After instructing the children to run away, I turned my gaze back to the man in front of me.

Even upon a second glance, his overwhelming reservoir of magical power was undeniable. True to a dark mage, a sinister aura, laced with an ominous vibe, emanated from him.

‘This won’t be as easy as I thought.’

However, giving up wasn’t on the table.

I have to fight stronger opponents down the line. Avoiding combat forever was simply not feasible.

I didn’t want to botch things up because of a lack of experience when faced with unavoidable fights. With such a splendid opportunity in front of me, how could I possibly let it slip away?

‘Plus, I really want to save the amulet for later.’

Since parting ways with Siel to find Lien and arriving at this moment, Siel had been steadily gathering power to create that amulet.

It’s practically an artificial artifact; calling it anything less would be an understatement.

Ideally, I wouldn’t need to use it.

Well, in the end, there’s only one conclusion I can reach.

I just need to beat this guy, no matter the cost.

‘If we’re purely comparing magical power, he definitely has the upper hand.’

He certainly won’t be a walk in the park.

If my power was forged from Miss Rubia’s tears of effort, his was crafted from ‘real’ tears.

It’d be odd if he didn’t emerge strong after sacrificing so many lives. Given that this Asher, who was certified talentless in the previous game, ended up as tough as he is now.

But still, there wasn’t a significant problem.

A fight isn’t solely decided by strength.

“I won’t ask twice. Who are you?”

The man inquired, an evil aura bubbling around him, as if he were directly aiming his murderous intent straight at me.

…Well, honestly, I’m not quite sure myself.

After all, once murderous intent reaches a specific threshold, it’s considered a psychic attack, thus activating my immunity effect from the Emperor’s Might.

The man’s eyes narrowed further, wary of me. It was blatantly clear what kind of misunderstanding he was wrapped up in.

I instinctively recognized it.

This moment was the optimal timing.

“How repulsive. To think you’re parading around in your master’s skin. Do you not have a shred of shame?”

I said with a heavy tone, grounding my voice in seriousness.

The act of deliberately provoking him.

At first glance, it might appear meaningless… but it’s anything but.

This was the most effective tactic when contending with a mage.

Constructing a spell requires concentration.

Hence, breaking a skilled mage’s composure was crucial in a fight.

“……”

His expression shifted to one of horror, but perhaps due to his accumulation of experience, he quickly regained his composure. It seemed my little jab wasn’t enough to rattle him.

But… it wasn’t much of a concern.

It was to be expected.

There’s a reason veterans are labeled as such.

Asher, the disciple of the Archmage, is a character from the previous tale.

In other words, his face is one I’ve seen countless times throughout multiple repeated plays.

I couldn’t even skip the cutscene showing him kill his master, which I’ve watched hundreds of times.

I likely knew Asher better than he knew himself.

It was glaringly obvious how to provoke him into an outburst.

So, I wore a slight smile and asked, “Do you even realize that he was your father?”

It was time to hit him with the truth about his origins.

 

Asher felt as if he were on the verge of losing his mind.

This was perhaps no surprise.

He had been diligently operating the black market when out of nowhere, a terrorist attack occurred.

As he rushed out to suppress it, all the terrorists mysteriously vanished.

An utterly baffling scenario.

Yet, what truly drove Asher to the brink of madness was something else entirely.

‘Who the hell is this guy…’

The man who had invaded his warehouse out of the blue.

He simply couldn’t comprehend the existence of such a person.

He had already figured out the man’s entry route through the gaping hole.

However, the security of this place couldn’t possibly be so lax. Naturally, various mechanisms were installed specifically to thwart intruders.

Curses so potent that one might drive themselves mad and stab themselves in the neck upon entry.

Over eighty people were sacrificed merely to create those spells, so their effectiveness was assured.

Yet that man stood there as if untouched, as if the intricately crafted curses meant nothing to him.

Even now, the situation remained the same.

The power he gained from a demon as payment for killing his master.

Even while exuding an aura potent enough to knock anyone unconscious, not a twitch crossed the man’s face.

This mysterious figure calmly approached Asher, revealing a secret that no one else knew.

The fact that he had killed his master and was living under his guise.

All delivered so nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal.

‘How can this be?’

Asher’s expression faltered in an instant.

Cracks formed in the mask he had worn for over a decade.

Nobody had uncovered that truth until now.

And that was entirely reasonable.

After all, this was a contraption he had crafted from his master’s dissected body.

No detection magic could penetrate it.

His disguise and performance were perfected. That was why this was utterly incomprehensible.

How did this man figure it out?

If there was one certainty… this man was not to be underestimated.

‘There’s no time to dawdle.’

Asher, attempting to conceal his presence from the man, quietly began constructing a spell… or at least tried to.

However, at that moment, an unbearable declaration reached his ears.

“Do you know that he was your father?”

His mind momentarily went blank.

It was evident that the man was talking nonsense.

That much was abundantly clear, yet… he couldn’t concentrate on his spell.

“…It’s been more than ten years. It seems you still didn’t know.”

The man remarked casually.

It had to be a lie; that statement couldn’t possibly hold truth.

Yet… for reasons unknown, he couldn’t just brush it off.

“Did it never seem odd? Why a figure like your master would go so far as to find a wandering boy and take him under his wing.”

“Stop spouting nonsense!”

Asher yelled, all pretense out the window.

“The reason that assassination plot succeeded is straightforward.”

But the man continued his calm narration, as if he had witnessed everything, recounting that day’s events with chilling ease.

The poison that had inexplicably surged into his body in a moment’s weakness.

Unaware that it was his very own son who had ingested it, he had devoted all his strength to saving his son who drank the same wine.

Initially, he sought out Asher with intentions to sacrifice his own flesh and blood, but at some point, he genuinely learned to love him.

“You should have realized when the demon offered such rare and potent poison. Those creatures are willing to do anything for a bit of fun.”

“Do you think I’m foolish enough to fall for such nonsense?!”

Asher shouted back, filled with defiance.

He would dismiss it; those were all undoubtedly lies.

In a frenzy of madness, he unleashed a torrent of spells.

But…

“As expected, all techniques copied from your master. You haven’t grown in the slightest.”

None of the attacks reached the man. Each one was reversed and vanished before it could make contact.

The man approached Asher with complete nonchalance.

Asher couldn’t grasp it.

…How?

How is such mind-boggling absurdity even possible?

To reverse the curses shot at him in an instant?

That shouldn’t even be possible. This was a secret of the master, and those who had seen it were all eliminated.

Then how on Earth had this man reversed the spell?

How could he be so intimately familiar with the construction of a curse he was supposedly encountering for the first time?

Slowly, the man’s face moved closer. The man adorned with the wolf mask spoke in a calm voice.

“You are still as foolish as ever, my son.”

That statement.

The moment he heard those words.

There was no way he could maintain any semblance of sanity. Asher’s magic spiraled out of control.

And… the man didn’t let that moment slip by.

The entirety of the man’s magical power converged onto a single point. Under typical circumstances, any regular body would disintegrate under such pressure.

Yet, the man’s fist remained unscathed. A scenario beyond any logical explanation.

“You fool, did you really fall for that?”

Accompanied by those words, a dull pain surged through Asher’s abdomen.

His rational thought was instantly paralyzed. The pain rendered his mind incapable of functioning correctly.

But regardless of that.

“This damned bastard…”

Asher bit his tongue, the metallic taste of blood snapping him back to reality for a fleeting moment.

Asher’s face contorted in fury.

It was to be expected.

The chasm in skill between that man and himself was overwhelmingly vast.

Every attack was brushed aside as though they were a joke.

The reason he hadn’t subdued Asher in one fell swoop, despite possessing the power to do so, was straightforward.

To mock him. To toy with Asher like a mere plaything.

That, above all, was utterly unforgivable.

The outcome of this confrontation was as clear as day.

The disparity in power was overwhelming. No matter how hard Asher fought, he couldn’t overcome this man.

However, he could drag him into death alongside him.

‘You will perish with me, the one you so disdainfully underestimated.’

Teleportation magic.

In Asher’s hand, the ominous sword was now clasped.

A relic that, despite nine years of research, was still shrouded in mystery, refused even by demons as tribute. Ultimately, he’d reluctantly resolved to dispose of it.

Yet its true purpose was unveiled only today.

A calamity continuously unleashing curses upon this world. A cursed sword that could drive anyone mad simply by proximity.

If one were to bear all its curses, even that man wouldn’t emerge unscathed. Asher was certain of it.

“This is the work of your own making.”

With a grin so wide it nearly split his face, Asher completely unleashed its seal.