When Vadenina was casting her spell upon Sandru, Inham wasn't just standing idly by. As he had said before, he was doing everything he could to stop her. From the most basic magic bomb to the advanced Flames Walls, and even Holy Magic spells like Purification and Light Arrow—within this brief moment, he had unleashed nearly every spell he could in rapid succession. Unfortunately, every single one of them dissipated upon contact with the black aura that formed her protective shield.
In the end, he abandoned spellcasting altogether and charged straight at her, attempting to disrupt the lich's spell the same way Agrenel had done with melee attacks. But the moment he collided with the magical shield, he was instantly repelled. While his combat skills were commendable, the gap between him and Agrenel was so vast that it couldn't even be measured in simple terms of scale.
Still, he refused to give up. Gathering every ounce of his strength, he charged again. This time, he wasn't thrown back. Instead, his entire body became embedded within the black aura. The dense magical energy around him crushed inward with overwhelming force. If he hadn't desperately pulled himself free, the shield alone would have ground him into a bloody pulp.
Vadenina didn't pay any attention to him. Relying solely on her protective magic shield, she had already exhausted Inham. By this time, the green flames spewed by the Dark Dragon had completely engulfed Sandru.
The massive black dragon did not vanish. Instead, it circled in the air and flew back again. This was no longer an illusion but a summoned entity, akin to an elemental creature. As it soared above Vadenina and Inham, it unleashed another overwhelming torrent of flames.
The green fire melted everything it touched—the cliffs on both sides liquefied like wax. When the flames receded, all that remained was a scorched, blistering blackened wasteland.
Vadenina and Inham still stood within the inferno's aftermath. However, while everything within a few meters of the lich remained unscathed—even the ground beneath her feet was still cool—Inham was in a wretched state. His clothes were tattered, his hair singed with blackened streaks, making him look like a survivor who had barely escaped a raging fire.
"What's wrong? Can't bear to kill me?" Inham was still smiling. He knew full well that, with his own abilities, there was no way he should have survived such a grand spell. But his situation was more than just miserable—dark energy laced within the flames was rampaging through his body, slicing away at his life force and magical energy.
The lich remained silent. Aside from the eerie flames flickering in her eye sockets, she was as motionless as a statue. After a long pause, she finally spoke in a hoarse, grating voice. "You're not even worth killing right now. I want you to witness the rise of the King of the Undead with your own eyes… before I reduce you to nothing but dust."
"And yet, you had no hesitation in killing Sandru?"
"I didn't hold back. But maybe… maybe he's only gravely wounded," Vadenina replied calmly. "If he's still alive, I would let him witness that glorious moment as well."
After all, this was once the most powerful necromancer—her mentor, the one who had led her into Dehya Valley and the realm of necromantic magic. She knew his strength well. Even the Dark Dragon's breath, a force nearing the level of a forbidden spell, might not have been enough to kill him outright.
However, when she shifted her attention to the scorched ground, she found nothing. Not a single trace of Sandru remained, as if he, like everything else in the dragon's flames, had been reduced to ash.
"Impossible… Something is off here." Vadenina was taken aback but quickly understood. Someone like Sandru would never perish so quietly and unceremoniously.
At the farthest edge of her vision, a gargoyle's silhouette rose from the valley, flying northwest. Though she couldn't see clearly, Vadenina was certain—someone was riding it.
No gargoyle could have flown that far in such a short time. That meant it must have been moving stealthily through the valley long before she had even summoned the Dark Dragon.
"That is my master… Looks like I still have much to learn," Vadenina sighed, genuinely impressed.
"Definitely a skilled master," Inham also noticed, smiling bitterly. "Turns out, he never needed my unnecessary concern. He always knew exactly what to do."
The biggest difference between the old and the young was that the elderly were usually more aware of the current situation. No matter how eccentric an old man might be, he would never act recklessly on impulse when faced with overwhelming circumstances. And someone like Sandru—who had enough life experiences at his age—when he made it seem like he was too proud to retreat, it was merely an illusion to make others believe it. The same applied to any shock, defiance, anger, or flight he displayed—it was all just a show, designed to shape others' perceptions.
Vadenina and Inham couldn't even tell whether he had escaped with Agrenel's cooperation or if he had already fled beforehand.
Twenty years ago, Agrenel and Sandru had been co-leaders of Dehya Valley. Their synergy had long since reached a point where words were unnecessary.
A Grandmaster-tier Mirror Image scroll, a well-executed performance, and Agrenel's assistance—Sandru had managed to slip right before their eyes. By now, he was already more than ten miles away. Even if they found a similar gargoyle now, it was far too late to catch up.
"Too bad my master didn't anticipate this. Sometimes, even the best plans can't match fate," Vadenina said. She didn't need to search for a gargoyle—she had something far larger and more convenient right beside her.
The massive black dragon circling above lowered its head and descended. Though it was a summoned creature that couldn't last long, and its form depended on the aura of the Black Star and couldn't leave the Spiral Shadow Mountains, it was still a Dark Dragon. Its combat prowess and speed far surpassed that of a mere gargoyle construct. Vadenina was confident she could catch up.
But just as she was about to mount the dragon, Inham, still on the ground, suddenly burst into laughter.
He laughed with unrestrained joy, as if he had just stumbled upon the happiest discovery in the world. "So, in the end, you still need my help!" he roared with laughter.
Even as he laughed, he coughed violently, blood gushing from his mouth. But he paid no mind to it. Instead, he began chanting a White Magic prayer—though his words were unlike any priest's incantations.
"O Lord of the ethereal void, let this unfaithful servant borrow your power. With your illusory holiness, cleanse this tangible darkness, just as we strive to cleanse our own hearts..."
As the prayer echoed through the air, a brilliant white light erupted, piercing through the darkness that had engulfed the world. It was blinding—an archbishop-level purification spell fueled by every last ounce of its caster's magical and life force.
Within the dazzling radiance, the form of the black dragon rapidly disintegrated. Its body crumbled at an astonishing speed, like a grand structure suddenly robbed of its central pillar. Even with the lich's control, even with the Black Star as its source of power, the sheer force of the purification spell unraveled the intricate magical system that held the dragon together.
"Damn you," a harsh, nearly unrecognizable snarl erupted from the lich's throat, shaking the skies.
A streak of green fire flashed through the air. With a soft whoosh, a gaping hole was blasted through Inham's chest—front to back, a wound so massive that a person could pass through it.
Inham was still smiling, though his laughter had faded. No blood spilled from the wound; the searing heat of the green fire had already cooked his flesh, while the necrotic energy within it turned anything it touched into blackened coal. Not that it mattered—the purification spell had already claimed his life. Even as he cast it, the injuries left by the dragon's breath had been more than enough to destroy his body.
Suspended in midair, the lich stared at her outstretched hand—the very hand that had unleashed the fatal attack. Her expression was unreadable.
"To die by your hand… That is the best ending I can choose for myself now."
With the last remnants of strength in his body and mind, Inham spoke his final words as he looked at the lich.
The black dragon had vanished. Vadenina slowly descended from the air. Perhaps her magic was depleted, or perhaps for some other reason, she did not attempt to summon the Dark Dragon again. She merely stood there, staring at Inham's lifeless body.
The lich's face remained expressionless. She stood still, silently watching for a long time.
A gust of wind swept through. The body of Marquis Inham collapsed. The same wind stirred the dry, withered flesh on the lich's face—like dead grass shifting—but there was no life in it.
Beyond the Spiral Shadow Mountains, the sky over the once sun-scorched Fly Dragon Desert was now a dull gray. Yet compared to the darkness within the mountains, it was still an improvement. Against the bleak sky, a lone formation of gargoyles flew in solitude.
"That guy is dead," Agrenel said, glancing back toward Dehya Valley. Though nothing was visible from this distance, she could feel it.
"Congratulations to him. He came to die in the first place," Sandru replied, not even turning his head, his tone indifferent.
"And you? Weren't you also heading to your death?" Agrenel sneered. Her body bore several burn marks, but her expression remained unbothered.
"No… How could I be compared to someone like him?" Sandru sneered as well, before his expression returned to its usual calm. "I am simply choosing the best ending for myself."