Silva gripped the Doomblade and plunged it straight into the Grand Sage’s heart.

Ordinarily, a mortal stabbed through the heart would be dead in moments—but this was a Grand Sage, the pinnacle of the magical world, long beyond mortal limits. He wouldn’t fall so easily.

Knowing this, Silva yanked the blade free and struck again—this time, the liver.

The Doomblade carried venom, Shadow, and Curse effects. The Grand Sage felt his body grow cold and stiff, life force draining fast. His magic clogged like blocked rivers, utterly unresponsive. Paralyzed, he could only stand there, helpless as Silva carved into him.

He had died the moment toxin and curse invaded his heart, seeping through his blood. Only sheer power kept him upright a little longer.

Seeing he still stood after two stabs, Silva drove the blade deep into his kidney.

Bitterness flooded the Grand Sage’s mind. He’d exhausted himself fighting that beast, spent most of his magic on a Forbidden Spell—and failed to kill his target. Now, ambushed to death by a mere Archmage?

How had this princess survive a world-shattering Forbidden Spell?

That was his final thought—before Silva slashed his throat, severing the carotid. Blood sprayed meters away. The magical world’s apex convulsed once, twice… then stilled.

An ordinary dagger? He’d have shrugged it off. But Silva’s blade was no mere dagger—a divine artifact, cursed with underhanded effects meant to ambush.

She glanced at the Doomblade. True to its nature, not a drop of blood stained its edge.

How Silva survived the Forbidden Spell? All credit went to Roland.

Morale Armor and Frost Heart—divine artifacts of immense defense. Nameless once, Roland dubbed them on sight; their functions screamed “game gear.”

And they delivered: Morale Armor granted Silva extreme magic resistance, halving any spell’s impact. Frost Heart forged crystalline ice armor, granting near-immunity.

Shielded by both, Silva weathered the Forbidden Spell unscathed.

The forest was now flattened. Within a five-hundred-meter radius, only Silva and a lone black mountain remained.

She prayed Yenoa wasn’t here. Without artifacts, even the spell’s backlash would have killed her.

Still, Silva hadn’t expected a Grand Sage among the assassins. Such mages were strategic assets—cherished, protected. Yet rebels sent one to kill her? They were dead set on her end. Bigger moves were coming.

Wait!

A lightning bolt of realization struck her. Stiffly, she turned toward the black mountain. Tears welled again.

The slain Grand Sage bore wounds. So had the earlier assassins. Silva recognized them—left by that beast.

Only an Imperial-tier Beast could rout elites led by a Sage-tier Mage!

Which meant… moments ago, an Imperial-tier Beast had crashed into Roland.

Silva stood motionless, head bowed. Her delicate face shadowed. Fists clenched. Body trembling. A choked sob escaped as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Suddenly, dozens of black-clad figures burst from the forest a hundred meters out, circling cautiously—clearly converging to swarm her.

The ring tightened. Silva didn’t move. Her pressed lips trembled slightly. Her expression darkened to something terrifying.

They kept a wary distance, fearing a devastating area spell. They never expected Silva to explode forward in a violent dash, hacking down several in a blur.

...

In the pitch-black cave, Roland felt every bone shattered. His head buzzed, dizziness swirling—definitely a concussion.

“Damn… that hurts…”

The faint murmur echoed through the silence.

His broken body lay sprawled, flickering like a dying star. Each pulse illuminated the dark—and in those flashes, his organs, bones, tendons, veins stood starkly visible.

With every flicker, wounds healed a fraction. Thousands of pulses later…

Roland stood as if nothing happened, dusting off his rear. The glow ceased.

“Lucky I popped a life-saving elixir at the last second. Otherwise, I’d be toast.” He patted his chest, heart still racing.

“But how did we wander into an Imperial-tier Beast’s territory?” Roland frowned. Weren’t they just gathering herbs? Why run into *that* beast?

Could that Red Lizard have been the Imperial-tier Beast?

No logical answer came. He decided: the beast *was* the Red Lizard Idy’s group sought.

He pulled a rhombus crystal from his coat. Its bright glow revealed barren rock walls—nothing else.

The entrance wasn’t far, but sealed by a stone door. Earth magic failed. He poured strength into a Fire Fist—a roaring dragon of flame slammed the door. Not a crack.

“Impossible. I’m at full strength—how?” Roland muttered, baffled.

He tried everything. Even precious spatial scrolls failed—the cave felt warded.

“Silva’s still outside… and weren’t there black-clad figures?” His fingers traced the cold stone. After a pause, he turned and sprinted deeper.

If the door closed after the beast entered, it knew how to open it.

A massive tunnel sloped downward—the only path. Roland didn’t hesitate.

He ran kilometers until the path ended.

Before him gaped a colossal pit. Solid rock walls. No exits.

He tossed the crystal down. Its light revealed uneven walls, deep claw marks—traces of the beast climbing up.

The glow faded to a speck… then vanished.

Roland’s face fell. *How deep is this?!*

One second’s hesitation—then he leaped.

As the world’s most renowned Bard, Roland lived by adventure and courage.

In short: reckless. Charge headfirst. It’s just a pit—what’s to fear?

He fell through darkness until light appeared below. Wings of Wind flared, slowing his descent for a smooth landing.

A flat passage led forward. After a long walk, the space opened.

A vast cavern. Crimson walls. Eighteen bronze chains anchored a wooden box at the center.

Beneath it—churning molten lava!

Scorching heat filled the air. Only timely protective spells kept Roland safe.

Roland nearly cursed. *Did I reach the earth’s core? A real Journey to the Center of the Earth?*

“Who the hell dug this?” He exhaled hot air, jaw tight. No way the beast dug this—it’s practically the core! What emperor wastes time digging this deep?

And… he felt it. He’d stumbled into somewhere extraordinary.

“The Imperial-tier Beast should be here.” He scanned the cavern. Nothing.

Impossible. One path. Open space. That massive beast couldn’t vanish.

His eyes locked onto the lava.

There—a dark shape submerged within.

Roland went cold. *Lava?! Even an Imperial-tier Beast should fear it—especially wounded!*

Bubbles surfaced. Then—a colossal figure erupted from the molten flow, hurling searing rock and heat toward him.

Roland dodged. But when he saw the beast clearly… he nearly stumbled backward.

A…

gigantic…

brown-furred…

Chihuahua?!