Chapter 117
Chapter 117
KWA-BOOM!
With a deafening explosion, the wall shattered outward, flipping the study upside down.
Amidst the thick dust swirling through the room, a red-haired man swung his sword.
With a single slash, one of the iron lumps blocking Cheren Crow—no, Croune Lanfield—split cleanly in two.
SCHWING!
HUM—
BOOM!
Logan staggered back as a weakened beam of light struck him, but the impact was negligible.
Closing the distance in an instant, he swung his sword again.
But at that very moment, crimson flames surged toward him, summoned by Croune's hand.
"Die!"
Yet the five-layered waves of fire were swallowed whole by eight golden waves erupting from Logan's blade.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
"Guh—!"
With his last two orbs shattered, Croune was sent flying through the wall by the golden shockwave, tumbling across the ground.
The red-haired youth approached, his blue eyes gleaming.
"What exactly are you so guilty about, Croune? Hmm?"
In truth, little was known about the past of the "Massacre Archmage" Croune Lanfield.
Where he learned magic, what he did before becoming a Transcendent—none of it was public knowledge.
A Transcendent who emerged from obscurity just before the Imperial War, achieving legendary success.
A man infamous for his paranoid cruelty and arrogance, making countless enemies.
That was all anyone knew.
"H-How did you find out?! I erased all traces!"
He sounded like a fugitive.
The mage, scuttling backward on his rear, looked nothing like the future Transcendent—just a pitiful wreck.
"Where do you think I came from?"
Logan prodded lightly.
"Don't mock me! That's mine!"
FLASH!
BOOM!
With a scream, blue light erupted from the crouching man's chest.
Too close to dodge.
Instinctively raising his sword to block, Logan lost his balance for a split second.
Seizing the moment, Croune scrambled up and dashed through the broken wall.
Huff!
'I let my damn curiosity get the better of me...'
What did it matter now, digging into his past?
Since things had already escalated, the priority was eliminating a future threat—completely.
Steeling his momentarily loosened resolve, Logan charged toward the hole in the wall.
Beyond it lay a dim stone chamber.
Even without explanation, the spacious room screamed "mage's laboratory."
There, Logan spotted Croune, now draped in a black robe pulsing with eerie light.
"Die!"
As Croune's body levitated slightly, a storm of freezing wind erupted from him, followed instantly by jagged yellow lightning.
A rapid-fire spell combo unbelievable for a Class mage.
But—
"Hmph!"
The moment Logan's eyes flashed—
The spells veered off course, disrupted by the sword's oppressive pressure.
A golden streak pierced through the opening, shattering Croune's staff and impaling his hand.
"Agh! You bastard—!"
HUM!
Screaming, the black robe emitted a bizarre force, unleashing tremendous power—
"Too slow!"
A colossal golden slash bisected the laboratory diagonally, rendering Croune's efforts meaningless.
"Mi—"
SCHLICK.
Whatever he meant to say—
The mage couldn't even leave proper last words before his body split diagonally, spilling entrails.
"Haaah..."
A line of sweat trickled down Logan's forehead as he exhaled deeply.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!
The ceiling split apart, and part of the building collapsed along the path of the slash that had cleaved its owner in two.
RUMBLE—
Amidst the deafening noise of the crumbling structure, Logan frowned slightly at the sudden sunlight streaming in.
Slowly, he surveyed the surroundings.
'Croune's lab.'
The workshop of the future "Artifact Master."
At a glance, it held fewer artifacts than expected.
And the ones Croune had been wearing? Already destroyed moments ago.
All that remained were three artifacts stored separately in a corner.
Even those, untouched in his desperation, weren't promising.
But—
'The other stuff matters more.'
Logan's gaze shifted to the bookshelves, desk, and scattered papers in the corner.
In his past life, the Massacre Archmage had achieved mass production of low-grade artifacts.
The reason? He'd developed a method to permanently imbue ordinary metals with magic, bypassing the need for ultra-rare materials like mithril.
A breakthrough that would emerge in just six or seven years.
Perhaps the research notes for that very method were here.
No—they had to be.
'Even if it's not the final version.'
So Logan calmly inspected the lab.
From open books to scribbled notes, he examined each carefully—
"Still... no idea."
Though proficient in ancient languages in his past life, he was clueless about magic.
At best, he recognized a few terms—the rest was gibberish.
Then, unwanted noises reached his ears.
"T-There! The mage's house!"
"It's destroyed!"
"What did he do this time?"
"Alert the soldiers!"
The commotion outside grew.
Logan sighed softly and grabbed the duffel bag left in the study.
Swiftly, he gathered every book and scrap of paper in the lab.
Stacking loose sheets neatly, he prioritized the most worn books.
Fortunately, the duffel—large enough to fit a person—had room for everything, even the leftover artifacts.
After clearing the lab, Logan meticulously checked the intact parts of the house—just in case.
Hidden passages? Secret chambers?
Using every sense, he even found two magic tomes tucked under the bed before shouts echoed outside.
"—Mage! Are you there?!"
Logan exhaled and slung the bag over his shoulder, heading for the front door.
Step. Step.
"Hey. Tough day?"
"Who... are you?"
A knight in emblem-adorned armor, likely leading the soldiers, stared blankly at Logan.
They'd hesitated to enter the eccentric mage's wrecked home—only for a stranger to stroll out casually.
"Ah, I'm a merchant selling goods to Sir Cheren. Came to the castle today, but..."
"Oh, that merchant."
Someone behind the knight pretended to know him.
Glancing over, Logan recognized a soldier from the castle gate.
"Jin. You know him?"
"A merchant who arrived today. Said he was robbed..."
"Robbed? What's a robbed merchant doing here?"
Unfortunately, the knight wasn't an idiot.
Unfortunately for him, that is.
THUD!
"Ghk!"
Logan's fist crumpled the knight's armor, burying into his ribs.
At Logan's level of perception, the knight was barely a seasoned rank-and-file.
The moment Logan's fist connected, the knight's left ribs shattered, his vision blacking out.
Breath knocked out by the pain, he still clung to duty.
"Enemy...!"
WHAM!
THUD.
"What a tiring way to live."
Knocking the knight unconscious with a chop to the neck, Logan smirked.
The surrounding soldiers hastily raised their spears.
"H-He's the enemy!"
"Capture him!"
But they lacked their leader's dedication.
Still, expecting a dozen soldiers to take down someone who KO'd their knight in two hits was unfair.
'Part of me wants to wipe out this minor territory and leave...'
But provoking the Empire further was unwise.
Logan spared a glance at the twitching knight but didn't press further.
Then—
"Well, good work, everyone."
With a casual salute, he vanished like the wind.
The combination of Ghost's Shadow and Wind God's Boots made catching him impossible.
That day, rumors spread through nearby territories that a "3rd-Circle" mage had been killed in Ruspell, a remote southeastern Imperial fief.
But beyond being a mage with shady dealings with the lord, no one knew—or cared—about the victim.
Some even celebrated Cheren Crow's disappearance, given his notorious behavior.
Only the sheer force displayed by the red-haired, blue-eyed assailant stood out.
The lord, who'd visited Cheren's home a few times and eyed his artifacts, was the only one lamenting the stolen goods.
So while a bounty spread from Ruspell to neighboring fiefs for a fierce-looking redhead with blue eyes—
No one bothered hunting him, and the warrant soon faded into obscurity.
Three days' walk from Ruspell.
After half a day of nonstop sprinting to put ample distance behind him, Logan lit a campfire in a forest clearing as the sun dipped below the horizon.
CRACKLE.
'Not the best outcome, but the next best... No, actually, the best. That bastard was rotten to the core.'
Even if the research notes he'd grabbed weren't the target, he wouldn't regret it.
Still, a hint of lingering doubt made him inspect the artifacts instead of the indecipherable books.
"Not expecting much, but..."
Muttering to himself, his eyes gleamed with the opposite of his words.
A ring, a necklace, and a gauntlet.
Holding the small ring, he channeled Force into it.
HUM.
A faint vibration pulsed as weak mana dispersed, projecting light forward—forming the coiled shape of a black serpent in the air.
"...That's it?"
Disappointingly, no other effect manifested.
The necklace fared slightly better.
When worn and infused with Force, a refreshing surge strengthened his entire body.
The only downside? The boost was a mere 10%.
For a High Knight—especially one with Logan's exceptional physique—a 10% amplification meant it was at least a Class 3 artifact.
But already owning Wind God's Boots, it felt underwhelming.
"Well, can't complain."
Mana was fundamentally different from Force.
Absorbing more than one type of mana was toxic to Force users.
Thus, even at Logan's level, only two amplification artifacts could be used without overload.
'But...'
Meaning he could still equip one more.
Even with the boots, this necklace was usable.
That alone justified the excuse he'd given his father.
A 10% boost to his strength would be several times more effective on prodigies like Ronian, Victor, or Ellen.
With that in mind, he picked up the gauntlet cheerfully.
But—
"Huh?"
At first, it seemed unremarkable.
Yet holding it, the sensation differed.
Beneath the faint surface mana lurked something far greater.
A familiar feeling.
"No way..."
Glancing at his near-symbiotic boots, he channeled Force into the gauntlet as he had before.
Soon, just like last time, his Force drained madly.
"Hup!"
Perhaps due to prior experience.
Despite his paling complexion, Logan's face showed more anticipation than alarm.
And soon, that anticipation became reality.
CLICK!
A soundless sensation—like a clogged passage clearing.
As Force flooded back into his body, the artifact's functions unfolded.
The gauntlet shrank perfectly to his hand size when worn on both hands.
The comfort, nearly unnoticeable, mirrored the boots.
"30% boost to strength and durability. Force amplification. Size adjustment. Self-repair... Hah, another one like this?"
Capabilities rivaling Wind God's Boots, the same sealed sensation.
Undoubtedly crafted by the same person—or group.
Of course—
"Doesn't matter. As long as I can use it."
No point agonizing over unanswerable questions.
The joy of eliminating a future nemesis and acquiring a usable artifact.
With these two achievements alone, the return journey couldn't help but be a happy one.