"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

By the now silent lakeside, Barton glared with eyes almost blinded by the Lightning Spell, his face twisted into a grotesque mask of impotent rage.

"Lightning Spell? Moen Campbell—his signature move is just a Lightning Spell?"

Impossible. How could it be a Lightning Spell?

The magnitude of that magical energy... how could it manifest as something as trivial as a Lightning Spell, the kind of spell that even a cat could master?

And that light intensity, bright enough to nearly blind someone, how could anyone elevate such a basic Lightning Spell to that level?

Given the Campbell family's resources, you could have mastered any powerful magic. Why on earth would it be a mere low-grade Lightning Spell?

This had to be intentional. He must have done it on purpose—to humiliate me!

Barton felt like a clown, played like a fool by that damn Moen Campbell.

Humiliation!

Absolute humiliation!

"Barton, don't move."

Through his still-blurred vision, Barton heard Fular’s voice.

"I'll heal you."

"Get lost! I don't need your help!"

Barton roared at the top of his lungs,

"You cowards, you spineless snakes dripping with greed!

Don’t think I don’t know what you all were planning. Just now, there was such a perfect opportunity, and yet you were scared off by a mere little Lightning Spell from Moen Campbell!

If you had acted earlier, he would never have escaped!"

"You!"

Fular's expression darkened immediately. Ceasing her spell-casting, she shot back sharply,

"You’re blaming us? The only reason Moen Campbell got away was because of you! If you hadn’t been playing those bizarre tricks, we would have had him already!

And who’s calling who scared? The one who really got frightened back there was you!"

"Fuck! Damn it! I’m not scared! It's you all who are too stupid, falling for such a lowly trick—a trick so obvious even a three-year-old could see through it. You lot are nothing but—"

"Enough."

Suddenly, a soft yet authoritative voice rang out.

Though gentle, the tone carried an undeniable solemnity that could not be opposed.

The crude words Barton was about to finish were stifled, stuck in his throat, unable to come out.

A flicker of fear flashed across his face. Though his vision was still poor, he instinctively turned his head toward the source of the voice.

There stood the priest, who, since earlier, had been kneeling silently, as still as a statue, in a long prayer. Finally, the priest rose, closed the holy book in his hands, and turned his serene, benevolent gaze on them, as if completely unfazed by all that had transpired.

"You’re right, Barton. We’re not exactly kindred spirits. Everyone has their own agendas, so it’s normal that our efforts don’t align perfectly. I don't blame you for that.

However, it was indeed because of your actions that we let Moen Campbell slip away, forcing us to expend more of our precious time and energy.

Therefore, once this matter is settled, you’ll need to forfeit an additional thirty percent of your reward. Agreed?"

"I..."

Barton’s face turned various shades of red and green, flickering between rage and fear. Ultimately, he lowered his head with great effort, his voice hoarse as he replied,

"I have no objection."

"Good. Fular."

"Tch, fine, for the sake of the money."

Fular grumbled irritably but resumed waving her wand.

The ambient magic began to stir. Under the effects of the healing spell, Barton’s sight was gradually restored.

Despite this, his head remained bowed, his expression hidden. Only his tightly clenched and trembling fists betrayed his inner turmoil.

"Father... Father!"

The hyena, down on all fours, sniffed the air repeatedly, scratching at the ground in agitation.

Moments later, the creature abruptly lifted its head, a trace of panic in its voice.

"The... the one billion... gone! I can’t feel his presence anymore!"

"A technique to completely mask his aura? Makes sense. So far, Moen Campbell has already proven himself to be far more skilled and cautious than what our intel suggested.

But..."

The priest lifted his gaze and peered into the dense, motionless forest ahead, a landscape so still that not even a bird could be seen flying. Slowly, an eerie smile crept across his face. He seemed like a famished beast that had just awoken from a nap and was now thirsting for the hunt.

"Under the watchful eyes of the Almighty, where could you possibly run?"

...

...

Deep within the forest, inside a pitch-black cave.

A faint light glowed from the tip of Moen's finger as he turned to look at the girl beside him.

"Are you okay, Lea?"

"I... I'm fine,"

Lea replied softly, her chest still heaving heavily as she caught her breath.

After narrowly escaping using Moen's consistently reliable Lightning Spell, the two had sprinted frantically through the forest, doing everything possible to shake off their pursuers. It was only by chance that they stumbled upon this hidden cave, where they now sheltered for a brief moment’s reprieve.

"Um... Moen?"

"Yeah?"

"Y-your hand..."

Lea's voice was as quiet as a mosquito's hum, her head bowed low.

"Oh, sorry."

Only then did Moen realize that, in their hurried flight, his hand was still gripping the girl’s delicate, fair wrist.

But even so, he didn’t let go.

"Apologies, but this is the only way I can simultaneously cloak both of our auras. Could you bear with it for a little longer?"

Arcs of electricity flickered faintly across Moen’s body, forming an alchemical field granted by Elizabeth.

At the moment, the effects of the field extended from Moen’s wrist to Lea, enveloping them both and entirely masking their presence.

"Mm."

Lea nodded lightly and didn’t say anything more.

After all, it was necessary under the circumstances. He wasn’t doing it on purpose.

Besides... it was just holding hands. It wasn’t like this had never happened before...

"Thank you," Moen said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"For back there. Your holy light was right on time. It seriously saved us."

Moen smiled.

"I didn’t even hope you’d come through, given what I said to you earlier. When I called out to you then, I had already resigned myself to the worst."

"B-because…"

Lea bit her lip, speaking haltingly,

"I believed that you, Moen… you wouldn’t do something that bad. So I… I stayed on guard just in case."

"Really now?"

Moen’s eyes lit up as he puffed out his chest, tilting his chin upward with exaggerated pride.

"Lea, you’ve finally realized that I’m a genuinely good person, not the ‘bad guy’ you keep accusing me of, huh?"

"...Hmph."

Lea puffed out her cheeks, turning her head away as she muttered,

"Not at all—you’re still a big jerk."

"Eh…?"

...

By the dim light of his Lightning Spell, Moen scanned their surroundings.

The entrance to the cave was quite well-concealed, but the interior turned out to be unexpectedly spacious. Moreover, it wasn’t as damp as he had expected, nor were there the venomous snakes and insects that Moen had been wary of.

"Strange... this doesn’t feel like a naturally formed cave," Moen murmured, his brows furrowing.

"A trap?" Lea asked nervously, her own wariness spiking.

"Unlikely."

Moen shook his head.

"If those people could somehow predict that I’d choose to hide in this specific cave, then they wouldn’t have let us escape earlier with just a simple Lightning Spell."

After contemplating for a moment, Moen tightened his grip on Lea’s small hand and cautiously ventured further into the cave.

Under the faint glow of his spell, the narrow passage eventually widened, opening into an expansive chamber.

And there, directly in front of them, stood a clearly artificial structure:

A massive bronze door.

"What’s that…?"

Lea gasped in astonishment.

"An ancient relic!"

"Ancient relics?"

Moen was momentarily taken aback. Gazing up at the bronze door with its intricate carvings, he scratched his head and muttered to himself,

"Does this mean… amidst danger lies opportunity? Could I really be getting the kind of fortune that usually only happens to the protagonists?"

The so-called “ancient relics” were remnants of long-lost civilizations or powerful entities—mystical sites, tombs, or ruins left behind for future generations. These were particularly significant if they hailed from the Dark Chaos Era of a thousand years ago—a period so shrouded in mystery that even history books remained vague about its events.

The discovery of any ancient relic invariably caused ripples, if not waves, across the continent. And the ancient artifacts—or “ancient relics”—recovered from such sites were not just steeped in historical importance but often possessed incredible abilities, making their value utterly priceless.

"There’s writing on it!"

From the moment she spotted the bronze door, Lea had been thoroughly captivated. Forgetting caution entirely, she even tugged Moen forward while brushing her fingers reverently over the door's surface.

Clearing away the grime and rust left by the passage of time, she uncovered ancient symbols engraved into the metal and instinctively let out another cry of excitement.

"Can you read it?"

"I’ll give it a try!"

Lea’s fingertips carefully traced over each alien character—symbols that resembled squirming tadpoles to Moen’s eye—and her own eyes gleamed with a radiant light. Soon, she managed to translate them into a coherent sentence:

"A calamity has descended upon us. Powerless to resist, we face annihilation. Thus, we have placed all that remains of us here. Beyond this door lies both danger and opportunity. We entrust— …The rest is unreadable."

A look of disappointment flickered across Lea’s delicate face. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to discern the exact name of the civilization or individuals that had left behind both the inscription and the bronze door. Otherwise, she might have found relevant information in the recesses of her memory.

"Still, we can infer a bit about the relic’s origins," Moen remarked, stroking his chin as he scrutinized the door’s carvings.

Now that the grime and rust were cleared, and combined with the message's implied meaning, Moen could finally make sense of the imagery on the door.

It depicted a sprawling bronze city. Above the city, a massive dragon descended from the heavens, its wings blotting out the sun as it rained fire and destruction below. Brave warriors raised their swords in defiance but fell one after another beneath the beast’s onslaught. Terror-stricken women and children perished in the flames, reduced to ash. Even the bronze itself melted under the scorching breath of the dragon.

Such was the story conveyed by these engravings.

"So… this so-called 'Disaster' must be that 'Disaster' we’d think of," Moen concluded with a long exhale of breath. Turning to Lea, he continued somberly,

"Specifically, the ‘Deathbane Dragon’ lurking here in the depths of this forest."

"Hmm, just as I thought."

Lea nodded lightly, her expression complex:

"So this enormous forest used to be a thriving kingdom long ago? What a pity."

"No civilization can endure forever; the paths to decline are simply different."

Moen offered a word of comfort, glancing at the bronze gate. As if recalling something, he suddenly asked:

"Then, this gate—Lea, can you open it?"

The bronze gate had no obvious locks or mechanisms visible. However, given that the civilization, now destroyed, wanted future generations to uncover what they had left behind, it was logical that they wouldn’t create a gate that couldn’t be opened.

"Let me try..."