He had originally been a holy knight, but hundreds of years ago, his deep faith and strong will caught the eye of Melvahe, the god of knights.
Thus, he was granted the position of the First Gatekeeper of the Heavens and the power befitting that title.
—Remember this. Though I have no choice but to form a contract with you to aid in the Hero’s Crusade, do not mistake this as loyalty. I do not serve you, pitiful one.
Because he had once been a holy knight, his personality was extremely arrogant—very similar to Orcan in many ways.
No, in fact, his feelings toward me were far worse than Orcan.
While Orcan merely disliked me, this one outright loathed me.
It’s said that back when he was still alive on the surface, summoners were a target of scorn in his homeland.
But even now, as a gatekeeper of the heavens, it’s clear he hasn’t moved past those emotions.
Seeing how he remained at the very bottom of the celestial hierarchy, it’s easy to understand why.
“Yes, I understand. But the contract duration still remains, so you are bound by the oath made before the Hero of Light, Lowell, to fulfill my request.”
At the mention of Lowell and the word “oath,” he drew his sword without a word.
“Please deal with the squad of mages currently attacking from outside.”
[LUNATIC EXPLOSION!]
A massive explosion engulfed the surroundings in flames once more.
The sixth barrier shattered, and the fifth one activated.
Even Morotai faced the raging fire head-on.
—I have no choice.
But within those searing flames, Morotai remained unfazed.
Clicking his tongue in reluctant disapproval, he threw himself forward.
The contract with him was of a special kind, so unlike other summons, I couldn’t monitor the situation through soul-link or shared consciousness.
But once he took the field, there was no need to worry.
Whatever his personality, he was unquestionably among the most powerful summons I could call upon.
Sure enough, shortly after he charged forward, the intensity of the fire began to diminish rapidly.
And by the time the flames were completely gone, the area was littered with the mangled corpses of mages—and among them stood Morotai.
—You couldn’t even handle this much on your own and needed my help?
I hated that arrogance.
Just a pathetic firefly that glows only by divine favor, yet he acted as if he was a god himself.
Especially the way he treated Lowell—it was the very height of arrogance.
Even as he offered the utmost respect to the Hero, he subtly acted as if they were equals.
“Yes, thank you for your help.”
Truthfully, I wanted to sever the contract immediately, but he was the only divine-level summon I could call upon.
I had no other choice.
—Then I’ve fulfilled your request. I shall return now.
“As you wish.”
As mentioned, the contract was special.
I could only summon him once per day and give him a single command.
If I exceeded this, the contract would be broken the moment that second command was fulfilled.
But just as the magical link began to fade and his figure started to blur, he sneered and said:
—Now I no longer have to look at your pitiful face.
“What… do you mean?”
I tried to question him, stunned by the harshness of his words, but he had already vanished.
My confusion didn’t last long.
From behind the surrounding hills, unseen to my eyes but clearly visible to Morotai’s, figures began to rise.
“Damn that Morotai! I should’ve just left him to die fighting the Demon King back then!”
They cast off cloaks that had blended into the terrain—at least a hundred strong, a massive force.
Among them, about thirty were clearly mages, wearing robes and carrying staffs.
‘Please deal with the squad of mages currently attacking from outside.’
That was the mistake.
Morotai had literally dealt with the mages who were attacking—nothing more.
“A so-called holy knight, blessed by the gods and raised to the heavens, pulling such a petty trick!”
But I couldn’t summon him again.
Doing so would violate the contract, which would play right into his hands.
‘Now I no longer have to look at your pitiful face.’
That’s what he meant.
Whether I died or tried to summon him again, the contract would be broken either way.
“I’ll shatter that ridiculous faith of yours.”
I began inscribing sigils into the air again.
There was some distance, but they were clearly closing in, and although the mages hadn’t shown any signs yet, an uneasy tension was creeping up my spine.
“If it’s numbers you want, then on my side too…”
This time, I planned to summon the Maggoth Beasts.
Against a force like that, they’d be more than enough.
And as if on cue, the mages raised their staffs high.
Their staffs simultaneously glowed blue, and the flow of mana around me became violently disturbed.
The sigils I had drawn in the air scattered, and even the fifth barrier already in place began to waver dangerously.
“They’re using a mana disruption spell like a barrier?”
Mana Disruption Spell—an incantation that twists the mana flow around a target, usually to delay magic casting.
But now, used in coordination by multiple mages, it was disrupting the entire area’s mana field like a large-scale barrier.
In this state, not only could I not summon or cast new magic, even spells already in effect would have reduced duration and effectiveness.
Of course, this included my equipped defensive barriers.
A coordinated ambush, followed by a disruption field when it failed.
The distance between the first wave and the hidden forces.
Eliminate the summoner before they can act.
If that fails, trap them and prevent them from summoning.
It was a precise and efficient anti-summoner strategy and formation.
With a disruption spell of that size and a force this large, unless I was a high-tier mage capable of teleporting through interference, escape was impossible.
‘If only Lord Medluf was here, he’d laugh it off and cast high-level spells in succession without a care.’
But for me, maintaining even the current barrier was becoming difficult.
At least it was fortunate that previously cast equipped barriers didn’t disappear.
“How fitting of the Deceiver of Summons.”
While I was momentarily distracted, a group of men walked into the disrupted zone.
Their outfits and weapons varied, but one thing was clear—they didn’t use magic.
And they were top-tier assassins.
Each bore the mark of a high assassin: a crescent moon dyed red at both ends, lying on its side as if embedded in the earth.
“I expected the ambush might not work, but I didn’t think you’d summon that level of familiars.”
“…I didn’t think they would go as far as to deceive me while dying. Or… were they deceived as well?”
They were from a high-ranking assassin guild.
The ambush location the knights had spoken of, as well as the scale and class—they were far beyond expectations, but one thing was certain.
That mark represented the paradoxical pride of the guild’s top assassins, those whose names and identities must never be known.
The very contradiction between assassination and revealing oneself was proof of true skill.
“Heh heh, there’s no way those guys would have such convictions. They were just bait, nothing more.”
The red-haired man standing at the front and center of the group replied.
While it was said there was no strict hierarchy among assassins, he clearly appeared to be the one in charge of this operation.
“Has the guild policy changed? That A-rank missions only allow bait and ambushers who are also A-rank?”
“Oh dear, what a tale from the old days you’re telling.”
That smirking face was infuriating.
Of course—they probably thought they had an easy catch.
A summoner who couldn’t summon was easy prey.
“Besides, if the piece is meant to be thrown away anyway, better to discard the worthless one, right?”
Yes, I could now see clearly what they were thinking.
It didn’t matter whether their deception was noticed.
If unnoticed, the bait could be taken down all at once.
If noticed, it would still serve to mislead me, improving the ambush’s success rate.
Either way, it was an efficient plan.
“Of course, I’m sure the Strategist of the Second Best Path would consider this plan severely lacking.”
And yet, they had already prepared for failure—no, expected it.
They had stationed mages and reinforcements in a separate secondary line.
Naturally, when the front line failed, those mages would be annihilated without any help.
“No, not necessarily.”
In fact, it was exactly the kind of plan I might have come up with.
“Oh dear, with such praise, I don’t know what to do with myself.”
Despite his sneering words, what I felt from him wasn’t just frustration or discomfort—it was a kind of fear.
Behind that smiling face, his eyes burned with madness.
Not a madness driven by purpose, but a raw, aimless insanity that looked ready to burn everything in sight.
“…That wasn’t praise.”
I reached into my cloak.
As expected of top-tier assassins, their eyes followed every one of my movements.
Several even placed their hands on their weapons the moment I moved.
“Don’t be so crude. Show some basic respect—we’re standing before one of the people who saved the world, aren’t we?”
At the red-haired man’s command, the others slowly removed their hands from their weapons.
So he was the one in charge, after all.
“Respect, huh. What a polite way of putting it—though you only say that because you know the barrier I cast still holds.”
That was exactly why I reached into my cloak without hesitation.
At my words, the red-haired man erased his previous mischievous grin and replaced it with a cruel sneer.
“Well, there’s that, but we still have things to talk about, don’t we?”
“Indeed. Then—where is he? I don’t know how he made all that money, but I assume he’d want to see this in person.”
At my question, the red-haired man stepped to the side.
And there, the present overlapped with the past.
A stranger—yet overlaid with a memory of that day—stood before me.
The proof of my first sin.
A revenge-seeker consumed by hatred.
‘Die! Just die already!’
“It’s been a while, Strategist of the Second Best Path.”
The past was erased by the present.
The boy who once hurled curses at me, burning with hatred, now stood as a one-armed young man.
He was missing an arm and looked like he had aged over a decade in just a few years.
There was nothing left of the boy I once knew—except for one thing.
His eyes.
Those eyes still burned with the same hatred.
“Yes. It’s been a while, Hailer.”