< 152. Sunset of the King (1) >
*
– Creak…
The massive door pushed open, dust falling as it moved. The elves, startled, turned their bodies away from the entrance. Soon, a gust of wind swept through, scattering snowflakes.
Fernandez shielded his face from the thick snowflakes with one hand and glared straight ahead. The floor was covered with smooth, obsidian-like stone tiles, and lavish tapestries adorned with purple silk hung on all sides.
And in the very center, there was a grand throne.
“Enter.”
An elf sitting cross-legged on the throne, eyes closed, spoke. His snow-white hair cascaded down to the floor. Though his voice seemed quiet, it resonated throughout the entire building.
– Clank.
As he whispered, the elves simultaneously knelt and prostrated themselves. Trembling, they bowed their heads toward Malerun. It wasn’t just about charisma or dominance. Fernandez frowned at the bizarre display of obedience and walked forward.
Even as he entered the range of the elf swordsmen, they remained with their heads pressed to the ground, trembling as if they saw nothing. Fernandez walked past them and entered the Audience Hall.
– Creak…
The doors of the Audience Hall closed behind him. Fernandez walked toward Malerun, who was smiling down at him.
“Come, hero. Human hero, you are welcome in this hall. I gladly grant you entry.”
“Granted?”
For something granted, it felt like a lot of scarecrows had to die. Fernandez shrugged, and Malerun chuckled.
“Well, it’s amusing, isn’t it? Human. You’ve shown remarkable prowess.”
“You were watching?”
“Did you not expect it? I anticipated a mage among you, yet I sense no magic or circuits from you. Only an empty vessel and one being filled. Who are you? And where is the mage who led you here?”
Malerun still hadn’t opened his eyes, his head slightly tilted. His fingers twitched incessantly, as if tuning something. Fernandez noticed magic knots forming and dissipating at the tips of his fingers.
‘He’s conducting a ritual.’
– Projecting magic outward while performing a ritual and talking to us at the same time? That’s ridiculously dangerous.
‘He must be confident.’
Fernandez stepped on the purple silk and slowly approached Malerun. Clank, he unhooked the strap on his back and placed his hand on the hilt of his greatsword. The greatsword trembled as if ready to leap out.
“Human, why did you interfere in our race’s private civil war?”
“I really wanted to meet you. Malerun.”
“Your spirit overflows, almost to the point of recklessness. Hahaha.”
Malerun let out a hearty laugh and paused his fingers for a moment. His sleeve slid down, revealing pale skin covered in purple tattoos.
– Rune Glyphs.
‘Rune Glyphs… Not the Vareilde school, but he’s learned Rune Glyphs?’
Fernandez frowned, recalling the glimpse of the tattoos. Rune Glyphs, the traditional magic system of the northerners. It wasn’t elven magic.
“You wanted to meet me… Surely not for a pleasant reason. Speak.”
“Guimerin extended his life by changing bodies. In the process, he clearly degenerated. His magic and power faded.”
Fernandez spoke as he walked toward Malerun’s throne. Malerun still had his eyes closed. He turned his head toward Fernandez, eyes shut.
“That would be the case. The time I and that fool endured was harsh for mortals.”
“But the spells on this ship’s hull. And the magic that restores and rebuilds them. That’s not something created by mere senses or knowledge. This is the work of a real mage, and an exceptional one at that.”
The elves were driven to the ocean after the three Serpent Kings killed their god and stole their divinity. So, this massive capital ship must have been born after the fall of the Elven Temple of the Gods.
Like Guimerin, Malerun’s magic and power would have dulled and decayed over time. Over a thousand years, they would have slowly eroded. Under aging veins, the magic circuits would fade, and muscles would begin to crumble.
True shedding. If he hadn’t become immortal. Malerun likely extended his life in a special way, much like Guimerin.
– Too young.
Fernandez noticed that. Even if appearances aren’t everything, Malerun’s appearance is too young, almost childlike. Did he switch bodies like Guimerin?
But there’s something odd about that. When switching bodies, magic circuits inevitably fade. There’s no way to transplant the circuits from the old body, so over time, knowledge would blur, and magic would disappear.
‘Yet the ship’s spells were too solid.’
Even if it withstood the passage of time, the ship’s spell system was too intricate. And the sense to maintain and restore it was overwhelming. That’s impossible. A mortal can’t maintain their power and live for thousands of years.
“Hoh, go on.”
“How did you maintain your magic circuits through the ages? How did you survive body changes and still retain your magic?”
Fernandez slowly drew his sword as he stood just below the steps leading to the throne. Malerun still hadn’t opened his eyes.
He smiled faintly as he heard the sound of a sword being drawn.
“So it was you. The mage who destroyed the spell of the audience hall. Interesting. You have no trace of any spell, yet you managed to wield magic strong enough to oppose me.”
Malerun hummed as if singing, then slightly raised his finger. The purple tattoos covering his entire forearm flickered as they absorbed magical energy.
“New knowledge is the mother of progress. Now, I shall answer your question first.”
Malerun snapped his fingers. Simultaneously, the darkened audience hall began to slowly brighten. Thud. A heavy heartbeat echoed from somewhere. Fernandez slowly raised his head and looked up at the ceiling.
-Gooo…
The wind grew fierce. A snowstorm raged within the massive audience hall, despite the absence of windows or doors. Amid the snowstorm, beyond the gradually brightening ceiling, Fernandez finally noticed the source of light illuminating the hall.
-Thud.
It was a heart. A massive, purple heart. A heart that radiated a gloomy light in all directions. Instead of veins, magic circuits connected it, and instead of blood, it oozed magical energy. But it was a heart. Perhaps, the heart of a god.
-Fwoosh.
With each pulse of the heart, sticky magical energy flowed through the connected circuits. Long tubes lined with filters stretched out, and the magic circuits intertwined like spiderwebs, resembling veins.
‘Ha…’
Fernandez let out a short laugh. Not out of amusement, but because he had no other way to express his anger. With dry eyes, he gazed at what hung between the magic circuits.
They were remains. Or rather, withered cocoons in the process of becoming remains. Elves with flowing white hair, men and women of all ages, hung from the ceiling, shimmering like stars.
Even then, Fernandez realized they were acting as magical symbols, depicting constellations in the night sky. Only then did he understand the source of Malerun’s power.
‘No wonder the quality of his troops was so low.’
-If all the power and potential of a race were consumed by one person.
‘Yes. That would be akin to a god.’
Fernandez looked at Malerun, who was laughing on the throne with dry eyes. Malerun looked down at him with a smile overflowing with confidence and arrogance.
-Fwoosh.
As his closed eyes opened, white-hot pupils flickered into view. His eyebrows twitched.
“Now, mage. Do you see? Do you understand my method?”
“The method to maintain power for over a thousand years. Yes, I understand.”
“No, no. Mage. It’s not about maintaining power, but accumulating it. My people are my strength.”
Malerun laughed boldly. If any other ruler had uttered such words, they might have been called a saint. But Fernandez saw a spider in Malerun’s image.
The pulsating heart of a god, and his prey hanging from the ceiling. His life, youth, and magical energy all sustained by his prey. A spider lurking in the center of its deep web.
-Whoosh.
Fernandez spun his greatsword and planted it upside down. He placed his hand on the pommel and slowly looked at Malerun.
“Is this your race’s hobby?”
“What?”
“Making your own children, your subordinates, act like dogs.”
“Dogs, you say. That’s an amusing remark for a mage witnessing this spectacle. Can you not recognize this great magic?”
-Fwoosh.
As Malerun flicked his finger, the elves hanging from the ceiling writhed, letting out silent screams. The heart in one corner of the ceiling throbbed loudly. A massive flow of magical energy passed through the filters, brushed past the elves, and flowed beyond the ship.
Fernandez understood how the elves on the ceiling functioned. They were a kind of living magical circuit. Instead of embedding magical circuits in his own body, Malerun used his people as circuits and his warship as a vessel to wield magic.
The heart of the god supplied him with magical energy, the bodies of his people generated it, and the entire ship manifested his magic. The other members of the Malerun clan were nothing more than parasites feeding off his body.
It wasn’t an unfamiliar technique. Though not a pleasant method, it was a sight he was accustomed to. Despite the differences in magic among races and schools, the works of masters who reached the pinnacle shared certain commonalities.
Convergent evolution? No, it was more like a forced convergence. Fernandez clenched his teeth so hard they nearly shattered as he watched the writhing elf victims.
‘Ha.’
Fernandez slowly knelt on one knee. He quickly checked the condition of his body. He had rested enough. His condition was nearly back to normal. Thanks to Diemonica’s overwhelming regenerative abilities, he had enough strength to continue the fight for a while.
“Now, human mage. The first mortal in a thousand years to destroy my protective spell. As the ruler of the elves, I am intrigued by you. Will you stay on my flagship and be my companion?”
Malerun smiled cruelly. Fernandez, with his head bowed, spoke to him.
“I am not a mage. King.”
“I sense no magical energy… but you are a mage. I felt the touch of a seasoned mage in your methods.”
“I am an Inquisition Officer.”
-Swish.
Fernandez raised his head and pulled his sword from the ground. The greatsword trembled. The Keyblade. The holy sword of Vaitas thirsted for blood. The blood of the spider who had sacrificed countless members of his own race to surpass a thousand years.
-Swish.
With his other hand, he drew the other greatsword from his back. The Sword of Mercy. The sword of King Dain settled heavily, like an executioner’s blade. It yearned for the neck of the ugly, struggling creature that had devoured the sins of its own people to sustain its life.
“So, pray. King Malerun.”
“Our race has no god to plead to. I killed them all.”
As Malerun laughed, Fernandez momentarily spun his sword and crouched. In a stance ready to leap at any moment, he spat out his words toward Malerun.
“Then your time for defense is over.”
“I need no defense, human. Do you think you can oppose me with just two measly swords?”
-Crackle!
In an instant, Fernandez disappeared. Malerun, unfazed, swung his hand. Soon, Fernandez appeared to his right, slashing at an invisible barrier and glaring at Malerun’s face.
“I will burn the heretic, the demon, and the witch.”
![[TS] Obsessed Gamer: The Ultimate Return](https://i3.wp.com/novelhitam.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/TS-Obsessed-Gamer-The-Ultimate-Return2.png?resize=85,105 "[TS] Obsessed Gamer: The Ultimate Return")
