The Quartz Throne (6)

A gentle light filled the underground passage.

Dimia, who had survived Azadine’s surprise attack, had cast a spell.

It wasn’t a spell from the Flowers, Birds, Wind, Moon, but astonishingly, white magic—a healing spell now only usable by kings, no longer wielded even by the holy knights or priests of the King’s Church.

Thanks to the large amount of white mana she had drawn from the throne, she astonishingly restored her broken limbs using restoration magic once reserved for royalty.

Not just her—Crassli’s wounds were healed too.

“Ooooh!”

“This is the power of kings!”

It was apparently Dimia’s first time actually using it, and she admired her restored arm. She had lost much blood and was weak, but it was still an astounding miracle.

“Azadine!”

Crassli, his wounds healed, rose in fury and shouted Azadine’s name.

“Yeah. What?”

Azadine looked back at him while picking up the Shadowsteel Blade he had dropped on the ground. He was preparing to reuse the weapon he had just fired.

Although the Shadowsteel Blade grew weaker with each shot as its stored curses and magic were depleted, it was still far more powerful than ordinary arrows. When fired by members of the Messenger Clan, even the Yaegas God tribe trembled before it.

For this reason, among the clan, there was an unspoken agreement not to use Shadowsteel Blades in internal conflicts. But Azadine ignored that chivalric pact.

“Wh— hey! You rude bastard!”

Flustered, Crassli reached for his quiver. He too had one Shadowsteel Blade.

Azadine and Crassli’s Shadowsteel Blades crossed paths mid-air. A ridiculous scene unfolded—an arrow knocking another arrow out of the air.

And it was Azadine who won this absurd contest. His Shadowsteel Blade lightly deflected Crassli’s and flew at him with the force to pierce through.

—Purify!

In desperation, Dimia chanted a spell to neutralize the incoming Shadowsteel Blade.

Azadine’s arrow lost its magic and exploded midair.

But Azadine picked up another Shadowsteel Blade and nocked it to his bow. This time, it was the one Crassli had fired earlier.

Nagas rushed at Azadine, but with a single shot of the Shadowsteel Blade, he pierced through two or three of them in one blow.

“A bumper harvest of corpses. It’s a bumper harvest.”

Scott eagerly used necromancy to turn the Nagas’ corpses into undead.

Now there were more undead Nagas under Scott’s control than living ones.

Though there were over 30 Nagas and Messenger Clan members, the tide turned instantly.

Scott, the necromancer, played a big part in that. Thanks to the undead guarding Azadine from being surrounded, he could fully unleash his skills.

However, Azadine’s face wasn’t relaxed.

‘The power of the Nether is surging. The Messenger of Death has descended. Is this like the Wendigo last time—only a partial descent?’

The Nether’s Messenger wasn’t directly exercising power yet.

But even that much was enough to drive people mad.

The Age of Jupiter was arriving, and the era of the Yaegas God tribe was ending. The prophecy of destruction felt tangible now—how many could stay sane?

‘I need to wrap this up fast… the surface is in danger.’

Just then, a white flash spread outward.

—Banish Undead!

Black smoke escaped from the bodies of the undead Nagas Scott had painstakingly created, and flames erupted on their skin.

Amazingly, Dimia used divine magic like a high priest. The white mana she had absorbed from the throne using the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth was rampaging inside her.

Even Azadine could see it clearly. Right now, Dimia was truly a manifestation of power—the essence of magic itself. She seemed like a being of light formidable enough to challenge even the Messengers of the Nether.

But her use of it was crude. To wield such enormous mana as if it were just ordinary magic?

‘Restoration and other divine spells—she’s probably just imitating them without a proper grimoire.’

Even so, it was an incredible feat.

Grimoires like that of the Flowers, Birds, Wind, Moon were either inherited by bloodline or gained through many years of cultivation. The idea that such a thing was artificially granted to Dimia—how could that even be possible?

‘Well, I’ll have to ask her directly.’

Azadine approached Dimia.

“You!”

Dimia tried to confront Azadine, but at the moment, she couldn’t properly use the Flowers, Birds, Wind, Moon grimoire. There was too much foreign mana clashing within her.

So Crassli stepped in to block Azadine…

—Thunk!

But with a single attack, Crassli’s body crumpled. It hadn’t even hit directly—just grazed him—yet his body floated, and his knees gave out sideways under the impact.

‘Sorry, but I’m terrified of myself right now.’

Azadine appeared calm, but he was barely holding on, struggling to control the powers of the Flowers, Birds, Wind, Moon and the Kazas Grimoire.

Using the white mana from the copied Heavenly King’s Book of Truth as a primer, he had further amplified and unleashed the power of the Kazas Grimoire into overdrive.

His strength had grown so extreme that he feared being crushed by it himself.

His bones hurt from the sheer power. Ligaments and muscles squeezed his bones like a ship’s ropes tightening under a storm. If he let his guard down, he risked breaking his own bones. His body creaked like a vessel in a hurricane.

But showing weakness now would be fatal. Azadine lightly dispatched Crassli and calmly walked toward Dimia.

“Die, Dimia.”

He drew the Wendigo’s dagger and aimed for her throat.

That’s when the unexpected happened.

“W-wait!”

Dimia raised both her hands.

“Azadine. Fine! You win here!”

“…What are you trying to say?”

“A peace negotiation.”

“Peace negotiations? Not surrender?”

“In truth, our mission ended when we drew the white mana from the throne, allowing the Nether’s Messenger to descend. Now that the Messenger is summoned, we’ve fulfilled our role. Sure, dying in a fight with you after completing our mission wouldn’t be too bad, but fighting and dying against you, who are Arael-nim’s younger brother, would be foolish, wouldn’t it?”

“Whether you live or die is for me to decide.”

“Exactly.”

Dimia smiled.

“There’s no need to kill a charming woman like me, is there?”

“Are you trying to seduce me? Don’t waste your time.”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand. I don’t mean it that way. If you kill me, you’ll earn the hatred of our kin. I shouldn’t be saying this myself, but there are quite a few who follow me and my sister. At least three digits worth of fools who adore us.”

“And you’re saying that yourself?”

Azadine laughed at Dimia’s attempt to negotiate her life.

To Dimia, it was a good sign.

“When does Arael plan to seize the throne?”

Azadine asked about the next move of Arael’s faction.

“Oh, that’s a bit of a different matter.”

“If you won’t answer, I’ll kill you now. Dimia, you can’t properly use the white mana you’ve absorbed, and it’s preventing the Flowers, Birds, Wind, Moon from functioning. Leaving you alive now could put me at risk later, so it benefits me to kill you here.”

“You aren’t listening to me, Azadine.”

“I’m used to being hated by our kin, Dimia.”

Azadine said this, kicked up Dimia’s quiver to seize it, and loaded an arrow into his bow before firing backward.

—Thud!

The arrow pierced through the heads of the remaining Nagas, bringing them down. It wasn’t a feat that could be done without immense confidence. Dimia swallowed nervously.

‘How did he become this strong? Is this really Azadine?’

Dimia remembered seeing Azadine during training, when she served as an instructor’s assistant.

The Azadine she knew was a snot-nosed kid, constantly bullied while the instructors and assistants turned a blind eye.

They allowed it deliberately, believing that bullying a weaker individual helped the others vent stress and endure the harsh training.

In other words, Azadine was a scapegoat that the entire clan tacitly agreed upon.

And yet… this scapegoat had become this powerful?

“I don’t want to give away enough information to hinder Lady Arael’s plans. But I can’t fight you, so if you must, kill me. However, Azadine, if you spare me, it will benefit your future steps. There’s no need to earn the hatred of the clan by killing me.”

“So, you don’t want to betray Arael, but you still want to live. Am I hearing you correctly?”

“Exactly.”

“Hm. How audacious. If you had the upper hand, you would have killed me without hesitation.”

“Please understand. It’s just my situation. Anyway, Azadine, wouldn’t you spare me?”

“How many pages of the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth copies are here?”

“Sixty-four.”

“……”

Azadine almost jumped for joy. Sixty-four pages—that was a substantial amount.

It might not be all the copies Arael’s faction had, but recovering that many pages would make Azadine a hero among the Messenger Clan, unrivaled in his achievements.

Still, Azadine kept his composure and cleared his throat.

“Hmph. I’ll take them. You have no objections, right?”

“Sure. That’s the deal, right?”

“No. Dimia, I’ll have to take you as well.”

“Huh?”

“Tie up your limbs with rope.”

“Ugh, really? Is that necessary? Come on, it’s not needed, is it?”

“It is necessary.”

Azadine focused on the white mana surging within Dimia’s body. Letting her go was not an option.

“Hmm.”

Dimia looked at Azadine in frustration.

His stance was so firm that there seemed to be no way to change his mind. In truth, Dimia had nothing to offer that could alter the outcome.

Without any conditions to bargain with, no deal could be struck.

“Shati!”

“Yes?”

“Pick up the Heavenly King’s Book copies. The ones scattered around.”

“Sure.”

While Azadine kept his guard up, Shati gathered the fallen pages of the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth.

“No, stop!”

Crassli, still lying on the ground with a broken bone, tried to stop Shati, but it was no use.

“What should we do with this guy? Should I put him out of his misery?”

“Don’t harm him. He’s one of the few of my kin left. The fight is over; I don’t want to harm him unnecessarily.”

When Azadine said this, both Crassli and Dimia felt ashamed.

Power over life and death was the privilege of the strong.

The one whom the entire Messenger Clan had once made a scapegoat was now showing them mercy and leniency. It was embarrassing and unsettling.

“Dimia.”

“Yes?”

“Heal him just enough so he won’t be permanently disabled. Got it? Just enough to prevent lasting harm. If you heal him more than that, I’ll kill you both.”

“……”

As one of the four in the Flowers, Birds, Wind, Moon, Dimia found this an incredibly difficult demand.

This lowly Messenger, once considered a dropout, was now terrifyingly powerful, even giving her orders.

If she disobeyed, he would kill her. Such an arrogant command—how could he dare?