Translator: CinderTL
"Dean Graham, I'm not joking."
Seeing the doubt in the burly man's eyes, Jashu coughed heavily, then reached into his chest and pulled out an exquisite silk handkerchief to gently wipe the blood trickling from his lips.
"The opponent was... a spellcaster."
Jashu's voice was slow, laced with obvious uncertainty.
As a transcendent professional, he had studied ancient texts from before the Final Epoch, including those describing wizards and mages—transcendents who wielded magic.
But...
Recalling his recent encounter with the black-robed figure, he frowned deeply.
While the figure's fighting style resembled the spellcasters described in ancient texts, the energy that felt intimately connected to "death" itself was completely beyond his comprehension.
As his thoughts drifted, Jashu's gaze involuntarily fell on his own arm.
Though assassins' physical strength paled in comparison to knights', their wounds still healed far faster than ordinary people's.
Yet the gray, decaying wounds on his arm showed no signs of healing. In fact...
As time passed, they were slowly spreading to other parts of his body.
Like a bizarre plague, it greedily devoured everything that symbolized "life."
Suppressing the bone-chilling pain that shot through his arm like icy daggers, Jashu frowned slightly and continued.
"But he's not invincible. Fisher and I lost only because we fell into his carefully laid trap."
Images of spells swirling and energy surging flashed through his mind, and Jashu pressed his lips together.
"Setting aside his unfathomable spells, his physical form is incredibly frail, and his close-combat skills are utterly inept."
"Moreover, though his spells are powerful, he leaves a clear opening during casting. If I hadn't sensed another formidable enemy closing in at the time..."
The assassin's hand unconsciously drifted to the short dagger at his waist, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
"Give me just a few more seconds, and I could have killed him."
Despite Jashu's severe injuries, which made his words sound less than convincing, Graham didn't doubt their truth.
This renowned assassin within the Shadow Veil Organization never let personal emotions cloud his judgment.
After a moment of silence, Graham made his decision.
As Jashu had said, their retreat was cut off.
Rather than passively defending their position and waiting for an attack, it was better to take the initiative and seize control of the battlefield.
Having lived through the tumultuous early years of this region, Graham was not one to hesitate.
"You mentioned enemies approaching during your encounter with the spellcaster..."
Graham said, removing his shoulder armor to reveal a gray, decaying wound identical to Jashu's.
"It must have been the same guy I fought earlier—the one with the infinite regeneration ability."
"But aside from that bizarre energy technique, his actual combat skills were quite unremarkable. With a little caution, I could handle several more of those enemies. As for the spellcaster..."
Graham stood up, his armor clanking as he walked toward the rough wooden table.
"I'll leave him to you."
"Rest assured, Dean Graham," Jashu replied, his eyes narrowing. His voice, usually calm, now dripped with icy malice. "I'm eager to see if that skeleton can still crawl back up after being ground to dust."
Graham nodded slightly, and the two men immediately gathered around the map to begin planning their campaign.
"Based on the intelligence you provided and the recent reconnaissance I've conducted, our target is likely the leader of the Church of Truth, the group that caused chaos in the River Domain Nations. Their base..."
Graham's finger slammed down hard on a spot on the map.
"Is in Crushed Stone Canyon."
"It's a basin," Jashu interjected, his gaze fixed on the roughly drawn map. "Surrounded by low hills, but the central area is open and flat. If we conduct thorough reconnaissance, we can prevent them from setting up spell traps in advance."
"In that case..."
The sun slowly dipped below the horizon, but the hushed whispers in the tent never ceased.
While they finalized their campaign details, Roland had already returned to his own tent to share his findings with his companions.
As his words fell silent, a tense silence settled over the tent.
Mason frowned in confusion. For this young noble, accustomed to a life of privilege, concepts like transcendent professionals and spellcasters were utterly foreign and distant.
Though he didn't fully grasp the terms, the danger in Roland's words was unmistakable.
A shadow of fear crept into his eyes.
In contrast, Orc Freddy clearly knew more.
But his straightforward nature and lack of eloquence prevented him from saying much. Only his suddenly rigid, rock-like physique betrayed his inner tension.
The remaining two in the tent, however, seemed unfazed by Roland's description.
"Spellcaster?"
"Negative energy?"
Avril raised a slender eyebrow, her gaze shifting to Vanessa, who had asked the same question almost simultaneously.
"A spellcaster who can harness negative energy..."
The purple-haired witch ignored the elf girl's gaze, murmuring with interest, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"It must be... a Lich?"
"A Lich?"
"Yes."
Before Vanessa could elaborate, Avril interrupted.
"They are spellcasters who have transformed themselves into immortal undead through forbidden rituals."
"Their core secret lies in their phylactery, a soul container hidden by powerful spells. As long as the phylactery remains intact, they can regenerate even if their physical bodies are destroyed."
"And..."
Vanessa finally turned to the elf girl, winked playfully, and continued.
"They're naturally gifted at manipulating negative energy, making them incredibly dangerous and nearly impossible to truly eradicate. Destroying their phylactery is the only way to end this eternal curse."
The information they revealed didn't surprise Roland. As a former player of World of Warcraft, he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with liches. But precisely because he understood them, he found the situation all the more daunting.
Unlike other undead creatures, liches, as spellcasters, retained their full intelligence and magical abilities even while possessing immortality. This meant they retained all the wisdom and spellcasting prowess they had in life.
Making an enemy of such a powerful foe lurking in the shadows was far from fortunate.
"So... Mr. Roland," Vanessa said, gracefully rising from her chair. She bypassed the standing Avril and approached Roland. A curious smile played on her lips, and her violet eyes sparkled with pure interest. "Are you really going to... confront a lich? How fascinating."
Her slender fingers unconsciously twirled a strand of purple hair that had fallen beside her ear.
"Could I come along?"
(End of the Chapter)
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