Chapter 38: The Mage-Slayer Meets His Match

Already?

It hadn’t been long since Gaon faced the fourth wall.

To encounter the fifth wall so soon?

Well…

Thanks to the elixirs, his Pacheongi had surged dramatically.

It would’ve been stranger if the fifth wall hadn’t appeared.

What will it be this time?

The third wall brought automatic cultivation.

The fourth brought bone-deep transformation.

Each breakthrough came with something special, so he was curious about what awaited at the fifth.

But when should I attempt it?

He wasn’t planning to break through immediately.

Doing so now would mean enduring immense pain, as he lacked enough Pacheongi to absorb it.

There was no rush, and he had ways to increase his Pacheongi.

Should I challenge it after consuming all the elixirs?

Thinking of the elixirs in his pocket, Gaon figured he’d have enough Pacheongi to break through painlessly once they were all used.

No need to delay further.

With his decision made, he focused on cultivation.

At Pagra Prairie, southeast of the Gelita Plains, a large group of assassins from the Abyss’s 3rd Branch had gathered.

The leader of Team 1 scanned the leaders of Teams 3, 8, and 9 before asking, “Everyone clear on the target?”

“One 7th Circle Archmage, one 5th Circle High Mage, and one 4th Circle mage,” Team 3’s leader replied.

“But why send all of us for a single Archmage?” Team 8’s leader questioned.

“They say the 7th Circle Archmage killed Lord Breck,” Team 1’s leader answered.

“…Lord Breck?” Team 9’s leader exclaimed, shocked.

“How?”

“Rumor is, he used a special artifact.”

“Hm, so that’s why…”

Team 9’s leader trailed off, glancing at a nearby rock where a man stared blankly at the sky—Atros, also assigned to this mission.

Despite being alone, no one could underestimate him.

Atros was a monster among monsters, having survived every mission unscathed.

The 3rd Branch leader often praised his unmatched survivability, though it wasn’t due to cunning or strategy but his extraordinary physique.

His intellect, however, was abysmal.

Atros didn’t operate with plans—he simply threw himself into the fray.

That was the problem.

This mission, critical enough to warrant four assassination teams, required meticulous preparation.

If Atros charged in and disrupted everything, it could lead to disaster.

Yawn.

Atros, still gazing at the sky, lowered his head and looked at Team 9’s leader.

“I don’t like that look in your eyes.”

Team 9’s leader flinched.

Assassins were trained to hide their emotions, yet Atros had seen through him.

It could’ve been a bluff, but it didn’t matter—Atros held the upper hand in this mission.

If he said so, it was so.

“…My apologies,” Team 9’s leader said.

“Quick apology. I like that. I’ll let it slide this time,” Atros replied, nodding cheerfully before continuing.

“Do your thing. I won’t step in until you fail.”

Without waiting for a response, he returned to staring at the sky.

Team 9’s leader looked at the others, and Team 1’s leader spoke.

“They left Raverium two days ago.”

“Then they’ll arrive in two days at the latest,” Team 3’s leader said.

“Could be tomorrow if they’re fast,” Team 8’s leader added.

“No time to waste,” Team 1’s leader concluded.

The leaders divided their areas—not to conduct separate assassinations but to set up traps like barriers and magic circles.

“Let’s set up and regroup,” Team 1’s leader said.

The others nodded and returned to their teams.

As Team 1’s leader rejoined his group, he thought, I hope he doesn’t have to step in.

Atros had said he’d only act if they failed, meaning no intervention meant success.

Hoping for minimal losses, he began setting traps designed to be inescapable.

“We’re almost at Pagra Prairie,” Taylor called brightly from the driver’s seat.

Gaon smiled faintly.

Pagra Prairie was southeast of the Gelita Plains, and after three days since leaving Raverium, they were nearing their destination.

“How long?” Gaon asked.

“About three hours,” Taylor replied after a moment.

“Got it.”

Gaon nodded and turned to Rotes.

“You said it’s best to bring them back as intact as possible, right?”

“Yes, at least the heads. Two should suffice, not all of them,” Rotes answered.

As they discussed the mutant ogres of the Gelita Plains, Gaon tilted his head.

Hm?

What are these guys?

He had expanded his senses in case of trouble, and now he detected presences—not just one or two, but twenty, spread out ahead.

Around them were numerous magic circles and shamanic artifacts.

The Abyss?

It was the first thing that came to mind.

Pagra Prairie had no monsters or demonic beasts, so these people weren’t here to hunt.

Nor were they bandits like the Hedin Mercenaries—the traps were too sophisticated.

It had to be the Abyss.

“Stop for a moment,” Gaon said.

Taylor pulled the reins, halting the carriage.

“There’s something up ahead—Abyss or not, they’re well-prepared.”

…!

Rotes looked shocked.

Gaon stepped out of the carriage.

“I’ll take care of it. Rest here.”

“Yes,” Rotes replied, not offering to follow.

If this were a minor issue, Gaon wouldn’t have stopped.

Following could only hinder him, and Rotes had no intention of holding Gaon back.

Gaon cast Fly and soared toward the presences.

…What’s this guy?

As he flew, he sensed another presence—far stronger than the twenty, though not a threat to him.

Hopefully it’s the Abyss.

He hoped they were, as he could extract information from them.

Arriving at his destination, Gaon looked down.

The twenty were hidden within barriers, but his senses saw through them.

He was certain now.

Definitely Abyss.

Their attire matched the Abyss assassins he had killed countless times in the past.

Let’s keep the leaders alive.

Not all twenty were equal—four were noticeably stronger, likely the team leaders.

Their information would suffice.

Activating his circles, Gaon chanted, “Frozen Earth.”

Crackle!

The ground froze, trapping all twenty.

It wasn’t lethal—he hadn’t removed their restrictions yet and adjusted the spell to avoid triggering the heart restriction with pain.

Landing, Gaon injected Pacheongi into a leader’s body, removing the restrictions.

“Shock.”

Crackle!

“Bind.”

He knocked them out and bound them, then killed the regular assassins.

Approaching another group, he thought, Still not moving?

The lone figure, watching from a distance, hadn’t reacted despite knowing the assassins were being taken out.

He neither approached nor fled, just observed.

Gaon had been ready to chase if he ran, so this unexpected response threw him off.

What’s he up to?

“Wow…”

Atros let out an exclamation.

The entire assassination team had been wiped out—with a single spell.

Watching Gaon deal with them, Atros was certain.

“That’s Gaon!”

The spell wasn’t something a 6th Circle or lower mage could cast.

This had to be the 7th Circle Archmage, the mission’s target.

“Aaah!”

Atros grinned, showing his white teeth.

“What face will he make when his magic doesn’t work?”

With the assassination teams’ failure, it was his turn.

He was confident—unlike them, he wouldn’t fall to magic.

He couldn’t wait to see Gaon’s expression—despair, shock, disbelief—when his spells failed.

“Too good!”

His blood surged with excitement, his body trembling.

Raising his energy, Atros activated the Painless Technique by stabbing his finger into his chest, then donned his gauntlets.

Fully prepared, he charged toward Gaon at full speed.

“Gaon!!!”

As he closed the distance, their eyes met.

“I was looking for a guy like you! A real one!” Atros shouted, voice brimming with excitement.

“Let’s have some fun!”

He saw Gaon’s brow furrow slightly, a look of disbelief.

Atros chuckled, thinking, How long will that look last?

Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!

Dozens of wind blades appeared.

Atros was slightly surprised.

Insane casting speed!

He had faced many mages, but never one this fast.

It didn’t matter, though.

Should’ve focused on one.

With his immense magic resistance and recovery, Atros was confident he could tank the wind blades.

He didn’t slow down.

As the first blade hit, he raised his arm to deflect it.

Slash!

The blade cut into his arm.

…Huh?

Something was wrong.