Chapter 68

Having already seen Caldeon cough up blood because of her, Enria couldn’t bear to watch him throw his body forward to protect her yet again. She gathered every drop of her holy power and cast a barrier. Part of her wanted to pour all of it into healing him instantly, but this wasn’t the time. They couldn’t afford to sit still and tend to wounds. So she held herself back and raised a solid wall of holy power before him.

Some of the dark-magic blades ricocheted off the barrier, while others pierced through and stabbed into Caldeon’s shoulder and arm. A moment later, the barrier shattered completely and the massive blade formed of dark magic slammed down toward Caldeon with ease. Instinctively, Enria grabbed his arm and pulled, stepping in front of him with her own body.

The enormous black blade came flying toward her with terrifying speed—Enria squeezed her eyes shut. But no matter how long she waited, the impact never came. Confused, she cracked open one eye.

A swirling mass of towering black shadow rose before her, blocking the blade entirely.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Caldeon’s furious shout burst out.

“You were a second away from disaster! Were you even thinking?!”

“W–Why are you yelling? You were in danger, so I—”

“In danger, so you decide to block that damned dark magic with your body? Does that make sense to you?!”

“It… it was urgent…”

“Urgent doesn’t justify that! You—!”

He looked genuinely angry, but the moment he saw Enria staring back at him like a frightened child, his mouth snapped shut.

He grabbed her arm, pulled her behind him, and unleashed pitch-black shadows that swallowed both Pahomel and the giant monster. Inside the collapsing pocket of shadow, the monster shrank rapidly before it was crushed to dust. Pahomel struggled desperately to escape but failed to pull out one of his feet in time; his ankle twisted as the shadow dimension closed in.

“Aaargh!”

Screaming, Pahomel dissolved into black smoke and vanished.

Breathing unevenly, Caldeon stared at the spot where the man had disappeared. His concentration—already fraying with the signs of impending rampage—kept slipping. His body swayed faintly.

“Caldeon!”

Enria paled and rushed to support him. She gathered holy power in both hands to cast healing magic, but he raised a hand to stop her and quickly pulled a vial of rampage suppressant from inside his jacket, tossing it into his mouth.

Her near-death had apparently sent him over the edge, drawing out enough black power to push him right up to the brink of losing control.

“You can heal my rampage injuries later. Save your power.”

Enria bit her lower lip hard, guilt weighing down her heart. She had done nothing but burden him. Tears threatened to spill. Caldeon, slightly steadier now, caught her expression and took a slow breath.

“We lost him, sure—but we still made progress. His ankle’s injured.”

He offered the small consolation as he pushed himself upright with a soft groan.

When he saw Enria’s eyes brimming with tears, he clicked his tongue softly and reached out. She let herself be pulled into his arms, pressing her face to his chest. His strong arms wrapped around her head, both firm and gentle.

“Why are you making that face, Enria?”

“…I’m sorry. I couldn’t help you.”

She had declared boldly that she would protect him, yet she had been no help at all. Worse—Caldeon had been injured because he protected her.

In the original story, Roseanne had saved Caldeon from danger, protected him, helped resolve crisis after crisis. But here she was, insisting she come along only to become a burden.

‘Pathetic…’

Her expression crumpled. Caldeon whispered:

“What are you talking about? Without you, who would have dealt with all those monsters?”

He explained that the spirit summoners and spirits were busy fighting their own battles, making spirit summons unreliable. If he had come alone, he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near the dark mage—he’d have wasted all his time fending off monsters.

Of course, Enria knew that wasn’t true. Even while fighting Pahomel and the giant beast, Caldeon had been wiping out monsters left and right with his black power. If he hadn’t protected her, he wouldn’t have taken those hits—especially the dark-magic blades piercing his shoulder and arm. Black power nullified dark magic, meaning the attack would’ve passed right through him harmlessly and struck Enria instead.

Enria lifted her head to look at the bleeding wounds on his shoulder and arm. Caldeon kissed her forehead lightly.

“It’s nothing serious.”

“I’m sorry. Because of me—”

“It wasn’t because of you.”

“I only got in the way…”

“If anything, I’d have been hurt worse without you.”

Her self-deprecating mumble was met with his firm denial. Enria buried her face against him again, and Caldeon held her tightly.

“Let’s go back. You need to heal.”

“Alright.”

Caldeon cast a glance over the battlefield—at the shattered remains of the giant beast and the broken golems Enria had summoned. He almost asked whether she could summon them again later, but stopped himself. The last thing he wanted was for her to use more power.

He didn’t want her using holy power or her abilities for anything other than herself. If possible, he wanted to handle everything—with his own strength—so he could protect Enria and Hayden both.

Back at the Grand Duchy, he watched as Enria stubbornly healed his wounds despite his protests. The injuries inflicted by dark-magic blades emitted faint black smoke around them, making her worry even more.

“I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

Caldeon reassured her.

“Dark-mage attacks curse normal people on contact, but they don’t work on someone with black power. My power nullifies dark magic. Even the pain.”

Enria let out a small breath of relief and nodded.

Then came hurried commotion outside the door, followed by pounding knocks.

“Come in.”

Without asking who it was, Caldeon gave permission. Fyoren entered, bowing politely to Enria before turning to Caldeon.

“Did you contact Pahomel’s son?”

“That’s why I rushed here.”

Fyoren continued with a grim expression.

“It appears the dark mage has cloaked Groen entirely in dark magic. He’s not visible at all.”

“You’re in contact with the Tower mages, aren’t you?”

“According to our agent in the Tower, no one has seen Groen for days.”

Caldeon’s face hardened.

“Don’t tell me the dark mage has already—”

“I don’t think so. He still needs Groen.”

The reason the Black Mage bothered to eliminate Pahomel and impersonate him was because Groen, the next Tower Master, would unconditionally obey his father. The Tower mages also trusted Groen more. Without him, factions would form—so the dark mage wouldn’t touch him until achieving his objective.

Caldeon nodded. “Then I’ll have to go myself.”

“You should check the Tower first, even if he’s likely not there…”

While listening, Enria suddenly remembered something from the original story—Caldeon had given Fyoren a vial of his own blood. His blood held black power, and anything that touched it temporarily dispelled dark magic. That had been the key that untangled a major plot.

If Groen was hidden by dark magic now, the same method might work. Caldeon was injured; sending him into danger again was the last thing she wanted. It would be far safer to give Fyoren some of his blood.

“Your blood,” Enria said softly.

“That should dispel the dark magic.”

Both Caldeon and Fyoren turned to look at her.