At the same time, under the cover of moonlight as clear as water, Renith and the gang’s elite fighters had already reached the opposite bank without a sound. The night wind rustled gently through the leaves, filling the air with soft whispers.
Renith lifted her gaze toward the other side, silently calculating the time in her mind. Unless something went wrong, the commotion in the south should now be spreading like wildfire, reaching Kolk’s ears.
Kolk was no fool—he would certainly understand what losing control of the south meant. That would be a massive gap in his domain, and there was no way he could simply ignore it.
And sure enough, Kolk had clearly grasped the gravity of the situation. On the opposite bank, large numbers of his men were already preparing boats, getting ready to cross the river and meet the enemy head-on.
All of this fell right within Renith’s expectations.
But while Kolk was making his moves, the gang and the workers were not caught off guard either.
With golems on their side, facing ordinary soldiers crossing the river was practically a turkey shoot—flesh and blood stood no chance against magical constructs. If Kolk wanted to reduce his soldiers’ losses, he would have to use his “Divine Gift.” That would drain the unknown energy within him, causing his rank to drop.
And that, precisely, was the perfect moment for them to strike.
Some might ask—how did they find Kolk’s stronghold?
And how did they pinpoint Kolk’s exact location?
That, of course, was something Kolk had “told” them himself.
Ever since he arrived in Mobis City, Kolk had never bothered to hide his presence. He was incredibly confident—overconfident, even to the point of blindness.
He firmly believed that within this city, no one could defeat him.
That blind self-assurance might very well be Kolk’s own “talent.”
And thank goodness he made no effort to conceal himself—otherwise, Renith and her group would never have been able to track him down so easily.
Before long, taking advantage of the night, they reached the street corner.
Kolk was holed up in the mayor’s mansion—the same mayor who had already fled Mobis City. The surrounding buildings were sparse and dilapidated, a stark contrast to the mayor’s residence, which stood out with its lavish, opulent appearance.
It seemed that the mayor had not only failed to perform his duties, but had also lined his own pockets quite handsomely.
Kolk was currently on the second floor of that standalone villa.
Two telegraph operators flanked him, continuously receiving battlefield reports while sending out his commands. Soldiers streamed in and out of the main entrance, visible anxiety written all over their faces.
The river crossing was clearly not going well. They described the massive golems in grim detail—how a single punch from one could crack the earth apart, how soldiers crossing the river were crushed by falling rocks, and those who made it across were trampled into pulp.
These soldiers hoped Kolk would unleash his extraordinary power—turn his comrades into invincible warriors, or conjure powerful weapons to destroy those two damned golems in one blow.
Yet what they didn’t know was that Kolk himself was now hesitating. The battle was spiraling in a direction no one had anticipated.
That golem was most likely the work of an enemy mage, blocking their reinforcements. Meanwhile, the gang’s surprise attack had caught them completely off guard.
But if he delayed any longer, the losses would be far greater than he’d imagined.
This feeling of being led by the nose…
Kolk realized he’d been outmaneuvered.
“My soldiers shall be invincible!”
The moment the words left his mouth, the “aura” within him began to steadily decline, dropping back to the Viscount level. That was the price he paid to bestow power upon his troops.
Renith—and even the gang’s Viscount—sensed this shift immediately.
They knew—the opportunity had arrived!
“Now’s the time!”
Renith’s expression turned icy cold. With a low shout, she clutched the codex in her left hand and swept her right arm sideways in a sharp arc.
In an instant, a brilliant radiance burst from the codex, streaking along her arm and transforming into a razor-sharp crescent arc that flew toward Kolk at blinding speed.
“Codex, Page 852: Holy Light Magic—Pseudo-Divine Art: Light Sever.”
The “Light Sever” traveled in utter silence, aimed straight for Kolk’s throat.
Seeing Renith make her move, the Viscount followed without hesitation.
He slammed both palms against the wall, and instantly his hands were coated in a pale, ashen gray—the color rapidly spreading up his arms.
“Light Sever” arrived in the blink of an eye, closing the distance in a single breath.
Kolk was caught completely off guard by this surprise attack and failed to raise his defenses in time. The holy light–forged blade was about to ruthlessly slice through his throat.
Victory was within reach!
But just at that critical moment, Renith’s keen instincts screamed a warning.
She detected an extremely faint magical fluctuation emanating from Kolk—so subtle, yet enough to make her heart clench.
She immediately understood.
“A magic tool.”
The Mage Towers had vanished a hundred years ago. The scrolls and magic tools left behind—symbols of the mages’ existence—had been seized by the Empire and the nobility, circulating only among the upper echelons.
The Mage Towers had now been all but forgotten by the common folk. People only knew of their former glory through word of mouth or scattered passages in old books.
As a Marquess, Kolk was bound to carry some kind of life-saving artifact, precisely to prevent plans like this from being disrupted by such items.
That was why Renith had already prepared a countermeasure.
She swiftly pulled a scroll from her codex and tore it open without a moment’s hesitation.
“Magic Seal!”
Instantly, an invisible force radiated outward from her, suppressing the burgeoning glow from Kolk’s artifact before it could fully manifest.
A rare flicker of panic crossed Kolk’s face.
He clearly hadn’t expected Renith to have such a counter ready—it was completely beyond his calculations.
The “aura” within him finally began to surge violently, rising rapidly. But it was already too late—”Light Sever” had already sunk into his body!
Even if the blow didn’t kill him outright, the Viscount’s full-force strike would be more than enough to finish off a wounded man.
But then—a sudden twist.
A figure darted out of the shadows like a phantom, landing a punch squarely on the Viscount’s abdomen in midair.
The Viscount felt a heavy impact slam into him, his body hurled backward uncontrollably. Both figures crashed through the sturdy glass window, shattering it into fragments that sprayed everywhere as they plummeted to the ground below.
The sharp, crisp sound of breaking glass echoed through the night.
The two figures disappeared into the darkness on the ground floor, lost among the debris.
That Viscount!
That Viscount hadn’t gone to the main battlefield at all!
Renith had originally planned to use the synthetic golem to keep him occupied, ensuring he couldn’t interfere here. But now it seemed the golem she’d entrusted to the workers was useless. The situation had just become far more complicated.
“Light Sever” had struck Kolk, but because he’d twisted to the side in a reflexive dodge, it hadn’t sliced through his throat as intended. Instead, it carved away a chunk of his body.
Blood gushed out like a fountain, instantly staining his robes crimson.
Kolk clutched his arm, his eyes wide with pain, resentment, and disbelief. It was as though this were the first time in his life he’d suffered such a severe injury—he simply couldn’t accept this brutal reality.
“It’s you again. Second time now. You deserve to die.”
Every word he spat seemed to be ground out between clenched teeth, as though he wanted to tear Renith apart with his bare hands.
Seeing that her first strike hadn’t finished him, Renith immediately followed up.
“Codex, Page 17: Fire Magic—Explosive Blaze.”
The codex blazed with light, and a torrent of flame burst forth from its pages, roaring toward Kolk with searing, intense heat.
By now, Kolk had reclaimed all the power he’d bestowed upon his soldiers. His aura surged upward, climbing all the way to the peak of the Earl rank.
The very air around him seemed to warp under the pressure of his presence.
He raised his other hand and clenched it in the air, detonating Renith’s “Explosive Blaze” mid-flight.
Then, Kolk grabbed the severed chunk of his own body lying on the floor. He aligned it with his wound and pressed it back into place.
“My body knows no impediment.”
As the words faded, Kolk’s “aura” dropped back to Viscount—but in the next instant, it climbed back up to Earl like bamboo shoots after rain.
Renith felt a flicker of surprise, her eyes growing more serious.
But one look at Kolk’s wound told her what had happened.
The injury hadn’t healed perfectly. The flesh seemed barely tacked onto the wound—functional enough to move, but exceptionally fragile, held together only by the “aura” within him.
That meant he hadn’t consumed much of the “Divine Gift’s” power, allowing him to remain at the Earl level.
Kolk and Renith stood facing each other in silence. The atmosphere around them seemed frozen, suffocating, heavy enough to crush anyone caught in it.
The aura emanating from Kolk clashed and intertwined with Renith’s magic, sending nearby furniture rattling violently. Electric lights flickered in the gusts, as if they might go out at any moment. Books flew off the shelves, pages rustling wildly, while loose sheets of paper danced through the air.
After a long pause, Kolk furrowed his brow and broke the stifling silence first:
“Is it really wise for a mage from the Mage Towers to meddle in mortal affairs? We signed an agreement, after all—Mage Towers mages are not to interfere in worldly matters. And yet, the Towers are the first to break the rules…”
His voice carried a note of accusation.
“So what?”
Renith replied coldly, utterly unmoved by his words.
She didn’t stop manipulating the magical particles around her, driving a massive surge of mana toward Kolk, forcing him back two steps.
“Hah. The Mage Towers don’t produce mages with that kind of backbone—or that much recklessness. You’re definitely not from the Towers.”
“Which makes your identity… quite intriguing.”
Renith narrowed her eyes, seeing right through his game.
“You’re just stalling for time.”
With that, the tome in her hands suddenly flared with blinding light. The ink stains on its pages seemed to come to life, melting and flowing like living creatures.
The surrounding breeze, guided by Renith’s will, rapidly converged into a vortex, tightly enveloping Kolk.
“Codex, Page 180: Wind Magic—Cyclone.”
Kolk barely glanced at it, channeling his “aura” to push back.
“Dispel.”
Finding Renith’s magic troublesome, Kolk simply spoke the word, sacrificing a bit of his rank to dispel the spell outright.
Suddenly, Kolk seemed to sense something. A smug grin spread across his face, and he burst into laughter:
“You can’t beat me.”
