The Dark Temple's Shadow
The vast, dark cave held a single stone edifice that evoked the image of an underground palace. Its architecture followed an ancient style long out of fashion, and sharp stalactites growing along the walls spoke of the passage of time, yet its grandeur and mystery only deepened with the years rather than fading.
Inside the building, where dark red flames flickered in every corner, a massive blaze burned alone at the center of the main chamber. So dark and savage that it seemed to swallow light itself, the fire did not merely burn—it carried an absolute presence, as though directly connected to something far greater.
“So. It seems you delivered my greetings to the hero properly.”
Alsh Unak, the first blood of Urshus, with his sharp horns and enormous bat-like wings, spoke with courtesy toward the countless black shadows gathered across from him.
“We are grateful for your cooperation.”
Countless voices answered as one.
“No need. I would be thankful if you dealt with the hero on my behalf. Think nothing of it.”
At Alsh Unak’s words, the flames burning in the center of the chamber wavered violently for a moment.
“Lord Urshus seems to have high expectations for your performance as well.”
This place was the holiest sanctuary the Dark Priests had built for Urshus in the past—the only remaining temple of the Dark Priests left in this world. Even at the height of their power, only a select few had known of its existence, and only the most exceptional among the highest-ranking Dark Priests had been permitted entry. That was why it still remained.
“More than that, I was quite surprised. I never imagined a demon like the Beast Legion Commander Ryban would have prepared clones of himself.”
The shadows trembled slightly at Alsh Unak’s remark.
“…He was wise. Had he not been so obsessed with the hero, he might have transcended his limits through us.”
“Indeed. That may well have been the case. So, where do you intend to go next? The Ayman Kingdom, I assume?”
“No. First, we will reclaim the Minasid region.”
“Oh? Minasid?”
Minasid was the former territory of Ryban’s castle. Of course, Ryban himself had held no particular attachment to it—he had chosen the location simply for its efficiency in supply management and territorial control. Yet to them now, it held symbolic meaning.
“By reclaiming Minasid, we will announce the reconstruction of the Beast Legion. And as the Beast Legion Commander Ryban, we will face the hero.”
The voices had grown solemn, as though making a vow.
“Aside from the dimensional gate, is there anything else our priests can assist with?”
Minasid currently belonged to no nation, nor was it claimed by any particular faction. The area, once the Beast Legion’s stronghold, still teemed with wild magical beasts, and the surrounding countries lacked the resources to risk confronting them for a ruined territory. They certainly had no capacity to manage it after expansion.
Alsh Unak knew this fact well. Yet he had made the offer deliberately, as a display of disregard. Though necessity forced him to treat the clones with the courtesy due to the Beast Legion Commander Ryban, he held deep contempt for them in his heart.
“The dimensional gate alone is sufficient.”
The clones of Ryban understood his intent perfectly. Their low voices could not hide their displeasure and anger. They longed to repay his mockery with teeth and claws, but making an enemy of Alsh Unak in their current situation would benefit none of them.
The central flames wavered at the sight. Alsh Unak wiped the smile from his face and began forming a dimensional gate.
The griffon’s sharp talons pierced a troll’s shoulder as its beak tore into the screaming throat. When the red-haired man moved his hand, fire spirits summoned forth incinerated another troll, while Duran’s enlarged horns crushed the heads of the remaining beasts.
“…That’s the last of them.”
The red-haired man muttered irritably. A troll extermination of this scale could easily have been handled by an ordinary knight order or patrol unit. Moreover, no one had specifically requested this task, nor was there a village involved.
It had simply been an accident during their camp. The spot he had chosen happened to lie within one of the trolls’ hunting grounds, and the dim-witted creatures had mistaken him for an ordinary traveler and attacked. Of course, they had tried to flee midway, but he had not allowed it.
“You should have just let them go, Geil. There are no villages around here anyway, and it’s not like there’s a proper road.”
Duran, now returned to his small form, spoke reproachfully.
“If they started a fight, they must bear the consequences.”
At Geil’s cold reply, Duran could only shake his head.
“Master Kainaknus always said that compassion and mercy are what truly matter.”
Geil averted his gaze at Duran’s words. Even so, he could not bring himself to deny his master’s teachings.
“More importantly, where is the next village?”
“Lubulma Peretai. I have no idea what it means, though.”
“What are you planning to do there?”
“Who knows. Probably just expand some fields, chase away monsters—same tedious, predictable work as always.”
He still disliked this plan. To him, the task of improving summoners’ public image felt dull and meaningless, and above all, he hated being called Anak by others.
“I would rather have followed Master and hunted down those Dark Temple bastards.”
“Master Kainaknus is thinking of you. You still lack real combat experience, and tracking requires absolute secrecy.”
Duran had wanted to add, “Do you really think you could handle that?” but held back. In his eyes, Geil was still too young—his pride was excessive, and his desire to stand out and be recognized was too strong.
“Combat experience is something you gain by doing it yourself. How many proper summoners could there even be among those Dark Temple fools? They’d be lucky to draw a summoning circle on the ground with a staff and chant for ages just to barely summon a few high-ranking spirits.”
“…You shouldn’t mock other summoners like that. Even if they lack your talent, you don’t truly know them.”
“I know they made the foolish choice to try returning to the days of the Dark Priests.”
Contempt and disdain flashed across his face.
“Arrogance is a poison that stains the soul, he said.”
“They deserve to be treated as such.”
Duran shook his head. Even if Geil was fundamentally cynical and composed, his blood still ran too hot. And he possessed far too much talent.
No matter how much he and Kainaknus warned him, it was never enough. Geil knew his own talent well, and he knew exactly how to use it.
Perhaps this was his own defense mechanism against the things he had endured. He had witnessed the magical beast legion surrounding his village with his own eyes and glimpsed the death that was about to come. It must have been shocking and terrifying, and afterward he would have trembled at the power of Kainaknus, who had saved them.
And now that he had discovered he possessed the same talent as Kainaknus and had even become his top disciple, perhaps his current attitude and behavior were only natural.
Even so, they could not be left unchecked. He had remarkable talent and was making good use of it. Moreover, he still had plenty of time.
But that attitude and mindset would eventually hold him back, preventing him from reaching greater heights.
“You don’t know what kind of treatment they’ve endured.”
Duran wanted to help him. From the moment he had first been summoned by Geil, he had been drawn to his soul and had peered into its deepest depths. He believed Geil would become a great summoner like Kainaknus. And he took pride in the fact that he could guide him toward that path.
That was why he felt nothing but regret whenever he saw this side of Geil. He knew that expecting so much from him was his own greed, yet the regret remained.
“They……”
Just as Duran was about to continue, he suddenly turned his head to the side.
“Duran? What’s wrong?”
Sensing something amiss in Duran’s sudden movement, Geil drew the short sword he kept hidden in his robes. It was a shortsword slightly shorter than his arm’s length. When he placed his hand on the blade, red and yellow lights began to glow along its edge.
They were enhancement spells. Unlike Anak, who surrounded himself with equipped barriers, or Elena, who took to the skies to avoid danger, Geil preferred fighting alongside his summons. Directly wielding a sword while controlling his summons was undoubtedly difficult, but he had the talent for it, and his swordsmanship was also first-rate.
“Something is approaching at high speed.”
“A monster?”
“No. Its soul color is far too stable for its speed. Moreover, someone is riding atop it.”
A smile spread across Geil’s lips at Duran’s words. He looked as though he had been expecting this.
“Not an ordinary traveler, then?”
“…No. A summoner. And the color of their soul is dark.”
“So we finally meet.”
Geil had quietly hoped to encounter the remnants of the Dark Temple. Of course, he had no idea why they were here now, whether they had come for him, or if it was mere coincidence—but none of that mattered.
“Are they coming this way?”
“Yes. I’m certain.”
Geil smiled and took his position. Even though he could have summoned his other beasts in advance, he simply waited in silence.
“Wouldn’t it be better to summon the others now?”
Duran spoke cautiously, but Geil did not listen.
“Why, when I have you and Jun? Besides, you said there’s only one on their side.”
“They could summon more.”
“Then I’ll summon more when the time comes.”
“Their summoning speed might be faster.”
“Of course. But not fast enough to defeat me.”
Duran shook his head. In battle, arrogance and carelessness were the greatest enemies, but he could no longer say anything. The presence Geil had sensed had already arrived right before them.