Killing a high-ranking sorcerer is difficult. Literally ‘difficult.’
Regardless of the class, all kinds of sorcerers have made provisions for their lives through various sinister methods. Whether it’s protective spells or life-preserving spells.
If you were to choose the most difficult class to kill, Ivan would undoubtedly think of necromancers without hesitation.
The spell known as Lichification, dividing the soul and preserving it in a phylactery, accounts for about half of the reason, and
The other half is because even if the flesh is destroyed, it is surrounded by terrible curses.
Among them, the worst was undoubtedly Abiditas. Aside from the spells he used, his body was that of a dragon, so his abilities alone could face an army, and even if he was destroyed, he would spit out curses and return within ten minutes.
Flying through the sky, raining curses like bombardments, raising thousands of corpses. If you manage to break through all that and reach the body, you have to face an invincible dragon in a pitched battle.
Magical power that can burst your heart just by facing it, curses that corrupt everything within sight, divine power that destroys the mind just by hearing whispers.
The embodiment of desire. A living dragon mastering a thousand spells, gathering a thousand treasures, destroying a thousand cities. Master of all necromancy and the undead.
The Dragon General, Abiditas.
Ivan always considers that time as one of the most terrifying battles he has experienced. It was the most malicious enemy and the day he lost the most.
Is it because of that? Ivan occasionally dreams of that day. The content of the dream was always different, but the result was the same. Everyone except him dies. Whispering as if resenting him.
[You, outsider from the outside world. How did you manage to live alone?]
Ivan could never answer. He only reminisces about that battle in regret.
If only he had moved a little faster. If only he had run a little harder.
If he hadn’t made that choice then, hadn’t made that judgment, hadn’t attacked in that way.
Like a defeated chess player reviewing a match. He regrets each move, lamenting. If he had done that, wouldn’t one more person have come back alive? He wonders.
But as with all regrets and laments in the world, Ivan’s reflections inevitably end with the same conclusion as leaving alone. Even if he regrets, nothing changes. He was still alone.
[You, outsider from the outside world.]
After finishing his recollection, outside the window, such a voice resonates.
Perhaps the specters of those who have departed, or perhaps the reflections in the window whispering sighs.
From the end of the war until now, it continues.
*
But now the dragon is dead, and maggots devouring its corpse pretend to be the dragon.
Absurdly, claiming they will seek revenge.
The right to revenge was never theirs. It should have been solely his. They dare not have the right to speak of revenge.
“Next.” (Ivqn)
“Uh, uh… is this it?” (Lucia)
“That’s right.” (Ivan)
– Fsssh.
Ivan plunged the needle into his forearm and shattered the cylinder. With a sound of fizz, the drug was sucked into his bloodstream.
A tingling sensation started from his forearm and gnawed at his entire body as if devouring it. The super potion was inherently toxic, so it even caused a reaction in his reinforced body.
[Come out—!! Reveal yourself, Ivan!!]
The booming voice reverberated throughout the factory zone. Rats and bats were coming and going, searching for him.
Time was running out. Ivan slowly adjusted his magic by inserting the drugs Lucía handed him into his forearm one by one.
Immune booster, anti-magic reinforcement, neurotoxin neutralizer.
These were drugs that resembled toxins that dealt a severe blow to the liver function, magical organs, and central nervous system. But it was okay. The superhuman body had the strength to withstand all these drugs.
Even when performing the most horrific surgeries, alchemists would dilute the drugs as much as possible before administering them, but Ivan was feeling his organs being destroyed in real-time.
The smell of blood vibrated in his nose. Blood surged up, moistening his throat and going down involuntarily.
This much must be done. If the opponent possesses even a fraction of Abiditas’s true power, he must handle everything his team accomplished without rear support.
Likewise, they must have honed their skills for years solely for revenge and would have surely plundered the legacy of the deceased Abiditas to summon his flesh.
Ivan never boasts. Only he in this world truly knows his own limits. The ability to perform in combat is like a tool, and if one is an excellent operative, they must accurately understand the catalog specs of the tools they use.
Therefore, Ivan did what was necessary. Silently, he spread poison throughout his body. Abiditas is never to be faced alone, and his disciples must have prepared no less than Ivan and gathered here as well.
And Ivan, too. He never, never intended to flee from this place today.
Only death will remain as today’s conclusion. Whether his or theirs.
– sigh
The final adjustment was complete. Ivan closed his eyes and soothed his feverish body. His heart was pounding.
“Lucía.”
“Yes, sir…”
“Inform Enrique. Request rescue at the rendezvous point in three hours.”
“Yes…? Yes?”
“You now run all the way to Rendezvous Point 3 with all your might. Your role is now over.”
“B-But sir!”
“You’re useless here.”
Ivan replied coldly to the flustered Lucía.
From the start, there were two purposes for Lucía in this operation. Real-time information exchange with Enrique and teaching Lucía the ropes of real combat.
At this point, reaching the climax of the operation, communication with Enrique is meaningless. To die or to kill. Whatever the outcome, the “other operation” proceeds as planned.
And there’s no need to teach Lucía this battle. This kid will become part of the hero party, so there’s no need for her to learn to fight alone at the cost of injury.
This kid has comrades who will support her from behind. Unlike him.
So, this battle shouldn’t become a lesson. That era should have ended in his time. Even warriors didn’t face demons alone.
It’s the fight of those who couldn’t become warriors, who couldn’t become part of the warrior party. It’s the struggle of ordinary people. It’s not the battle of transcendent heroes, but the fight of humans.
Ivan stood up with open eyes. Lucía, who met his gaze for a while, bit her lip and swallowed her words.
“Go.”
“What …. ugh … whatever…!!”
Lucía shed tears with a thud. She spoke haltingly.
“Next time, at school. Teach me the rest. I still want to learn. Even if I don’t need to fight alone, I want to learn how ‘two’ fight. Do you understand?”
When Ivan didn’t respond, Lucía stepped on the window sill and looked down at him.
“Today is the last day I’ll be a burden. There won’t be a time where you fight ‘alone’ in the same situation in the future.” (Lucia)
“To become an excellent agent, you’re still lacking at your level.” (Ivan)
“Haha… Your standards are too strict.” (Lucia)
Lucía muttered softly and disappeared into the darkness beyond the window. It was the movement characteristic of vampires. Ivan scanned the long trail she left with his eyes.
The moisture she left behind wasn’t that of a vampire but more suited to a human.
After equipping himself for the last time, Ivan headed to the opposite window. To the sniper point leading to the center of the factory zone. Holding an axe, counting bullets, tightening his armor.
Reminding himself of the expiration date of the potency flowing within his body.
With a light footstep, Ivan’s body disappeared from the window.
*
– Thud.
A person sat down in the middle of the courtyard.
The cacophony of chirping insects, the rage of sorcerers, the murmurs of tense dwarves—all the noise in this place subsided.
In the oily silence, the man who revealed himself slowly lifted his head.
“Ivan Petrovich—!! I’m grateful you’re still not dead!!”
Breaking the silence, joy spread. Beyond the frightened dwarves, the shadow of a giant dragon corpse loomed.
Ivan stared silently at the shadow. It was an item that closely replicated Abiditas from the day he died.
Perhaps because they couldn’t extract the remains of the dragon, the skeleton of the monster was made up of countless human bones. It was a monstrous mosaic pieced together.
But its intimidation was on a similar level. Countless hatred, resentment, despair, and curses were intertwined within it like pulsating veins.
“Behold, see what you have failed to achieve. You are not the one who survived. You’ve only received a reprieve from death. You’ve returned to the depths underground, returned to your death!”
