The two-handed greatsword in Lucian's hand was plain and unadorned, its edge restrained, a faint luster flowing across its surface that carried a sacred and solemn air. But what made Leo's body and voice tremble uncontrollably was not its likely considerable value — it was that it looked extremely familiar. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the two-handed greatsword Ivanovsky had wielded while hunting Lucian that night.
"You've got a good eye, Leo. This greatsword is called the Purifier, and its previous owner was none other than Ivanovsky. He came after me, and I ended up killing him instead."
Lucian spoke with a calm, faint smile, showing no concern that the Purifier's exposure might lead others to suspect he knew about the Netherworld's existence. After all, Ivanovsky had put on a magnificent, masterful "performance" that convinced everyone he was hunting Lucian, not fleeing toward the rift to the Netherworld at the bottom of the mine shaft.
And during that pursuit, being killed in return by Lucian — who had leveraged the terrain, pre-set traps, and powerful magical items in a remote stretch of forest — was hardly unusual. Especially since Nikanorov had found no traces of a fight at the bottom of the mine, nor had he seen Ivanovsky inside the Netherworld. With that, the earlier chain of reasoning became the one and only "true" conclusion, beyond any doubt.
Furthermore, for a mid-rank mage to charm, suggest, or control a Great Knight of iron will was no easy feat. If that Great Knight happened to be someone like Ivanovsky, with the "Interference" bloodline, it was flatly impossible. His resistance to magic was extraordinarily high. Combined with his own mental fortitude, only a high-rank mage would have any chance of charming or controlling him. And to extract from his mouth a secret he wouldn't dare reveal even to his subconscious — the existence of the Netherworld — would require at minimum the ninth-rank spell "Mind Invasion." Anything less, and the moment the questioning began, the subject would snap awake from the violation, just like being forced to commit suicide against one's deepest will.
The reverse logic held equally true: the chance of Ivanovsky being captured and interrogated for this secret was vanishingly small, which was precisely why the powerful figure behind him had shared the Netherworld's existence and method of entry in the first place.
By comparing the list of saints who had opposed the Pope at the Highest Theological Council with the list of Cardinals who had mobilized against Wilfried, the "Lord of Pallor," Lucian realized he was standing at the threshold of a secret that could shock the entire world. He could vaguely sense where the problem lay, and his understanding of the Netherworld's true value deepened considerably. He knew that once the fact of his knowledge was exposed — never mind others — the current Pope and saints of the Northern Church would, without a shred of dignity, personally move to eliminate him.
The Northern Church had laid both of those lists bare before the world without the slightest concern. The prerequisite for reading the true strangeness hidden in those lists was knowing that Wilfried, the "Lord of Pallor," though he had not gone missing, had been deeply connected in secret with the legendary mages who had disappeared. They had together conducted some mysterious experiment, and they had known about the Netherworld — knew that the depths of the Netherworld concealed the secret of immortality. But those who possessed that knowledge would mostly have been able to piece things together whether they saw the two lists or not.
So even though the Arcane Council had collected the historical records of both the Northern and Southern Churches, it had failed to discover anything significant.
After hearing Lucian's placid, matter-of-fact answer, Leo — though only middle-aged, his face already lined with deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes — went blank and hollow, as though the very meaning of his life had suddenly vanished. His hands trembled visibly, betraying the turbulent emotions churning within.
Lucian watched him in silence, saying nothing. A full five minutes passed before Leo forced a complicated, bitter smile. "Thank you, Master, for avenging my family."
His voice carried an intense undercurrent of joy woven through with deep regret, loss, and bewilderment.
Lucian understood his feelings perfectly. If the roles were reversed — if the enemy who had slaughtered his entire family had been killed by someone else's hand rather than his own, and he hadn't witnessed that death with his own eyes — he would feel the same sense of loss and regret.
"The dead have passed beyond all suffering…" Lucian began gently, intending to offer Leo a few words of consolation, but Leo, in an uncharacteristic lapse, cut him off. "Master, please allow me a few minutes of silence nearby."
At Lucian's understanding, gentle nod, Leo walked toward a large boulder. His stride appeared composed and steady, but after only a few steps he nearly tripped over a small stone and a tree root, his tall frame lurching forward.
Reaching the boulder, Leo dropped to one knee without a care for appearances, his lips pressing against the dried moss on the stone's surface. His right hand traced the traditional cross on his chest — long vertically, short horizontally — while his lips murmured names: "Diana," "Little Mikhail," and others.
Lucian stepped a few paces away, not eavesdropping on his prayers. Knights raised in the Church's territories — whether they truly believed in the God of Truth, whether they had wholly violated the Church's scriptures, whether they had committed acts of blasphemy — whenever their emotions surged, whenever they lost themselves to feeling, they would trace the cross and pray. It was the deep imprint left by being preached to from childhood, by being brought in and out of churches by their parents before they could even distinguish truth from falsehood. It had nothing to do with piety.
"Childhood experiences really do shape everyone's behavioral patterns… This could serve as a direction for arcane research," Lucian mused, his thoughts drifting.
Several minutes later, Leo walked back slowly, his expression carrying a trace of fatigue. "Master, let's set off. We need to leave the Ural region as quickly as possible. The Night Watch and the knights are scouring everywhere like rabid dogs. If I hadn't smuggled goods through this area countless times, I doubt we'd be able to evade them."
He had folded back the bitter anguish, relief, loss, regret, sorrow, and joy into the depths of his heart, recomposing himself to earnestly fulfill his duty as their guide, bearing his obligation with gravity.
Then he produced a pair of boots etched with dark golden patterns. "Master, I picked these off the mage's corpse. They seem to have a short-range teleportation ability."
"Evasion Boots — a third-rank moderate magical item. They boost a mage's agility to the level of a third-rank Knight, and allow the user to cast the third-rank spell 'Short-Range Teleportation' twice per day."