Episode 643

“What kind of stupid thing are you saying?”

“Are you really a black mage?!”

Lee Han and Yoner scolded him at the same time.

It would have been better to just roll on the ground.

If you’re hit by mind magic incorrectly, you could get seriously hurt.

Sure, now they were seeing the Skull Headmaster’s illusion, but if you got hit by stronger mind magic, you might even see the terrifying hallucination of the Skull Headmaster giving you a hand-knitted sweater.

“It’s better to just roll on the ground!”

“A few scratches are much easier to heal.”

“Exactly. Even if you roll over muddy ground…”

“Or even if you break a bone or two!”

“Even if your clothes turn into ragged tatters!”

“…Alright! Fine!”

Gainando snapped as he sprawled on the ground.

He was afraid his two friends would next say, ‘It’s better if your neck breaks too.’

‘Even though I cast Ogonin’s Veil…’

While scolding Gainando, Lee Han was working sharply to analyze the situation inside.

Currently, Lee Han’s party was protected by several spells, one of which was -Ogonin’s Veil-.

It created a mist of illusion around them to scatter the enemy’s aim for ranged attacks.

But the guardians paid it no heed and flung mind magic at them anyway.

From the very reliefs engraved in these chambers, various spells clearly had a perfect grasp on the intruders’ location.

Chiiiiik!

Once again, a spark flew and burned a guardian.

Yoner, who didn’t have to compulsively restrain the strength of fire magic like Lee Han, fired a flashy flame arrow and felled another guardian.

But the guardians kept crawling out.

“Yoner, save your mana! Doesn’t look like they have a fixed number!”

“Got it!”

Yoner swiftly pulled a crimson potion from his bag and tossed it.

A wall of crimson flame shot up, blocking the enemy’s entry. Nillia, meanwhile, placed four arrows between her fingers and took out nearby enemies one by one.

Gainando called desperately for Arsil.

“Arsil! Arsil! We’re in trouble!”

“Gainando. I told you not to stick your head out! O cold, float as a shield!”

Casting a spell once again, Lee Han surveyed his surroundings.

‘There!’

The fanciest and largest relief engraved on the tomb wall.

From there, an unending stream of magical power continued, raising the guardians.

“Strike, Perkuntra’s…”

Kwa-jik!

Charged lightning struck the wall, leaving a thick mark.

Yet, the relief was unharmed. It had perfectly dispersed and absorbed the incoming magic.

“Perkuntra, you good-for-nothing!”

“??”

Yoner was flustered as his friend suddenly blamed the spirit.

Finishing his cursing at the spirit, Lee Han thought again.

Is there a way to cut off that flow right now?

‘The mana hammer needs close range. Even then, if their defenses are solid, I won’t be able to break it in a short time. In that case…’

A way to protect his friends and disrupt the flow of magic from afar.

He doubted if it was possible, but suddenly a method rushed through his mind.

-You must know about the concept of magic counters as well.

Ever since he got involved with a magic criminal, the Skull Headmaster had passed on some lessons in preparation for such confrontations.

One of them was the counter, also called reverse magic.

When disrupting or breaking a spell, you don’t always have to use overwhelming force from outside; there are efficient ways to dismantle it.

But the Skull Headmaster had only made him drill a few of the counter spells commonly used by magic criminals.

After all, counter-magic was such high-level stuff that it couldn’t all be taught.

Counter-magic might sound grand, but in the end, it was closer to the method of deeply understanding and deconstructing magic itself.

Of those few, Lee Han had brute-forced one or two with sheer strength…

‘Can I do it?’

Lee Han focused more deeply on the flow of mana streaming through the chamber.

Then, he heard a faint song.

It was the melody from the chorus of darkness that began when the doors opened earlier.

“!”

Lee Han realized how the guardians were finding his friends’ positions and casting illusions so easily.

The moment they heard that song, the intruders were more or less already under the spell.

“■■■, ■■…”

“!”

Gainando was startled as his friend suddenly began singing in an ancient tongue from the old kingdom, incomprehensible to them.

“Lee Han’s gone crazy!! We’re doomed!!”

“No, you idiot!”

Yoner kicked his foolish cousin.

Lee Han’s eyes were completely sane. It was the look he wore when he targeted the White Tiger Tower students at Einrogard.

‘Is it working?’

Singing along with the heard song, Lee Han checked for changes around him.

Once, twice, three times…

As Lee Han’s singing increasingly harmonized with the tomb’s chorus, the atmosphere began to change.

The guardians couldn’t pinpoint the students and started looking elsewhere.

Nillia felt the fear that had been pressing her heart begin to lift. Gainando also calmed a little and peered around more steadily.

‘It’s working!’

Luck favored Lee Han.

If it had been a different type of magic, he couldn’t have countered it so easily.

But the magic residing in this tomb was musical magic, and Lee Han had blocked a song—his own—once before.

That was the Siren’s song.

When a song meets a song, their effects inevitably cancel out.

“■■■… ■■!”

Lee Han felt the tomb’s song lose more and more of its influence, his own song now ruling the domain.

For a wizard to rule a domain doesn’t mean he literally bought the land. It means the mage controls that space securely through his own mana and willpower.

Just as the Skull Headmaster had made Einrogard his domain, a mage always takes absolute advantage within his own realm.

‘So this song was a song of dominion and authority.’

That explained how the guardians kept rising, pinpointing intruders and casting illusion magic.

At a certain point, the tomb’s song completely ceased. At the same time, the guardians suddenly lost power and disappeared.

“…It’s over, right?”

Gainando asked desperately, looking a mess. Lee Han nodded.

“Yeah. Looks like it.”

“I’m never going into a tomb again!”

‘How can you say that while learning black magic?’

Lee Han approached the relief where the tomb song had started. Though it was the largest and fanciest, unlike before, it had lost its color and grown still.

Creak.

“?”

As Lee Han checked, the sculpted musician looked like it was about to break off and wiggle loose.

With a tap, the sculpture broke off and a rolled-up parchment tumbled out.

‘This is…?’

Lee Han couldn’t read the letters or style, but he could tell it was a musical score.

‘Is this a record of that chorus from before?’

“!”

Arsil, who had been chatting with Hekatoncheires outside, belatedly looked inside the now-wrecked tomb and was shocked.

Whatever had happened, Gainando was covered in mud and his cloak in tatters.

The other friends…

…The others were relatively unscathed, but anyway, Gainando was a muddy mess with a tattered cloak.

“The guardians suddenly came out from inside… You were fine though, brother? That’s probably because the spirits protected you, so that dark chorus couldn’t affect you.”

With genuine feeling, Arsil apologized to Lee Han and his friends.

He’d thought nothing would happen in the tomb, not expecting an accident like this.

“It’s fine, brother. It couldn’t be helped.”

“I’m not fine…”

Gainando muttered as he brushed off mud, but his friends ignored him.

Arsil smiled in relief at Lee Han’s words.

Then he praised his younger brother.

“…No, brother. That’s not it. Please stop saying ridiculous things.”

Lee Han immediately stiffened.

As Lee Han became so serious, Nillia, curious, asked.

“What did he say?”

“He just said he knew these sorts of tombs would be no problem for me.”

Nillia also glared at Arsil, equally serious. Arsil drooped, dispirited by the reactions of his brother and his brother’s friends.

• * *

Ratford soothed his old horse with skill.

Sometimes, noblemen traveled with four or eight horses in luxury, but for an expert like Ratford, that was the same as saying, ‘Rob me, please.’

The best way to travel comfortably was to look as unappetizing as possible.

Ratford deliberately chose an old, small horse and wore shabby clothes. He looked every bit the ordinary pilgrim or wanderer.

“May I ask something?”

“Ask away.”

“Is this the way to Udumhwa Village?”

Ratford was careful.

He didn’t mention the Wardanaz family name. In case the other person got any ideas, ‘He’s with the Wardanaz family so he must have money.’

“Yes. If you follow Imperial Road this way, you’ll see a pomegranate tree, and then you’ve reached Udumhwa Village. What’s your business there?”

“A distant relative sent me a letter, asking if I could visit and help with some work. I’m a locksmith guild craftsman.”

“Whoever that is, you have a good relative! If you have time later, please visit the red brick house near Destruction Bridge over there. I’m looking for a good lock myself.”

“Haha. Thank you.”

Ratford concluded the conversation perfectly.

He obtained information and even earned the villager’s goodwill—a perfect traveler.

‘But did he say Destruction Bridge?’

Ratford wondered if he’d heard wrong.

Village bridges were usually named after a famous local hero (like Gonadaltes Bridge), an important event (Bridge of His Gracious Majesty’s Ascension), or a geographical feature (Three-River Bridge)…

How did it end up being called Destruction Bridge?

‘Did something catastrophic happen in the village?’

Ratford skillfully entered the village and found the inn.

He flipped a single imperial coin to the stableboy, left the horse, and sat in a corner of the inn.

‘Hmm. Nice village.’

Ratford smiled at the bustling vitality he felt all around.

Poor and wealthy villages gave even their inns a different air. An inn this noisy with loud singing was a sign of village affluence.

“Nonsense. You dare try to cheat me?!”

“Sir, you mustn’t do this here.”

“Shut up. I swear by my beard, if you don’t return my silver coin I’ll put a crossbow bolt through your chest!”

“?!”

A dwarven traveler was shouting, grabbing the innkeeper by the collar.

“Hey, call the guards!”

“If anyone tries to leave, you’re dead meat!”

The dwarf, red-faced, brandished his crossbow.

He had probably lost a wizard card game with the locals, betting imperial silver coins.

‘Should I step in?’

Ratford hesitated.

If this was a decent village, word that he was a wizard wouldn’t be a problem.

And what trouble could possibly occur before he reached the Wardanaz family?

“Sir, please stop!”

“Why don’t you stop and shut it!”

“I won’t stand idly by!”

“What are you gonna do about it?!”

The dwarf traveler shouted, gripping the innkeeper’s collar tightly.

Maybe he was a veteran of some battlefield, he didn’t move like an amateur. The innkeeper, choking, shouted to a staff member.

“The hat, get the hat!”

“?”

Ratford wondered what hat he meant. The staff hurriedly fetched a hat and placed it on the innkeeper’s head.

At that moment, the innkeeper easily lifted the dwarf traveler with one hand and slammed him down.

“You little punk! Who do you think you’re messing with?!”

“…?!”

‘Why does the village innkeeper have a strength-enhancing artifact?!’

Ratford was utterly baffled.