The Duke gazed vacantly ahead.

What he saw was a world of ashes.

Next came the barren earth where not a single blade of grass grew—an empty land where everything had vanished.

As familiar faces began to appear on that desolate land, he realized something: this was a memory from the past, a faded memory that was now hard to recall.

However, as time passed fairly, it became a memory he could only see in dreams.

It was the reason why he had survived until now, and at the same time, it was the yoke that tormented him from his memories.

The Duke couldn’t take his eyes off the scene.

There, he saw the backs of the True Mages he knew well.

Faces appeared among that group, from the face of a True Mage who had been there before he became a disciple of his master, to those who became True Mages around the same time, and even those who became disciples of other True Mages later but achieved mastery faster than him.

Beyond the parched land, they all walked into the abyss.

What he saw next was his master’s face, smiling.

Her smile was as compassionate as ever.

“It can’t be helped. The moment the soul of this world fills up, it becomes inevitable,” she had said.

If it weren’t for the tears, he might have mistaken it for a moment of joy.

“It’s good you didn’t become a True Mage.”

No, that wasn’t it.

He should have become a True Mage.

He should have been helpful.

That’s what he believed, and it seemed the him in his memory had said something to that effect.

What had he said?

He couldn’t remember.

It was unclear, but he seemed to have thrown a tantrum, wanting to go along.

However, unlike the words he couldn’t remember, the image of his master remained in his memory.

“If you’re not a True Mage, it’s just a vain death. So, I’ll leave my back to you.”

With an expression of resignation, his master’s face.

“Survive no matter what. Protect this world as we, the True Mages, have protected it.”

As the last voice of his master, who had grown taller than him, patted his head, the master and the True Mages left him and walked into the abyss—to block the sin crawling up from the roots.

To protect this world.

To protect humanity.

To protect the half mage, they left him and headed there.

The last thing he saw was a grotesque sound as his memory of the gray world twisted violently, and the Duke spat blood.

With powerless eyes, he looked around.

What he saw was still a world of ashes, and again, the barren land.

Yet, even then, he realized that this place was not a blurred memory of the past.

It was similar to that past time but definitely different.

Duke Komalon—stood vacantly looking ahead.

Where the faded memory of the True Mages had stood, there was now a man standing there—a half mage with no emotion visible on his face, just silently looking down at him.

The Marquis Palatio was standing there, looking down at the Duke.

The condition of the Marquis’s body did not look good.

Though not clearly visible earlier, the parts of his hands and neck not covered by his black coat were blue—a severe case of magic toxicity that it would be strange if no hardening occurred.

Is that all?

Most of the wounds near his blue skin were minor, but he had a serious injury on his right arm.

However, it did not leave a significant impression on Duke Komalon.

“Cough.”

Ultimately, unlike the Marquis who could still stand, Duke Komalon himself was sitting down.

He looked down.

There was a massive hole.

A hole so large that it was impossible to continue living as a human despite using the abyssal body, drilled right in the middle of his abdomen.

“Ha-” The Duke laughed involuntarily.

He didn’t realize why he laughed.

Was it because his mind was becoming strange?

Or was it a sense of liberation, finally being freed from a heavy burden?

What could it be?

Why would that be?

In fact, Duke Komalon knew well why a hollow laugh had formed on his lips.

Precisely.

“Survive no matter what. Thus, protect this world. We have,” he could now surmise again, after hundreds of years what had been mere fragments in his mind, not memories but blind objectives.

“The world the True Mages protected.”

The memory of his master’s face that emerged was distant.

In that distance was another emotion.

The feelings of regret and pity.

He knew why his master had such a face.

She had never expected him to protect the world.

The master did not think he could protect the world.

He was too weak for such expectations.

Even he knew that what his master said was just to placate him, who was making unreasonable demands.

He may not have had talent, but he was not clueless.

But even if the master did not expect it, even if no one else expected it, he alone resolved to protect the world that the True Mages had defended, watching them enter the abyss.

He vowed not to let their sacrifices be in vain.

However, ironically, the start of such a vow was more out of self-satisfaction than for a noble cause.

A half mage who had never been recognized, to be recognized as a True Mage.

A vow made so that he could proudly think and declare himself a part of the True Mages.

Even if no one else recognized him, he wanted to think so himself.

Thus, the smile that formed on his lips was self-mocking.

“In the end, am I just a half mage?”

He spat blood and chuckled without realizing it.

Because he had accomplished nothing.

Just as the master had anticipated.

As the True Mages had anticipated.

He sighed dryly and realized that his vision was blurring.

The death he had postponed for countless years for a single purpose was now approaching.

“Duke.”

Amidst this, a voice called out, and he turned his head.

There was the Marquis Palatio, looking down at him with the same emotionless expression as before.

He was about to speak.

“You are, indeed, a True mage.”

A soft utterance.

He couldn’t understand why the Marquis would say such a thing.

But regardless of his intentions.

“…uggg”

He couldn’t help but smile faintly.

Whatever the intention, it was quite sweet to the Duke.

Even if the words uttered by the Marquis were a lie, they were words he had wanted to hear.

Thus, the Duke, smiling, said:

“Go to the southern border of the east end. With the crest you received, you might get some help. You might also see the truth.”

He closed his eyes as a form of repayment.

As the abyss approached, his consciousness slowly began to fade into sleep.

And finally, what he recalled was, ironically, his last memory.

The last thing he couldn’t remember until the very end.

—Survive no matter what. Thus, protect this world. The world the True Mages protected.

The last words his master had said.

—You are a True mage.

That was the last memory he recalled as his consciousness completely submerged under.

“Is that so, did you believe in me…”

Finally, the Half Mage fell into eternal sleep, a small smile on his lips.

And the ‘eyes’ that the Half Mage had never seen quietly watched over his death.

***

Three days had passed since Duke Komalon died and the artificial Outer god crisis that threatened to destroy the entire Kingdom of Ashtalon had ended.

Ultimately, the Kingdom of Ashtalon had regained peace.

Although many nobles died at the ball attended by Duke Komalon, and several territories were completely obliterated causing chaos, the immediate crisis had indeed been extinguished.

Other countries where artificial Outer gods had appeared also achieved peace by defeating them around the time of the Duke’s death.

In this newfound peace, “I’m going to die,” groaned Marquis Palatio, Alon, who had been suffering from terrible pain all over his body for three days straight.

It was expected, given that he had swallowed thirteen bottles of magic potions during the fight with the Duke.

His magic pool had definitely increased, and the efficiency of his magic had improved overwhelmingly, although he had not used many self-manifesting spells.

However, the battle with Duke Komalon had pushed him to use more magic than his limits allowed.

“Sigh,” the pain was relentless.

As Alon groaned, Evan, who was tending to him, said, “But isn’t that something? The priest said you could have died as it was. It’s a relief, really. Until yesterday, you could hardly open your mouth, but now you can talk.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Alon recalled the priest who had cautiously asked him last time, “Perhaps, are you not human?”

The priest had said that it was a miracle he hadn’t died from severe magic poisoning.

“Still, you might want to be more careful about such things from now on, Marquis.”

“I’d like to,” replied Alon.

“You dive into too many dangerous situations.”

“Are you worried?”

“Of course.”

“Is it because you have to follow me around?”

“Hmm, honestly, that’s a bit of it too,” Evan joked, which made Alon smile inwardly.

“Master!”

Suddenly, Seolrang burst through the door.

“Are you okay?”

As soon as Seolrang saw Alon, she rushed towards him.

“I’m okay… well,” Alon nodded but then looked at Seolrang’s collarbone.

There was a large wound there that hadn’t been there before and seemed not to have been healed by the priest.

“That wound—”

“Oh, this? I didn’t dodge an attack properly last time, and this happened! But it’s okay, Master! It doesn’t hurt!”

Seolrang laughed it off as if the wound caused by a mistake was no big deal, but Alon’s expression behind his impassivity was complicated.

Regardless of what she thought, that wound was a result of Seolrang trying to help Alon.

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Why are you sorry, Master? It was just my mistake,” Seolrang looked genuinely confused, but Alon’s gaze remained fixed on the wound.

“It’s a wound you got trying to help me. And it might leave a scar, making it look ugly. I feel ashamed.”

At this, Seolrang briefly stopped smiling and looked at her collarbone.

From her right collarbone to the end of her shoulder, she stared at the scar and then looked at Alon.

“Master?”

“Yes?”

“What do you think, Master?”

“What I think?”

“Yes, Master, do you think this scar makes me look ugly?”

At Seolrang’s question, Alon was silent before shaking his head.

“Not at all.”

“Then it’s fine!”

“Is it?”

Although his face remained unchanged, Alon felt puzzled inside.

“Yes, as long as it doesn’t look strange to you, Master, I don’t mind at all!”

Seolrang cheerfully exclaimed, smiling once more, and Alon felt a pang in his heart without realizing it.

“Huh?”

Evan looked at Alon’s face, surprised.

Even though it was very slight, Alon was definitely smiling.

Evan, who had served him for nearly a decade and had never seen even a small change in his expression, was momentarily stunned.

Soon after, Alon saw off Seolrang, who had left to receive treatment, and then greeted an unexpected visitor who came to see him.

The troublemaker, Karsem, had come to visit.

In fact, apart from accompanying Seolrang, he had no connection with him.

‘Why is he here…’

“Are you okay, sir…!”

“???”

Seeing a member of the Colony royalty suddenly bowing down with utmost respect, Alon couldn’t help but feel baffled again.