Scorching waves of fire rolled like a molten tide. The pillar seared the sky, revealing a dreamy, terrifying doomsday whirl. Even Medith’s crew, a hundred meters away, felt purgatory claw at their lungs.

The air thinned as glittering sparks hung like fireflies. That molten sky-pillar unleashed power beyond Medith’s imagination. She remembered Gill using Magic Breaker— a hundred meters of earth collapsed, purple flame geysered up, devouring all.

Most people's Lawbreaking Ability was just a bare repulsion ring, no element woven in. Slowly, Medith sensed something off: mainlanders were pulling elements into Magic Breaker. She couldn’t tell if it was old, or only recent.

By her guess, it had to be recent. If the Southern Kingdom had it long ago, what could East and North block, even together?

If that hunch holds, the timeline points back at most half a year. Only lately has progress stirred, so by that count...

...it’s exactly when Medith awakened her Lawbreaking Ability.

Pressure pressed like a grinding millstone; a sense of fate breathing down her neck. So that’s Destruction Chess, isn’t it? Time’s short, risk is required— was that your meaning? This world has things prewritten, doesn’t it? My arrival broke its old course, so it rejects me, squeezes me, and everything goes wrong— is that it? Board. Pieces. I can almost touch a thread. Are you still watching me, our so-called god? Images flared through Medith’s mind like flint striking lightning.

The core riddle shed a layer of fog. She felt her fingers brush the truth, yet seeing it would demand a brutal price.

“Medith...?” Sais saw her expression change and worry clouded her. Medith waved it off, then let out a long breath, like dropping a pack from her back. She looked steadier, spirit lifted like a banner in wind.

Ding—clang—. After the pillar shattered, a White-Dragon lance tore out of the blaze. It punched through Robert’s ruined armor and speared his heart in one thrust.

“You... why... can... use... Magic... Break— ugh...” He hung skewered midair on Nameless’s weapon, shock and anger dying in his throat.

His eyes, wide as full moons, brimmed with regret, frustration, and self-reproach. Nameless jerked the long spear; the tip ripped flesh with a chilling tear, then he flicked off the blood. He stood tall, brisk and sharp; a shoulder-length ponytail danced in the wind. His look and gear echoed the tales of the Ancestor Master.

The Lina Sisters stared, spellbound, as if meeting Nameless for the first time. Emerald eyes widened, small mouths ajar, they froze where they stood.

Medith walked up and patted his shoulder, approval in her gaze. “Good work. But you’re still too green. On a battlefield, it’s kill or be killed. Who they are, what they look like, what they’ve done— none of that matters to you. Don’t let feelings steer your mind, and don’t fly into rage.”

Nameless nodded earnestly. “Yes, Commander.”

Sais ruffled his hair with a veteran’s grin. “Look at you, kid— hiding deep. I thought you were just the Lina Sisters’ errand boy. Didn’t expect you to handle Magic Breaker, and not at a low grade.”

A breath ago, Nameless used his Lawbreaking Ability to cancel the strike. Otherwise, he’d have been charcoal on the spot. He’d even feigned a flaw, drove Robert to go down fighting, then hit at the perfect beat.

Nameless scratched his head, face flushing. “It’s for self-defense. In times like these, power and footwork alone won’t cut it. If I couldn’t break magic, how could I have the face to join the Commander’s banner?”

Fangge folded her arms and shook her head, regret lacing her tone. “Pity. I wanted to watch Medith fight— duels at this tier are rare. But even a tsunami-class general from the Southern Kingdom, with that thing, couldn’t ambush Medith successfully. That means, in single combat, Medith ranks near the top of the continent. I wonder how she’d fare against [Sky Piercing Tarant] and [Star-Crushing Hippo]...” Fangge looked at the scarlet blade in her hand; her bare eyes held a deep dread.

...

Medith buried the boar she had chased, right where it fell. The instant she touched it, she sensed it had been used for something. Either way, she’d lost all interest in eating it.

Milia didn’t even care to eat the boar; her mind kept circling it. That odd-looking, shockingly delicious creature had detonated her taste buds. Now she drifted, haunted by its flavor.

“Fangge, do you know where this thing comes from? It doesn’t feel like a magic sword, nor like Impado. It feels more like...”

“Regido.” Medith finished Iling’s thought. They circled Robert’s long sword— red, beautiful, and wickedly alluring. Just looking chilled the Elf Clan like being thrust into an ice cellar. Compared to Impado’s bone-deep cold, this tremor came from the soul.

“His Majesty has finally... developed it, then...” Pers closed the book, worry clouding his face.