Chapter 10: Unbelievable (Part 5)

At the Magic Academy, inside the Cathedral.

The central statue of the church had been moved aside, revealing a dark underground passageway. The putrid stench and damp air emanating from the entrance made High Priest Ryan frown deeply.

Opening this highly confidential area at this time was undoubtedly inappropriate. If not for the unusually anxious and urgent request from the cardinal, Ryan would never have allowed it. To ensure absolute secrecy, he had ordered everyone out of the cathedral, prohibiting anyone from entering.

While this underground dungeon was one of the Magic Academy's most closely guarded secrets, there were still a handful of people aware of its existence. Naturally, it wasn't concealed from the succeeding cardinal. However, the exact reason for building the dungeon and its true purpose had long been forgotten. If it were simply a place to imprison dangerous creatures, a standard prison could have been built elsewhere. There seemed no reason to deliberately construct it beneath the sacred cathedral.

Ryan did not wish to delve into these mysteries now. He vaguely sensed that the cardinal might know something he didn't. Although Cardinal Jarvis had not officially taken over the academy yet, and Ryan still held the key, he found it difficult to refuse the cardinal's urgent request. Besides, Ryan could tell that this cardinal might indeed be destined to take over the academy.

Within just a few days of arriving in the royal capital, Cardinal Jarvis had cured the queen's strange illness, prompting her to publicly pledge her full support. Additionally, Lord Rodhart had grown increasingly close to him, with the cardinal frequently visiting the prime minister's residence to strengthen their rapport. Although there was an unspoken consensus to prevent this outsider from gaining control of the Magic Academy, the unfolding situation forced everyone to reconsider their positions.

As a newly appointed cardinal, it was only natural for Jarvis to inspect every corner of his domain. Two days prior, he had already visited the dungeon under Ryan's guidance. Ryan, for his part, had found the stench inside intolerable—like the nauseating rot of moldy cotton clogging one's chest. Jarvis, however, seemed intrigued, meticulously examining the surroundings while peppering Ryan with questions about the dungeon's history. Unfortunately, Ryan had no interest in lingering in that foul place, and Jarvis appeared to harbor some strange reservations, leaving the dungeon reluctantly.

Now, Jarvis had urgently requested another descent into the dungeon. While Ryan found it puzzling, he refrained from asking further questions. He knew it was unwise to probe too deeply into unclear matters, especially in such uncertain circumstances.

The Dungeon.

The silence was chilling. This underground space, buried a hundred meters below the surface, muffled all external noise. Within, there was nothing capable of making a sound—save for the cardinal himself.

Every cell that once confined monstrous creatures was now open, but all the inmates had been reduced to corpses. Whether they were minotaurs as strong as ogres, Medusas, or Beholders, every living creature had been slaughtered, their bodies lying in blood-soaked ruins. A few wraiths and skeletal zombies stood motionless in the corners, gazing obediently at Cardinal Jarvis, more submissive than the most loyal hounds.

Jarvis flicked his wrist, shaking the blood off his sword before sheathing it. His anxious eyes darted around the dungeon. He had already searched the area as thoroughly as possible, even scrutinizing the cells that held the monsters, but he still found no trace of the clues he sought.

If time allowed, he would have inspected every inch of the dungeon's walls and floor, dismantling them piece by piece for closer examination. The intricate magical barrier encasing the dungeon felt excessive for a mere prison for monsters. Jarvis had a vague sense that the barrier's power and precision were far more profound than they appeared. If what that person had told him was true, and there truly were no other hidden chambers, then this dungeon was the most likely place for the item his mentor had mentioned.

But time was not on his side. Jarvis knew that Sandru's line likely referred to this very matter, making this a critical opportunity. Now, only one method remained for his search—a method that, under these rare circumstances, was the most effective option he could employ.

Unbothered by the filth on the floor, Jarvis sat cross-legged amidst the accumulated grime of years and the fresh blood of monsters. Slowly, he closed his eyes.

Three hundred miles south of the capital.

Master Aiden stared at the approaching figure, his expression as if he'd seen a ghost.

Strictly speaking, he hadn't seen a ghost. As a necromancer, Aiden treated ghosts, skeletons, and zombies no differently than ordinary people viewed dogs and cats. His expression was not one of seeing a ghost, but one akin to how ordinary people react when seeing one—an overwhelming mix of disbelief, fear, and terror.

The entity that had just shattered a Thunderclap bomb spell into oblivion was, in fact, a mere sparrow. But this sparrow flew with astonishing speed and precision. If not for Aiden's top-tier Eagle Eye spell, he wouldn't have recognized the tiny black speck for what it truly was.

A sparrow capable of dispersing a Thunderclap bomb spell was no ordinary bird. Yet, what truly horrified Aiden was not the sparrow itself, but the person who had sent it.

A massive bird of prey had silently appeared above them, its wings spanning nearly ten meters. This was a giant condor, a species unique to the Saundfest Mountains. But no one cared about the rarity of such a creature. All eyes were fixed on the figure seated atop the condor.

Not just Aiden, but Nopolinot and another necromancer wore identical expressions of disbelief, fear, and awe.

On the ground, Commander Roland finally exhaled in relief. The contingency plan he'd established on a whim had unexpectedly proven invaluable.

"What's happening? Have they sent reinforcements?" Emperor Griffinhart XVII asked, his voice trembling. The fact that he remained standing rather than collapsing in fear was a testament to his growing courage.

Roland shook his head and sighed. Only now did he realize how unsteady his sword grip had become. "No, it's not their reinforcements. It's ours."

Halfway in the air, the person on the giant eagle wore nothing but an ordinary priest's robe. His messy white hair and beard were blown into a tangle by the strong winds. Like the three necromancers, his face was covered by a mask—a skeletal design. However, while the masks of the three necromancers were silver, his was a pale gold, tinged with a deathly hue.

"I never imagined…" the man spoke. Though the winds were fierce, his voice—calm and seemingly effortless—reached everyone's ears clearly. "I truly never imagined that three necromancers would join forces just to kill one person, and with such crude, graceless means."

The three necromancers, including Master Aiden, stood frozen as if turned into statues. The only sound in the air was the flapping wings of gargoyles and the giant eagle. Nopolinot's half-raised hand shimmered faintly with the light of magic—a Froststorm spell still incomplete. Yet he neither finished casting it nor dispersed it.

The giant eagle, no larger than the gargoyles around it, bore a figure whose appearance was far from imposing. Leaning in a slouched posture, the man's elderly frame suggested weakness rather than strength. However, the moment he appeared, his mere presence subdued everyone completely. It was as if a shroud of darkness had encircled the space, centering around him.

The man atop the eagle sighed and continued, "What surprises me most is that the once-noble necromancers have now become rabid dogs, gathering like this for nothing more than power and profit."

His voice was neither loud nor harsh, but the three necromancers began to break out in cold sweat. After this remark, the man fell silent, and the oppressive stillness returned. Eventually, it was Nopolinot who broke the silence, speaking with a dry voice: "Honored former Acting Guild Leader, it seems you once swore before the Black Star that you would no longer interfere in guild matters when you left us."

"Your memory serves you well… I had almost forgotten about that vow, but you've been so kind to remind me," the figure in the golden skeletal mask replied, nodding. This response made the three necromancers visibly uneasy, but the man slowly continued: "But since you brought it up, I recall that my vow was conditional. It stated that as long as there was no conflict between the guild and myself, I would refrain from intervening. If I'm correct, isn't that how it went?"

"But we have not offended you in any way," the portly necromancer quickly interjected.

"No, you have," the golden-masked man replied with a nod.

The three necromancers exchanged uneasy glances.

The figure on the eagle lazily waved his hand and said, "You don't need to understand the specifics of why. All you need to know is that I don't lie. If you kill that person down there, you'll have crossed me. So now, all of you… leave."

"But at least explain why," Nopolinot protested cautiously. "We've spent so much time and effort preparing for this, and with just one word from you—"

The golden mask was silent for a moment. From behind it, eyes black and white with stark clarity swept over the three necromancers before the man finally spoke. "Ronis is gone. If I were to let you kill the one down there, who's to say I wouldn't be next? He might become a critical ally in certain situations, so I won't let him die." His voice turned cold and hard. "Moreover, with behavior like yours, do you even have the right to call yourselves necromancers? I don't need to ask—I already know why you're here and who sent you. You should be thankful that I'm no longer the Acting Guild Leader of Dehya Valley. Otherwise, you three would already be exiled permanently."

"I admit… our actions may have been somewhat inappropriate…" Nopolinot ventured cautiously. "But isn't this a bit of an irrational argument, Honored Former Acting Guild Leader?"

"Has your memory deteriorated so much that you think I would resort to sophistry?" the golden-masked man scoffed.

Master Aiden nodded and said, "Indeed, you wouldn't use sophistry. In fact, you've never bothered with reasoning at all. Why waste words? You've always been one to act before speaking. Now you're actually talking this much instead of striking immediately—it seems your temper has mellowed significantly over the years."

"True, even I feel like I've become much more patient," the golden-masked man admitted with a nod.

"But I remember that you've never been one to forgive easily. Even if your temper has cooled, the embers of your anger would never fully die out," Master Aiden observed. Among the three, he was the only one who could maintain composure against the overwhelming presence of the man before them. His voice regained its usual calm and detached tone.

The golden-masked figure chuckled softly and said, "You're right. In truth, I'm just pretending to be tough. If the three of you attack me together, you could very well defeat me right here."

The other two necromancers glanced uneasily at Master Aiden, but his face remained expressionless beneath his mask. In his usual cold tone, he replied, "We wouldn't dare. After all, you were once one of the leaders of Dehya Valley. How could we raise a hand against you?"

"There's no need to hold back. If you want to try, go ahead. Otherwise, you may find all your future actions hindered by my interference." The golden-masked figure sighed, speaking as if to old friends. "You know me—I may be petty and short-tempered, but one thing I pride myself on is speaking the truth. So let me tell you this now: if the three of you join forces, you're indeed stronger than me. What do you say? Care to give it a try?"