After stepping out of the teleporter, we find ourselves still 15 km away from the end of the bridge. It takes us only a few more minutes to finally exit the structure.
As we walk, the weight of Drax’s skeleton becomes a concern.
“Although the energy of the skeleton has decreased thanks to you, it’s still too much. It will be hard to get close to my forge with it,” Warzheil says, glancing at the remains.
“How about we cremate it? Although on Earth, that is supposed to be the child’s right,” I suggest.
“Yes, Drax has a daughter. The goddess that attacked you is her mother,” he replies.
“Ethis? This sounds so messed up,” I say, incredulous.
“Ethis fell in love with Drax, so she had a child with him. They named her Gloria. If you ever meet Gloria, do not tell her any of this. She thinks her mother was human and died when she was born.”
“That’s some seriously messed-up family dynamics,” I mutter.
We decide to cremate Drax’s body in a secluded place, I could see many bright energies leaving the skeleton of this dead god who considered me his god, the simple place around him becomes full of flora as the skeleton turns into ashes.
Carefully, we gather the ashes and place them in a cloth, which Warzheil stows in his small space pocket.
Hours pass as we cautiously make our way through the forest, fending off a pack of wolves and even taking down a T-Rex that wields Earth magic. The battles are grueling, but they provide sustenance as we devour our spoils. Finally, Warzheil stops us, pointing ahead.
“There it is,” he says.
Nestled into the side of a rocky hill is his forge. The building is surrounded by goblins and hobgoblins, their guttural voices carrying faintly through the air. Fires burn in large pits outside, with goblins working tirelessly on crude weapons and armor.
“They’ve taken over,” Warzheil mutters, his fists clenching. “We’re going to have to be careful. There are about 400 of them here, including the champion goblin, the king, and their hobgoblin guards.”
“Won’t they sense us coming?” I ask, scanning the area nervously.
“You think everyone keeps their mana detection on all the time? I’ve minimized my mana spill to nearly nothing. Unless one of the stronger goblins is nearby, we’ll go unnoticed.”
He points to a large pipe beneath the forge, its bars glinting faintly in the firelight. “That’s our way in. It’s a water outlet I built as an escape route, but it only opens from the inside. Let’s hope your spear can cut through the bars.”
I kneel by the pipe and activate the plasma blade of my spear. The bars are tougher than I expect, made from a mixture of copper and adamantite. It takes a few minutes to cut through them.
“Hard, isn’t it?” Warzheil says with a smirk. “I debated using adamantite for a water outlet, but it’s proven useful.”
“Just keep quiet, old man. You’ll get us caught,” I hiss as we slip into the dark, narrow tunnel.
“Don’t boss me around like my mom. Show some respect for your elders,” he retorts in a low whisper.
I roll my eyes. “Did you finally go senile?”
“You little—”
“Shhh…” I cut him off as we hear faint footsteps echoing through the tunnel.
Two goblins appear, their torches casting flickering shadows on the walls. Moving swiftly, I dart ahead, my spear slicing through the air. The goblins barely have time to react before they collapse, lifeless.
“This guy’s becoming more of a monster every day,” Warzheil mutters under his breath, impressed but unnerved.
We reach a staircase leading up into the forge. Warzheil motions for me to follow, and we emerge into a dimly lit hallway. The forge is alive with activity—goblins hammering away at crude weapons, their guttural voices echoing through the corridors.
“You go to the third-to-last room from here,” Warzheil instructs. “I’ll gather the materials we need. Meet me back in five minutes. The longer we stay, the riskier it gets.”
We separate, and I make my way to the storeroom. I slowly open the door, revealing a dark, dusty interior. I close the door behind me and use the tip of my spear as a makeshift torch. Time is of the essence.
I spot small pockets similar to Warzheil’s and test one. It can store anything! I quickly grab three of those pockets and search for Drax’s book. Finally, I spot a plain-looking tome with a symbol resembling my eye etched on the cover. As I pick it up, the book emits a strange energy. Before I can react, it transforms into a black orb that shoots into my left eye. The shock nearly makes me drop the spear.
“What the hell was that?” I mutter, stumbling back.
The book I’ve had with me since waking up in this world—the one with restricted, cryptic text—glows faintly. Some of its previously inaccessible pages now shimmer with visible text, written in Hindi. It feels as though the book has unlocked another layer of itself.
As I flip through the pages, I notice a strange ‘T’ symbol, identical to the one in my eye, etch itself onto the book’s cover. This must be connected to my strange abilities. The book’s contents seem tied to some kind of progression, as if it requires me to complete specific tasks or “labors” before revealing more of its secrets.
Curious, I glance at my plasma spear. The same ‘T’ symbol burns onto its surface, and the weapon begins to hum with newfound energy.
“What is this power?” I whisper, feeling a mixture of awe and unease as the reality of my strange abilities sinks in.
Wow, I’ve gained a cool ability! I grab a few enchanted weapons and two storage pouches, filling them quickly. Just as I finish, the sound of heavy footsteps outside sends me ducking behind a crate. A group of goblins trudges past, their guttural voices echoing through the storeroom like low growls.
“Why… why us guard?” one of them grunts, its words slow and clipped. “King feast. We... stuck here. Always us!”
“Quiet,” another growls, its deeper voice laced with irritation. “Better here... than surface. Goruk’s group… dead! Blade—bright… cut through!”
“Hah! Stupid humans,” the third one sneers, its voice rough and raspy. “Blade… no help. Smash skull, they die… all same.”
The deep-voiced one lets out a low rumble. “Champion say... mana-less freak… strong. Near river. Kill goblins. No magic… still kill. Weaklings!”
The first one snorts, baring jagged teeth. “Mana-less? Bah. Lie! Goblins dumb. Always fall easy!”
“Gut them!” the raspy one barks, slamming its fist into its open palm. “No talk. No fight. Just gut!”
“Enough!” the deep-voiced one snaps, its tone sharp. “Dwarf first. If no answers... champion feed us to king. Now move!”
I try my best to stay low, letting them pass before silently following them down the dimly lit hallway. Every shadow, every faint noise puts me on edge, but my movements are deliberate—silent, efficient.
As I trail the hobgoblins, a smaller goblin rounds a corner ahead, its crooked form carrying a crude axe. It pauses mid-step, its nose twitching furiously as it sniffs the air, almost like it’s caught my scent. Blood would be a dead giveaway to the hobgoblins, and I can’t risk alerting them.
Before it can react, I dart forward, swift and silent. My hand clamps over its mouth to muffle any noise I wait for the hobs to make some distance and notice them taking a turn in the corridor, I use my strength to restrict the goblin’s movement, as they turn I twist the goblin’s neck sharply. The sickening crack echoes briefly in the silence, and the its body goes limp in my grasp. I carefully lower it to the ground, ensuring no sound escapes to betray my position.
The faint twitch of its nose stops as its life fades, leaving no trace of blood that might draw attention. I glance down the corridor, ears sharp for any sign of movement, before slipping back into the shadows to continue my pursuit.
I slip into a darker alcove as another goblin stumbles out of a side room, scratching its head and muttering to itself. Its mismatched armor clinks with every step. Without hesitation, I grab a nearby metal shard, hurling it with precision. The shard strikes its temple, the goblin collapsing in a heap. I move quickly to drag its body into the shadows, ensuring no trace of my presence is left behind.
Two more goblins come patrolling as I reach the turn in the corridor, their guttural chatter filling the air. I scale the wall, finding handholds in the rough stone, and perch above them. As they pass below me, I drop down, driving my plasma spear through the back of one while snapping the neck of the other with my free hand. The entire encounter lasts seconds. Silent. Deadly.
Every action is calculated, born from years of training and practice. My hitman instincts kick in, the familiar rhythm of combat flowing effortlessly. Hit hard. Hit fast. Leave nothing behind.
There are many rooms in the corridor, I use my ears as if focusing them as I try to assess the sounds from each door I pass.
By the time I reach the rooms where the hobgoblins have Warzheil, no trace of the goblins I’ve eliminated remains. Their bodies are hidden, their deaths quick and unceremonious. The faint hum of my spear fades as I steady my breathing, preparing for the next move.
The hobgoblins’ guttural voices reach my ears, their threats loud and raw. I peer into the room, assessing the scene and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Warzheil glares at the hobgoblins, his voice steady despite the danger. “You lot talk too much. Do your worst, and let’s see who breaks first.”
As he says this, his eyes flicker to the shadowed corner of the doorway, just for an instant. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s enough to let me know he’s seen me.
A grin spreads across his face, slow and deliberate, his entire demeanor shifting. The tension in his shoulders eases, and he leans back in the chair as if he’s entirely unbothered by the three hulking figures surrounding him.
The largest hob narrows its eyes, confused by the sudden change in the dwarf’s attitude. “Why you smirk, dwarf? You think pain funny?”
Warzheil chuckles, his confidence growing. “Maybe I know something you don’t. Maybe your little game here is about to end.”
The first hob snarls, its claws flexing. “Lies! No one coming for you. You alone!”
The second hob glances at the doorway, suspicion creeping into its tone. “Why you so calm? You think you escape?”
Warzheil’s grin deepens, and he leans forward slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Escape? Who said anything about me escaping? I’m right where I need to be. It’s you three who should be looking over your shoulders.”
The hobs exchange uneasy glances, their earlier bravado faltering.
The third hob growls, its voice tinged with nervousness. “What you mean? No one here. You bluff, dwarf.”
Warzheil is awestruck by how well Ronin has hidden himself in plain sight, Ronin isn’t just hidden by the shadows, he seems to merge with them, his presence completely erased despite being in plain view. The lack of mana makes him invisible to mana-based detection, but even without that advantage, his mastery of stealth and positioning is unparalleled. Warzheil realizes that Ronin has honed this skill over years of training and bloody experience. He can’t help but be impressed.
The hobs, oblivious of their impending deaths, continue their threats.
Warzheil smirks. “Oh, he’s here. You’re just too dumb to see him.”
As the hobgoblins scan the room in panic, Ronin strikes. He moves like a shadow given form, his plasma spear coming to life with a crackling hum. The first hob barely has time to gasp before the glowing blade pierces its chest, cutting cleanly through skin and bone. The creature crumples to the floor in an instant, lifeless.
The second hob turns with a guttural roar, its crude axe raised to strike. But Ronin is faster. His spear arcs upward in a controlled, deadly sweep, severing the axe and slashing deep into the hob’s throat. Blood sprays across the dimly lit room as the hob collapses, clutching at its neck.
The third hob, the largest of the group, stumbles backward, its wide, bloodshot eyes darting between Ronin and Warzheil. “How…? No mana! What are you?” it snarls, desperation tainting its voice.
Its gaze locks onto Ronin’s figure, the glowing plasma spear casting eerie shadows across the room. Then, as if a realization dawns, its expression twists into something between fear and rage. “No… You… You’re him!” the hob growls, its voice trembling. “The mana-less freak! The one the champion spoke of!”
Ronin remains silent, his spear humming faintly as he takes a measured step forward. The hob’s grip on its weapon falters, and it stumbles again, nearly tripping over the body of its fallen companion.
“They said you… impossible to sense,” the hob continues, its words spilling out in a frantic rush. “Kill squads wiped out. Champion says you ghost… a shadow with no mana, no scent, no fear!”
Warzheil, now freed, glances at Ronin with a raised eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Sounds like you’re getting quite the reputation, lad.”
The hob snarls, backing toward the wall as its trembling hands raise its weapon in a feeble attempt at defense. “Stay back! Champion’ll crush you! You not a god, just flesh and bone! Just a human!”
Ronin’s expression remains unreadable as he moves in. “And you talk too much,” he says flatly, closing the distance with terrifying speed.
Before the hob can react, Ronin’s spear thrusts forward, the plasma blade piercing its chest in one clean motion. The creature’s eyes widen in shock, its weapon slipping from its grasp as it collapses to the ground, lifeless.
Warzheil lets out a low whistle, brushing off his clothes as he steps beside Ronin. “Well, looks like your name’s traveling faster than we are. Mana-less freak, huh? Has a nice ring to it.”
Ronin glances at the dwarf, his expression calm but his voice carrying a hint of dry humor. “Yeah, because that’s exactly the reputation I wanted.”
Warzheil smirks, picking up his hammer from the corner of the room. “Reputation or not, I’ll take it if it means goblins are scared out of their wits. Now, let’s get out of here before their champion decides to show up.”
Ronin nods, his gaze lingering for a moment on the lifeless hobgoblin. The fear in its eyes had been real—proof that even without mana, his presence had begun to unsettle those who relied on it. Whatever lay ahead, one thing was clear: the shadows were his to command.
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“Yeah, talk less, run more. Get on my back,” I reply.
Warzheil gives me an annoyed look but hops on my back anyway.
“Did you get the book?” Warzheil asks as he hops on.
“Its well…. Technically yeah I did get it.” I say with an awkward tone which raises questions in Warzheil but the doesn’t speak anymore about the book.
We make our way out of the room, but at the end of the hallway, a humanoid figure shrouded in black and red aura approaches us.
“R-run! Run, you idiot, as fast as you can! That’s the Devil,” Warzheil warns.
I start running toward the underground passage, but the demon lord speeds up as well. It seems we’ll intersect at the passage based on our speeds.
As we close in, the demon lord summons a demonic claw made of dark energy. I dodge it and use the opportunity to strike at his legs while sliding. The old man joins in, using his lightning to strike the demon lord’s backside.
“Take that, you demonic runt! Heehaw!” Warzheil exclaims.
“Hey, what am I, a horse to you?!” I retort.
But something’s off. I can see the demon lord’s skeleton, but when I close my right eye, it turns out to be the lich.
“I don’t understand. From what I know, he was supposed to be in the demon castle right now,” Warzheil says, confused.
“Hey, calm down. It’s not the demon lord; it’s the lich disguised as the demon lord,” I explain.
“What? Your eye can see through illusions too?” Warzheil asks, surprised.
“I guess it can. And I just discovered another ability of my eye in the storage room, but let’s get out of here first. The lich can’t catch up with my speed without his dragon.”
“You are out of this world, lad.” He comments
“You are spot on” I say as adrenaline rushes and I sped up.
As we make our escape, I notice a giant goblin, almost three times my size, approaching us. I react instinctively, using all my strength to block the goblin’s attack. The impact sends us flying into a horde of goblins. I hit Warzheil’s left foot.
The attack fractures my hand, but I heal quickly. I pick up Warzheil and run over the goblin’s head, which is coming towards us.
I throw some of my last smoke spheres and make a run for the forest.
“You think I twisted my left foot? It’s killing me,” Warzheil says, wincing in pain.
“My bad for falling on your leg,” I reply.
“Don’t sweat it; a direct hit would have knocked me out,” Warzheil says, chuckling.
“Only knocked?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, maybe a few minor fractures?” Warzheil replies, grinning.
As we run, I hear a whistling sound above us, but there’s nothing there.
As Warzheil and I emerge from the forest, the roar of the Kobe River fills the air, its immense waves crashing against jagged rocks along the coast. The horizon is cloaked in the dim light of the setting sun, painting the water in hues of crimson and gold. The salty tang of the river-ocean clings to the breeze, a deceptive tranquility hanging in the air.
That’s when I see him.
Standing motionless on the rocky shore, a towering figure gazes out at the river. His armor is dark as obsidian, lined with red runes that pulse faintly with energy, as though alive. A massive blade rests lazily against his shoulder, its jagged edge glinting like the teeth of some predatory beast. The figure turns slowly, his eyes glowing faintly beneath the shadow of his horned helm.
I can’t see his skeleton this time, which means this isn’t the lich! It’s the real deal,The Demon Lord!. Menacing even though I cant sense mana or things but his darkness is the refined shade, pure malice.
“So, you have returned, old Smith. I saw some ruckus in the goblin camp, but I had been busy, so I decided to wait for you here while enjoying this beautiful scene,” the demon lord says, his voice dripping with Evil.
“We won’t be fooled this time, you pile of bones! Have a taste of my hammer!” Warzheil exclaims, charging forward.
“Wait, old man!” I shout, but it’s too late.
Warzheil throws his hammer, shrouded in lightning, at the demon lord. The demon lord stops the hammer with his hand and gets electrocuted but doesn’t flinch.
“That was painful and rude, old Smith. I respect a talented weaponsmith such as yourself, but I won’t tolerate this a second time,” the demon lord says, his voice cold.
Warzheil calls his hammer back, but the demon lord shrouds it in a dark aura and lets it fall to the ground.
“He neutralized it?! That’s not the lich, he is the real demon lord!” Warzheil exclaims, shocked.
“You just attacked him outright without listening to me,” I scold.
“Then say so before!” Warzheil retorts.
“I think this is bad. I won’t let Ronin die. I will stop this demon while he escapes,” Warzheil thinks, a plan forming in his mind.
“Hey, there’s a ship just 2 km away. Take it and run. He wants me alive, so I will live. You need to get out of here,” Warzheil says, trying to reassure Me.
The Demon Lord's glowing gaze falls on me, scrutinizing me with unnerving precision. “And you,” he says, his tone dropping an octave. “The mana-less anomaly. They whisper of you, even in my court. A human without mana who survives where others perish. Tell me—how do you manage it?”
I take a measured step forward, keeping my voice steady. “Simple. I don’t rely on magic, and I don’t care for it. I deal with problems the old-fashioned way.”
Hellbourne chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating through the air. “Bold words. And yet here you are, running from me like prey. Do you think I’ll simply let you leave? And what’s this about the lich?” the demon lord asks, his curiosity piqued
“I don’t care what you do,” I say evenly. “We’re not your enemies. Let us pass, and you can focus on the heroes or whatever conquest you’re planning.”
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“Warzheil, I will follow-up soon, you go prepare the ship.” I whisper to Warzheil
“You sure you can make it?” he asks with doubt
“I escaped a goddess, what’s a mere demon?” I say balantly which seems to tick the demon lord as his kingly domeanor
As Warzheil turns to leave, the demon lord stops him with a wall of dark energy.
“Hey, you think I would just let him leave?” the demon lord says.
I bring my palm near the wall, and the magic disperses, leaving the demon lord baffled.
“You… you aren’t mana-less?” he asks, his expression turning serious.
“Rest assured, I don’t pretend to be what I am not until you are polite in asking, it seems we need to clear some misunderstandings. First, I am taking the old man with me. Second, it would be in your favor if you focus on the heroes and not me. I don’t care about you trying to conquer the world as long as it doesn’t involve me. So, I leave you alone, and you leave me alone. What say you?” I propose, trying to reason with the demon lord.
The demon lord takes out a blade that glows in the night.
“Another swordsman, huh? Listen here. I hate swords. I have bad blood with them for a long time,” I say as bad memories return.
The demon lord charges at me at a decent speed, or is it that I’ve become faster, so I see him faster as well?
I easily dodge the demon lord’s attack, but a smile curls on his serious face, reminding me of when I fought Ava. I instinctively dodge again, and as expected, there’s a doppelganger about to strike me.
“So, you are not half bad after all? For a human, you seem skilled enough. My name is Jorthius Hellbourne. Let your name be known, mana-less human warrior,” the demon lord says, his voice dripping with curiosity.
“Call me Ronin,” I reply, a hint of confidence in my voice.
“Ronin, is it? Now then, Ronin, it was good meeting a warrior like you. But you will meet your end now. Because that’s the fate of all humans,” the demon lord says, his voice cold.
He summons one more doppelganger, and with the two of them, they chant some magical vocals. Normally, I would stop him, but this is an excellent opportunity to see if his magic can affect me.
“Dark space god: Pull of the Blackball!” he yells.
Two blackhole-like objects appear behind and before me, pulling me back and forth. It’s ripping me apart! I concentrate my eye on the magic circle of the demon lord, and hopefully, it works. The magic disappears, and I can deactivate magic by looking at it? Thank goodness I was able to stop it.
“What? How? Did he use a counter-magic? No, I didn’t sense a shred of mana from him. Even a mana-less would have at least enough mana to be sensed by my mana field, but this guy... He Dangerous!,” the demon lord thinks, his expression puzzled.
He starts staring at my left arm, and a realization dawns on him.
“Hahaha, amusing. One of my best magic didn’t have much effect on you. But on that hand, you are no longer a human, are you?” he asks, his voice dripping with curiosity.
“So, you noticed. I am half demon now,” I reply, a hint of a smile on my face.
“That makes things easier. By the will of the Dark god, I command you to become my slave, demon!” he shouts, raising his palm towards me.
Nothing happens.
“Ummm, excuse me, any magic won’t work on me. I am immune to magic,” I say, a hint of amusement in my voice.
This statement leaves the demon lord in shock, but he doesn’t let it show in his expression.
“Earlier, my magic did work on him for a short time. Maybe he is affected by Elemental and cosmic magic?” he thinks, a plan forming in his mind.
“Earth demon: Stone Cannon!” he shouts.
Multiple small spikes shoot at high speed towards me, expecting them to vanish, I stand still. But suddenly, I feel pain in my chest. One of the bullets stuck me, but thanks to my new strength, they didn’t get too deep into my tough muscles. I try to keep standing, and my wounds heal quickly as I take the stone out.
It seems like he withdrew his mana from the stone bullets after shooting them at high speed, like a bullet from a rifle.
The demon lord’s eyes narrow, his expression cold.
“You are a fascinating specimen, Ronin. But you will still meet your end,” he says, his voice dripping with malice.
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