Fenkes—the legendary powerhouse who was the first in the history of the leonids to bring all the tribes under his dominion and usher in their golden age.
Though many who lived in his era had been stronger than him, he was without question a legend—a being Lucian could not hope to contend with in the slightest. Moreover, after ten thousand years of "death," what eerie changes had occurred upon his "resurrection" was something Lucian could scarcely begin to imagine.
Run! That was the first thought that flashed through Lucian's mind!
It was also the only thought a high-level mage could have when facing a legend!
He had taken just two steps when Lucian's thoughts churned wildly, and he summoned every ounce of his willpower to overcome his instinctive reaction, forcibly halting the impulse to flee.
Flee? Where would he flee to?
Charging straight out would certainly alert the ninth-tier God-blessed Priest, who could defeat him just as easily.
Sneaking out stealthily? Would there be enough time? Could he leave the tomb—leave the range of its will—before Fenkes fully "resurrected"?
Search for a nearby fissure in the realm of the dead and hide inside? No—that was merely a reflection of the tomb. The very reason Fenkes could resurrect must exist within it. That was the most dangerous direction of all!
Use the spatial teleportation scroll his teacher had given him to escape back? While doing so would constitute a failure of the mission, and the palace's magic circle and the churning black mist seemed vaguely related to spatial phenomena—making the teleportation likely to be disrupted, producing unexpected changes—this was currently the only viable escape route!
After hesitating for no more than a few seconds, Lucian pulled out the scroll, ready to activate it.
"I… have slumbered… for ten thousand… years… and still… am… imprisoned… here… You… dare… disturb… me… You… seek… your own… death…" The voice of the Leonid King, Fenkes, was filled with a sinister, desiccated quality, like a piece of rotting timber slowly splitting apart.
Wait—Lucian suddenly noticed a particular word.
"Imprisoned"!
Fenkes was imprisoned here?
His slumber, his resurrection—were these things beyond his own ability to control?
If that was the case, then a legend who was imprisoned no longer seemed so invincibly powerful. There was still a sliver of hope!
The adventurous streak hidden deep in Lucian's bones made his heartbeat grow ever steadier. He held the scroll in his left hand, calmly sensing the resurgence of that overwhelmingly sinister power.
Too slow! The rate of the power's resurgence was far too slow! Since this was not a "normal resurrection," the sinister aura, while steadily growing, was doing so at an agonizingly gradual pace!
A "resurrection" arranged over the span of ten thousand years—how could a simple ritual and pressure possibly complete it?
"At least another thirty seconds before it reaches the aura of a legend," Lucian judged with complete detachment, as though he were not in mortal peril at all. He then chanted an incantation, layering "Might of the Bull" upon himself, and after the buffer took effect, cast "Bull's Strength" as well. Finally, as an added precaution, he drew out a vial of "Fire Giant's Twin Fists" potion and drank it.
Given the dangers of this expedition, Lucian had exchanged for a considerable number of materials for setting up magic circles along with various useful potions, spending every last extra arcane point he had obtained by pledging his annual income as collateral to his teacher Fernando. Who could have guessed that upon entering the Dark Night Plateau, he would already have burned through a large batch of materials just to trap
This made Lucian lament that war truly was a contest of wealth—though of course, compared to what he had obtained from the Rhein Treasury, the value of these materials and potions was far, far less.
The blood in his veins surged like scorching magma, and the lean, well-proportioned arms Lucian kept in check instantly bulged with solid muscles, within which flickering flames could faintly be glimpsed.
"Twenty-one seconds left…" The surging power made Lucian feel as though he could barely control his own body, which had grown unbearably heavy—but there was no way to take any more potions that enhanced agility, balance, or reflexes. He could only cast the second-tier spell "Cat's
"Nineteen seconds, eighteen…"
Lucian clamped the scroll between his teeth, drew an unremarkable standard-issue longsword from his storage pouch, and gripped the hilt tightly with both hands.
A warm sensation flowed back from the wooden handguard, dispersing the trace of panic, helplessness, and worry that lingered in Lucian's heart, leaving behind nothing but a resolute will.
"Bold… mortal… I shall… make you… my… eternal… slave… whether… alive… or… dead…" The anger in Fenkes' emotions grew ever more apparent, and his confidence in his own power and joy at "resurrecting" were also vividly expressed amid that piercing, sand-scraping-glass screech.
Yet he still showed no signs of leaving the golden sarcophagus or launching an attack against Lucian.
This matched perfectly with Lucian's speculation that he was "imprisoned"!
The only question was whether, once he recovered to the level of a legend, he would be able to break free of his bonds.
"Fifteen seconds, fourteen seconds… I need to leave five seconds to activate the scroll as a last resort."
Lucian sensed the slow recovery of the sinister aura, counted each passing second, and with steps still heavy, walked once more to the front of the golden sarcophagus.
"I… have already… risen… from my slumber… and returned…" Fenkes' voice grew ever louder, stirring waves of echoes and surging black mist that showed signs of spreading beyond the "Gates of the Saint."
"Twelve seconds, eleven seconds… Right about now, simply saying 'I'm back' would be far more dramatic, more befitting of a legendary powerhouse…" Even in his state of extreme calm, Lucian's mind was filled with all manner of bizarre thoughts—but none of them were allowed to affect his judgment or his actions.