As the ground quakes, the soldiers on the castle walls fix their gazes on a single point.

Their eyes meet a god descending upon a world of ash and gray.

Not a creation born of human hands, but a god that emerged from the dust, existing purely as it is—real and true.

Accompanying this god is the terrifying roar of Basiliora, a sound that inspires reverence among the soldiers, yet strikes terror into the hearts of artificial Outer gods.

The thunderous cry echoes, scattering dust in all directions.

Then, as the soldiers standing atop the walls look up once again, they see the figure of a god—one that compels them to lift their eyes despite their elevated vantage point.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The massive form of Basiliora begins to move.

Moments ago, an artificial Outer god resembling a turtle had been charging toward the castle wall.

But now, Basiliora swiftly coils around its body.

Snap!

The artificial Outer god lets out a scream the instant it is entangled.

The soldiers are stunned into silence.

Before their very eyes unfolds a battle reminiscent of myths and legends—a clash of monsters so great it seemed plucked from the stories of old.

Some soldiers gape in awe, some show expressions of shock, and others watch with reverent gazes.

But the moment is fleeting.

Roar!

It does not take long for the soldiers to realize one undeniable truth:

The scene before them is not a grand mythical battle between legendary beasts.

This is merely a hunt.

Crunch!

The soldiers watch in a daze.

In the distance, they see the artificial Outer god, coiled by the mighty Basiliora, being torn apart.

The shell that even Filian’s relentless attacks could not penetrate now crumbles like brittle stone.

Its limbs, which had skewered countless knights and soldiers and brought despair, are ripped off one by one, scattering a storm of blood.

And then—without even the chance to scream, this artificial Outer god, once a cruel butcher, meets its end in a pitifully wretched death.

Its entire body—its bones and carapace—is utterly ravaged.

Amid the ensuing stillness,

Roar!

Basiliora’s cry reverberates across the battlefield.

The air quakes, and a sense of reverence spreads among the soldiers.

Reverence that cannot be hidden.

And then—

“…Marquis Palatio.”

Duke Komalon, who had seemed endlessly indifferent just moments before, frowns and clicks his tongue briefly.

At that signal—

Crash!

The battle of Outer gods—no, the fight between the real and the counterfeit—begins.

Basiliora’s massive body moves chaotically among the artificial Outer gods, ravaging them.

“Hup!”

In response to Alon’s command, the snow wolves leap forward to aid Basiliora, unleashing golden flashes as they weave through the artificial Outer gods.

Everyone watches this scene of mythological combat in a stunned daze.

Everyone but one person.

Filian Merkilane looks elsewhere.

His gaze is fixed on a man.

A man cloaked in a coat that seems alive, with every strand of fur rippling and exuding black mana.

A man who dared to summon a god to this land, calling it his ally.

A man who once arrogantly spouted nonsense, flaunting his ignorance.

***

‘…Fifteen minutes remain. No, is it fourteen now?’

Alon let out a light sigh as he observed Basiliora wreaking havoc among the Outer gods, then cast his gaze down to the bracelet on his right hand.

It was the “Hand of the Wanderer,” a relic he had obtained from the fairy Tovette.

Combined with the “White Hand of the Wanderer” found in the Hermit’s Sanctuary, these two artifacts had merged to form the symbol of “Salvation of the Wanderer,” which now glowed crimson.

“As expected, the time limit is regrettable. Still, without it, I wouldn’t have dared to summon this at all.”

The Kalguneas Pact ring allowed him to forcibly summon subjugated entities.

However, its major drawback was that the stronger the entity, the more mana it required to summon.

Under normal circumstances, Alon’s mana wouldn’t have been sufficient to summon Basiliora—not unless the entity was incorporeal.

In fact, even the Tower Lords, who possessed incredible magical reserves, would be incapable of summoning Basiliora without suffering complete mana exhaustion.

This made the ring containing Basiliora practically unusable.

But thanks to the “Salvation of the Wanderer,” which allowed any artifact to bypass mana limitations for a full 15 minutes, this impossible feat became reality.

“Originally, the Pact Ring and Salvation of the Wanderer weren’t meant for use at this stage. They had other purposes further down the line. But this isn’t a game.”

Alon ended his musings and shifted his focus from Basiliora, who was battling the Outer gods, to Duke Komalon.

He had heard the duke was quite advanced in age, but he appeared unexpectedly young.

If not for the fact that he stood among the Outer gods, Alon might not have recognized him at all.

The youthful appearance of the duke resembled an ordinary nobleman, yet Alon didn’t lower his guard.

Quietly forming a hand seal, he remained vigilant.

At that moment—

“So, you’re another half-finished one, like me.”

The voice of Duke Komalon, who had remained silent until now, broke the air.

“…What?”

Alon responded with a puzzled question.

But the duke only let out a soft sigh and posed another question.

“I suspected it from the moment I heard you took the Dragon Egg. And now, seeing that bracelet on your wrist confirms it. Still, I don’t understand why you’re trying to stop me. Why?”

Alon remained silent—not because he couldn’t understand the duke’s words, but because he was debating how to interpret and respond to them.

Yet, before he could settle on an answer—

“No need to reply.”

Duke Komalon didn’t wait.

“I don’t know why you’re interfering, despite knowing the disaster ahead—but if you stand in my way, I’ll simply crush you.”

The duke formed a seal with his hands.

“Refraction.”

“Begin.”

Alon, meeting the duke’s movements, completed his own hand seal and invoked a phrase.

Thus began the battle of mages.

To be honest, Alon was at a clear disadvantage in this duel.

In battles between mages, many factors mattered, but none more critical than the speed of spellcasting.

For Alon, who relied on forming seals and invoking phrases, battles between mages were inherently unfavorable.

However, this time, he believed things might be different.

For reasons unknown, Duke Komalon also used seals and phrases.

With both sides operating under the same constraints, Alon felt the risks were evenly matched.

But he was mistaken.

“Acceleration.”

“!”

The instant the duke’s voice rang out, Alon realized the duke had already reached him.

“Frostbite.”

The surrounding ground instantly froze into a tundra, and icy tendrils began to climb up the duke’s legs.

Crack!

But the duke shattered the ice effortlessly, as though it were nothing.

Immediately, he formed a seal with his left hand and chanted:

“Expand, Scatter, Bloom, Spiral.”

“ད.”

Alon was struck with shock.

“That fast!”

By principle, incantations (어구) are used to twist the laws of magic.

Each incantation requires sufficient time to alter a single law.

If another incantation is uttered before the previous one has finished twisting the law, the resulting magic can completely collapse.

This was precisely why Alon left a slight pause between incantations, to ensure that the implementation of magic wasn’t disrupted by overlapping distortions of the laws.

Yet, before him, the duke seemed to defy this principle entirely, chanting his incantations with such speed and completing his magic as though the limitations didn’t exist.

It was as if he were outright denying the inherent flaws of incantations.

As these thoughts flashed through Alon’s mind, the duke extended his right hand, unleashing five glowing orbs, each spiraling toward Alon at point-blank range.

But—

“Freeze (凍結).”

At the very moment the magic was launched, Alon responded with his own incantation, linking it with his frostbite spell to freeze the incoming magic in its tracks.

“Acceleration (加速).”

In the next instant, he redirected the frozen magic back toward the duke.

However, Duke Komalon had already moved out of the spell’s range by then.

Realizing the duke had shifted to the right, Alon quickly formed a seal and invoked another spell.

“Compression (壓縮), Pinpoint (一點), Discharge (拔山).”

“Fixation (固定), Expansion (展開), Scatter (飛散).”

As both spells materialized simultaneously, their incantations clashed, warping the laws of magic.

And then—

Boom!

The one who was sent flying was Alon.

“Fixation (固定).”

Alon, tumbling violently across the ground, barely managed to implement a shield spell mid-roll, forcing his body to come to an abrupt stop.

However—

Shatter!

As if anticipating this, spiraling ice shards shot toward him, piercing through his shield without hesitation.

“Damn it.”

Alon gritted his teeth as he assessed the situation.

Alon scrambled to his feet, his eyes locking onto Duke Komalon.

Unlike Alon, whose coat was now a tattered mess, the duke remained eerily composed, his demeanor cold and indifferent.

Fifteen rounds of magical exchanges had passed, and among them, Alon had managed to win only once.

Even then, the victory was so minor that it merely grazed the duke’s collar.

In truth, Alon’s magic wasn’t ineffective against the duke.

But—

“…His speed is absurdly fast.”

The duke’s spellcasting speed was far beyond what Alon could handle.

Even planning one or two steps ahead wasn’t enough to keep up.

But it wasn’t just speed that put Alon at a disadvantage.

The duke’s ability to form seals rapidly, his overwhelming magical power, and even his seemingly inexhaustible mana reserves—all far outclassed Alon’s.

Furthermore, the duke had a talent for anticipating Alon’s moves several steps ahead, giving him a decisive strategic edge.

This wasn’t a battle. It was a complete mismatch.

Alon glanced toward where Basiliora and the snow wolves were fighting.

Roar!

Several artificial Outer gods had already been reduced to grotesque corpses, but the battle there still raged on.

“It seems you’re waiting for help, but that’s futile,” Duke Komalon said calmly as he observed Basiliora.

“Because before they can come to your aid, you’ll already be dead.”

He then formed a seal and invoked his spell.

“Fixation (固定), Expansion (展開), Scatter (飛散).”

At the tips of his outstretched fingers, five glowing orbs materialized again.

But this time, the duke wasn’t finished. He chanted once more:

“Disperse (分散).”

Together with the Duke’s final chant, the orbs on each of his fingers soared into the sky and began to split apart.

From five to ten.

From ten to twenty.

From twenty to forty.

From forty to eighty.

The number multiplied endlessly.

What formed in the end was a sight to behold: a luminous galaxy hanging in the ashen sky.

Hundreds—perhaps even thousands—of orbs illuminated the dull heavens in dazzling brilliance.

It was such an overwhelming and majestic sight that even the soldiers, who had been watching the mythical battle in a daze, couldn’t help but turn their gazes toward it.

And then—

“Release (射出).”

The moment Duke Komalon marked Alon’s end with his final incantation, the galaxy began to descend.

Thousands of radiant stars cascaded toward the ground, their light reflecting on Alon’s upturned face.

The scene was so overwhelming that anyone watching would instinctively drop their weapon and resign themselves to death.

The sea of light converged into a single point, targeting Alon.

“No!”

Filian, witnessing the scene, cried out instinctively, but Alon, who stood beneath the descending galaxy, remained calm.

In fact, Alon—

had been waiting for this exact moment.

“Acceleration (加速).”

With a deafening explosion, Alon’s body shot forward in an instant.

Although he had merely imitated the Duke’s formation after observing it briefly, his replication failed and resulted in an explosion.

But that didn’t matter.

It was enough for him to push forward.

Alon’s gaze locked onto Duke Komalon.

Though the duke’s face remained devoid of emotion, his slightly widened eyes hinted at a faint trace of surprise.

“Refraction (折).”

Alon had been waiting for this moment since the fifth spell was cast.

By that point, he had already abandoned the idea of defeating the duke in a direct contest of magic.

The Duke’s spells had clearly surpassed Alon’s own—not just in power, but the very essence of magic itself.

“Rebound (反).”

Thus, Alon began to set his plan into motion.

He didn’t avoid attacks he could have dodged.

He didn’t counter spells he could have countered.

“Azure Light (光).”

Minimizing his damage, he waited for the perfect moment— the moment when the Duke’s focus would waver, when his guard would drop.

“Diffraction’s—”

The moment when he could unleash his hidden card.

The sound of the galaxy falling behind him tore through the air, gnawing at the earth with an eerie screech.

At the same time, Alon formed a seal, and brilliant azure light flared before him.

Then—

“Line (선형).”

As the final syllable echoed, Alon’s finger snapped toward the startled Duke Komalon.

Boom!

A bolt of lightning, moving at monstrous speed, hurtled toward the duke.

But—

Just as the lightning was about to pierce the Duke’s heart—

“Acceleration (加速).”

The Duke twisted his body, narrowly evading the blue lightning.

Crackle!

The magic skimmed past him, disappearing into nothingness.

“Ah—”

Filian and the soldiers, witnessing the scene, let out faint gasps.

In the Duke’s normally impassive eyes, a glimmer of relief and satisfaction flickered.

A clear contrast of triumph and despair.

Yet Alon, who had staked everything on this final gambit, remained composed.

From the start, he had anticipated the Duke dodging the spell.

“Hah.”

He was already prepared for what came next.

Crackle!

“!”

The sound of electricity erupting behind him drew the Duke’s attention.

What he saw was two radiant azure lights shining brighter than anything else in the ashen world.

The Duke’s expression twisted in disbelief, while Alon, behind his calm demeanor, allowed a faint smile to form.

This was Alon’s true final move.

A unique trait attainable only by reaching the fourth rank in Psychedelia: the ability to cast spells in areas resonating with one’s mana signature, enabling Multi-Casting (多重發現).

“Scatter.”

Even as the Duke twisted his body once more, the azure lights had already been unleashed.

Boom!

The ashen world was once again bathed in blinding blue light.