and come back––no, having died and then lived again––his stride held no hesitation.
"I'll finish this soon, so cover the rear."
Hearing Adrian's firm declaration, Isabella turned her back.
"Got it."
***
Reinforcements arrived at the Grand Hall.
Not only Isabella, but Alderneys, Medrant Keden, and even Unia.
Using a sudden magical bombardment to divert Sandir and Angelo's attention, they swiftly secured the wounded.
"He's unconscious. You did well."
Though Yurgien had fainted, his injuries were not fatal. Compared to the other two magi, at least.
"Se, Sage...?"
"Both of them are in terrible condition…!"
Alderneys inspected Osgar, who was, quite literally, a wreck.
Melard's Arch Lich, instead of its usual blue hue, was crawling across the floor drenched in unforgettable crimson blood.
[I'm fine! But Osgar...]
"I'm fine too", Osgar said with a low chuckle.
"Except that I can't pat Cain and Unia at the same time anymore… haha."
Normally, physical restoration is a power permitted only to the Church of Luas, and requesting healing from a high priest is impossible for anyone.
Because that is the law of the Church of Luas.
However, they possessed the Lysandro's Fruit, so depending on Isabella and Alderneys's efforts, it might be possible to restore the lost arm.
No, it had to be.
She knew that well, yet all Unia could see now were the devastated figures of the people dearest to her—no different from family.
Judging from the cross-section of the wound, it was seared and charred... a mark of intense heat and lightning—a lightning strike.
Angelo, who had been watching the unexpected situation unfold, wore an incredulous expression.
"Now even the tower master of Ostea? And these sixth-rank forces… where the hell did so many of you come from?"
"Hey!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Unia roared.
"As one, converge."
She activated Rayshen's artifact, [Extension of Bahlrkan]. The shattered staff extended, wrapping around Unia's head like a circlet.
Auxiliary magic computations, accelerated mana flow, and emotions pushed to their peak—
Mado
Ordinarily, Unia could only form two mana satellites at once, or five at most if she took her time.
But Unia, a mid–sixth-rank magus, had dreamed of Dahit.
The general understanding is that "breaking through a rank" allows one to use higher-tier magic.
But the truth runs deeper.
The Liberation of Dahit's Rank is directly connected to magic art itself.
It isn't merely about casting higher-tier magic—it's about shattering the predetermined limits of those who have awakened to true magic.
So far, very few factions had ever driven a magus's resolve and power to the extreme, and even then, their results differed little from ordinary mages.
Losing a magus was too great a cost, and unlike rank-tier magic with precise standards, magic art is subjective—its limits nearly impossible to surpass.
And now, here, Dahit Wethroel's true intent was revealed.
––The limitation of rank is nothing but the limitation of a mage's potential. But through Dahit Wethroel, every mage in this world has been, and will be, freed from those shackles. The same applies to magi.
Her senior had told her:
––So remember this. The magic art you drag out by force will surely be powerful, but the price will be just as great.
Yet Unia possessed one of the rarest innate gifts in the world—a talent so overwhelming it could almost be called unique.
She manifested the power she would someday reach in the far future.
Whoosh––
Nine mana satellites floated behind her.
Blood streamed from her eyes and nose due to the recoil. The pain was sharp, but she didn't care.
It was bearable enough.
"[Extension of Bahlrkan]? That's Rayshen Tailroad's artifact…"
Unia consumed four satellites to cast an upper sixth-rank compression spell.
The gravitational sphere she launched forward expanded, growing as massive as a building in an instant.
Everything within its range was pulled toward it. Its power was far beyond that of an ordinary
Even Angelo couldn't escape its pull through strength alone.
"You whelp."
Realizing he'd been forced back by a bright-eyed young magus, Angelo's astonishment turned swiftly to rage. Rather than resist the pull, he closed the distance head-on.
Gathering a colossal bolt of lightning, he smashed his staff into the center of the sphere. Light and gravity tangled violently, amplifying the chaos.
Medrant asked.
"What about Sandir Paen?"
"You don't have to worry about that one", Isabella half-opened her eyes.
"There's only one we need to fight."
The electric discharges that had overturned a radius of several dozen meters finally subsided. Angelo's shoulders trembled as he dispelled
Unia's magic had been stronger than expected, but the exhaustion of both mana and mind he'd suffered on his way here had taken a heavy toll.
Mado
Mado
Mado
Mado
All of them—except Osgar and Yurgien, who could no longer fight—scraped together the last of their strength from the very depths.
Each one was a national-level powerhouse among magi.
"......Seems the Bohemirn Tower really has declined lately. Too many gnats are baring their fangs."
Angelo's eyes turned completely blue.
"I'll rip out every last one of those fangs myself."
Mado
Thunder burst from his body, residual lightning scorching the ground and sky alike.
Angelo—the Supreme Elder of the Bohemirn Tower, the foremost of Itium, the pinnacle of magic itself.
And––
The left arm of Verden, the last surviving head of the Argyle family, one who had transcended humanity—Isabella Argyle.
The Tower Master of Ostea, one of the Three Sages of the Society—the Sage of Protection, Medrant Keden.
Founding member of Black Hour, one of the Three Sages of the Society—the Sage of Wisdom, Melard Tastiennene.
Former senior officer of Black Hour, now a defeated exile, Isabella's alchemy master—Alderneys.
The new generation of the Society, the genius twin, the eighth-rank prodigy, Verden's junior—Unia.
一!
Their magic arts surged in unison.
***
A fierce magical battle unfolded some distance away.
As the strongest forces of each transcendent faction clashed, had this been a city, it would already have been reduced to rubble—no, to dust.
"Seems Angelo's attention is entirely on those magi."
Moonlight glinted off a blade's edge.
"There won't be any more interference."
Two mighty warriors faced each other across forty paces, with the chaos of magic raging in the background.
The embers of their emotions, long dormant, flared once again.
Until the last spark was burned away.
Adrian tilted his radiant blade.
"Let's end this."
"If that's what you wish."
The exchange was brief.
Intensification.
Resonance.
Adrian dashed forward in a straight line, leaving an afterimage, while Sandir twisted his wrist, his thrusting spear forming a vortex.
In the old days, Adrian wouldn't have been able to react to the second strike. Had it not been for his lord, he'd have been gravely wounded.
But not now.
With a single swing, Adrian severed both the first and second spear strikes and crossed past Sandir.
Their forms flashed by each other.
Their techniques were equal.
Even before the clash of sword and spear subsided, both spun half a turn, kicking off the ground with full force.
Huff––
Then, the violet aura rising from Adrian's body vanished. Even the sword aura from his radiant blade disappeared completely.
He stood utterly defenseless.
Yet, strangely, Sandir's instincts screamed at him to evade. But he ignored such a pitiful whisper of survival instinct.
'Finally...!!!'
At last, Adrian's light became brilliance beyond compare. There was no need, no reason to endure any longer.
It was time to reap what had been awaited.
Transcendent Art.
Piercing Kill
A spear that penetrated even concepts themselves drove toward his heart at the shortest, fastest path. The transplanted body began to collapse under the strain, but Sandir paid it no mind.
Adrian simply swung his sword, diagonally—from lower left to upper right.
Claaang—————!
Their final blows collided.
Spearpoint and blade interlocked.
A deadlock.
Either of them would die the instant they faltered even slightly. Both poured their full power into the clash; their total strength was nearly equal.
Yet, even at that moment, the outcome was already decided.
The Radiant Blade [Silendar].
The difference between what can and cannot be cut is only the difference in will.
––Cut the sky, Adrian.
The radiant blade, moving at a speed beyond perception, carved a violet line through space, cleaving Sandir Paen's spear in two.
Along that fracture, everything was severed.
Transcendent Art.
World Split
The sky was sundered.
The world was divided.