The little knife looked utterly ordinary—so ordinary that even a commoner who saw it lying on the ground would not have bothered to pick it up. But Adam knew perfectly well that every spell Quelina had cast afterward had been channeled through it.
The abyss egg radiated an emotion that was longing and dread tangled together. When Adam carried it closer to the knife, the egg's feeling turned entirely to fear.
"What is this thing?" Adam did not pick it up with his hand. He used psychokinesis to fling it from a distance into his personal storage space, planning to dig through the records and study it once he was back at the academy.
After Quelina's death, the dense forest seemed to fall completely still. No magical beasts were anywhere in sight, and there was no other energy signature deeper in. Adam walked on into the forest and soon arrived at that clearing.
"There's an energy trace." He walked to where Fone had been and scooped up a handful of soil; there were still shards of a potion container in it, and a bit of residue.
Adam shook the abyss egg. It had returned to normal, and it pointed its senses in another direction.
"They've already gone. Have they started attacking the town?"
A few kilometers outside Blan Town, Clark and Fone stood silently in the dark. Ahead of them was the battle formation of several thousand wind wolves, launching a suicide assault on Blan Town.
The knights were nearly all dead or wounded. Every spell the wind wolves cast landed squarely on the runic barrier, splashing ripples across it.
Clark took out the contract again. Quelina's name upon it was shattered and scattering. "Quelina's dead too."
"That Elemental Tower apprentice is actually that strong?"
Fone's expression changed drastically. He knew exactly how strong Quelina's parasitic monster was; if not for the fact that Clark's negative-energy magic happened to be its perfect counter, Quelina should have been the strongest of the four. And now even she was dead?
Clark tore the contract to shreds, then said, "An unforeseen variable. An apprentice of that level—why isn't he staying properly at the Tower, studying advanced knowledge? Why come to this frontier?" He took it for granted that Adam was a senior apprentice on the verge of advancing. Only a powerhouse of that level could kill Laru and Quelint in succession—a power on the same tier as his own.
Fone said, "Could it be the power of magic items?" Then he pointed at William and the other two, who were barely managing to kill wind wolves with the runic weapons, and said, "Didn't he ride here in the same hovercar as those three rookies?"
Clark paused a moment. If that were the case, it would of course be for the best—it would mean Adam had a decent background, perhaps a full-fledged Mage among his direct kin. Magic items always run dry in the end. What he feared was Adam being a true powerhouse. After all, he himself was currently inside the Tower's territory, with no elder of his own school behind him to prop him up.
"Damn it," he swore inwardly, "why did I have to run into a variable at a time like this, at the final stage before my advancement! Just a few more towns taken, and I'd have accumulated enough to advance to Mage!"
In Clark's plan, the group was to raid along the border of Mordo Elemental Tower's territory, and at the last leave the Mage Continent by warship from the coastline. He had never imagined trouble would find them the moment the plan began.
"It would have been better if you hadn't let Quelina go just now. Her parasitic monster would have greatly sped up the barrier's collapse," Fone said in a low voice.
A dark look flickered through Clark's eyes, and Fone dropped to his knees in agony, hammering at the ground.
"Are you questioning me? Slave!" With no outsiders present, Clark no longer had to keep up his unfathomable image; in front of Fone, his slave, he showed his true colors.
Fone buried every expression in the shadows. His face was hideous with pain, twisted with hatred, and he said in terror, "No, Master."
Clark planted his foot on top of Fone's head, grinding it into the dirt with savage force, and said in a cold, sinister tone, "Use up all your potions. These wind wolves are still too weak."
"How are these wind wolves so strong, how are there so many of them?!" Riley's voice was tearful and helpless.
She saw that the pack had gone even more berserk: they abandoned magic altogether and slammed their bodies into the runic barrier, then blew themselves up.
"William, my spiritual power is nearly spent. I can't link with the ether anymore." Terry withdrew weakly from the runic weapon and said with difficulty.
William sat cross-legged off to the side, constructing a meditation method. Hearing this, he said, "Riley, you're up." He had no reaction at all to Riley's sobbing. There was no time now for gallantry toward a woman, no time to look after anyone else; he was worn out too. Riley and Terry were too weak, and he had shouldered the burden for most of the fight—if not for his psychokinesis, he would have collapsed long ago.
Sniffling, Riley stepped up to the control platform and poured mana in haphazardly, blasting at the wind wolves. "Why is this happening? Why is Adam allowed to run off—doesn't he care whether we live or die?"
The more Ruili thought about it, the more miserable she felt, and the more wronged. She cursed at the top of her voice: "That coward! That selfish bastard!"
People in despair always find some direction to vent. At this moment Ruili had completely forgotten that she had been worrying that Adam would cut into her pay and drag them down.
Zach saw several energy bolts land on empty ground and flew into a fury; at a time like this, that was gambling with everyone's lives. He bellowed from the other side of the town: "What are you doing! Damn it, do you have a death wish?"
William glared fiercely at Ruili, but by now any accusation had little meaning left. He walked over to Zach and asked, "Mr. Zach, when will the academy's support arrive?"
Blan Town had four runic weapons. Zach and Thomas each controlled one, William's group of three shared one, and the remaining side was defended by the townsfolk, holding the wind wolves back with their lives.
Zach fired a vicious shot that blew several wind wolves into bloody pulp, then said, panting hard, "How would I know! I just hope they hurry up—and that they don't send more rookies like you!"
Wind wolves were low-grade magical beasts after all; one hit from a runic weapon meant certain death, and as time passed there were fewer and fewer of them. Just as they were starting to relax, an enormous wind wolf came charging at the town with its fur standing on end and smashed headfirst into the barrier. The energy crystal inside the wolf king's body burst, and the blast threw a tremendous burden onto the barrier—the ripples grew larger and larger, and the barrier grew unstable.
Thomas's anxious voice rang out: "Our energy stone reserves are running low! Good thing the wind wolves are all dead, or we couldn't have held out much longer."
But not long after he spoke, a black-gray spell came flying in from the distance and crashed heavily into the runic barrier.
"Damn it, a negative-energy impact—a Magefoe has appeared!"
In the distance, a gray crystal ball appeared in Clark's hand. He toyed with it, his eyes dark and sinister.
"Without Laru and Quelina, the assault is moving too slowly. At this rate the Mordo Elemental Tower's full-fledged Mages will likely arrive soon." Clark watched the last wind wolf die. "In that case, there's nothing for it but to sacrifice Fone."
Fone felt the malice directed at him from his very soul. He groveled at Clark's feet, staring up at him in panic like a dog about to be thrown away: "No, no, Master, I am your most loyal servant, you can't do this!"
Clark smiled, laid a hand on Fone's head and stroked it gently, and said softly, "Of course, Fone, you are my most loyal slave. Now your master needs your help..."
Fone trembled all over, his voice shrill: "Master, no—don't!"
"Shouldn't you offer everything to your master?"
"Why me, why me!" Fone knew he was about to die, but he would not go quietly. "Killing me won't be so easy, Clark—you'll pay for this!" Mana fluctuations surged; Fone jerked his head up and opened his mouth, a nauseating light gathering in his throat. He meant to make a last-ditch strike at Clark.
But under the master-servant contract, such resistance was futile. With a single thought from Clark, Fone's head burst into fragments. Clark reached out and lightly scooped up the gray fluctuation, casting it into the crystal ball; then the crystal ball shattered, and Clark howled out a short, obscure incantation. A shockwave of negative energy blasted toward Blan Town.
Clark kicked Fone's body aside and sneered, "Stupid. To think you'd dream of resisting me. If I hadn't needed you to despair, would I have wasted so many words on you?"
Clap, clap, clap—crisp claps rang out. Clark whipped around and cried out in alarm, "Who are you!" Not far behind him, Adam hovered in midair. Clark's blood ran cold; someone had gotten that close behind him without his noticing. If he had just been ambushed...
"A wonderful drama. Wonderful magic. Tell me your magic, and I'll let you leave. How about it?" Adam said to him.
Clark quietly backed away, saying as he did, "So you're the apprentice who killed Laru and Quelina? You want my magic—well, of course..." Clark suddenly roared: "Despair!"
"You want my magic? Ha ha ha, and what makes you think you deserve it? Feeling despair yet?"
As the words fell, a strange fluctuation pierced straight through the psychokinetic barrier and entered Adam's mind. Adam felt his head ring with a buzz, but the negative emotion had barely risen before it was suppressed and severed by the cold logic of absolute reason.
"Negative-energy magic?"
Adam shook his head, completely unharmed. A strange light came into his eyes. This magic could treat the psychokinetic barrier as though it did not exist—how marvelous.
Clark was terrified out of his wits: "How can you be fine? No apprentice can withstand negative-energy magic!" He cast spell after spell: "Fear! Rage! Sorrow!" Three fluctuations struck Adam dead-on, and still nothing.
Negative-energy magic could hardly be called weak. It directly stirred the emotions buried deep in a target's heart, plunging the victim into endless self-denial until they collapsed and died. But to Adam it was a joke. Negative emotions? What are those supposed to be?
Adam could be called Clark's absolute nemesis.
"Last chance. Hand over your magic, and I'll let you leave. Otherwise I'll kill you." Adam delivered his ultimatum to Clark.