CHAPTER 36: THE CONQUEST BEGAN (2)

The sky above the Academy was a deep gray, as if the earth itself was holding its breath. Rumors had been circulating for weeks, but this time, they had been confirmed: the Mountain of Death was active. The mana crystals, of rare purity, were rising to the surface, and the magical flow in the region had become so dense that it was literally bringing magical beasts back to life... or driving them mad. The Mountain was a living hell. And thus, an invaluable treasure.

Every major faction on the continent already coveted this deposit. Every one... except Arthur Aurora’s, strangely silent.

Daemon, however, had not hesitated.

He slowly climbed the stone steps leading to the main hall of the Scepter faction, his boots echoing through the cold corridors. Kara was waiting for him, arms crossed, her gaze hard. Beside her, Ramia—more discreet but just as attentive—watched the conversation with a keen eye.

"You’re late," Kara said bluntly.

"I had things to do," Daemon replied simply, calmly removing his gloves.

"Which explains your absences for the past two months?"

"Two months? Seems like my comings and goings interest you. Did you also keep track of the exact hours?"

"Don’t play dumb. So? Do you still plan to crush them? Jaedan... and Isra?"

Daemon stared at her for a moment. His eyes were red, inscrutable, and yet... a fleeting glimmer passed through his gaze.

"I haven’t decided yet. I’m observing them..."

Ramia raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Kara sighed.

"I thought you—"

"Calm down. I told you I’d handle this problem. Just wait and watch. No need to rush."

He turned on his heel without another word and descended the stairs. On his way, he passed Sahara and Lucas in the atrium. They were whispering, visibly surprised to see him already prepared. Daemon gave them a brief nod. Sahara responded with her usual coquettish smile.

"Always so elegant, young Lord Daemon!"

"Always so eager to flirt, Miss Sahara," he retorted with a laugh.

Lucas said nothing, watching him until he disappeared.

Outside, the members of the Scepter faction were already lining up in full armor. Some were cleaning their blades, others securing bags to their mounts. The excitement was palpable. Everyone knew this expedition wasn’t just a simple exercise—it was a conquest. A war disguised as exploration.

Daemon walked past them without a word. His imposing figure, draped in a long black cloak, gave him the aura of a specter. Behind him, his personal bodyguard, Erwan, wore light armor and carried a spear strapped to his back.

"Let’s go," Daemon said, pulling his hood over his head.

Erwan nodded and whistled for his horse.

They left the Academy grounds at full speed, galloping under the howling wind. The high stone towers faded behind them as they raced toward the port. There, a small black ship with scarlet sails awaited them. A captain with a weathered expression signaled for them to board.

"Set course for the Alfuman continent," Daemon ordered.

The captain paled slightly.

"Toward the Mountain of Death? Really? Even the beasts there... Be careful, young ones..."

As the ship left the harbor, cutting through the waves and distancing itself from the shore, Daemon stood at the prow, his eyes fixed on the horizon. He could already feel the call of the distant mana. The air grew heavier. Wilder.

He wasn’t just searching for crystals with resources—he was looking for enemies to erase.

The damp soil of the Alfuman continent gave off a scent of wet moss and rotting earth. A titanic canopy stretched as far as the eye could see, so dense that it plunged the environment into perpetual twilight, barely filtering the sun’s rays. Here, the air was saturated with raw, living mana—almost hostile. Everything breathed savagery.

Daemon led the way in silence, a parchment map between his fingers, his gaze skimming over the ink-drawn terrain. Behind him, Erwan nervously scanned the rustling bushes and twisted tree trunks.

"We could have taken the ship. The one that goes straight to the foot of the Mountain of Death," Erwan remarked. "We’re wasting time walking through this damn jungle."

Daemon didn’t take his eyes off the map.

"I meant this vast jungle." He cleared his throat.

"I have something to do first."

He calmly folded the parchment, tucked it into his coat, and resumed walking without further explanation.

They had only gone a few hundred meters further when two massive shapes burst from the foliage, letting out hoarse howls. Two centaurs—tall, powerful, and visibly mana-crazed—lunged at them, their crude weapons gleaming with a venomous sheen. Their fur was scarred, and their eyes burned with a hysterical glow.

"Tch... of course," Erwan grumbled, drawing his spear.

"Handle them," Daemon ordered without stopping. He had been dreaming of this attack since the moment he set foot on this continent.

He stepped away, crouched near a rotting trunk, and observed. Erwan swallowed hard. He knew these creatures weren’t ordinary monsters. They were fast. Strong. And he... was only a three-star. He gritted his teeth and charged.

The first centaur attacked with a massive axe, swinging with animal ferocity. Erwan barely dodged, the axe splitting a tree behind him. The second circled around and fired an arrow, which he barely deflected with his blade. He had to stay mobile.

He lunged forward, aiming for the nearest centaur’s flank, his spear carving a swift arc that slashed the beast’s hide. The centaur bellowed but immediately counterattacked, striking Erwan in the chest. He staggered back, coughing blood, but clenched his jaw and drove his blade into the centaur’s throat when it lunged again.

The other charged without hesitation. Erwan rolled across the ground, panting as he got back up, dodged one strike, then another, and seized an opening to plunge his blade into the creature’s lower belly, twisting it with fury. The centaur collapsed.

He remained standing, breath ragged, face bloodied.

"Haa... damn it..."

As he turned toward Daemon, a sharp pain shot through him. He slowly looked down.

A dagger was buried between his shoulder blades.

He turned slowly, his face twisted with confusion. Daemon stood a few steps away, arms crossed.

"Don’t move," he said calmly. "The poison is unstable. If you use your aura now, it’ll spread through your nervous system in less than a second."

Erwan staggered, dropping to one knee. His breathing grew harsher, more ragged. His gaze hardened. His feigned loyalty shattered, replaced by icy hatred.

"You... figured it all out," he whispered.

Daemon stepped closer and crouched in front of him. His eyes were cold, devoid of emotion.

"Now that your mask is off... you’re going to tell me what you were doing for my father."

Erwan spat a trickle of blood. He tried to smile, but his face betrayed the pain.