It was a chilly dawn, still two hours away from sunrise. The White Mystery, emitting a faint light, suddenly burst into brightness like midday, causing everyone to look up at the tower in surprise. Dunmel, who was standing with Flora, waiting for the last night to end, also turned around.
Ruskin’s presence, originally hard to detect even with focus, completely vanished from the tower the moment the light exploded. Dunmel busily moved his eyes, searching for the presence of other masters.
Luder was standing in front of the bridge, his eyes wide with surprise.
Golbein’s presence was detected from the lower part of the tower.
Using all his senses, Dunmel searched for Dethain’s presence. He, too, like Ruskin, was an outstanding sorcerer whose presence was hard to feel.
He couldn’t be found easily. Where could he be? He was not in his room, not in Kainswick, and not in Nonsearch either.
‘Found him.’
Dethain was in the room with the White Mystery. And though faint, Dethain was with someone. Ruskin? Or another sorcerer? Despite exerting all his senses, Dunmel could not guess who was in the room with Dethain.
The presence did not match any of the masters.
‘Is there a third party I’m unaware of?’
An ominous premonition crept up on him.
— Flora, I’ll be back in a moment.
Dunmel wrote a note, intending to head towards the tower ahead of time, breaking the promise with Dethain. However, Flora didn’t finish reading the note and pointed across the river instead.
From Downsearch, the Mozes lined up in rows and showed themselves by the river. They were armed with spears and axes, and a few even wore helmets. They approached Nonsearch in a formation that unmistakably belonged to trained regular infantry.
Flora and Dunmel looked at each other simultaneously. There were predefined tasks for them if the Mozes attacked.
Hesitating for a moment, Flora hugged Dunmel tightly then let go, saying,
“Let’s meet again, alive.”
Then, Flora ran towards Nonsearch.
The villagers had been informed in advance about their roles in case things escalated sooner than expected. Thus, despite the surprise, they quickly gathered around Flora. The movement started sooner than planned, but since they had prepared the day before, there was no significant confusion. Led by Flora, the people immediately started moving towards the River Forest.
Dunmel headed for the Larvitten Bridge. The Vigilante Group soldiers, too, entered a defensive stance without panic. In the past, there would have been chaos, but not this time.
There was no sign of fear. Since a surprise attack by the Mozes had been anticipated, it couldn’t really be called a surprise anymore.
Whether to attack first or defend was not important. The primary goal was to focus the Mozes’ attention on the Larvitten Bridge to protect the villagers’ movement, so the soldiers’ mission remained unchanged.
Archers lined up along the riverbank prepared their arrows but did not draw their bows yet. They were all waiting for the command, restraining themselves. The monsters weren’t the only ones trained. This side had also received proper, albeit brief, training.
The Mozes stopped at a distance just within reach of the arrows.
Only Luder and Dunmel stood at the center of the Larvitten Bridge. The soldiers were behind several layers of palisades.
Luder clenched and unclenched his fist repeatedly, then asked Dunmel,
“Where is Knight Loyal?”
Dunmel pointed north.
“And Jaymer?”
South.
“Golbein and Dethain are late. But why has the White Mystery suddenly brightened like that? There’s never been anything like it before.”
Luder paced restlessly, looking at the tower’s top and then scanning the Mozes gathered by the river. The bright light produced by the White Mystery made every Mozes’ face distinctly visible.
Light.
‘That’s a signal.’
Dunmel was lost in his thoughts.
‘What kind of signal could it be? Good or bad? A signal for the enemy or for our allies? I have no idea. Who is the person with Dethain next to the White Mystery? Ruskin? If not Ruskin, how could someone else be at the top of the tower unnoticed?’
Dunmel was dying of curiosity.
‘Everyone’s attention is focused on the other side of the river. Sneaking into the tower now wouldn’t be difficult.’
Dethain had entrusted him with tasks to be done after his death. But Dunmel felt like he had already failed to fulfill his request.
Before he could even sort out the myriad of questions in his mind, a disturbance arose from the direction of Downsearch. Something was rapidly approaching from behind the row of Mozes, shaking the ground.
At first glance, Dunmel thought it was a giant log with wheels attached. Upon closer inspection, he saw that carts at each end supported the log, and those carts were equipped with a complex machinery full of gears.
‘What is that?’
It was surprising enough that the Mozes had such mechanical devices, but even more surprising was that Dunmel couldn’t figure out their purpose.
It seemed like a crane for scaling walls, but there were no walls here. It looked somewhat like a battering ram built by mounting a log on a cart to smash the palisades at the bridge. Yet, a master capable of bringing down the bridge anytime was present. The enemy likely knew that as well.
If it was just a simple battering ram, the machinery at the front of the cart made no sense. Was it meant to be floated on the river? That would have been inefficient. It would have been better to build a boat in the time it took to create wheels.
The Mozes didn’t stop. The long cart with the log charged straight towards the river, not towards the bridge. Luder unfolded his staff. Flames erupted on the side of the river far from them, blocking their path. But the Mozes broke through without care.
Once again, the magic didn’t work.
Luder, having anticipated this, did not panic and immediately issued an order.
“First line, attack!”
The archers, who had been ready, simultaneously launched their arrows into the air. The arrows drew parabolas and fell over the heads of the Mozes. Those who had been pushing the log stumbled and fell, kicking up a cloud of cold, dusty earth from the ground that had cooled overnight.
As the Mozes pushing the cart got closer to the river, Luder did not hesitate to collapse the Larvitten Bridge. He had been the sorcerer most opposed to destroying the bridge.
White stones tumbled into the river water, splashing droplets. The dust from the stones obscured the view like a thick fog. The cart the Mozes had brought stopped right in front of the river. The log was much longer than it had appeared from afar. Most of them had two or three logs joined together to extend their length. There were about twenty of these, and their length matched the width of the river.
It was only upon getting closer that Dunmel realized what the machine attached in front of the log was. It was a device that operated on the principle of a catapult, designed to bounce objects up. They had managed to create twenty such complex machines in less than a week.
Dunmel, holding his bow, shot down the Mozes attached to the cart with arrows. However, he couldn’t stop them from activating the machine.
The machines were not very precise. Out of the twenty, only ten worked properly while the rest failed to activate. The ten that worked propelled the long logs into the air. One end remained attached to the cart, while the other end of the log stood upright, drawing a parabola. The logs, more than twenty meters long, stood tall across the river like towers and then slowly began to fall towards the other side.
The soldiers widened their eyes and backed away as ten logs as long as the Larvitten Bridge fell towards them all at once. Some logs smashed the palisades set up along the riverbank as they fell, and those that were too short plunged into the water instead of reaching the other bank. Some were underpowered and fell back towards the Mozes, crushing about a dozen of them. However, eight of the logs reached precisely the end of the river.
In just a few seconds, eight wooden bridges were created.
The Mozes rushed across the wooden bridges in no time.
Dunmel, having fired every arrow he had, managed to hit every one of them, but his efforts couldn’t stop even a single log. The same was true on the other side.
The archers couldn’t stop the Mozes from crossing the wooden bridges for even a few seconds. There were too many of them.
‘Were there this many?’
It wasn’t that his senses had dulled and couldn’t measure; there were simply too many to count by presence alone.
Dunmel dropped his bow, which had run out of arrows, and drew his sword, leaping onto one of the wooden bridges. The hastily placed bridge, made from the logs as they were, made it difficult for the hastily approaching Mozes to cross without slipping and falling into the river below.
Dunmel swung his sword widely at the end of the log, knocking down those who tried to cross. The Mozes, in their relatively unstable position, couldn’t get past the barrier Dunmel posed and fell into the river below. Those Mozes who couldn’t swim floundered in the water before being swept downstream endlessly.
On the other side, soldiers with spears blocked the front of the logs. However, the Mozes, unafraid of being stabbed by the spears, leaped at the soldiers. It only took a few sacrifices to break through the line of spearmen. After that, the path was clear.
“Move aside!”
Luder shouted, extending his staff, but the flames that erupted were pitifully weak compared to his booming voice. Although quite intense, it was nothing more than tossing a few torches in front of such a large army.
It was a sorry sight compared to Dethain’s magic that had swept away the Mozes with a wall of fire not long ago. It was unbelievable that a master considered superior to Dethain in combat could only produce such magic. Moreover, the logs targeted by his flames didn’t budge, and only a couple of Mozes were knocked off the wood.
“There’s a magical barrier protecting those logs!”
In a panic, Luder raised his staff high along with his arm. The river water boiled, and a column of water rose up. It was the same magic Ruskin had used to sweep away the Mozes with a tidal wave. However, the power was ridiculously weak, only managing to shower the Mozes crossing the logs or causing a few to slip and fall.
Luder had intended to knock all the wooden bridges into the river with the water column, but that didn’t happen. At least Luder used such magic, while other sorcerers couldn’t use any at all.
Luder staggered back. It seemed he had exhausted his strength with those two feeble attempts at magic.
“Our magic is being suppressed. It’s not the Mozes being affected by the White Mystery’s light; it’s us!”
Except for the log Dunmel was blocking, all bridges had been breached. The Mozes poured over the river like a swarm of ants, and they were hopelessly outnumbered.
Even Luder, switching his staff for a sword, joined in the resistance to fend off the wave of Mozes.
One-third of the Mozes attempting to cross the wooden bridges died in the river, and another third was killed upon crossing by arrows or spears. But even the remainder was enough to threaten the entire force of soldiers. The strategy of using the geographical advantage for defense didn’t work.
“Good heavens.”
Luder exclaimed. The wooden bridges were not the end. Ten more logs, each with a cart in front, were heading down towards the north and south sides of the river. Attached to them were as many Mozes as had just arrived.
‘Too many!’
The palisades that had been diligently erected over several days proved to be useless in an instant. Though dozens of Mozes were impaled and killed, their bodies served as a buffer for the next wave of Mozes.
The riverside was completely overrun by Mozes. Now, Dunmel had to defend not just from the front but also from enemies attacking from behind. He turned around and swung his sword at five approaching Mozes. He sliced through the necks of two, the chests of another two, and the wrist of one, while a shorter Moze trying to squeeze in between was kicked into the river.
Surrounded by the Mozes with no room to move, Dunmel found himself at the center of their assault. Countless spears, axes, and swords flew at him. Twisting his body, he narrowly dodged all attacks. His clothes were torn, and his skin was cut.
Amidst the entangled blades, he drew Lergo’s dagger, which he had saved for a critical moment against the Black Knights. He swung the dagger intending to fend off the surrounding weapons, but instead of being repelled, the weapons were all cleanly sliced through. The broken fragments fell to the ground as they hit his body, and surprisingly, there was almost no recoil felt in his wrist. Dunmel was more startled by this.
‘Lergo, what have you made?’
Seizing a momentary gap, Dunmel broke through the encirclement. The Mozes tried to catch him, thinking he would run, but he had no intention of fleeing from the start.
Losing their target, the Mozes turned around, and Dunmel spun around faster than their shifting gaze. In an instant, a group of about twenty Mozes clustered together in a circle.
The Mozes thought they were surrounding Dunmel, but in fact, they were the ones encircled. Blindly following Dunmel, they swung their axes and thrust their spears. As he dodged, Dunmel stabbed and swung his dagger, blood spraying in all directions from the rotating blade in his fingers.
The moment Dunmel stopped moving, twenty Mozes collapsed in a heap, none surviving.
More Mozes were crossing the bridge, coming towards him. Taking a quick breath as his rest, Dunmel readied his dagger again.
‘Should I retreat? No, if I do, there’s a risk everything will collapse instantly. No matter how hard it is, I must hold on.’
Dunmel was not used to this kind of fight. Battles where one faces many could not be sustained for long. His stamina would drop, and if his feet could not keep up with his mind, he would die from a minor blow.
Dunmel felt fear as he saw the Mozes swarming in. Once fear took hold, it was not easily shaken off, and the body would stiffen at the thought of fear.
‘I have to retreat. If I get surrounded again like before, I won’t be able to escape!’
A familiar energy approached from behind and stood to Dunmel’s right. It was Loyal.
Mozes charged at the two of them. Having someone with equal skill on his right brought an immense sense of relief. It felt like driving a one-wheeled cart and then switching to a two-wheeled one.
Standing their ground, they did not step back an inch and struck down the Mozes coming at them. Countless Mozes fell the moment they crossed the bridge. When others tried to rush them from another bridge, another figure stood to Dunmel’s left. It was Jaymer.
Dozens of Mozes charged from three directions, but the three men stood unshaken.
The bodies of Mozes piled around the three men exceeded a hundred.
The Mozes stopped moving. Dunmel surveyed the surroundings. The Mozes coming from the other side of the river pushed down towards Nonsearch, attacking, but most gathered near the broken bridge of Larvitten.
Ignoring the three men and rushing to the tower would have caused more damage, but the monsters did not proceed, leaving the three alive here. There might have been a commander at the start of the battle, but now there were no orders being given.
The Mozes approached the thick barrier the three had created along the river. They showed no disgust or sympathy as they stepped over the bodies of their fallen comrades. White mist burst from their mouths, and foam-mixed saliva dripped to the ground. However, they could not come within a certain distance.
The Mozes might not fear death, but they were afraid of the three men.
“If Azwin were here, that would be great.”
Loyal, standing on his right, said. Dunmel looked over to Jaymer on his left and signaled.
‘Putting Jaymer in Gerald’s position, what about Formation 9?’
“It’s hard for that guy to have Gerald’s breakthrough power.”
Jaymer quickly turned his head and retorted.
“What are you whispering about?”
Loyal did not hide it.
“We’re discussing the battle formation among the White Wolves.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s the three-person formation, called Formation 9. If you can take over for a friend named Gerald, it would be the perfect setup for our current situation…”
“If it needs to be done, then I’ll do it!”
Jaymer cut in decisively.
There was no time. The Mozes would soon overcome their fear and charge all at once.
‘Put Jaymer in front. And you give the commands. The rest, we’ll have to trust that guy to manage.’
Knowing there was no time, Loyal instructed Jaymer.
“Stand in front of the two of us. And with the mindset of charging, strike the incoming enemies to both sides. Though I say charge, don’t actually move forward. Your goal is not to kill the enemies but to scatter them.”
“What are you talking about?”
Explaining a complex battle strategy to the blunt Jaymer in a short time was impossible for the straightforward Loyal.
Dunmel quickly shared his thought with Loyal through hand signals, and Loyal quickly relayed the message.
“So, Dunmel and I are the edges of the sword, and you are the tip.”
The Mozes were also coordinating among themselves.
‘Just as Jaymer said. They can communicate with each other.’
Having finished their consultation, they charged at the three simultaneously.
Loyal shouted, “Here they come!”
Dunmel thought the words that followed from Loyal’s mouth were better than any explanation he could have offered.
“Do whatever you want! Whatever you do, we’ll support you!”
Loyal shouted something else afterward, but Dunmel no longer had the chance to read his lips.
Almost as if being pushed, Jaymer took his position in front of the two and faced the onslaught of Mozes. He was pushed back three steps by the sheer number of enemies, and Loyal and Dunmel had no choice but to step back the same distance.
The Mozes attacked Jaymer first, who was in their line of sight. As Loyal predicted, Jaymer couldn’t make a charge like Gerald would have.
Jaymer stepped back four more steps.
Loyal and Dunmel stepped back the same distance.
Jaymer sustained a slight injury to his shoulder, and Loyal, in an attempt to protect him, also got hit by fragments of a broken sword on his side as he forced his way forward to fight. Dunmel spread the formation a bit more to draw the Mozes towards him.
‘It won’t work. It was too much to handle. This is something only Gerald could do! We need to give up now.’
If they waited too long to give up, all three would be massacred.
The essence of Formation 9 is that the person in front must trust the two on the sides. After experimenting a few times among the White Wolves, they concluded that anyone could stand on the sides, but the lead must always be Gerald.
The person in front must ignore attacks from the sides and charge forward. However, it’s instinctual for a human to be cautious of their surroundings, making it difficult to focus solely on enemies ahead, especially against Mozes who fearlessly throw themselves at the blade.
For a moment, Dunmel regretted not putting Loyal in front. However, Jaymer’s skills were somewhat lacking compared to the two, making Loyal’s position in front unstable.
‘It’s too late to run. Jaymer has to pull it off. Otherwise, all three of us will die.’
Jaymer stepped back two more steps. Dunmel and Loyal also stepped back two steps. Dunmel clenched his teeth.
Jaymer took another step back, but this time it was to knock down five Mozes on purpose.
From then on, he did not retreat. The Mozes scattered to the sides to avoid Jaymer’s wildly swinging sword, and those who scattered were decapitated by Loyal’s sword or fell to Dunmel’s.
When movement became impossible due to the pile of Mozes’ bodies, Jaymer shouted something and moved to the left. Dunmel, although not understanding him, followed at the same pace, looking at his foot placement. The fearless Mozes followed, stabbing with their spears.
After Loyal cut off a spear and a Moze’s arm, he tapped Jaymer on the shoulder. The two shouted something and switched positions. Dunmel knew the strategy from their position change alone.
This time, Loyal was the tip, and Dunmel and Jaymer switched sides.
Loyal naturally pushed against the enemies coming towards him with force. Jaymer and Dunmel quickly followed, striking down any Mozes Loyal missed.
Loyal charged forward, focusing almost exclusively on the enemies in front. Dunmel and Jaymer protected him and advanced. And once they reached a more open area, the Mozes instantly surrounded the three.
This time, Jaymer took the lead again. The two exchanged words again. Dunmel knew without listening.
Loyal was teaching Jaymer. Just being in front for Formation 9 was to teach him physically what the lead should do. Jaymer quickly grasped his role.
Watching Jaymer fight from behind, Dunmel suddenly noticed a specific pattern in his movements. He knew from which direction and at what speed someone would strike without looking and calculated it precisely.
It was like the first test of the Wolf Knights, measuring the opponent’s strength with a feeling and responding to it. However, Jaymer had a keen enough sense to see these vague feelings as precise numbers, completing these complex calculations unconsciously in a short time.
‘Jaymer, this guy.’
As he quickly followed Jaymer’s movements, Dunmel thought.
‘He pulled off the White Wolves’ formation without any training.’
The White Wolves had once discussed if there was a technique that could guarantee a downfall of an opponent once used. After talking all night, a tired Azwin concluded in a resigned manner.
‘If there’s a technique that can ultimately bring down an opponent, there must also be a defensive technique that can block every attack. That’s a contradiction.’
But Sheyden’s opinion was different.
‘The one who has the ultimate technique to bring down an opponent will also possess the ultimate defensive technique. If you succeed in the attack first, you won’t end up being attacked. That’s not a contradiction.’
‘How would one fight to make that possible?’
Dunmel asked.
Gerald, with the most experience, convinced everyone.
‘You just need to read the opponent’s attack in advance. Not a second, but a fraction of a fraction of a second ahead. If you can read the opponent’s attack that early, what can’t you do?’
Of course, it was impossible. The serious discussion ended with such an absurd conclusion. Yet, Jaymer was doing it now.
Loyal didn’t know how to explain the theory of swordsmanship, but he always seemed to read his opponent’s attacks in advance, defending and attacking with precision. Gerald had said that Loyal was the closest to achieving the ultimate attack. That’s why one had to think a step further to defeat Loyal in a match.
However, Loyal didn’t calculate his moves. Jaymer did. Their styles of fighting were similar, but each had its distinct personality.
Jaymer was clearly inexperienced.
Loyal sometimes suppressed himself unconsciously.
This meant that neither of them had yet reached their true potential.
The attacks from the Mozes gradually decreased until they finally stopped. In the middle of Nonsearch, the bodies of the Mozes could not be counted. Both allies and enemies froze in horror at the sight of the overflowing corpses. A temporary halt came to the swordstorm that swirled around the Larvitten Bridge, as silence settled over the three of them.
“Is it over, you lot? I still have strength left.”
Despite his trembling arm muscles, Jaymer shouted with spirit towards the Mozes crowding the entrance of Nonsearch.
Loyal patted Jaymer on the shoulder, saying, “You did well, Jaymer.”
“You weren’t so bad yourself?”
Breathless, Jaymer retorted without giving in.
Dunmel smiled faintly as he watched the two encouraging each other. He remembered Karlsten’s last words.
‘Remember, Themar. You are the most talented child I’ve ever seen. If you set your mind to it, no one can follow you.’
Dunmel shook his head.
‘You were wrong, Master. There are two people here with talents surpassing mine.’
Suddenly, Dunmel sensed Dethain faintly behind him. His presence moved rapidly from the top of the tower downwards. No one seemed to notice, so it wasn’t loud. Though many Mozes were still present, there was something more urgent to do.
‘I leave this place to you.’
Dunmel signaled to Loyal with hand signals and ran towards the tower.
Dethain’s presence wasn’t moving as one would down the stairs. To move down that fast, ‘falling’ was the only method. Moreover, Dethain’s presence was almost undetectable now.
Dunmel dashed across Kainswick’s corridors, following the faint trail.
Master Dethain lay collapsed in the middle of a corridor with a broken ceiling. Whether he had taken measures in the falling moment or was merely lucky, he was still alive. However, wooden splinters pierced his lung and protruded out of his abdomen, and a wide pool of red blood surrounded his head.
Looking through the broken ceiling, Dethain blinked with vacant eyes.
Dunmel knelt beside him, realizing no emergency measures could be taken.
“Why did this happen?”
Tears gathered in Dethain’s eyes, trickling down his cheeks. He was already unable to see ahead, just questioning someone until his last moment.
“I hope Lutia forgives you…”
With those words, the life force completely faded from Dethain’s body. Dunmel closed his eyes, and the tears that had welled in his eyes flowed down his cheeks as he did so.
It seemed like tears were shed once more after death.
Dunmel lifted his head to look at the hole in the ceiling. It was where Dethain had fallen through. The top of the high tower was visible, and the White Mystery still shone intensely.
‘Why? Why is there still a third presence?’
In the room where the White Mystery was, there were still two presences. One was Ruskin’s energy that had briefly disappeared, and the other had been with Dethain all along.
Dunmel jumped through the broken ceiling. The chilly dawn air enveloped him. The white light of the White Mystery faded, and the dawn in the east grew stronger.
Dunmel threw off his shoes and ran to the tower, climbing a floor in a single bound. He touched only a toe on a ledge to climb another floor, then turned his body upside down to climb yet another, moving like a spider with the numerous protruding bricks.
Having climbed high walls during his assassin days, he had never ascended as quickly as now.
It was time to fulfill Dethain’s last wish. Dunmel broke into Dethain’s room through the window, rolling over the broken glass and drawing his dagger. He had known the room was empty from the presence, but now Dunmel couldn’t trust his senses.
Only after visually confirming the room was empty did Dunmel pull a crystal ball from the bookshelf.
The names of the murderer and the traitor that Dethain had thought of were written there. But Dunmel knew them before he saw them. Yet, like Dethain, until the end, Dunmel was more curious about ‘why’ than ‘who’. Probably, Dethain’s deductions were delayed for the same reason.
Climbing the stairs, Dunmel held Lergo’s dagger in reverse. Despite countless slashes at the Mozes, the excellent blade hadn’t dulled, but the opponent was a formidable sorcerer challenging even for such a blade.
Dunmel paused briefly in front of Ruskin’s door. It was where Philip’s body, stabbed to death, had been placed. The black, dried blood still remained. Philip had died stretching out his arm trying to knock on the door, bleeding out. Why? To inform Ruskin of the culprit’s identity?
Everyone present fell for that statement, succumbing to a simple psychological trick. Only one person, Dethain, was not deceived. From that moment, Dethain silently engaged in a psychological battle with the culprit, determined to catch the criminal himself.
‘The culprit had ordered to catch the criminal, and Dethain declared he would identify the culprit from that moment, even though he already knew who it was. There, the culprit could have killed Dethain, and Dethain could have exposed the culprit to everyone. However, neither of them did so.’
Dunmel broke down the door and entered Ruskin’s room. The table where he had shared tea with Ruskin and discussed Tailed was the first thing he saw. However, the room was empty. The place where he felt the presence of Ruskin and another was one floor up.
The room with the White Mystery.
Dunmel climbed the wooden stairs, rolling to position himself for any surprise attack, but there was none.
A fierce wind swirled inside the narrow room where the White Mystery was located. The glass walls, which seemed unbreakable by any means, were shattered, allowing the fierce wind to blow in. An old man was standing, touching the White Mystery. A foggy substance, full of light particles and wriggling like a snake along the old man’s arm, returned to the White Mystery.
It was the same scene he had witnessed two days ago. However, the jewel was gradually losing its light, and the old man’s body flickered on and off like a candle about to go out.
Despite being one person, the old man possessed two distinct presences.
“Will you ask the same question? I guess you weren’t curious about who it was in the first place. Why… right, Dunmel Wolf?”
The old man was wearing a black robe instead of his usual white one. Dunmel wasn’t curious why one person could have two presences.
“What should I respond to that question? I couldn’t even answer Dethain. I can only say I’m sorry.”
There was only one person who could have overseen the entire process of Dethain moving to Aranthia. And only one person could cast a wide-range defensive spell that made magic ineffective against the thousands of Mozes.
Unexpectedly, four days ago, when magic worked on the Mozes, Dethain was not the only one absent from Lutia. There was another person whose presence could not be traced.
Dunmel’s complacency led him to dismiss the acrid smell in his room as simply an unpleasant oil odor. It was the smell from a Venon’s fur, a substance that blocks magic.
Why did everyone think the arm Philip was extending was ‘a hand reaching out to knock on the door’? Why couldn’t they think that he died pointing at the culprit with the last of his strength?
Everyone made the same mistake. Dunmel, Luder, Golbein, Flora… Excessive trust clouded everyone’s judgment. Even Dethain, who first discovered the culprit, might have hoped his deduction was wrong until the end.
“Dethain loved Lutia more than anyone and trusted me the most. That trust interfered with his clarity. It hindered his decisiveness and slowed his actions. It would have been better if he had suggested breaking the White Mystery like Philip did yesterday morning… But that’s not possible. Because I need to suppress the magic of Luder, Golbein, and Flora during the Mozes’ final invasion today.”
‘So, that’s why Philip was killed.’
Dunmel reflexively used sign language before folding his hands. The man had no reason to explain why he betrayed Lutia to Dunmel. And now that Dunmel knew his identity, there was no reason to leave him alive. Even if they understood each other’s sign language, now was not the time for conversation.
Dunmel swallowed unconsciously.
The most powerful sorcerer in Acrand and the Sky Mountains was targeting his life. Dunmel focused on the tip of his blade, ready to slit the man’s throat, even if it meant dying together.
The target was Lutia’s last Grand Master and the traitor…
Ruskin.
–TL Notes–
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