The dark energy whip crackled with immense power, the kind only a dark mage of at least the 5th Circle could wield.
Yet, despite the raw strength, the way the dark mage handled it was clumsy.
What’s this?
It felt like watching an amateur knight puffed up from consuming too many elixirs.
Ethan vibrated the Essence of Fire within him.
He swung his greatsword through the seams of the whip, targeting the weak link in the overwhelming dark mana.
The whip was sliced in half in an instant.
“What… what the?!”
The dark mage, Girsten, stared in bewilderment.
Since he began training in dark mana, no one had countered his power so easily.
Even seasoned 5-star knights, who wielded mana freely, couldn’t withstand it.
He’d defeated such knights with this whip, yet it was cut by someone using a pitiful amount of mana?
Shock overwhelmed him.
In that moment, Ethan charged at Girsten.
“Pitch-black darkness, shield my body!”
Girsten hurriedly chanted, and a spherical barrier formed around him.
It looked sturdy at a glance—a solid defensive spell.
But it wasn’t flawless.
He’s definitely an amateur.
The mage knew how to pour raw power but lacked finesse.
That made him easier to deal with.
Heat surged toward the tip of Ethan’s greatsword.
Seeing it, Girsten scoffed.
The mana in the sword was negligible—barely 2-star knight level at best.
He focused his barrier’s dark mana on the point where the sword would strike.
Pathetic.
Concentrating defense in one spot naturally weakened the rest.
Twisting the sword’s trajectory was child’s play for Ethan.
In an instant, he unleashed the rings within his body.
His movements became lighter, faster.
Using his enhanced body, he redirected the sword’s path.
He struck at the barrier’s weakest point.
Whoosh!
With a chilling sound, the sword crumpled the black sphere.
Sizzle!
The fire aura wasn’t just destructive—it carried the purifying essence that nullified harmful energies.
Dark mana, merely mana tainted with deathly energy, began to melt under the concentrated fire aura.
“What… what is this?!”
Girsten screamed.
His dark mana far exceeded the knight’s mana, so why was the barrier dissolving?
“Protect your master!”
He frantically commanded the skeletons.
Clack!
Clack!
The skeletons, wielding pickaxes, rushed at Ethan.
Unfortunately for them, Ethan could shatter such low-tier undead with a single blow.
Crack!
One punch turned a skeleton to dust.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
The skeletons dwindled rapidly.
Girsten gaped in horror.
His skeletons, made from the sturdy bones of orcs, weren’t supposed to crumble into powder from a mere punch.
“What kind of monster…!”
Soon, the barrier collapsed entirely.
“Urgh…!”
Girsten’s body was flung upward.
His neck was seized, and his body felt sealed, unable to move an inch.
Fear flooded his eyes.
Ethan smirked, looking at him.
For all his power, the mage was pathetically weak.
It was as if he’d spent his life buried in spellbooks, facing combat for the first time.
Girsten’s pressure points were already sealed.
Having subdued him easily, Ethan probed his body.
Near the mage’s heart was a concentrated mass of energy, like a monster’s core.
It’s certain.
This was exactly how the Dragonkin accumulated their power.
The only difference was that, for Dragonkin, their hearts transformed uniquely as they amassed energy.
They called it a Dragon Heart.
The Dragon Heart—the essence of a Dragonkin’s lifelong cultivation.
But there was another oddity.
He’s mixed in human mana breathing techniques.
Human and Dragonkin.
The dark mage had cultivated a mana breathing method blending the strengths of both species.
Fascinating.
In his past life, there was no exchange with the Dragonkin.
To humans, they were enemies to be eradicated.
To Dragonkin, humans were lesser beings, unworthy of interaction.
Though some humans did cling to the Dragonkin.
Traitors to humanity, used briefly for information before being discarded as fodder.
That’s how it was.
But this life was different.
The hybrid technique before him was proof.
Blending two species’ methods so intricately required deep technical exchange.
The Dragonkin, who originally lacked structured techniques, seemed to have changed their ways with the altered past.
One thing was clear:
The Dragonkin and humans are deeply entangled.
Ethan stared at Girsten.
He was intensely curious how this mage acquired such a technique.
“Where did you learn it?”
Despite his throat being squeezed, Girsten stayed silent.
Ethan snapped one of his fingers.
Crunch!
“Aaargh!”
A blood-curdling scream echoed.
“Do you know the Dragonkin?”
At those words, Girsten’s eyes shook violently—a tacit admission.
“Keep your mouth shut, and your body will end up like that finger, piece by piece.”
“You… arrogant… fool… your time… is running out… urgh…”
At that moment, the energy mass in Girsten’s heart began to swell explosively.
Its power surpassed a 6-star knight’s mana reserves.
Ethan’s face twisted.
Self-destruction?
He sealed the pathways near the heart with mana, reducing the explosion’s range.
But he couldn’t stop the heart itself from bursting.
The self-destruction was too fast.
Boom!
Girsten’s heart exploded.
Blood dripped as he grinned faintly and collapsed.
“Krgh… the Order… will… endure…”
With blood-frothed words, he closed his eyes.
The Order.
Ethan tilted his head.
The Order.
He’d heard the term before.
There were lunatics like that in my past life.
Fanatics obsessed with the Dragonkin’s power, worshipping them directly.
In short, a cult.
A dark mage preaching about the Order.
The erased records of the Barony.
A mana breathing method blending Dragonkin and human techniques.
“Complicated.”
The fragments of information gathered in the mine were numerous.
He began scouring the mine thoroughly.
If the dark mage left any records, they might offer clues.
But all he found were skeleton ashes and black metal.
Ethan eyed the metal in a cart.
It was enough to forge a greatsword.
The metal’s nearly all mined out.
The mine was almost depleted, meaning the dark mage had been extracting it for a long time.
The last of the mine’s metal—nephrion—sat in the cart.
Ethan stuffed it into his bag, which bulged heavily.
Back at the Barony…
He’d start by tracking the erased records.
In the vast Ducal Territory, this dark mage couldn’t be the only human serving the Dragonkin.
There might already be Dragonkin in the Ducal Territory.
Some Dragonkin could mimic human forms, so it wasn’t impossible.
Things are about to get busy.
Helmut had ignored a potential Dragonkin servant.
Whether out of ignorance or complicity would determine Ethan’s response.
First, he’d forge the greatsword.
The rest could wait.
Ethan left the mine.
***
“There won’t be any more undead in the mine.”
“Thank… thank you, Archduke!”
Descending Mount Mitron, Ethan returned to the village to retrieve his horse.
Amid the villagers’ warm hospitality, he left the small settlement.
With the metal secured, it was time to forge a sword.
An ordinary blacksmith won’t do.
He immediately ruled out the Barony’s blacksmiths.
Their skill with mere steel wouldn’t suffice for a new metal like nephrion.
Even if they could forge it, the result would likely be shoddy.
Dwarves would be ideal.
A race capable of forging new metals as if they’d worked with them forever.
There were dwarves in the Pusikes Mountains.
The place he’d visited for the Blessing of Fire.
Dwarves lived there too.
The only concern was their less-than-friendly attitude toward humans.
That can be sorted out when I get there.
No need to overthink it now.
His horse turned toward the Pusikes Mountains.
After a week’s journey, Ethan arrived at a known dwarf settlement.
Iron Rock Mountain, one of the peaks in the Pusikes.
After careful searching, he found a passage leading underground.
Here it is.
The entrance to the subterranean race’s domain.
He stepped inside.
After traversing the long passage, he found a place filled with structures—clearly built for dwarves.
But the village was eerily silent.
No guards either.
The outer walls were blackened with grime, as if untouched for years.
The traces suggested the place had been abandoned for over a decade.
What’s this? Did they relocate?
He knew of other dwarf settlements, but they were all too far away.
I need to resolve this here.
As he tilted his head, he sensed a presence.
“Hm? A human?”
Turning, he saw a short, elderly figure—a dwarf.
“I have a question. Didn’t dwarves live here?”
“They did, long ago.”
“Did they migrate? I came to commission a crafting job, but the village is empty.”
“Crafting? Why look here? You’d find them easily in human cities.”
“…What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What else? They all left to make money!”
Ethan tilted his head.
Dwarves were a reclusive race.
Historically, humans had enslaved them upon discovery, making them deeply hostile toward humanity.
Ethan only knew their locations due to his past life, when the Dragonkin threat forced all races to unite.
Reluctant cooperation had turned into camaraderie, revealing dwarf secrets.
A reclusive race like the dwarves living among humans?
Ethan looked at the elderly dwarf.
“Are there really dwarves in cities?”
“I’m telling you, there are. Pay them well, and they’ll take your commission gladly.”
The dwarf rummaged in his pocket and handed Ethan a card.
[Greston Dwarf Union]
Crafting Commissions Always Welcome!
Reasonable Prices, Astonishing Quality!
Crafting Done Right by Dwarves!
“Greston, that big human city nearby. Go there, you’ll find them.”
“Oh, and make sure to say Chechemora sent you! I’ll get a referral fee. You can do that much, right?”
“I will.”
It looked like a trip to Greston was in order.