Chapter 135

The cave ceiling, studded with countless mana stones.

The turning point was closing in fast before Mikhail's eyes.

FZZT!

Mikhail gathered his mana. A mana crystal bloomed at the tip of his outstretched staff.

"……"

Mikhail stared at the crystal he'd formed. At the same time, his mind drifted to the campaign spectators—the ones who'd been roaring with excitement over every unexpected reversal and savage exchange.

What I'm about to do won't line up with what the organizers had in mind when they set the defense unit's objectives. But it fits the campaign's true nature. Love it or hate it, the suppression campaign was always… a show.

Mikhail swallowed a breath and swung the staff. The mana crystal dangling from its tip hurtled toward a mana stone jutting from the ceiling.

SHREEEE!

The crystal drove into the wall-mounted stone. A deep fracture carved itself across its surface.

CRACK!

"…!"

Ethan gaped upward at the mana stone, freshly cratered by the sudden strike.

The sharp ring of the fracture lingered in the air like an afterimage, and nearby mana stones flickered in erratic bursts—as though startled awake and crying out in alarm.

What on earth….

Ethan was still wearing a blank look of bewilderment when—

GRRRRK! GRKK!

The beasts erupted like something had set their tails on fire—leaping and thrashing before baring raw, seething hostility.

To the cave wickeds, those mana stones were prized possessions. Their nest. Their hoard.

And someone had just shattered them. The object of their greed became the target of their fury in an instant.

"…!"

Ethan tore his gaze from the beasts and whipped his head toward the one who'd upended the situation.

While most people were still craning their necks trying to make sense of what had happened, Mikhail had already moved—conjuring an ice wall directly in front of himself without a moment's hesitation.

CRACK-CRACK!

A bone-white barrier of ice shot upward like a blade. From behind the frost billowing off its surface, Mikhail moved again.

FZZT.

He formed a mana sphere at the tip of his staff, twisted his torso, and shattered another mana stone on the ceiling.

CRACK! SNAP!

One shattering sound chased the next in rapid succession. Then Mikhail ducked back behind his ice wall, grimaced, and exhaled a trembling wisp of breath.

"Hah."

At the same time, a mana sphere flared to life above his open palm.

"……"

Ethan watched the entire sequence without moving a muscle. The beasts' frenzied shrieks washed past one ear and out the other as he swallowed hard.

The beasts have stopped charging at the carriage…. Mikhail. I knew it—you had a plan all along.

A faint gasp of admiration slipped between his parted lips.

But it lasted only a moment. Ethan shifted his gaze upward toward the ceiling where Mikhail's mana had struck. The scarred remains of broken mana stones drifted across his pupils.

Each strike hit harder than the last.

His eyes traced the fractured surfaces. The pulse in his chest swelled like a river cresting its banks.

If you'd wanted… I could've done that for you.

Ethan let his head drop.

His grip crushed tight around the sword hilt until his knuckles ached.

GRRRRRK!

That was the moment. A beast's howl—sharpened to a killing edge—seized his sinking awareness and dragged it back. Ethan snapped his eyes forward and swung the sword in his clenched fist.

SLASH!

The same clash and shearing impact as before erupted from the blade's edge. But the rampaging beasts moved nothing like they had moments ago.

They drove their fangs and claws at the participants with blind ferocity—no longer targeting the carriage at all.

GRRRK!

Lloyd, positioned close to Ethan, opened the floor with amusement threaded through his voice.

"Ahh, so that's what you did…. Mikhail Senit. You redirected the beasts' target and flipped the scoring conditions in our favor."

Dian picked up Lloyd's thread while swinging his bludgeon, his voice booming across the corridor.

"Whoa! Hey! One kill and the points shot straight up! They're climbing like crazy!"

"Careful, Dian! Their attacks are way more vicious than before!"

GRRRRRR!

The group's strikes took on a renewed ferocity of their own as they tore into the beasts.

"……"

Only Ethan showed no particular reaction. He wore the same flat, even expression as before and carved through the beasts' bodies without a word.

But every now and then, his gray eyes drifted sideways—stealing a glance at Mikhail's figure in the distance.

CRACK-CRACK.

Mikhail had planted a wall of ice across his front and pressed both palms flat against its translucent surface. THOOM. THOOM. Beasts slammed into the fortress-like barrier again and again. He watched them through the ice, curled his fingertips inward, and channeled more mana.

FZZZT.

Alone. Shielding nothing but his own ground.

And never once looking back.

Ethan felt the fingers wrapped around his sword stiffen as though dipped in plaster.

If anything comes up where I can help, call me.

…Those words meant nothing to you.

Ethan scattered a breath like sleet and pulled his gaze from Mikhail's unyielding back.

The shadows trailing at their feet would run parallel—that much was certain. The few paces lying between them felt as distant as the North Star at midnight.

---

"Unbelievable! Salvator's Mikhail Senit has completely altered the beasts' behavior! This has created prime conditions for racking up points! Haha, well now… the audience response is absolutely tremendous!"

…What?

Verte flinched, eyes flying wide.

It was like having ice water dumped over a skull already throbbing with warnings of mana depletion. Verte fired projectile after projectile at the beasts charging toward him, then let a hollow laugh fall from his lips.

"Ha."

Mikhail Senit. A name that ground his teeth down to the nerves.

Again. It's you again.

Verte flicked his hand with an irritated snap, and five mana spheres materialized in time with the motion. The compressed orbs burst outward in every direction, punching clean through the beasts that had been closing in.

CRUNCH!

The killing intent bearing down on him went silent in an instant. Verte curled the fingers he'd thrust forward and lowered his arm.

He stood there cycling through ragged, seething breaths—then jerked his head toward Salvator's formation.

Blades tracing gleaming arcs carved through beasts in a blur of motion, and behind the chaos, a bone-white ice wall stood tall.

Verte chewed the inside of his lower lip and stared at the rear formation positioned on the opposite end from himself.

GRRRK!

The beasts threw themselves at the ice wall as though hell-bent on smashing through it—but every attempt ended the same pathetic way. They crashed against the white surface and bounced off like ragdolls.

It was embarrassing to watch. Verte felt the blood rushing hot behind his wide-open eyes.

Worthless beasts, every last one of them. Flailing around like that—all they're doing is making Senit look good.

Verte ground out a low string of curses and fired his mana at a beast that had crept too close.

GRKK!

The creature—pierced mid-air—crumpled like a trampled toy and dropped without a sound. Verte was already moving to shoot down the next wave when the announcer's voice rang out again.

"—Oh my, amid all this chaos, the transport carriage's stopping point is coming into view up ahead! It seems the end of this stage isn't far off."

A brief pause, then the voice continued.

"The magic research institute had climbed to second and was closing in on first, but this turn of events has widened the gap once more. Still—nothing's decided until it's over! What twists and turns await us in the final stretch? Everyone, keep your eyes glued to the action!"

Verte flicked his gaze toward the far end of the corridor.

Just as the announcer had described, a flat slab of rock where the transport carriage would come to rest sat waiting in the distance.

A rest point positioned just before entering the basilisk's territory. The place to regroup and prepare for the final large-scale battle ahead.

"Tch."

Verte clicked his tongue in frustration and unleashed a barrage of spells at every beast in his line of sight. He felt cold sweat trailing down his temple, but it wasn't worth the attention.

There's nothing behind me now but the cliff's edge. Nowhere left to retreat. …Whatever it takes, I'll force an opening.

The light in Verte's eyes sank low.

The carriage bearing the mana replenishment source cut through the chaos like a tall ship parting the sea—slow and steady.

"—Now then, the stage's conclusion is just moments away! Shall we start the countdown? Ten, nine, eight…!"

The battles raged on, but the carriage's stopping point had drawn close enough for everyone to see.

GRRRK. GRRRRK!

The beasts that had been swarming without pause finally assessed the odds once their numbers had been halved. With the stopping point only a few paces away, they pulled back and slithered into the pitch-dark depths below.

WHIRR.

The carriage wheels clattered to a halt. The transport balloon mounted on top drifted upward and lowered the carriage—replenishment source and all—onto the flat slab of rock.

THOOM—.

The heavy landing of the mana replenishment source marked the end, and silence settled over everything as though the chaos had never happened.

"The first stage of Round Three is now complete! Outstanding work from all our participants!"

Members of every faction who'd held the escort formation sank to the ground one by one, tension draining from their bodies. The announcer's voice echoed off the cave ceiling—noticeably higher now than before.

"With the Allied Knight Order securing third and the magic research institute settling into second, Salvator has maintained first place with a standout performance!"

---

…Cough.

Mikhail sat alone, back pressed against the cave wall, apart from the rest of his group.

Between the mana he'd poured out and the battle he'd pushed through, his body had nothing left to give. Dry, hollow coughs rattled out of him one after another, and not a shred of strength would answer his call.

"—We've reached the final stretch of the campaign. All that remains is the climactic showdown against the cave basilisk! While everyone regroups, we'll be reassigning each faction's role and sharing key tactical information for the encounter ahead!"

Mikhail tilted his head back and blinked in a slow, heavy rhythm as he traced the coming progression in his mind.

For the battle against the basilisk, Salvator would be reassigned to the attack unit.

They'd study the information provided, adapt their approach to the basilisk—and when the anomaly struck, they'd face down whatever exception surfaced. But in the end, they'd handle it well enough….

"……"

Mikhail was still chewing through the sequence when murmuring voices nearby filtered into his hazy awareness.

"Verte's overwhelming firepower driving that early reversal was impressive and all, but… the one who actually flipped the board and seized the advantage—that leaves a bigger impression."

"Pfhaha. And after all that effort, he still couldn't knock them out of first."

Mikhail let the drifting voices wash through his ears, then turned his head toward where Verte was standing.

Verte stood near a cluster of supply bundles. He picked up the heaviest one among them—then paused, shifted his head, and looked straight at Mikhail.