Chapter 118

They had just arrived at their destination—the Ruins of the Adversaries.

Mikhail stepped down from the carriage, planted his feet on the parched ground, and took in the scene before him.

Sand-colored ruins, towering high enough to blot out the sky.

The shape reminded him of a real-world football stadium. Except instead of a grass pitch and goalposts, the interior would be crawling with stray magical beasts, malfunctioning ancient machines, and an endless web of branching corridors and inner chambers.

[Quest: [Main] Complete the Campaign — Round 2]

• Completion Reward: Shop Currency +3

Mikhail noted the message, glanced at the formulas carved into the ground at the ruins' entrance, and moved away from the group.

He'd gone roughly fifteen paces when he stopped mid-stride.

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD.

That was when he heard it—the drumming footfalls of a sprinter approaching nearby.

Vibrations that shouldn't have been heading this way.

Mikhail turned toward the sound. A carriage was decelerating to a halt, and one by one, the members of the magic research institute climbed out of the passenger compartment.

"……"

Verte was the first to step down.

Mikhail watched his profile as he surveyed the ruins, then drifted forward until he stood directly in front of him.

"Huh? Isn't that…"

Stares and murmurs from the institute's members converged on Mikhail. Verte turned his head as well and locked eyes with him.

"You. Senit."

The instant Verte registered who it was, a growl laced with undisguised hostility rumbled from his throat.

But Mikhail—composed from start to finish—got to the point before Verte could say another word.

"Earlier, I was on the receiving end of your little declaration. I'd like to give you my answer."

Verte's fist clenched and he faltered. Mikhail pressed weight into his voice and spoke.

"Not a single thing you said is going to come true. Not one."

No reply was needed. The moment the words left his mouth, Mikhail turned on his heel and walked back toward Ethan's group.

The scoff and muttered profanity trailing after him were swallowed up by the announcer's voice heralding the next phase.

"—Ah, it looks like everyone's arrived safely! In that case, the operations managers will distribute any additional supplies you'll need and guide each faction to their starting positions. In the meantime! Allow me to explain the upcoming stage."

The voice beyond the amplifier was bright and clipped, almost like a drill sergeant calling cadence.

"The subtitle for this stage is… Find the Ultimate Resource Collector! Deep inside the ruins lie rare resources—mana clusters—and your objective is to harvest as much mana from them as possible, then convert it into points for your faction!"

The announcer paused briefly before dropping his tone.

"However—given how rare mana clusters are, the bigger and more numerous they get, the higher the chance that threats are lurking nearby! Those threats could be roaming magical beasts. They could be the ruins' battered old machines. Or they could be… rival factions competing for the same prize! But whatever stands in your way! Give it everything you've got and claim what you came for!"

Mikhail reached the spot where the group had gathered and stopped.

Ethan had been studying the lot he'd drawn, but he looked up and walked over.

"Where'd you go?"

He held out a transparent orb along with the question. Mikhail took it, pressed it against the magic tool on his wrist, and answered.

"Had something to return to Verte."

"Return? You don't mean…"

"When someone delivers a declaration of war that bold, it's only polite to answer in kind."

Mikhail gave Ethan a sidelong glance, let out a deflating sigh, and tacked on one more line.

"Besides… just sitting there and taking it didn't sit right with me."

Click.

While Ethan exhaled a you're-hopeless kind of breath, the orb locked into the magic tool with a clean snap.

Mikhail examined the orb's clear surface again. For now, its interior was nothing but empty space—but as it absorbed mana, a blue fluid would gradually fill it.

He turned the orb this way and that to make sure it was properly secured, then looked up at Ethan.

"So what number did we get?"

"Five."

Ethan flipped the lot to show the printed number, and Mikhail gave a single nod.

Entrance Five—the exact same starting position as the original storyline.

A point in the ruins' southwest quadrant, where smaller mana clusters appeared frequently and encounters with the ruins' machines were far more likely than run-ins with magical beasts.

"We'll now announce each faction's placement, and the managers will assist with the transfer! Entrance One—Allied Knight Order. Entrance Two—Guild Private Defense Academy. Entrance Three—Central Magic Research Institute. Entrance Four—Night Owl Training Camp. Entrance Five—Salvator Academy…"

While the announcer read through the starting positions, a manager approached Salvator's group. He scanned the assembled members, confirmed their affiliation and headcount, then led them toward the teleportation formula at the ruins' entrance.

"First up—Allied Knight Order, please step forward!"

The participants ahead of Mikhail followed the managers' directions and climbed onto the formula. A flash of light erupted from the ground, and they vanished.

"……"

The same scene repeated four times.

When Mikhail's turn came, he stepped forward and stood on the teleportation formula alongside his group.

WHIRRR!

Just as before, the formula carved into the floor blazed to life and a deep hum of resonance flooded his ears. Mikhail had barely had time to wince at the faint wave of nausea before the scenery around him changed completely.

"……"

The view couldn't have been more different. The members of every other faction who'd been standing on the open wasteland moments ago were nowhere to be seen.

"And it looks like all factions have reached their starting positions!"

Mikhail tilted his head back and gazed up at the empty air. The announcer's voice—so close just minutes ago—now echoed from somewhere far away, buzzing like a distant reverberation.

"The time limit for this stage runs until you hear the whistle! Our commentary team will be watching your every move through observation magic tools! So—are you ready? Everyone, proceed into the ruins!"

Mikhail stole a glance at the butterfly-shaped magic tool fluttering ahead of them, then stepped through the wide-open doors.

Crunch.

A few paces into the ruins' interior, the group came face to face with their first obstacle—a wall cutting across their path, with corridors branching off in both directions.

A voice thick with indecision drifted up from the group.

"Uh… which way do we go?"

Mikhail's eyes caught the faint edges of something half-hidden in the corners and along the base of the wall. He recognized what lay beneath the yellowish crust of grime—ancient script forms built on a runic foundation.

But he didn't intervene. He simply watched Ethan, who was already scanning the surroundings with careful, methodical attention.

"……"

Before long, Ethan stepped forward. He planted himself in front of the wall, raised his hand, and swept away the thick layer of dust.

Fssssh.

Beneath the crumbling sand-colored shell, distinct shapes and characters emerged in sharp relief.

Ethan turned back to the group and spoke.

"What's written here might give us a clue about which direction to take."

His words lit up every face. The group rushed to the wall and brushed away the remaining dust, then cross-referenced the revealed illustrations, characters, and layout with the arrows and inscriptions on the floor to piece together their meaning.

Just as I expected. He's handling it perfectly.

Mikhail watched from a half-step back, a thin smile on his face. As the group murmured through their deliberations, he traced the route he'd need to take on his own—separate from them—to steer the progression where it needed to go.

"—All right, so if we combine everything we've decoded… the left path seems to have magical beasts vulnerable to spells, and the right path has machines weak against melee weapons. Plus, there are fewer resources on the left and more on the right."

Lloyd swept his gaze across the group's faces, snapped his fingers, and spoke.

"Then there's nothing to debate. We're better off going right first."

The group nodded in unanimous agreement and turned toward the right corridor.

But Mikhail hadn't moved.

He stood rooted in place, silently watching the group pull ahead, then spoke.

"Ethan. I'm going the other way."

Ethan stopped dead and spun around. Confusion settled heavy on his face.

"Why?"

Mikhail held his gaze for a moment, then flashed an isn't-it-obvious smile and jerked his thumb toward the left.

"Because for me, the other side's a better fit."

Ethan went quiet. The answer didn't come right away—his lips parted, hesitated, closed again.

But it didn't matter. Mikhail shrugged with an air of easy indifference and took a step toward the left corridor.

"Besides, you heard the announcement. The threats inside the ruins scale with the amount of resources in an area. Left side's got barely anything, so it won't be all that dangerous. And…"

Mikhail trailed off, his gaze drifting to the butterfly-shaped magic tool that had attached itself to his trail—a second one, now.

"—Ohhh! The first resource collection points go to the Allied Knight Order! I never expected anyone to score this fast!"

The announcer's electrified outburst drove down from above like a spike through everyone's heads.

Mikhail propped his staff against his shoulder and urged the group on.

"Get moving. Before we get overtaken standing around chatting. If things get dicey, I'll regroup on my own."

"…Got it."

Ethan answered and turned without another word. Mikhail headed in the opposite direction from the sound of their footsteps.

His own pace through the corridors accelerated quickly—fluid and unhesitating, feet striking the ground with the certainty of someone who knew exactly where he was going. Every mana cluster's location and every lurking threat inside the ruins remained perfectly clear in his mind.

[0pt]

Mikhail checked the score on his wrist device and broke into a run toward an open chamber visible in the distance.

If the progression holds, Ethan's group will rack up enough points to secure first place on their own. But it wouldn't hurt to pad the lead a bit, just in case someone closes the gap. And…

[Entrance 3 — Central Magic Research Institute.]

Mikhail's eyes narrowed.

This is the path that'll lead me to Verte.

TAP!

He sucked in a sharp breath, locked his grip around the staff, and stepped into his target chamber.

A space roughly eight tatami mats wide. In the corner, atop a mound of flowing sand, a blue orb shimmered like a desert oasis—pulsing with gentle light.

WHIIIIRR!

But the room didn't hold only welcome things.

Hovering in the air like a shard of the wasteland's scorching sun, an elemental core beat its single blazing orange wing up and down.

—!

The instant it detected Mikhail, the core thrashed its wing in a frenzy and kindled a seething ember before its body.

CRACK!

But the hiss of rising flames was swallowed whole by a dry, splitting sound that tore through it.

Mikhail conjured an ice crystal at the tip of his staff and fired it point-blank at the enemy in front of him.