Chapter 611 – Silent Lord.

“What power… I must uncover his secrets.”

An old mage watched as a massive surge of fire energy struck a watchtower. His group had already forced their way through five others, but this one was their limit. Most of his companions were barely clinging to life, while he alone still held some strength. They had shielded him so he could cast his spells, but the situation now looked dire.

“Is he trying to…”

The tower burst into flames, yet the firestorm did not end there. It surged onward, hammering the massive mana shield that protected them. Anzeneus alone could sense the subtle fluctuations in the flow of mana. He realized that the strike had been aimed at a precise point for a reason.

“…”

He frowned, analyzing the situation. With the towers destroyed and the relics disabled, the guards bound by the enchantments would soon awaken. Unfortunately, many of their allies had already been devoured by the monstrous cult entities, and the survivors would likely be disoriented. If they were to stand any chance, they needed every possible ally.

“Master Anzeneus, what are you doing?”

“Helping your friend. Please look after this old man afterwards. I doubt my body will last much longer.”

Though uninjured, his stamina was nearly gone. Only a single mana potion remained, enough to restore a fraction of his energy before he began casting. Young Lord Arthur saw his intent and gave a solemn nod. Azure flames swirled around him, erupting into a firestorm that surged into the crimson blaze, fusing the two into a greater torrent. Yet even combined, the force was not enough. The barrier still held firm.

“Lady Bernadette, we must aid them!”

Julius shouted from behind the Solarian paladin. The woman answered with a nod and raised her sword high. Golden light gathered around the blade, intensifying as the oldest Valerian sibling placed both hands upon her shoulders to strengthen her.

Arthur stood back, observing. He recognized that Julius and Bernadette were performing a combination technique, though he regretfully did not know how to help them. Still, he activated every skill he could muster and raised one of his rapiers. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, weakened by the injuries he had sustained.

Bernadette thrust her sword forward, unleashing a torrent of divine aura. The blast spread as wide as her blade, and beside it flared a thinner crimson ray, born from Arthur’s desperate strike. Together, their attacks converged on a single point of the barrier, and at last it began to give way.

The barrier’s surface rippled like a pond struck by stones. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from the impact point, but instead of shattering, the dome resisted, bending inward and refusing to shatter.

*****

‘Almost there, just a little more.’

Roland’s head burned as every rune on his armor shone under the strain of various rune empowering skills like rune overload. He poured every ounce of strength into his spell, struggling to push the barrier past its limits. The dome buckled and bulged beneath the ceaseless surge of power. His allies joined in, and for a moment it seemed they might break through. However, the defenses soon roared back to life.

‘No… is this some kind of hidden safeguard?’

The dome’s surface shivered with new energy. Cracks had already formed, yet the shield drew on a massive surge of mana. Its construction was far more sophisticated than Roland had anticipated. Energy from untouched sections of the barrier shifted to the point of impact, reinforcing the weak spot just as it was about to give way.

“No… this.”

He gritted his teeth and forced more power into the spell. Switching targets was useless, for the shield would only redirect its strength again. Even with Arthur’s aid, it was hopeless. Just as despair began to take hold, something impossible occurred.

“What?”

Roland froze as the impenetrable barrier split open. It did not yield where he had struck from within. Instead, it burst apart from the outside. The impossible had happened. The barrier, which had seemed eternal, did not break under Roland’s desperate assault, nor under the combined strikes of his allies, but from beyond.

A perfectly straight horizontal line appeared, glowing white-hot as if scorched by some unseen force. It looked like a great wound in the barrier, and through it, the outside world came into view. Noise erupted instantly, a wave of shouts and cries carried through the gap. Torches blazed in the darkness, revealing thousands gathered beyond, an army flying the Valerian banner. But the tear was small, and worse still, it was already closing.

Before Roland’s exhausted eyes, the wound shuddered and began to mend. Threads of condensed mana crawled across the gap, weaving the barrier whole again. The relief he had prayed for had not arrived, nor had the army he so desperately needed.

‘At least I managed to disable the relics, that has to count for something.’

He threw himself forward, trying to keep the tear from sealing shut, but monstrous tentacles as thick as trees lashed out at him. The witch stood there, her body twisted into a grotesque form, more like the abomination he had faced at his wedding than the spider she once resembled.

Things were going badly. His companions were spent, their potions gone. The soldiers were only just waking, and even if they joined the fight, Roland doubted they could hold against the endless tide of monsters. Even if they were victorious, it would demand many lives.

Then, out of nowhere. His HUD flickered for an instant as he dodged another strike and vaulted onto a higher wall, putting some distance between himself and the witch he struggled to contain.

“Wait… who is that?”

The tear in the barrier had shrunk to almost nothing, yet someone had slipped through. A lone figure stood inside, unnoticed until now. On the scorched stones of the last watchtower, he remained.

He was old, his silver hair catching the firelight, his neat white mustache gleaming. Light armor, elegant yet practical, fit his lean frame. In his hand, he carried a long, slender fencing blade. The weapon shone as if polished that very morning, its length covered in intricate runes, symbols so complex that even Roland struggled to understand them.

Roland blinked, stunned. The pressure radiating from the man was staggering. Even the witch, who had seemed ready to die for her cause, fell silent. The instant she noticed him, the last remnants of her human self recoiled in fear.

“No, it’s impossible. How can you be here?”

The man was well known, even appearing at the earlier celebration, or at least someone who looked like him had. Roland had long suspected that the figure in the palace had not been the duke himself but a body double. Now he felt a sinking certainty about what the noble had intended for the cultists, and why his scheme had collapsed so disastrously.

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“…”

Silence hung over the battlefield, broken only by the groans of soldiers and guards as they began to wake. The duke gave no reply. He simply scanned the courtyard, taking in the destruction that surrounded them. For a moment, his gaze fell on Arthur and his companions, but soon it settled on Roland’s armored figure.