After showing off his presence to the strong ones of the wilderness, hiding in a base would be contradictory.
Fernandez slowly moved towards Tutankhamun Gartep’s city, constantly leaving traces of himself.
-Crackle.
Without prior preparation, the number of spells one could use in a day was limited to a few, depending on their scale.
The Bronze Throne was slowly recovering its functions, but the damaged circuits were now only at the level of a novice mage.
On the other hand, even the simplest spells used by Fernandez far surpassed that level.
Therefore, even when using just one spell, he had to carefully reduce the burden on the Bronze Throne.
-Thud!!
In the vast wasteland, a bizarre structure rose in the remote land where there was no road.
A totem made of twisted skeletons, branches, and rusty scrap metal pierced through the dry ground.
[Idol of Evil Worship]. A totem with a simple curse that instills fear in those with weak minds.
It also has the effect of driving away wild beasts and insects, and the traces of magic clearly indicate that someone has passed by.
Thus, it was one of the very useful spells for Fernandez, who slept on the streets. It was a spell that lured enemies and drove away annoying beasts. After all, there were many fierce wild beasts in the Great Wilderness.
-Will you rest here today?
‘The expression “resting” is a bit funny.’
Diemonica’s body can maintain its functions without sleep for three days. After two nights, sleepiness torments and fatigue accumulates, but it was enough to maintain minimal activity.
The fatigue complained by the body is an illusion that can be healed with time. Fernandez closed his eyes, blackened by fatigue, and sat cross-legged beside the totem.
-Slurp.
He closed his eyes and drew the Dagger of the Necropolis from his bosom. Without hesitation, he sliced his arm. A tingling pain ran down his forearm.
-Slurp…
Blood was sucked into the dagger. The curse of the dagger was injected through the wound, and he felt his soul slowly shattering. As much as the soul disappeared, his mind gradually approached the Soul Realm.
‘Take care.’
-What, shyly.
His left arm escaped his control, and Faijashi’s soul embraced him. The left arm smoothly grasped the beastman, and chains wrapped around the arm.
While he was deep in meditation, Faijashi would protect his body and manipulate the Control Chains. Through the Control Chains entwined with Neferka and Partak, he could monitor their actions.
“Hoo…”
Fernandez’s right arm grasped the mantra, slowly, slowly sinking into the deep depths of his mind.
It was a moment when memories of the past were needed.
Who was the strongest warrior he could recall? Until recently, he thought it was King Dain.
Since his soul was melted into his body, in the process of inheriting King Dain’s karma, resentment, and madness, his experiences and senses were also melted into his body.
He thought that King Dain’s swordsmanship, though not yet mastered, was already inherent within him. However, after crossing numerous battlefields and actually dying and resurrecting, his swordsmanship remained only as fragments flowing within his hands.
Fernandez calmly assessed his own condition. Restoring the magic of his prime was almost impossible.
Only by risking his life and fulfilling numerous conditions could he barely revive a few spells.
In terms of swordsmanship, he was by no means a hero with talent.
His talents and skills were specialized in strategy, tactics, schemes, and plots. His swordsmanship was merely a repetition of mechanically learned techniques.
Then what should he do? Fernandez decided to seek a master. Like heroes, if he couldn’t gain enlightenment and break through walls with flashes of wit, inspiration, and talent, he would follow and master the techniques of those heroes.
With insufficient magic and lacking swordsmanship, all he had in abundance was divinity and lifespan. He decided to seek a master through meditation, investing his spirituality without reserve.
Not King Dain. His swordsmanship was in the realm of instinct and talent. It was more like implementing miracles or magic rather than swordsmanship. It wasn’t something that could be learned by seeing and imitating.
However, he had once seen a warrior who had reached the pinnacle of martial arts in his previous life. His nemesis.
The strongest warrior he had ever faced.
He decided to take Daryan Schryke in his prime as his master.
-Slurp.
A wind mixed with magic brushed past his ears. Fernandez slowly opened his eyes. A familiar space.
The Crimson Tower, his hall, and if excluding the High Council of Aseas, it belonged to the ranks of the greatest towers in the Material World.
