Chapter 22: Ambush

After that, I hardly did anything.

I just sat blankly on the horse, lost in various pointless thoughts, merely continuing to ride along the road.

There was no particular reason to hurry, but neither was there any reason to stop, so aside from the occasional break to let the horse rest, I kept riding nonstop.

Even though I had sold off all the food supplies from the Knights back in Amusbian, I didn’t need to worry.

The bag Lowell had carefully packed contained more than enough emergency rations.

After what happened in the Forest of Demons, we made sure to overprepare with emergency food, and each time, Medluf personally cast multiple permanent preservation spells on them.

What I was eating now, and what remained in the bag, were those very same emergency rations—simple meals that could be eaten even while riding.

Of course, compared to the meals Lowell or I used to cook every morning, their taste was severely lacking, but at least they were less mentally damaging than Aegina’s cooking.

“The first few dishes she made were surprisingly decent, though.”

I still have no idea when the princess ever had a chance to learn to cook, but the first time I tasted her food, it was better than expected, and both Lowell and I were quite surprised.

“Come to think of it, Aegina might really have a natural talent for cooking, but unfortunately, with those ingredients…”

The Forest of Demons.

We never should’ve gone there in the first place.

To be able to make food of that level with such horrific ingredients—if she had just stuck to normal ingredients and normal cooking, she might’ve become a chef to amaze the world.

But what’s the point of saying that now?

Only Lowell is truly pitiful.

To eat the food of the woman he loves, he must first steel his heart.

And, unwillingly, he ends up doing most of the cooking himself.

“Come to think of it, the time Lowell and I spent traveling together wasn’t that long. We first arrived at Kashin Village…”

Suddenly, my mouth stopped moving, and my mind went black.

Some heavy memory forced its way through the jumble of thoughts and dragged my mind back to that moment, freezing it there.

“…Right. There’s no way I could ever forget.”

Even this current situation was, in the end, karma from that day.

No matter how hard I try to think of other things or pretend to be composed, I can’t forget those memories while I’m heading straight into the heart of them.

“I never intended to forget. I never tried to deny it.”

The scenes from that day.

The memories.

The voices.

The expressions.

The resentment.

The anger.

All of them rush through my mind without losing a single bit of their color.

“There’s no excuse.”

That situation, that choice, those emotions—

They replay in my mind over and over.

And none of them change.

Even if I regret it.

Even if I grieve.

What happened that day is clearly my fault.

People suffered because of it.

Lowell was hurt because of it.

“…Nothing will change. Nothing will get better. Not for someone like me.”

That’s why I couldn’t turn away.

No, I mustn’t turn away.

It’s my duty.

My form of mercy.

“Of course, like always, it’ll probably just be a lesser evil in the end.”

After that bitter self-mockery, I rode in silence until the sun had set and the moon had risen.

I hadn’t meant to ride in silence, but once those memories resurfaced, they wouldn’t go back down, and no memory, no meaningless joke could wedge its way in.

I had no appetite, but I made myself eat a few pieces.

If I got careless from hunger and made a mistake, it’d be a disaster.

Finally, night had deepened, and it was time to get some sleep.

At this pace, I should be able to reach my destination roughly on schedule.

Of course, I had no idea what kind of trap might be waiting there.

“…Well, if a mere courier was sent to this level of setup, then the main force likely isn’t all that impressive either.”

The assassins’ guild generally dispatches agents based on the price of the contract.

So, assuming the client paid the maximum they could, it probably wasn’t enough to reach top-tier status.

If the assassination or ambush squads are on par with the couriers, then even if I’m not the strongest, I’m still aware I’m a target—so it shouldn’t be too difficult.

“But still, I can’t let my guard down. I’m not Lowell, not Medluf, and not Baglos either.”

I gently pulled the reins and brought the horse to a stop.

It was about time to set up camp and return to Ropena.

But then—

“Hmm?”

As soon as I dismounted, a sudden surge of mana enveloped the area.

At the same time, numerous red glyphs began to appear, floating in the air around me.

“Damn it!”

I immediately deployed an autonomous barrier with all my might to protect myself and the horse.

Those red glyphs clearly indicated the magic being cast…

[LUNATIC EXPLOSION!]

With the activation chant echoing from all directions, red flames surged toward me.

A deafening explosion tore through the air, and the flames engulfed the surroundings in an instant.

My fragile autonomous barrier was shredded instantly, but the wearable barrier kicked in and blocked the flames.

However—

“Neigh…!”

Sadly, it didn’t protect the horse.

Its terrified eyes were the last thing I saw before it was swallowed whole by the flames, its form completely erased without even a proper scream—

Not even a handful of black ash remained.

Just like that, the horse I’d liked the most vanished from this world.

The only thing within the wearable barrier’s range was the bag, but that offered little comfort.

‘I should’ve just sold it too. At least then it wouldn’t have died like this.’

Regret flashed through my mind, but I had no time to dwell on it.

Though I had blocked the explosion, the outermost seventh barrier had reached its limit, and the sixth was now activating in response to the danger.

Lunatic Explosion—a large-scale offensive spell typically cast by an entire trained mage unit during sieges or wars.

How the hell was it being used here?

My hands quickly traced glyphs in the air.

I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but there was no way that one spell was the end of it.

From the mana flow I felt before the spell activated, there were at least a dozen or more casters.

Casters skilled enough to chant Lunatic Explosion.

Even if the spell consumed a huge amount of mana, there was no way it was a one-time attack.

“To summon something from within the fire, the best summon would be…!”

It had been a while—and the sudden crisis made my mind feel like it had lost a screw—but I quickly remembered the perfect summon for this situation.

The air twisted as if warping within the flames, and a massive ruby-red wall surrounded me.

It was the Lava Worm—a colossal creature that swims in molten lava and drinks it like water.

With its skin, it should be able to withstand even this inferno and the explosions.

And just as the intense blaze began to die down…

[Frozen Nova!]

“A polar opposite element? This quickly?”

Normally, large-scale cooperative spells cast by multiple mages require perfect synchronization.

Even a tiny error in mana control or slight mistiming of the incantation words will render the spell incomplete, drastically reducing its effectiveness.

That’s why even seasoned mage battalions—who’ve trained together for years—can typically perform no more than two perfectly executed cooperative spells.

These usually include one large-scale barrier useful in warfare or sieges, and one massive offensive spell.

This limitation exists because each spell’s mana manipulation, magical form, casting speed, and incantation timing vary depending on the individual mage’s ability and talent.

Precisely aligning all those variables for each different spell every time is nearly impossible.

Of course, there are specialized mage squads capable of using a variety of large-scale cooperative spells, but even their spells usually stick to one element or one form.

That’s because spells of the same element and form tend to have similar mana manipulation and timing, making it much easier to synchronize.

Yet, my opponents had just cast a cooperative spell with the exact opposite element the moment they saw the summon I brought out—even if it was the opposite type of wide-area spell.

Unless they just happened to know exactly two wide-range attack spells, one fire and one ice—which would be an incredible stroke of luck—this meant their mage team’s skill level far surpassed what I had expected.

‘I’ll have to send it back.’

The fierce cold that surged from all sides tore through the Lava Worm’s ruby skin, and through our soul link, its agonizing cries and pain echoed into me as well.

After I dismissed the Lava Worm, the ice storm struck directly at my barrier.

Fortunately, it was a spell with less direct destructive power than the previous one, so the sixth barrier wasn’t in danger.

But my plan to launch a counterattack immediately after defending had fallen apart.

Sure, I could summon another creature to block the blizzard.

But if they could cast another wide-area cooperative spell targeting my summon’s weakness again, I’d just be wasting mana.

“No choice, then!”

In battles, what usually follows such large-scale spells is a concentrated bombardment of spells or artillery.

That’s why in past fights, I’ve always waited for the enemy to run out of mana or munitions after defending against those bombardments—only then launching my counterattack.

“Orcan always said my way was cowardly and timid.”

And every time, he’d charge into the heart of the enemy lines himself, amidst the rain of spells and cannon fire—wiping them all out alone.

“Not intentional, but this guy’s the closest thing to him I’ve got.”

With my gesture, massive white symbols unlike anything I’d summoned before appeared in the air.

Trumpets of divine light resounded through the battlefield, and behind me, a white gate—resembling the entrance to a holy temple—manifested.

The blizzard dared not touch the white gate.

Then, with solemn drums echoing, the massive door slowly swung open.

–So, once again, you seek my power, insignificant one.

That voice pierced straight into my soul—dignified, condescending.

The ice storm halted instantly.

I hadn’t wanted to summon him unless absolutely necessary, but there was no other option.

With unknown large-scale spells looming, this was the only summon I could truly rely on.

“It’s been a while, Lord Morotai.”

From the gate emerged a giant knight clad in white heavy armor, carrying a sword so large it resembled a pillar.

Morotai, the First Gatekeeper of the Celestial Realm.