Chapter 129

The forest in the dark night, which should have been silent, had become a nightmarish place filled with light and fire, blood and lightning.

The forest animals had long since fled, and only the immobile plants, rooted deeply in the ground, had become the victims of overwhelming violence.

One of the hosts of this deadly spectacle, the House Aravion noble Cadrum, swung his hand to slash away the blades of wind.

Then, in a counterattack, he hurled a translucent sphere, and with a loud explosion, the surrounding air vanished, creating a vacuum.

“Phew.......”

Taking advantage of the brief moment of reprieve, Cadrum let out a sigh.

Aside from the fact that Turan had gained new abilities and that Ymir had withdrawn, the tide of the battle itself was not particularly unfavorable for Cadrum.

Even if the secret of the symbolic combination had been revealed, it didn’t mean that the wounds he had suffered just moments ago would suddenly vanish.

The problem was that his mind, which should have been focused on the heat of the battle, was now filled to the brim with all sorts of complicated thoughts.

‘To use a combination technique involving soul magic... don’t tell me someone else has taken over his body already? I didn’t feel anything off at all when we were talking just a moment ago.’

They had been in this world for thousands of years already.

Of course, there were times when they had rested without possessing a physical body, and they had been apart for so long that it was difficult to say they had known each other for exactly that long.

But when they met directly, and had a conversation, it was usually easy for them to recognize each other’s presence.

That was because the unique personalities they possessed, and the distinct ways of thinking born from being different from others, were naturally revealed through their words and actions.

Moreover, using techniques that employed the power known as the Storm Bloodline was also shocking.

That kind of thing couldn’t possibly be replicated with the Mimic Bloodline or items imbued with its power.

Which meant that either Turan’s body itself was a vessel for four bloodlines, including the Storm Bloodline, or that some unknown spirit dwelling within him had the power of the storm.

'There should be hardly any with Airbender or Thunder Lord type souls. And even fewer with both combined...'

Could it be that someone believed to have perished long ago had returned to life?

Just like how Otas had come back from death?

No, that couldn’t be it. The way the technique was used was far too unskilled to make that assumption.

It was completely different from the way he had previously used wind magic with such proficiency.

That appearance was clearly that of a novice who had just barely succeeded in a storm-type combination and was now trying out any technique that came to mind.

“Urgh!”

His thoughts were interrupted as a burning sensation flared up from his ankle, and Cadrum let out a groan.

A platinum-colored whip, writhing like a snake, recoiled and withdrew.

Just like before, while launching a blade of wind, Turan had stealthily closed the distance and attacked with the Light of Judgment concealed downward.

Had he been properly focused, he might not have fallen for such a trick, but his thoughts had been too scattered, and that had been the cause of his misstep.

‘Damn it.......’

He hurriedly activated flight magic to rise into the sky, trying to minimize the loss of his severed ankle, but just like before, Turan disrupted the air using wind magic, making that difficult as well.

The technique involved launching wind magic with different strengths and directions from each limb, arms, legs, and other extremities.

He had felt it earlier too, but the magical talent that bastard possessed was far too extraordinary to believe it had come about by mere chance.

It was like saying that trash tossed into the sea had somehow been assembled by the waves into a functioning light aircraft on the shore.

Turan, the one who had impressed Cadrum so much, was now trembling from chills caused by massive blood loss as he tried to gauge the handles in his mind.

This one was for whirlwinds, this one for wind blades, and this one for wind barriers.

At first, he had fumbled with them like a child handling complex tools for the first time, grabbing whatever he could, but now he was beginning to get a sense of what each handle felt like.

Like how one handle was too heavy to pull right now, or how another one held the power of the wind attribute.

Naturally, he had avoided touching the one that contained the power of lightning.

If that armor was the ‘Sky Guardian’ that Meisa had once mentioned, then lightning attacks would only serve to recharge its power.

‘Who knew the experience from the Colosseum would come in handy like this.’

Maintaining coherent thought amidst the pain of being stabbed all over his body was no easy task.

No matter how courageous a person might be, facing death was not an experience one could easily endure.

However, Turan had suffered even worse injuries in fights against Meisa and Solif.

Things that would have become nightmares for ordinary people.

But Turan had instead used those experiences to temper and fortify his mind.

‘Next is this one.’

Click. As he pulled another unknown handle, his body accelerated.

Unlike the thought acceleration from lightning magic, this felt more like his entire body was physically moving faster.

Mixing flight magic into his motion, Turan dashed across the ground as if half-flying, maintaining a suitable distance from Cadrum and scattering a large amount of Water of Death.

Cadrum’s sacred relic, the Sky Guardian, instantly evaporated the harmful substance upon detection, but even the vapor of the Water of Death was intensely toxic.

“Gahk, kuh......!”

Cadrum, who had inhaled the poisonous air, hurriedly tried to blow it away with wind magic, but there was no reason for Turan to simply stand by and watch.

In terms of mastery over wind magic, Turan held the overwhelming advantage.

Even as the toxic gas tried to escape from Cadrum’s body, it was pushed back again and again. In the end, Cadrum had to hold his breath and limp away on one foot to escape.

‘As expected, since it’s a technique that seizes control over magic, it seems he can’t respond properly to this kind of attack.’

Turan continued to spray Water of Death, generating toxic vapor while pressing Cadrum with wind blades and whirlwinds.

Direct attacks aimed at the head or torso were mostly dodged or deflected, so he shifted to targeting each limb one by one, arms, legs, extremities.

A few of the House Aravion wizards, realizing their leader was in crisis, tried to help, but after one lost his head with a slight gesture, they no longer dared to interfere.

They had eyes of their own and could see that this fight had gone beyond the domain of ordinary wizards.

One minute passed like that.

After a prolonged chase, Cadrum, with one arm and both legs severed, rolled helplessly across the ground.

Turan quietly looked down at the incapacitated opponent.

“......Even if I ask what you are, you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Of course not.”

Turan’s short reply told him enough, but he also noticed that Cadrum’s face showed only frustration, none of the fear or despair typical of those on the brink of death.

“Are you not afraid of death?”

“Well, who knows.”

Cadrum mimicked the vague tone Turan had used earlier, wearing a mocking expression.

An immortal who had lived for thousands of years and would continue to live.

To him, the death of this body was nothing more than a single failure.

Ymir’s attitude as he left earlier, saying his time was up, likely stemmed from the same kind of composure.

If this had been a battle they absolutely had to win, if a single victory had been a desperate necessity, they would have fought while saving even their final breath.

Turan found that composure, that calm arrogance, utterly distasteful.

He and his comrades were risking their one and only life, while these people changed bodies like changing clothes, challenging again and again dozens or hundreds of times, was that something to be allowed?

Now was the time to change that.

“Then I’ll make you afraid.”

Before Cadrum could even ask what he meant, a wind blade extended from Turan’s hand and sliced through Cadrum’s neck.

*

As his vision spun, Cadrum inwardly sighed at the stinging pain.

‘Tch, I died.’

Still, he had hoped that they might spare him to extract information or something.

Well, there was hardly time for leisurely taking hostages when the battle wasn't even over yet.

As he felt his soul slowly leaving his body, the first thing that came to mind was the scolding of his superior.

A being who was once an equal peer, even someone over whom he had some advantage, but who had now become someone he couldn't dare defy.

Because of this failure, he would likely be relegated to a lower rank among his peers for some time.

Of course, if he could find a body with the right compatibility and talent, he might be given another chance, but the power to control an entire great noble house like now would most likely be handed to someone else.

‘I’ll have to put in some effort for a while. Maybe shift some of the blame onto Ymir.......’

As Cadrum briefly considered the aftermath, he suddenly felt that his soul was drifting away far too slowly.

No, it was as if someone was holding him back.

[Where do you think you're going?]

With a spiritual voice he had never heard before, his soul began being forcefully dragged somewhere.

Only then did Cadrum realize that Turan was right in front of him, and that he too had pulled his soul out from his body.

Turan’s soul, emerging from the inside of his brain and taking on a human shape, looked quite different from an ordinary person.

His hair, facial features, and body shape were identical to his physical form, but he had two wings on his back and deer antlers on his head.

As someone well-versed in soul magic, Cadrum immediately recognized this as a sign of the Storm Bloodline.

The antlers symbolized a lightning-wielding dragon, and the wings represented a bird soaring through the wind.

Unlike in reality where these traces weren't visible, when one completely exposed their soul body in the spiritual world, traces would appear in such ways.

The problem was that the changes didn't stop at those two.

He saw vertically slit pupils like a snake’s and black dust scattered around his body.

Those two features were unmistakably traits of a Chaser and a Hunter.

‘Four traits.......’

Of course, the fact that four traits had manifested from Turan’s soul wasn’t all that surprising.

It was already expected that he was one of the ‘Ones Who Crossed Over’, and their souls always contained four distinct powers.

What Cadrum couldn’t understand was the specific combination.

Thunder Lord, Airbender, Hunter, and Chaser?

The traces on the soul should be entirely separate from the bloodline of the possessed body. In that case, it meant his very essence was composed in that way.

Surely, none among them had ever possessed such a bizarre combination.

[This is where you belong.]

With those words, Turan’s soul reached out his hand, and an enormous gravitational force emerged, sucking Cadrum’s consciousness inward.

The source of the pull was the small jewel box held by Turan’s physical body.

Cadrum realized that this was an artifact made by his superior, designed specifically to capture and bind souls.

[How!]

That artifact should have been lost when Ymir tried to use it!

Only then did Cadrum become certain that Turan was one of the unidentified group who had once claimed to be Otas’s descendants.

‘No way, could Otas really have...? No, he’s dead. But then, what is this-’

His thoughts were cut short as Turan’s soul charged at him, and they engaged in a physical struggle.

Naturally, the fight was entirely one-sided in Turan’s favor.

Cadrum, having lost his body and become no different from a disembodied spirit, stood no chance against Turan, who, though seriously injured, still had a living body as his base.

Soul-to-soul combat also consumed a kind of resource, and naturally, the one with a functioning supply source was bound to be stronger.

No, it wasn’t just that.

The power contained in Turan’s soul, the so-called “class”, was evidently superior to Cadrum’s.

Just like when Cadrum had once housed the Ruler and Tamer Bloodlines in his body...

[Wait, spare-]

Only then, feeling a real sense of danger for the first time, Cadrum shouted in desperation, but Turan’s soul ignored him and continued beating him.

A soul’s endurance was its willpower.

With each blow, strong enough to shatter bones and knock out teeth if he were alive, Cadrum’s consciousness grew dimmer and dimmer.

Moments later, Turan’s soul grabbed the tattered remains of Cadrum’s soul and stuffed it into the jewel box, which existed overlapping both the real world and the spiritual realm.

*

“Aaaaaah!”

“R-Run! It’s a monster!”

After hurling a flame spear toward the fleeing House Aravion wizards, Solif let out a small groan at the pain he felt.

His beaten, slashed, and pierced body was screaming in agony.

“Damn it, I’m gonna die at this rate.......”

He kicked aside the snow leopard whose neck had just been broken, and saw Meisa from afar plunging a sword into the body of one of the House Aravion elders.

Beside her, another figure who also seemed to be an elder was lying half-reduced to ashes, suggesting that the battle on that side had ended as well.

Looking around for somewhere else he could assist, his gaze soon turned to Turan.

For some reason, Turan was standing with his eyes closed next to Cadrum’s corpse, holding the jewel box, and perched on his head was Bije, her eyes glowing as she remained alert for enemies.

“Oh, did you win?”

Perhaps feeling good about winning a four-against-one fight, Bije answered by nodding her head.

Just then, Turan suddenly opened his eyes wide and closed the lid of the jewel box.

“Got him.”

“Got what? Wait, you mean... Cadrum?”

“Yeah.”

Only now, having achieved overwhelming victory in his first soul-to-soul battle, could Turan allow himself to smile.

“He’s not going to hurt the Librarian or anything from inside there, right?”

“It’s fine. I’ve separated the space inside.”

Back when he had no knowledge of soul magic, Turan had barely been able to operate the jewel box, but after awakening his Spiritual Perception, he’d figured out a few methods of operation.

One of those was separating the interior of the jewel box into different sections for various uses.

Using this, Turan designated the area where the Librarian resided as a “guest room” from which they could freely emerge when the lid was open, and created a separate “prison” to confine Cadrum and any other gods he might capture later.

Of course, there was also a separate “storage” space where he kept the soul fragment he’d obtained earlier.

“That’s good and all, but first, let’s treat your body. You’re in terrible shape.”

“Yeah...”

Turan pulled a recovery magic artifact from his pouch, injected magic power into it, and gulped it down.

It was no longer capable of dramatic healing, but at the very least, it could help recover the strength lost due to blood loss.

Meanwhile, Solif and Meisa captured the surviving House Aravion wizards, those who had either failed to flee or had chosen not to.

There had been many magic artifacts suited for capturing or restraining, likely meant for capturing Turan or Meisa, so there was no shortage of tools to use.

“......Please, I beg you, spare our lives.”

“Lady Meisa, do you remember me? We dined together that time-”

"Traitor! Filthy whore!"

“How dare you abandon the family and join hands with outsiders!”

The dozen or so survivors all showed different reactions.

Some desperately begged for their lives, while others lashed out in rage.

Meisa’s gaze turned cold as she looked upon those denouncing her.

Had Turan not instructed her in advance to leave them alive, she likely would have killed them all.

“Everyone, please be silent for a moment.”

When Turan stepped forward and spoke, the group fell quiet.

Just earlier, the battle had been so intense that they hadn’t fully grasped the situation, but there was one thing everyone understood clearly.

The power of Cadrum Aravion and the accompanying House Nagin noble had been truly immense, and Turan had faced the two of them and emerged victorious.

Of course, Ymir had self-destructed from using power in an incompatible body, but they didn’t know that much.

After a brief silence, a noble of a vassal house bearing the Frost Bloodline growled, grinding his teeth.

“......I know what you are, Turan Zahar. A mere puppet of the Zahars, you seduced and stole away our successor, didn’t you? Say whatever you like, I won’t be convinced. Kill me if you want! My family will avenge me!”

As expected, it seemed that Cadrum and the rest of the Aravion upper ranks had fed their subordinates a story like this in advance.

Naturally, these people weren’t mindless puppets. There was no way they would have accepted orders to station themselves in a forest like this without a clear justification.

Turan looked at them and slowly chose his words in his mind.

Though he had already prepared what to say, it still needed one more round of review before he spoke it aloud.

‘First of all, revealing the existence of the gods to them is out of the question.’

There was no need to explain why the truth, that the fallen gods were surviving by possessing human bodies, had to be kept secret.

If that were to be revealed, wizards, fated like Turan and his group to be possessed, would surely revolt.

On the other hand, for those who worshipped the gods, that truth would only strengthen their sense of legitimacy.

After all, the gods were the great saviors of humanity, the ancestors of wizards, were they not?

Therefore, Turan planned to pin a different accusation on them.

A deception constructed by mixing the information he had encountered in Lavitas.

“Did you know that the Aravion upper ranks have been occupied by the White Elves since long ago?”

*****