Rumble.
Dust cascaded from the ceiling.
The secret mansion, which had stood firm for hundreds of years, was now meeting its end.
Unsolved mysteries.
Countless secrets.
The thought of all those riddles disappearing was, for any mage, a sorrowful thing.
Yet Rimle felt strangely refreshed.
Now that things had come to this, his mind was clearer, and he could see what needed to be done.
He still had something left to do.
And that would be his final task.
‘My body... isn’t in good shape.’
The wound he received from Ludger had been more severe than expected.
Though he’d drunk a recovery potion, the blood he’d lost wasn’t coming back. He was already feeling faint.
‘Damn brat. No mercy for an old man. Kids these days, really...’
But even knowing that, it had been Rimle’s own decision to fight Ludger.
And he didn’t regret it.
His body had long since aged beyond repair.
“This body that’s going to die soon anyway—no harm in laying it down a little early.”
Rimle looked straight ahead and asked,
“Don’t you think the same, Tortey? You and I—both worn down with age.”
“Rimle...!”
Through the falling debris, Rimle could see Tortey’s face contort.
It felt satisfying—not because he was about to die, but because he’d pissed off that man.
But that alone wasn’t enough.
Rimle gripped his staff and took his stance.
Let’s go.
This is the end.
No one would understand him.
The name Rimle would be branded as that of a criminal, not a sage.
But so what?
His reputation had always been just a façade.
He didn’t care if it was tarnished, spat on, trampled into the mud.
That wasn’t what truly mattered.
Before him, light began to sparkle.
It was the light born from the magic the Truth School mages were conjuring.
Twinkling like stars in the dawn sky, it was both beautiful and cruel.
Each one of those glowing lights was a death aimed at him.
In his current, incomplete state, there was no way he could block it all.
But he couldn’t retreat either.
If he stepped back now, they would seize the moment and flee.
So he’d hold them there to the end.
With his legs reinforced by mana, Rimle slammed the ground and charged at the Truth School.
He could see them panic beyond the haze.
They fired off spells in a rush, but their aim faltered.
Fwoosh!
Magic grazed his arm and passed over his head.
The mana carried intense heat—his robe scorched black, and the skin beneath reddened.
Yet Rimle didn’t stop.
“Why—why won’t he stop?!”
“T-That lunatic!”
Charging toward them with such ferocity, Rimle looked like a demon out of hell.
“Damn it! Keep attacking! Don’t stop!”
Tortey barked, snapping at his men while preparing a larger, unavoidable spell.
Maybe his shouting worked—the Truth School mages desperately unleashed their magic, and soon, an inescapable wave of frost swept in.
Rimle activated an artifact.
One of the few consumables he had left.
Each one was expensive, but now wasn’t the time to save them.
A translucent barrier formed in the air, blocking the cold.
But then came a barrage—spells pierced the shield in quick succession.
The artifact’s defense couldn’t hold against sheer numbers and broke.
Weakened spells struck Rimle’s body.
He wrapped himself in mana, forcing his body to endure.
Pain ripped through him.
But Rimle did not stop.
Time seemed to slow.
As he passed through the cracked corridor, visions flashed before his eyes.
They were scenes from his past.
With every step forward, the view changed.
There he was, a young man, elated after casting his first successful spell.
One step.
There he was again, being congratulated in the academic world after his thesis was accepted.
One more step.
Now an adult, he met a woman.
He saw himself awkwardly confessing his feelings—how foolish he looked.
Another step.
His daughter was born. Tiny, warm, and soft in his arms. He cried tears of joy.
Another step.
He saw himself going on outings with his wife and daughter.
Staying up nights when his research hit a wall.
Mourning endlessly when his wife passed away from illness.
Watching silently as his daughter pursued her dream to become a mage.
His footsteps carried the weight of his entire life.
Right then, Tortey unleashed his spell.
“Die!”
5th-Circle Magic – [Mana Stream].
A spell combining pure mana release with amplification.
Its power ranked among the upper tiers of the 5th circle. It was the strongest spell Tortey could currently cast.
The seething mana carried a murderous will—it would kill Rimle no matter what.
‘Just a little further...’
The moment Rimle judged it couldn’t be avoided, the mana inside his body flared—and from behind him, his golem burst forth.
KWRROOOAAAH!!
Rimle’s magical creature, the colossus, had appeared of its own accord—without its master’s command.
But it was not whole.
Still damaged from the fight with Ludger, its body was missing from the left shoulder down, split diagonally.
Even so, with its remaining right hand, it hurled a punch at Tortey’s magic.
KWAAAAHHH!!
The Mana Stream rippled and veered off course from the impact of the golem’s blow.
One side of the mansion was obliterated by the redirected magic.
Debris exploded outward, chunks of rubble crumbling into dust from the force.
Within that devastation, Rimle stared at his magical creature with trembling eyes.
“You... why...?”
A magical creature does not appear without its master’s command.
That was common knowledge.
And yet the golem had forced itself out.
With its broken body, it had shielded Rimle from the spell.
Knowing full well it would never recover from the damage.
At that moment, Rimle understood why.
The creature knew.
It knew its master was heading toward a glorious end.
So it protected him in his place.
A final farewell after a long journey together.
—Thank you.
Rimle turned away from the golem as it crumbled to dust.
No words were needed for their last goodbye.
Thanks to its sacrifice, Rimle reached the Truth School’s front line.
Right before him stood Tortey, muttering a chant.
Rimle thrust his staff toward him, but a magical barrier sprang up between them.
KRAK-KRAK-CRACK!
Mana surged from the tip of the staff, clashing with the shield, sending sparks flying.
Tortey got a good look at Rimle up close and shouted,
“His body’s wrecked! Don’t be scared—push through!”
The blood seeping under the robe, the haggard face—it couldn’t be hidden.
Even Rimle’s terrifying magical creature had only been half of what it once was.
“Rimle! Trying to fight us in that condition—how pathetic!”
Tortey sneered.
Once, Rimle could’ve easily blocked any spell and launched a counterattack.
Now, he dodged or took the hits with his body.
An old man in a crippled state.
It seemed like a miracle that he was even breathing.
Tortey felt foolish for having been afraid earlier.
Even if Rimle was a 6th-Circle mage—he was so weakened now, there was no way they could lose.
But Rimle didn’t reply.
His eyes looked past Tortey—at something behind him.
“What the hell are you looking at in this situation?!”
Tortey scowled in irritation.
He had the upper hand—so why did he feel like he was being ignored?
He turned around.
But there was nothing.
Only the crumbling hallway of the collapsing mansion.
Rimle laughed at him.
Of course he couldn’t see it.
What Rimle was seeing... was something only he could see.
She was standing there. That child.
The back of his daughter, who had died here, unable to even properly close her eyes in the end.
Was it truly her soul, trapped in this world?
Or was it just a hallucination conjured up by a desperate heart in his final moments?
It didn’t matter what it was.
Just a little further.
If he could just go a bit farther, he could reach the place he had longed for.
“Rimle. Every moment I spent with you was truly wretched.”
Tortey, determined to end it, activated his spell.
Magic circles rose around him, and mana began to gather at the center.
The mana, compressed to its limit within the heart of the spell, surged outward in a long tail, following the path its caster had defined.
Rimle watched the scene with fading eyes.
The mana blast rushed toward him with enough force to leave nothing behind.
Right before it struck his body, Rimle withdrew the mana from his staff and enveloped himself with it.
Tortey twitched an eyebrow.
“No spell you cast now will save you!”
At the same moment, Rimle ignited the last of his life and triggered a spell.
Not one of his own original spells—but one that belonged to someone else.
His mana-wrapped body compressed into a dot in midair and vanished.
—Ludger Cherish. You stole my magic without permission.
A split second later, the mana barrage consumed the space where Rimle had stood.
But Tortey didn’t rejoice.
“He disappeared...?”
Where Rimle reappeared was just past the magic barrier—right behind Tortey’s back.
—Then I’ll steal something of yours, just once, to even the score.
The magic Rimle cast, pouring out the last of his strength, was—
Ludger’s long-studied spatial movement spell.
The distance traveled: merely two meters.
A 6th-Circle mage burned his very soul to leap... just two meters.
It wasn’t much, hardly worthy of being called spatial movement at all.
But for Rimle, it was a monumental step at the edge of life.
“What—”
The moment Tortey turned in surprise, Rimle’s staff pierced his back.
Squelch!
Tortey coughed blood, glaring at Rimle with bulging eyes.
“H-How did you ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) get past the barrier...”
Rimle didn’t answer. He simply pulled out his staff.
Tortey collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
His eyes remained wide open, as if he couldn’t accept his own death.
“It’s over.”
Rimle slumped to the ground.
His vision spun, and his head throbbed with pain.
His brain felt like it was boiling, melting from within.
Just two meters—but the price of using spatial movement magic was immense.
“That bastard... he kept doing this insane shit over and over...”
Just how much madness was buried beneath that calm face?
Rimle had thought his own path was rough, but he couldn’t compare to that man.
And he knew well how such lives ended.
In ruin.
No different than how he himself was ending now.
“Well, still...”
Rimle smiled, his wrinkled face softening.
—Do your best.
“Rimle! You bastard!”
By then, the frozen Truth School mages had clenched their teeth and began preparing spells to strike him down.
Rimle made no move to dodge or defend.
Not only because his body was wrecked—he simply didn’t need to.
Rrrrummmble.
The mansion shook even more violently as the ceiling collapsed.
The already-crumbling structure had taken its final blow from Tortey’s last spell.
The Truth School mages realized what was happening too late.
“Aaaagh!”
“E-Everyone run!”
Screams of panic and terror echoed through the air.
But they were soon buried—along with the mages themselves—beneath the ruins of the mansion.
* * *
Ludger turned to look back at the collapsing mansion, its final roar echoing through the forest.
He didn’t know exactly what had happened inside.
Only the occasional ripple of mana gave him some vague idea.
But even those had stopped.
The mansion crumbled in on itself, a great cloud of dust rising into the air.
Whoever had still been inside had surely been crushed to death by the mass of falling debris.
“Leader. What about the old man...?”
Ludger gave no answer to Arfa—he only shook his head in silence.
“...I see.”
“But I think he went without regret. At least, that’s what I believe.”
There was no sorrow or pity in his voice.
Rimle had tried to kill people. He had betrayed them.
Of course, he hadn’t been entirely evil. If he had, he would’ve killed Loina and Sempas.
He had the power, and the opportunity.
But he didn’t.
Perhaps it was the last sliver of conscience he had left.
A useless gesture.
But because he had extended that courtesy, Ludger had silently stepped back in the end.
He returned what he had received.
“...Damn. The mansion.”
“There were still so many things we hadn’t uncovered.”
The mages stared at the ruins with vacant expressions.
Among them was a familiar face—Samuel.
So that bastard really did survive.
Just as Ludger was thinking that the man really was hard to kill, a surge of energy burst from the rubble of the mansion.
BOOOOOM!
Blue energy erupted from the ground—it was the massive flow of mana from the ley lines.
The torrent of energy shot skyward, crashing into the dome that covered the Kassar Basin.
From above, tiny meteor-like sparks of mana began to rain down.
They struck parts of the forest, exploding on impact and scorching the trees with bursts of raw magical force.
The mages could only watch in stunned silence.
“The ley line... is overflowing.”
In that moment, everyone present understood.
The mansion’s collapse was only the beginning.
The overflowing ley line energy swept through the wreckage and began to spread outward.
“Everyone retreat! Back to the forward base!”
“But we still have people who haven’t returned—!”
“There’s no time!”
The mages panicked and fled.
The standby units watching from outside the forest quickly packed up and joined the retreat.
The expedition team—now significantly reduced in number—moved through the forest even faster than when they’d come.
Partly because they were retracing the path they’d already cleared, but also because—
There were no beasts attacking them.
All the creatures of the forest had gone still, cowering.
Even beings driven purely by instinct could sense the danger in an overflowing ley line.
In a way, it was a small mercy.
“We’re almost there!”
Thinking only of reaching the forward base, the mages finally emerged from the forest—only to gape at the sight before them.
“Wh-What the hell...”
There it was in the distance—the forward base.
And from it, black smoke and the roar of explosions were erupting one after another.