Chapter 420

“So, we have him, right?" Devon asked with a wide grin as he looked down at the three unconscious mages.Nick didn't answer. He stared at the female mage’s slack face, feeling the thrill of their flawless victory turning to ash in his mouth.

Something was wrong. The fight had been brutal, yes, but she had surrendered too easily at the end. When he shattered her , there was no final, desperate attempt to escape as he’d expected. No dead-man's switch went off when she was defeated. Just a silent resignation that didn’t sit right with him.

She knew she was going to lose, and even worse, she didn't care.

"Nick?" Devon’s smile faded, sensing that something was bothering him. Kael and Vance exchanged a tense look and began securing the other mages. "What is it?”

“It doesn't make sense,” Nick muttered, kneeling beside the woman. “Hone is paranoid enough to send elite mages to silence Marius, but he didn't give them any artifacts to ensure their success. And even worse, she just gave up at the end. Why would he send a team he knew could be captured and put under a ?”

"Maybe he underestimated us," Devon suggested, though he didn't sound convinced.

"Archmages don't make that kind of mistake," Nick said, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “Especially not someone like Hone, who led major operations to infiltrate the dwarven border and seize control of the northern Sunlands.”

Placing his hand on the woman’s forehead, Nick decided that he couldn't wait for the Tower’s Prosecution division to peel her mind apart tomorrow. He needed to know what the plan was right now, or he’d go crazy with speculation.

He closed his eyes and pushed his mana forward. ".”

Keeping the spell incredibly shallow, he traveled along a thin thread of spiritual wind just beneath the surface of her psyche. He didn't want her life story; he only sought the most recent, prominent memories, where he was confident he’d find what he was for. Moving past her combat instincts and the lingering shock of her defeat, he searched for the face of her employer.

The mindscape shifted at his command, and Nick flipped through a few scenes he made a note of, recognizing several of the people involved, until he found the memory of the briefing.

However, everything was blurred, and even when he pressed the woman’s mind to remember the details, no room was conjured, and no voice echoed.

He went to look for anything related to Elias Hone next, hoping to at least find some scraps to piece together a loose understanding of what was happening, but where the memory of the man should have been, there was only a blank void.

And wrapped tightly around the edges of that nothingness, digging into the very fabric of her soul, was a dark energy he recognized all too easily, especially since his own soul reacted to its presence.

SYSTEM NOTIFICATION!

Your Trait has repelled a Minor Abyssal Invocation!

Nick violently broke the spell, throwing himself backward. He slammed into the stone floor hard, gasping for air as if he’d just been submerged in ice water.

"Nick!" Devon shouted, pulling him up by the shoulder. "What happened? Did she attack you?”

“Goddamnit, she’s a bomb," Nick choked out, staring at the unconscious woman in horror. "Her memory of Hone is gone, replaced by an abyssal curse. The moment the Prosecution puts her under a and forces her to name her employer, her soul will detonate.”

The two veteran guards cursed, edging away from the other mages.

"He sent them without any expectations they would win," Nick whispered, his mind racing to understand the Archmage's true plan. The pieces fit together quickly and disturbingly. “No, he didn't send them to kill Marius at all, although he might have preferred that. He just wanted to keep everyone believing that was his plan.”

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"Why?" Devon asked. "Tholm has him pinned down, and you said the Tower Master was there. Hone can't do anything.”

"Think about it, Dev!" Nick grabbed his brother’s arm. "Hone is a War Mage of the highest level, one who wove his mana in the foundational wards of the Tower. Tholm thought he was trapping Hone by bringing the Tower Master into the room, but if Hone let himself be trapped, there could be only one reason.”

"Hone didn't walk into a trap," he decided. "He entered that room knowing they were the only two people in the city who could stop him, with the full intention of tying up all the loose ends.”

"Gods," Vance breathed. A battle between Archmages was already a cataclysmic event, but if Hone was confident he could handle the Tower Master as well, it would turn into a disaster that would surpass even a Feral God manifesting.

"Lock this door," Nick ordered the warriors, his voice snapping like a whip as he turned toward the tunnel exit. "Drag them into the alcove with Marius, and do not open this door for anyone. If someone, anyone, comes knocking, treat them as hostile. Trust no one until I return.”

Turning to his brother, he met his eyes and did his best to convey how dangerous the situation was. “You need to get the Grandmaster, now!”

"Where are you going?" Devon yelled as Nick sprinted away.

"To try and stop a massacre!” Nick didn't wait for a response. He cast to its maximum and channeled his Wind affinity to eliminate air resistance, then took off. The damp stone walls of the undercity blurred into a muddy streak as he sped past, unconcerned that his mana signature might be noticed.

This wasn’t the time to worry about stealth. He vaulted over rusted pipes, smashed through weakened iron gates with raw mana, and ignored the startled shouts of the few people lingering in other tunnels.

His mind was stuck in a loop of worst-case scenarios. Tholm was powerful, and Horatio Bluetear was an Ascended mage. But Hone had to have prepared for that possibility, which left only one option, if he set aside the chance that the man had also Ascended—a factor he could do very little about.

If Hone had succeeded in gaining access to the Tower's central ward nexus, he could transform the entire structure into a weapon and equalize the field.

The moment he found the first vertical maintenance shaft leading to the surface, he gathered a dense cushion of air beneath his boots and cast , propelling himself upward like a cannonball.

The heavy iron grate shattered under his magic, and he burst into a narrow alleyway in the merchant district.

The night air bit at his skin, and the distant ringing of the temple bells still echoed through the streets, but Nick ignored it all. He flew out of the alley and above the rooftops, coming to a stop as he finally had a clear view of the city skyline.

The Tower rose over Alluria as it always did, a massive spire of pale stone.

Normally, when he observed it with , its protective wards cast a light that illuminated the city like a beacon.

This time, as Nick watched, the light flickered for the first time. A sound like tearing metal ripped through the ether, so loud that several priests on the street cried out and clutched their heads.

No more than a second later, the blue glow faded, only for light to reignite as the wards slammed back into place, but they were clearly different.

The protective array surrounding the Tower turned dark purple, and thick black lines climbed up the sides of the spire, sealing the defensive grid from within.

The Tower was completely sealed, finally confirming that his worst fear had become reality. Archmage Hone had sprung his trap.

As much as Nick wanted to rush to the Tower, he knew he couldn’t break through its wards, and even if he managed to slip inside, whatever battle was happening there wouldn’t be affected by his interference.

It grated to admit, but Hone had to be absolutely certain of his chances to go this far, and against someone like that, he was no more than an ant.

Fighting Politod had taught him that much, and Hone was an Archmage specializing in war magic, meaning he was even more powerful.

As far as he could tell, Hone had somehow taken control of the Tower from Bluetear and was using its power to boost his own and stop anyone else from interfering.

Considering that the mana he was sensing was demonic in nature, if twisted by knowledge and the Tower’s own power to become something new, he had to assume that everyone trapped within the structure was suffering its effects. This meant that only the greatest masters could do more than cast cantrips.

Which meant he couldn’t hope for things to resolve themselves from within. The few people still able to cast magic in those conditions were probably busy fighting the beings that were almost certainly breaching through at that very moment. The longer it took to free the Tower, the more would fall, because if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that demons wouldn’t pass up a chance like that to invade the material world.

With one last lingering look at the Tower, he gritted his teeth and turned away, flying at full speed toward the temple district.

Several people shouted something at him from the streets, but he couldn’t spare them any attention. He knew that flying so blatantly over the city was an offense, but that felt so ridiculous compared to the threat they faced that he knew they wouldn’t be of any help if they couldn’t sense the danger.

The closer he got to the temples, the more the demonic taint in the air seemed to fade, but that didn’t make him feel much better. Especially because he saw more priests kneeling in prayer, trying their best to overcome the corruption around them.

Finally, he came in sight of Sashara’s palace of worship and saw hundreds of people gathered in the plaza, praying silently, while dozens of priests worked to protect them from the spreading taint.

Bishop Umlaut was nowhere to be seen, however, and so he flew above them, stopping only when he reached the temple proper, where he could sense the greatest concentration of power.

SYSTEM NOTIFICATION!

Your Trait has repelled a Minor Domain!

He thought as he walked through the doors for the first time.

Inside, priests of all ages and ranks ran around, bringing more sacred coals to the burning altar or guiding acolytes to complete specific tasks, but he ignored them all, pushing through the crowd until he reached the only figure kneeling before Her effigy.

“Hey, you can’t be here!” someone shouted, finally realizing he wasn’t one of them, but before Nick could respond, Umlaut looked up, and the man shut his mouth with a click.

The man’s eyes were burning embers, and even Nick was surprised by the overwhelming intensity of the power he radiated.

“Nicholas Crowley,” the Bishop’s mouth moved, but it wasn’t his voice that echoed.

As all the priests knelt in supplication, Nick knew he was gazing into the eyes of the Goddess Herself.