The elderly shaman, Aung-ga, brought Erich—who had rescued the shamans—to their dwelling.

Although they called it a ‘dwelling,’ it was clear that it hadn’t existed before; in reality, it was more like a hastily-dug burrow serving as a temporary shelter.

The shamans, on the whole, had lost their fighting spirit.

This was because, aside from their pre-made ‘totems,’ they could barely exert any of their shamanistic power.

However, while Erich had gone to rescue the shamans at Aung-ga’s request, Ceres had been looking into the strange force she sensed emanating from Haratakan.

When she shared her thoughts with Aung-ga and Erich, deep wrinkles furrowed at the corner of Aung-ga’s eyes as he listened to Hrung-ga’s translation.

[… You mean there’s a way to suppress a shaman’s energy?]

According to Ceres, all throughout Haratakan at that moment, there was a power spreading out that suppressed shamanic energy.

Moreover, according to her further conjecture, the dead perhaps instinctively understood the method of ‘suppressing’ the shamans’ power.

‘Is it similar to when Ceres controlled Laurenti, the dead former Tower Master, in the past?’

However, whether suppressing the dead energy inhabiting Laurenti was truly the same as the dead suppressing the power of shamans was still an open question.

Erich spoke up.

“Then, is there no way to resolve this issue?”

“… Well, I’m not sure… It might be more difficult than we thought.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It seems the power of the dead spread throughout this place is even stronger than we expected.”

“Hm…”

Granted, it wasn’t incomprehensible.

If Ceres’s hypothesis was correct, not only had the dead suppressed the shamans’ power all across this vast Haratakan, but they’d also managed to nearly erase their strength altogether.

“Besides, I think I understand now. A power of this magnitude—it can’t be handled by a single being.”

“And that means?”

“If such an entity did exist, it could crush us like ants with nothing more than a snap of its fingers.”

Upon hearing Ceres’s words translated by Hrung-ga, Aung-ga parted his lips as if having realized something as well.

[Of course! If that’s the case, it’s far more likely there’s some kind of ritual at work, rather than the existence of such an absurd being!]

“That’s exactly it.”

Hrung-ga, sweating profusely, translated between the two. As their words crossed, Erich caught on to Ceres’s line of thought.

‘That must mean there’s a ritual performed by the dead somewhere in Haratakan.’

It was like the tattoos of mages, the shamans’ totems, or even golems.

In other words, it was impossible to wield such a force directly in an instant, but given the right method, it was certainly possible.

Which meant that if someone was wielding such power, defeat by overwhelming force was all but certain.

But if this was a matter of ritual, simply breaking that ritual could restore the shamans’ suppressed power.

“Then, how do we find this ritual?”

“I’ll try collaborating with the mages from the Mage Tower to devise a tool that even the Watchmen can use to investigate.”

Aung-ga, who had been quietly listening, also answered.

[We’ll help too. Since our own power is being suppressed, having shamans on hand should make the work easier.]

Ceres, too, agreed with Aung-ga. Erich felt that the situation wasn’t so bad after all.

‘So, now there’s only one problem left.’

That would be the fearsome being surely waiting for Erich at the summit of Haratakan—and the countless dead under its command.

With a plan in place, Erich had to prepare for the task only he could handle.

That meant honing his own abilities—to shatter the boss of the dead at the peak.

***

For a time, Ceres’s mages and the shamans busied themselves at the Watch encampment.

They launched preparations to uncover the nature of the power suffusing this region and, further, to locate and destroy the ritual.

Erich’s troops also moved quickly—since when a method for finding the ritual was devised, it would fall on them to break it.

But more than that, their primary mission was to rescue the kidnapped shamans.

How much time had passed this way?

Before long, the shaman encampment halfway up Haratakan, where Erich was, was teeming with rescued shamans.

Ceres couldn’t hide her regret; she remarked that if the shamans hadn’t lost so much of their power, their work would’ve gone much faster.

However, there was little point in complaining about something they couldn’t change.

During this period, Erich left them to their roles and immersed himself in his own tasks.

― Wuuuung.

A sphere, like a miniature sun, pulsated and radiated heat in Erich’s hand.

In an instant, the snow and ice around him melted away, revealing bare earth—making the term ‘permafrost’ seem meaningless.

However, unlike before, he couldn’t maintain a perfect sphere.

Erich, following Mikhail’s advice, was struggling to shape it into its most optimal form.

But what exactly constituted an optimal form?

‘… The form of one’s power, huh.’

Mikhail’s power had manifested as a slashing attack.

Though it had once taken another form, befitting the title of the strongest swordsman, it now appeared as something that cut down all before it.

And Hrung-ga’s power, inadvertently acquired, was a biting wind attached to his weapon that tore apart everything it touched.

What was the difference between the two?

While he didn’t know everything, Erich at least understood that Mikhail’s suited a slash.

So Erich had no choice but to ask himself: What was the form that suited him best?

‘That’s a difficult question.’

He had never once considered what truly suited him.

Of course, after Mikhail died, the title of strongest swordsman naturally fell to Erich, but did that make ‘swordsman’ his defining identity?

Or was his essential self that of a commander leading others?

These questions, endlessly proliferating, cluttered Erich’s mind.

The fundamental question of ‘What kind of person am I?’ was incredibly difficult.

Up until now, his only driving force had been the intense desire to destroy the dead.

To discover the perfect form of his own power, he’d first have to answer such questions.

But Erich was nowhere near ready to do so.

He quietly let out a wry smile.

‘How strange. I never expected to be troubled by this.’

― Paah! 

In an instant, the bright, unstable sphere in Erich’s hand vanished.

It was likely because his mind was in turmoil.

The imagery required to wield one’s abilities demanded a clear mind; otherwise, it would always falter.

Of this, Erich—who had lived as a swordmaster on the battlefield for so long—was perhaps more aware than anyone.

And so, while he was lost in thought, a commotion arose outside.

-#@%$@

-!#$!!! 

Even in a crowd, such violent noises were unusual.

Erich set aside his ruminations on power and made his way over, walking slowly.

*

Arriving at the source of the commotion, Erich stopped in his tracks.

There, a mass of barbarians and Watchmen surrounded several collapsed shamans.

Barnes, covered in blood, was bending over, desperately trying to staunch someone’s wounds.

With Frederick, he skillfully stemmed the bleeding.

“… Frederick, what’s happened here?”

“Damn it, those dead bastards were up to something nightmarish.”

“Something nightmarish?”

Erich glanced over the fallen shamans and Watchmen whose faces had gone black in death.

As Frederick tightened a bandage, he continued.

“We got the coordinates of a kidnapping site and went in to rescue them, but the shamans there were already being slaughtered. Savages, the whole lot of them.”

Only then did Erich realize the true nature of the collapsed shamans.

On closer inspection, their wounds weren’t from battle, but rather, their skin had been expertly flayed while they were helpless to resist.

Ceres quickly spoke up.

“… Before you rescued them, what was the state of the shamans? What were the dead doing?”

“Ugh, do you really need to know that now?”

“It’s critical!”

Pressed by Ceres’s urgency, Frederick wiped the blood from his lips and fell into thought, seeming reluctant to recall the grisly scene.

“The ones alive hadn’t been touched yet, but as for the dead ones—they were slit across the shoulders, side to side, and it seemed like something was being pulled from their guts.”

“… I see.”

From Ceres’s reaction, Erich sensed she had realized something. He spoke up right away.

“Do you have any guesses?”

“I hadn’t thought of it before, but powerful rituals always require ingredients. Shamans use beasts, and mages spend fortunes collecting magical reagents.”

“… Then what about the dead?”

“They were using lives. The most intense fuel imaginable.”

Erich let out a low sigh. In hindsight, it wasn’t surprising.

Creatures that could turn the dead into their minions wouldn’t hesitate to offer up living sacrifices.

The one saving grace was that Ceres seemed to have found a clue. Erich gently asked, “… Does this mean we can use that information to find the ritual?”

“I believe so.”

Erich nodded slowly.

He glanced between the grieving shamans, the ones who had nearly become sacrifices, and another shaman lying on the edge of death.

It seemed the time to end this madness had come. So Erich thought. But above all, he was pressed for time.

Before all the shamans in these mountains could be made sacrifices, before morale in the main force faltered and their strength waned under persistent attacks, Erich had to ascend Haratakan, crush the enemy, and rejoin the main force.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep