Chapter 102
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 102
Chapter Title: Ambush (2)
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The moment I turned to flee, the enemy's elongated body sank into the ground in an instant.
Though the banquet hall was on the first floor, it had effortlessly shattered the floor, bursting up and vanishing just as quickly.
Since it wasn't trying to kill me, an attack erupting from an unpredictable spot might actually be more effective at capturing me.
As expected.
It was coming from below.
The enemy must think I'm 7th rank, but my command over natural mana had already reached Probe Rank levels.
What's more, I'd seen its movements before. Thinking there'd be no intel on a lesser race would be a grave mistake.
No, perhaps given the gulf between 7th rank and Dragon Rank, it wouldn't entertain such trivial assumptions in the first place.
I leaped high, freezing the ground beneath my feet.
Black tree roots thrust upward with brutal force from below.
Ice shards scattered in the air.
By then, mana swirled furiously in my hand, manifesting a massive hammer of ice.
The hammer swung straight down at the emerging root. Naturally, it wasn't swung by my own strength.
I didn't even stick around to see the outcome, whirling away to escape.
The primal glyph's advantage was clear: the ability to shape mana into anything I envisioned.
It was like adding explosive power to my mana molding.
If it blocked this attack too, its next move would change. Buying just a single moment before that would be enough.
Even if capturing me was the goal, I figured only now could it be stopped with magic short of transcendence.
Seizing the brief respite, I hurled myself through the closed window.
Glass shattered, and the changed air washed over me.
"It packs a punch, but otherwise... nothing special."
And just like that, the lesser race stood before me outside. Roots that had burrowed from the earth writhed from every direction, sealing off all escape routes.
There was no opening to flee.
But slipping outside in that split second had been enough.
"Why aren't you killing me?"
"You want me to?"
The lesser race shrank its elongated form back to normal size. The countless roots blanketing the area remained unchanged, of course.
"You picked up on my lack of killing intent pretty sharply. Better than brazenly assuming I can't kill you."
It was utterly relaxed.
"Surrender quietly, and I promise to deliver you in one piece. Resist any further, and well..."
As it spoke, a massive root slithered before me, its sharpened tip aimed right at me.
'What's the reason for going this far?'
Even after smashing through the banquet hall's window to the outside, the enveloping curtain still hemmed us in.
Stepping out into the unlit hall only made things dimmer.
What did this curtain signify?
Some kind of barrier, no doubt. Analyzing it later would reveal the details...
I recalled seeing something similar in the grimoire I'd gotten from Philip Deran's clone.
Ordinary from the outside, but swallowing entrants in darkness.
Back then, I'd thought the forces of evil hadn't broken the pact recklessly without precautions.
It was magic that required consuming evil essence anyway.
'...They're going to slaughter them all.'
It might want me alive, but once I was captured, the fate of those left in the hall was obvious.
No way it'd leave witnesses after showing itself like this.
The curtain must serve that purpose.
Even so, this crossed the line.
'...Playing for keeps, huh?'
Until now, I'd had to kill enemies to erase traces or gain an intel edge...
This was the first foe stirring such pure murderous rage in me.
Above all, touching my family was unforgivable. Why else was I taking the long route to sever ties?
My heart pounded without cease, refusing to calm, thundering wildly.
Partly the crisis, but the fury burned hotter.
The trap orb—I could pluck it from my subspace right now.
But that would blow my cover.
Somehow punching through the curtain and facing it head-on would look suspicious too.
Or hold out until Joart's side arrived?
No guarantee they'd come, and enduring like this was odd in itself.
Either way, a dilemma.
Because it had acted without a trace first.
If it was trouble, I wouldn't hold back.
Options flooded my mind—all the means at my disposal right now.
Not just against this Evanveil lesser race, but the entire forces of evil.
I'd sworn never to clash head-on... but they'd dragged me to the precipice with no retreat.
At that moment, the lesser race looming squarely before me snorted derisively.
"Stalling by pretending to mull it over?"
"And what if I am?"
"What?"
As it shot back, I slammed both mana-charged hands into the ground.
Dense chill etched with the primal glyph erupted with explosive force, and at the same instant, a root whipped toward me in swift response.
"Urk!"
I took the hit without a chance to resist.
The impact—like a massive club—sent my body airborne, hurtling away.
"Damn, did I kill him?"
The lesser race's panicked voice echoed from afar.
It paid my spell no mind.
Hardly surprising.
The chill had frozen everything around in an instant, but the root shattered all the ice effortlessly and emerged unscathed.
But it wasn't the lesser race I'd targeted. If I'd meant to snare it, I could've packed more power.
My target was the banquet hall.
The spreading chill raced along the floor and walls, flash-freezing the entire outer structure.
Sealing off any view from inside to outside. Perfect isolation.
The root's blow stung fiercely, but I could endure. As a transcendent with a reforged body, it wasn't lethal.
My right arm, struck dead-on, was a mangled wreck—bones likely shattered.
I crashed into the encircling black curtain and tumbled to the ground.
'Urgh... physically blocked, as expected.'
My knees screamed as if shattering on impact.
Yet even amid the pain, chill bloomed around my sprawled form on the dirt.
Power incomparable to before.
True 8th rank force—Probe Rank caliber—spewing from my 8th circle's furious spin.
Mana inscribed with the primal glyph contained it purely, incantation-free.
The chill climbed the black curtain, encasing its surface in ice.
"Still alive... Huh?"
The lesser race's casual mutter turned to bewilderment.
It must've sensed the shift in power.
Crack.
A section of the frozen curtain shattered alongside the ice.
I darted through the breach.
I could've masked myself by blending with ambient mana, but held off.
To lure the enemy in.
Jimazan of Evanveil's lesser race had sensed something off from the start.
This guy named Ivan.
When he'd blocked the initial strike, Jimazan figured it was still within 7th rank bounds.
Surprising defense, but chalked up to his own misjudged power.
But from the second evasion onward, alarm bells rang.
Reaction speed was sluggish, yet he dodged with eerie precision—as if privy to every move. Not instinct; foreknowledge.
Jimazan's instincts prickled coldly.
This was... the bearing of one who knew their kind.
Definitely hiding something.
'Damn it, just smash him and be done.'
But he couldn't.
The order was to capture.
Straight from "That One."
And after the target shattered the curtain to flee outside, it hit him.
'Not 7th rank.'
This was the last shot. To seize the line on Ard.
Would Jimazan, Dragon Rank caliber, risk this madness in the empire's heart otherwise?
He'd done it because there was no other path.
He might even be abandoned post-op. He wasn't blind to that risk.
Still, it had to be done.
Base lost, hounded by elves and human transcendents—no room for dithering.
Cries of "You dragged us in, own it" fell flat in the transcendent realm. Prove your worth or perish.
"Lose him, and it's over."
Yet it was also a chance.
Someone aware he'd surpassed 7th rank?
At minimum, his order-givers didn't know.
Jimazan's black mana surged, the earth quaking stickily.
The breached black curtain sealed anew.
He glanced at the banquet hall. Frozen solid—no one escaping.
His prey's escape spell had ironically jailed his own allies?
Jimazan sank swiftly into the earth like oiled silk, slipping beyond the curtain.