Ding!

The alert window that popped up whenever levels rose. Killing Hallidery and the Living Armor made it obvious that his level would go up. But the number of notifications that appeared was anything but ordinary.

20 of them. Not 5, not 10, but a whopping 20. His level shot up by 20 all at once. The chattering cascade of alerts rose like a massive wall before his eyes.

With that, Yoahim's level jumped straight from 50 to 70.

'I figured I'd get a ton of EXP, but...'

He'd taken down the Living Armor and delivered the finishing blow to Hallidery. Both were stronger than him, so a bunch of levels at once was only natural. Thanks to the sudden surge, Yoahim allocated the new stat points just like always. With so many levels under his belt, the sheer volume of boosted stats made him feel noticeably stronger.

'Again?'

His level was already done rising, though? Or maybe a quest? Yoahim tilted his head and checked the alert floating in front of him.

Soul Theft was the ability to steal an opponent's magic skills. It could only nab one at a time, and once stolen, it couldn't be swapped out. Ha Meks Han was an ancient grimoire used by a black mage, and like any character, it gained EXP from battles and grew its own stats. This time, taking down a powerhouse like Hallidery had leveled it up.

'Talk about perfect timing.'

The number of spells he could steal with Ha Meks Han was limited, so he had to pick useful ones. But powerful spells were usually held by powerful mages, making them a pain to steal. Attacking a mage just to nab their magic could easily backfire and cost him his life.

'And right here, I've got the perfect mark to test the grimoire on.'

Yoahim turned his head to look at the corpse sprawled on the floor.

Necromancer Hallidery. The second-strongest necromancer in the Withered Land after Lich Alzahar, a Lv.112 powerhouse. The guy who'd single-handedly raised armies, swept aside countless foes, and mercilessly claimed lives with his vile black magic lay there as a cold corpse.

For a strongman's end, it was pretty pathetic. He'd fallen to the same trap attack twice in a row. Of course, no one could call Hallidery weak. Yoahim had only beaten him through a ridiculous string of coincidences.

Still, the fact remained: Yoahim had killed Hallidery. And the dead couldn't complain. Perfect for skill theft.

Without hesitation, Yoahim pulled Ha Meks Han from his inventory.

"Hm?"

Aljes let out a grunt at the sight of Yoahim seemingly pulling something from subspace. He was probably misunderstanding it the same way others had.

Yoahim offered no explanation and simply reached out toward Hallidery's body.

'It works on corpses, right?'

Just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠died, so it should be fine. Food had that three-second rule, after all.

Yoahim tentatively made contact.

A light chime rang out, and a skill list appeared. Yoahim clenched his fist with a quiet "Yes!" His eyes raced down the list of skills.

He'd already decided what to take.

'Drain.'

As a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠top-tier necromancer, Hallidery had a ton of spells. Plenty that could tempt Yoahim—like black magic to blast hordes of enemies or Necromancy boosters that enhanced undead control and power. If he'd fought Hallidery head-on, he'd have had to weather all those horrors.

Just imagining it sent chills down his spine.

Tempting as they were, Yoahim passed them over and selected Drain. It stole the opponent's life force and mana. He got stronger; they got weaker. Simple, effective, and right up his alley.

Yoahim's style leaned on swordplay, not magic. For someone who clashed blades directly, a skill that drained enemy life to heal his own was worth more than sturdy armor or a sharp sword.

"Done."

As he selected it and focused, Ha Meks Han began to glow. Pages flipped on their own amid a gentle breeze, new letters etching themselves in light. The final period landed, another page turned with a click, and it snapped shut.

"Yo―ah―im."

Hearing Aljes's voice, Yoahim turned to him. Battered from the fight with Hallidery, Aljes patted his dented armor like he was trying to straighten it out.

"Kni―ghts―fi―ght―wi―th―sw―ords!"

He bellowed, thrusting his body forward at Yoahim.

"Don't―ge―t―too―wrapped―up―in―ma―gic!"

Does he think magic's some voodoo crap...? Yoahim was dumbfounded, but he got where Aljes was coming from. Aljes had always scorned Hallidery as a "spell-slinger." To a knight who fought up close, a mage lurking in the back firing off spells must've seemed pathetic.

"Yeah, I know."

This wasn't just lip service to brush it off. Through this battle, Yoahim had realized one thing.

'I'm weak.'

He'd known it deep down. Without Aljes, he never could've killed Hallidery. Yoahim admitted his weakness—not out of self-pity, but to grow stronger. Everything started with facing facts.

To get stronger, he owned his limits. And he could admit it so easily because he was dead certain of his talent, certain he could grow. That conviction was the fuel for true strength.

'I'll get stronger.'

Against the Living Armor, Yoahim hadn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dominated. He'd been outmatched ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in swordplay and footwork. This time, a gimmick win felt unsatisfying. And gimmicks wouldn't always work. Against Hallidery, he'd have been shredded before gathering mana.

So Aljes was right—he couldn't rely too much on magic. No table stood on one leg. All four had to be solid. Strength was the same: hone swordplay and body techniques alongside magic to stand tall.

"So with Hallidery dead, is that it?"

Aljes slowly shook his head at Yoahim's question.

"Re―main―ing―fo―es."

They'd taken the head, but wars didn't end there. Undead followed orders to the grave. Hallidery's death had weakened them plenty, so cleanup wouldn't be too bad.

"Then let's hurry and fin... Ugh!"

Heading for the door, Yoahim was hit by sudden vertigo. His vision blurred, a stabbing pain lanced his skull.

'What's wrong with me?'

His limbs shook, legs buckled under him. The ceiling spun, the floor heaved. His body felt like a thousand pounds. Each forced step was needles in his muscles and joints.

'Why...?'

The ceiling receded, the floor rushed up. Thud.

"Yo―ah―im."

Aljes approached the fallen Yoahim. The reason was obvious.

'Overuse of mana.'

Even mid-fight with Hallidery, Aljes had kept an eye on Yoahim. Risky in a life-or-death brawl, but unavoidable. Yoahim was Kakali's apostle and Haellagos's chosen heir. Losing him here would be Aljes's failure.

'Talent's there, but his body can't keep up.'

Mirroring Aljes's techniques after a glance was impressive. But Yoahim's body wasn't tempered enough yet. Hence the collapse post-battle. Exhausted from combat, the mana backlash hit—even Kakali's apostle couldn't endure that.

'Losing timber like this would be a shame.'

Aljes's goal wasn't just seizing Levia Castle, but the mana spring—and pushing to Alzahar's heart. More brutal fights lay ahead. Honestly, Yoahim was baggage right now. Aljes couldn't babysit forever. For now, he needed to train in the rear: sharpen sword skills, study magic, hone Necromancy. Once strong enough, Kakali's apostle would truly lead the vanguard for Haellagos.

'Looking forward to that.'

Yoahim's mission was clearing the path to Levia Castle—masterfully done. Returning to Haellagoria now would be no shame. Aljes hoisted the unconscious Yoahim over his shoulder and strode out of the lord's palace.

The tide had turned to Bille's forces. Even the enemy demons, locked in fierce combat, despaired at Aljes emerging bold as brass. Yet they didn't yield. Eyes gleamed, stances tightened. Hallidery was gone, unavoidable. But kill Kakali's apostle at least.

Murderous intent surged toward the fainted Yoahim. Over ten demons lunged as one.

Aljes stomped hard with a boom and roared.

"Not―a―fin―ger―on―him!"

The Death Knight gladly became the apostle's shield.