Rean suddenly tensed. Setting aside the fact that the terrain offered zero cover—how could anyone be so bold as to linger in Christine’s territory? Especially while carrying a Fenrir’s Fang fragment, its magical aura blazingly obvious?

Unless… something gave them confidence to stir trouble near the Demon King Citadel…

“That’s enough. Stop here.”

Rean halted, pulling Olga close. His gaze swept the area, sharp with caution. Moments ago, while syncing with Olga’s Heavenly Ripple Array, he’d sensed nothing. Now, instinct alone warned him: numerous magical signatures were closing in. Individually weak, yes—but their sheer number would overwhelm any ordinary fighter.

“Our opponent was prepared,” Olga murmured, hand resting on her sword hilt. She shifted behind Rean as if by telepathy. “They must’ve rallied forces the instant they detected my scan.”

A faint smile touched Rean’s lips. *She beat me to it.*

The Heavenly Ripple Array had vast range—but anyone within it possessing strong sensing ability, or using similar observation magic, would know they were being watched. The enemy simply got lucky.

“Well, no matter how many show up, they won’t stop me,” Rean shrugged with a grin. “Troubles on my turf? I’ll clear them in one go.”

With a flick of his wrist, six pitch-black blades materialized from the void. Black lightning crackled across their surfaces. In a flash, they encircled Rean and Olga, tips aimed at six distinct directions.

Truth was, Rean had sidestepped the messy part. Claiming solo duty wasn’t just to keep Olga out of Demon Realm politics. Since earlier, he’d been burning magic to suppress the fiery energy in the Fenrir’s Fang fragment. Behemoth’s devouring ability couldn’t spare energy to absorb ambient magic. Delaying meant trouble—for him.

So whether the enemy expected to face the “Thousand Spell Flowing Blade” or not… Rean already held the perfect advantage.

“You played the gracious host earlier, refusing my help. Let me do *something* now?”

Olga frowned slightly, ignoring him. Silver light flashed—her blade now pointed forward.

*“Die Beseitigung der (Elimination).”*

A subtle flick of her silver sword unleashed a massive golden sword aura. It tore through the air, carving deep trenches into the earth. Violent winds ripped the ground open; swirling sand darkened the sky.

As dust settled, pale-faced soldiers in tattered armor materialized where emptiness once stood. Every one trembled—Olga had merely flicked her wrist, yet their armor shattered, concealment magic erased. Yet not a trace of killing intent gleamed in her amber eyes. She’d clearly held back.

“How’s that? I did pretty well too, right?” Olga nudged Rean’s back lightly.

“Yes, *yes*, brilliantly,” Rean sighed, exasperated. “But could you *please* remember to stay incognito?!”

He was irritated—but also intrigued. That dispelling magic was unfamiliar. If refined… potentially useful. *Later.*

“Stealth magic too? Looks like they planned something big.” Rean smirked coldly at the demoralized troops, raising a hand skyward. “Try to endure. Die, and I get no answers.”

The black blades “Six Nights” rose with his gesture, shooting outward. Soldiers dodged instinctively—only to realize the blades weren’t targeting them. They zipped around at blinding speed, tracing strange paths. Within seconds, dark streaks wove overhead: a black magic array. Intricate patterns glowed with dancing obsidian light, like ethereal sprites.

If mages could wield staves in melee, why couldn’t he paint arrays with swords? That was how he earned the nickname.

Then—a soldier recognized him. Or rather, the signature black blades. Tugging comrades, he screamed:

“Fall back! That man… Prince Lein Christin of House Christine—the ‘Thousand Spell Flowing Blade’! Run or die!”

“Defense is yours. Cover me too.”

“What are you *doing*?!”

Without explanation, Rean waved downward. The six swords plunged, dragging a semi-transparent black barrier that sealed a hundred-meter radius.

“Dark Lightning Blossom.”

*Snap!* *Boom!*

Thunder roared. Pitch-black lightning arrows rained from the array. Each impact blasted soldiers down with screams. The empty space before Rean quickly carpeted with fallen bodies.

Unlike Olga’s precise dispelling, Rean’s assault was brutal, indiscriminate—eradicating foes without needing their exact positions.

As the lightning dimmed and the array faded, Rean exhaled within the golden barrier.

“Next time, *please* don’t suddenly cast a high-yield spell centered on yourself! Even *I* was cutting it close!” Olga snapped.

“Because I knew you’d handle it,” Rean replied with a wry smile, nodding ahead. “Anyway—the last target’s right there.”

Before him, a pale blue barrier smoldered, wisps of white smoke rising from the chaotic lightning assault.