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The entire body of the lich disintegrated into powder and began to pour down like dust.
Ian hastily retreated, but he couldnt avoid the cascade of bone dust.
Emerging from the pile of dust and rising, Ian frowned.
This is so frustrating, seriously.
With his face barely exposed, he moved forward.
Returning the bead and mace to the pocket dimension, he drew his sword and stood still.
An area covered in bone dust.
The dark mage was sprawled out.
His once eerie arms and legs were charred dark and sticking together, and his eyes had turned white, as if they had been scorched.
Perhaps his ears hadnt been eaten, as he was twitching.
How? How did you use a different colored magic?
A voice mixed with smoke flowed from the dark mages lips.
A smirk tugged at Ians lips.
What does it matter now, when youre about to die?
The dark mages lips quivered.
Only now did a sense of horror finally emerge on his gaunt face.
If only I had a little more time I could have become a true immortal The truth of the beginning the power of the Abyss it was supposed to be mine damn it.
As Ian listened to the mumbling, whether it was a plea or a testament, as he brushed off the dust from his body, he eventually placed one foot on the back of the dark mage.
It wont offer comfort, though.
Even if you had more time, you wouldnt have become immortal or even realized that truth. Conroud.
Thats not you, you, how do you?
The sword struck Conrouds neck.
His head, sliced off like a dry branch, tumbled down.
As Ian lowered his head, he picked up the magic staff Conroud had used.
Purple and violet smoke rose from Conrouds head.
From those holes, a twisted and distorted ghostly form of the dark mage emerged.
This didnt happen before?
Just as Ian narrowed his eyes, another change occurred.
With a crack, a rift appeared in space, creating a hole.
Beyond it was a shimmer of purple light.
The moment after Conrouds soul began to be drawn in.
A scream filled with agony.
The hole, like a vacuum cleaner, sucked in Conrouds soul, and then disappeared in an instant, as sudden as it appeared.
What the hell is that?
Ian blinked in disbelief.
A hole that tore through space and devoured souls.
Void is that what it is?
Void, the primordial chaos, the abyss, were terms used by the fallen.
With a shrug, Ian placed the magic staff back into the pocket dimension and moved beneath the pile of bones.
Even though the soul had been sucked away, remnants of tainted magic power were still present.
It should be enough as evidence
Ian placed the collected journal into a prepared cloth bag and finally sat down, wincing as the aftermath of consuming vast amounts of magic caught up with him.
A queasy stomach and throbbing head.
If he had used magic a few more times, he would have fallen into a state of magic depletion.
Rubbing his temples, Ian looked up at the ceiling.
Why isnt this stopping?
The spell circuits were still active.
It meant that the undead in the grave were still moving.
In the game, when you defeated the dark mage, the spell circuits would cease, and all the undead would collapse.
Ians gaze turned towards the altar.
He recalled the wave of magic power that spread whenever Conroud used high-level magic.
Or maybe some unnecessary realism had been added.
In the first place, magic is absurd.
Shaking his head, Ian stood up.
Circling the altar, he eventually stopped behind it.
Engraved on the side of the altar, the spell circuits converged, creating a circular empty space.
Large enough for a palm to fit in.
As Ian raised his magical power, he brought his hand close.
The engraved wall sank, revealing a staircase leading downward under the altar.
Ian stepped onto the staircase.
Thanks to the engraved spell circuits on the walls and ceiling, it wasnt too dark.
Soon, a makeshift space appeared between the stairs.
A small bookshelf and a desk with paper and books were placed haphazardly.
Ian casually skimmed through the contents of the desk.
Mages were a lineage of endless research and exploration.
Ian had read the research journals of other mages several times.
Most of them felt like diaries of schizophrenic patients.
But there was some useful information mixed in.
Ians gaze eventually stopped at a thick leather-bound book.
Picking up the journal, Ian turned around without hesitation.
Amidst the brightening light of the spell circuits, a small secret chamber was revealed.
The spell circuits gathered towards a central pillar.
A column about a meter in height.
On top of it floated a purple sphere about the size of a soccer ball.
Is this the numbers? Is that right?
It was a massive size he had never seen before.
Approaching the column, Ian tilted his head curiously.
The sensation he felt was far removed from tainted magic. Instead, it felt pure, and it even had a sense of sanctity.
Well, anyway, this seems to be the power source.
Standing in front of the column, Ian scratched his cheek momentarily.
Its a bit of a waste to destroy it.
Ian ultimately chose to believe in his resistance.
The sensation he felt was far from the corruption, which played a significant role in his decision.
Concentrating magic into his palm, Ian reached out towards the sphere.
As his hand made contact, concentric circles spread across the surface of the sphere.
Right after his hand touched the sphere, something unexpected happened.
Ian widened his eyes and attempted to retract his hand, but the instant he did so
The sphere exploded, covering him like splattered paint.
The world flipped upside down.
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