The doorway of the courtyard, covered in blue ice, was crisscrossed with cracks resembling spider webs.
I instinctively realized before swinging my axe. Next time, I could shatter it. Ivan gradually managed his mana while extending his arm and spoke.
“Dmitri.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Immediately after the breach, if a Type 1 situation is confirmed, retreat and regroup. Inform the homeland and abandon Kalion.”
“…Yes, sir.”
The worst-case scenario the Cleanup Unit could face in the Demon Realm. In other words, a Type 1 situation meant only one thing.
Direct encounter with the Seven Dragon Lords.
Even in the process of establishing response doctrines for nearly every combat situation, there had been no method of response for that specific situation.
That was why the tactical orders of the unit always specified a regrouping point. The areas where the Cleanup Unit was deployed were always the enemy’s rear and deep inside. In the case of extreme bad luck, there was a possibility of encountering a Sin directly.
It was the principle that the highest-ranking member remained behind in case of an encounter with a Sin. That was the only way to maintain the unit’s survivability. While the most competent agent bought time, the others had to flee along the escape route.
Someone had to relay the situation at the front to the command center. Information such as the current location of the Sin was classified as extremely critical intelligence.
And in this very moment, the highest-ranking member of this unit was Ivan.
“Elpheira.”
“Yes, what?!”
“Don’t worry.”
Finally, Ivan covered Elpheira, who was on his back, with his coat and tightly secured it at the waist.
“You will definitely come back alive.”
Ivan raised his axe. The mana he had restrained surged like fire, igniting his nerves. His muscles, reinforced to their limits, twisted violently.
BRAAAAM—!!
The noise was so great that Elpheira’s response couldn’t be heard.
However, the warmth digging into the back of his neck was comforting.
Snow swirled like a canopy. Visibility was extremely limited, and the storm silenced hearing.
Ivan stopped trying to shield his face from the snow and quickly turned his hand behind him.
Though he was tightly bundled up, he couldn’t be sure. If he could use his mana, maintaining body temperature would be easy, but Elpheira wasn’t in a state to do that right now.
He quickly untied the strap around his waist and cradled the shivering Elpheira in his arms.
“—!!”
Her voice was drowned out. The moment it escaped her lips, it was swallowed by the storm. Ivan soon gave up on conversation and tightly wrapped his coat around them. He felt her trembling body beneath.
“—!!!”
Elpheira yelled something. Perhaps he should have taught her sign language. Ivan clicked his tongue at the situation where he couldn’t even attempt to use silent incantation.
He placed his hand on the nape of her neck and channeled his mana. For a mage, mana works similarly to an electrical current. Just as different machines require varying volts and power, one can’t simply use someone else’s mana without their consent.
Of course, it was something that shouldn’t normally be attempted. There was a risk of overloading the delicate mana circuit. Normally, Elpheira would have been competent enough to dismantle and absorb outside mana in an instant.
But right now, this was the best course of action. So now, all he could do was trust.
“—?! –!!”
Ivan felt Elpheira’s urgent cries under his hand. The vibrations in her nape were clear. Since he could neither comprehend nor decipher her words, Ivan ignored her shouts and surveyed their surroundings.
‘This isn’t indoors.’
It was obvious because snowstorms shouldn’t swirl indoors, but considering the structure of the Eternal Palace, it was a phenomenon that shouldn’t occur.
The courtyard of the Eternal Palace was covered with a massive glass dome.
An effort to always provide the ancestors with perfect conditions. Maintaining humidity and temperature adequately, controlling sunlight, and blocking beasts and pests.
“….”
Ivan barely turned his body to look behind. He couldn’t see the door he just came through.
There were no doors, no buildings. He squinted and cautiously surveyed his surroundings. It was a snow-covered expanse. Flat without any height difference. In the darkness of night, a white floor extended, merging with the horizon.
Once again, he observed with more scrutiny. Wondering if there were other signs of life.
‘Confirmed.’
There were no signs of life. Aside from the closely clinging Elpheira, all the agents who had been with him were gone.
Could it be an illusion spell? No, if that were the case, Elpheira wouldn’t have come through with him.
‘It’s a Cosmic Realm.’
Ivan was well aware of this phenomenon. He bit his lip and lifted his axe. It could no longer be denied. It was a Type 1 situation. Not just any sudden encounter, but a level of cosmic intrusion.
Beings that have become gods after living and gaining immortality as mortal souls. This was the domain of those who had become embodiments of ideals.
Cosmic Realms were like another world. Every one of the Cosmic Realms he had experienced had been like that. It didn’t merely refer to well-constructed fortresses or dungeons.
It was a space where the concepts of the world warped. If he had to express it, yes, it was a realm of the gods. A world belonging to those who called themselves gods.
So now, this place was…
WHOOOOO—!!
The Eternal Palace, which had just been beneath his feet, was nowhere to be found, and in this space where only snowfields and storms existed, it was akin to the Cosmic Realm of the Seven Dragon Lords.
‘Then there should be inhabitants.’
The most necessary thing for a god is worshippers. One reason why Ivan doesn’t believe in gods is that they were beings of imperfect lineage.
Every Sin had their worshippers. As they represented their own race, a worshipper meant the numbers of their entire race, too.
But who grew up here, under the worship of whose race?
Idrenhill, the City of Elves. What kind of demon could thrive enough in this place to create a god?
“—.”
He saw something wriggling at the horizon’s end. He wondered if it was an optical illusion caused by the rough snowfall, but upon closer inspection, it was growing larger.
Ivan moved towards the wriggling things. He had to step carefully so as not to disturb Elpheira.
Soon he would be able to meet whatever was moving.
“Huh.”
It was a deep-sea leech. A bizarre mass composed of one frozen creature atop the snowy surface and those tiny ones feeding on it was wriggling.
“So that’s it. The sea.”
Ivan looked around with fresh eyes. He stared for a while at the flat horizon without height and the snow softly piled on top.
Then suddenly, he brushed the ground with his toes. The hard ground shifted smoothly. Underneath, dark ice lay hidden.
The sea was frozen.
“The techniques to control monstrosities, enhance intelligence, and extract divinity from the very essence… clever.”
Ivan looked coldly at the leeches.
The leeches had already turned their heads towards Ivan. As if obeying someone’s command. No, it seemed as if they were listening to his words. As if they possessed intelligence.
“You’ve instilled intelligence into magical beasts as a form of worship. Not as the gods of the Elves, but as the gods of the homunculi created by Elves. You were trying to command a god?”
One of the monstrosities wriggled. Its leech-like mouth floundered, emitting a grotesque sound akin to metal warping.
Tick, tick, tick. Such noises piled upon one another. Each individual began producing different sounds, according to different rules.
An accumulation of sounds. Like an orchestra playing, where each instrument’s characteristics merge into one.
The small noises emitted by the larvae began to stumble upon words.
Eternal, hi, prosperity, shall be.
That phrase was endlessly repeated. The leeches swayed their heads as if in a trance.
Suddenly, a light shimmered beneath his feet. Ivan pushed the snow away with his foot to inspect the ground.
The dark glacier of the ocean. Underneath, light clusters sparkled faintly. It was as if a galaxy had unfolded from afar.
Narrowing his eyes revealed a blurred outline.
A city. A sunken city, or rather, cities existed. Ruins of strange architecture and flowing mana were vivid.
It was an unfamiliar terrain. Since Ivan never forgets a landscape seen once on a military map, the city he was looking down upon was undeniably strange.
No part of the United Kingdom had any shape that resembled that.
Floating above the city, a piece of something was drifting below like garbage, carried by the currents.
“Forty-two islands…?”
A banner with the emblem of Kalion fluttered beneath the glacier.
Eternally, pro, prosperity, shall be.
The larvae began to writhe, becoming entangled. Ivan tucked Elpheira to one side and raised his axe. After patting her quaking shoulder, he steadied his stance.
The entangled shape of the larvae resembled a human form. With pointed ears, it was wearing unknown attire. The larvae surged, taking the place of where hair would be and mimicking a strange shape.
At a glance, it resembled an endlessly growing tree.
“Yere, Yere-mof-kyeong.”
Elpheira whispered faintly, her frozen lips trembling. With eyes wide in fear, she gazed towards the horizon.
Things writhing in the snowstorm were drawing nearer and nearer. The larvae began to converge, forming silhouettes.
Each entity appeared as if they were elves standing like trees.
The horizon looked like an endlessly sprawling forest.
“Leave me behind. You can, find a way to survive alone, can’t you?”
“Yes, I can.”
Ivan firmly pressed Elpheira’s head down, hiding it in the folds of his coat.
“I’ve done it before. Don’t wander off.”
It wasn’t his first time visiting the Cosmic Realm of the Seven Dragon Lords. He had experience scouting the realm and guiding his Hero Party back to safety after their visit.
So doing the same task for the present party was not particularly remarkable.
And a trained agent should not feel difficulty in repeating what they have done once.
*
The ancient souls of elves sealed within the depths of the sea.
Creatures that preyed upon that soul.
Commanding those creatures, endowing them with intelligence to awaken them as one ‘demon race.’
If the faith had been formed among those beings and condensed into a single entity…
“Producing a being like the Seven Dragon Lords might theoretically be possible.”
Veolgrin smiled quietly and moved his hand. As the knight moved, the opposite hand pushed a pawn.
“But should we truly call it a god?”
Veolgrin’s question echoed in the dark.
“I would rather call it a vessel.”
His hand gripped the knight, and with a crunch, the pawns that emerged in front were trampled, bursting like larvae.
*
Was it the biting cold, the relentless mana of another plane, or perhaps fear?
If the reason his hands trembled was due to fear, then what he feared wasn’t his own death.
Elpheira gently traced Ivan’s cheek with her pale, trembling fingertips.
CRACK.
One of the elves made of larvae burst under his axe. The larvae dispersed rapidly, fading into the snowy fields.
Soon from the horizon, another elf rose.
“Yere, Yere-mof-kyeong.”
As she barely tore her frozen lips to speak, Ivan swung his axe without even looking at her.
The splattered remains of the larvae scattered across the snow.
“Do what you must, Elpheira.”
“I… I…”
“You can do it. Until then, don’t think about anything else.”
Even in this situation, his voice was the same as usual. Heavy, solemn, and unwavering in its low tone. Not a bit roughened in his breath, solid but not cold. It was reassuring.
“Don’t let go.”
Elpheira bowed her head at his words.
What she needed to do.
The mage of the Hero Party, the mage who had lost her powers, the powerless mage gasping in fear.
What the mage of the Hero Party must do under the mana of another realm, what the heir of Grykencos must do.
CLACK.
The gears of the circuit spun. It trembled vehemently as it distorted, overheating yet quivering.
Extreme pain as if her nerves were being burned by electricity, yet even so…
What the mage of the Hero Party must do.
Because the successor of Grykencos must do what is required.
“That’s right.”
Ivan lowly chuckled, pressed Elpheira’s head once more, and drove his axe down on the approaching elf’s head.
CRACK, the dark ichor drenching the coat’s hem.
