Chapter 120: Charge Through

Scanoli ran with almost every ounce of his remaining strength, dashing through the Gate of the Demon World and into the strange dimension. The space was composed entirely of brilliant, radiant light; anyone else would have marveled at the glorious colors, but Scanoli had no such luxury. His gaze did not waver; from start to finish, his eyes were locked onto a single point of white light at the far end of the dimension.

The exit!

As the white light grew larger and larger in his vision, bringing him closer and closer to safety, Scanoli felt no relief from the narrow escape. Instead, a profound sense of anxiety welled up within him.

"Nasa, are you alright?"

Although Scanoli could not see Nasa’s current state, he could still sense the faint, flickering life force emanating from him. Having used the Berserker state three times in succession—a near-suicidal tactic—Nasa had exhausted every drop of power in his body. In his current condition, even recovery would likely take weeks, if not months.

They needed so much time to recover, but did they even have that kind of time?

A long silence passed. When no sound came from behind him, Scanoli understood that Nasa was choosing not to answer. With a helpless sigh in his heart, he shook his head slightly.

Perhaps the undead creatures were barred from passing through the Gate of the Demon World, or perhaps they were truly terrified by the horrific aura that had erupted moments ago. Regardless, not a single undead creature pursued them. Scanoli’s massive body covered dozens of meters with every stride, his speed fierce and relentless. In mere moments, he tore through the strange dimension. A sudden, blinding flash of white light overwhelmed his vision, and at last, they returned to their own plane: the Magic Continent.

The valley remained icy and desolate. Thick fog obscured almost everything in sight. Even those with the sharpest vision would have to tread with extreme caution here, feeling their way forward step by step. Yet Scanoli did none of that. As soon as his massive form emerged, he barreled through the valley with reckless abandon. Any rock or boulder that stood in his way was instantly shattered into powder. This unstoppable, frantic momentum actually gave Vael a start.

"The High Priest's transformation is the same as my Berserker state; it has a time limit. In a little while, he will revert. Once he returns to his normal form, he won't be able to transform again for a very long time. There are still many undead creatures here..."

Lying on Scanoli’s back, Nasa seemed to have guessed Vael’s thoughts and spoke up. Of course, this was the first time Nasa had uttered a word since entering the Berserker state.

In truth, Nasa did not know why he felt the need to explain this to Vael. He spoke with a slightly slurred, vague tone, but then, seeming to realize something, he shut his mouth. His eyes swept over Vael, seemingly indifferent, before he quickly closed them again.

Vael naturally sensed the oddity of Nasa’s behavior. With his keen perception, it was not hard to notice that Nasa had not actually fallen asleep, but Vael did not expose him, nor did he intend to wake him. Instead, he sat down quietly, tore off a piece of his already tattered robe, and used his meager water-element magic to clean the grime from the cloth. He then carefully tore it into strips and wound them, circle by circle, around his divine staff.

Vael’s movements were light and meticulous. Once the staff was fully wrapped, its excessively brilliant, garish glow was finally masked. Vael stroked the staff gently, pouring his perception into it, bit by bit. Instantly, Vael’s sea of consciousness felt a subtle fluctuation radiating from the staff. It immediately began absorbing the magical elements from the surrounding environment. It wasn't just Vael; the staff itself began to draw in elements. While its absorption speed couldn't match Vael’s, the purity and quality of the elements it drew in were several times higher than what Vael could ingest on his own! Once the elements were absorbed, the staff would automatically categorize them by attribute and pull them into the seven magic crystals, storing them away. As long as Vael spent a little time, he could convert those elements into mana for his own use.

The surrounding magical elements began to gather, continuously absorbed and refined by Vael’s sea of consciousness, transforming into the mana he needed. His body absorbed the elements, sent them to the sea of consciousness for refining, and the resulting mana was distributed according to its attribute via his perception. It was a tedious and monotonous process, yet Vael showed no signs of impatience. While diligently controlling his perception to manage this cycle, he also used his focus to carefully probe his own altered sea of consciousness.

His sea of consciousness, now transformed into a crescent shape, had established a connection with the staff—a situation that had never occurred before. Even Vael could not explain why this had happened. The only thing he knew for certain was that the synergy between him and the staff had reached a brand-new height, a level of harmony he had never achieved in the past.

Within the crescent, the seven attributes of mana were arranged in exactly the same order as the seven crystals on the staff. Mana of the same attribute coexisted with the crystals, almost reaching a state of common origin! This meant that the mana in Vael’s sea of consciousness could be refined through the staff, significantly boosting both its quality and purity.

To be able to improve the quality and refinement of one's own mana was the greatest wish of countless mages. Take a Fireball spell, for instance: it required only a tiny amount of mana, but its destructive power in battle was often limited. If one’s mana quality were improved, the spell would still consume the same small amount of mana, but the power output would be several times greater than before. In a battle between mages of the same level, high-quality mana meant suppression. Imagine two people fighting with the same spell, but one opponent’s power is vastly superior—that was a massive advantage.

By Vael’s current estimation, the quality of his mana had improved three to fourfold. This meant that if the opportunity arose, he could potentially defeat an opponent three or four ranks higher than himself in a head-on confrontation!

Cross-rank combat!

As Vael contemplated this, a series of chaotic roars and the sounds of fighting drifted from up ahead. Out of caution, Vael immediately withdrew from his meditative state and hurried to look over Scanoli’s forehead.

"What’s happening?" Vael asked Scanoli while extending his perception.

"I suspect it’s Daken and the others!" Scanoli wheezed, his voice strained and difficult to understand. It sounded garbled, and Vael had to replay the words in his mind two or three times before he could clearly make them out. After transforming into a giant beast, Scanoli’s vocal cords had undergone a series of changes; being able to speak at all was an immense effort for him.

"I can smell them... They’re wounded. It seems they’ve run into trouble—there are a lot of undead creatures!"

"How much longer can you hold on?" Vael instinctively glanced at Nasa, only to find that he still hadn't opened his eyes; he looked as still as if he were truly asleep. Even so, Vael noticed Nasa’s arm twitch slightly, his fist clenched so tightly that his nails had dug deep into his flesh.

His companions were in danger, yet he had no strength left to aid them. That must have been what Nasa was feeling. Vael shifted his gaze away, forcing himself not to look at the fresh blood on Nasa’s hand.

"Thirty seconds!" Scanoli gasped, answering Vael.

"Then charge straight through!"

Vael took a deep breath, his sea of consciousness surging into action. A pure surge of earth-element mana was instantly channeled into the staff, which began to emit a faint, brownish-yellow glow.

"Heh, kid, that was my plan all along!" Scanoli let out a strange laugh. His laughter was already grating, like two pieces of metal grinding together, and with his altered vocal cords, it was even more harsh and unpleasant. Even though Vael covered his ears, his body still shuddered involuntarily.

***

Four full days. Daken had been out of contact with Scanoli and the others for four days! If they were anywhere else, Daken wouldn't be this anxious, for he understood the strength of Scanoli and Nasa. But this was not just anywhere—this was the Fog Zone! The gathering place of the undead, the nest of those disgusting, crawling vermin! No matter how strong Nasa and Scanoli were, facing a mountain of undead, they would surely encounter danger.

Daken’s not-so-sharp mind raced with jumbled thoughts, but his body never faltered for a second. He had inherited all the traits of the Beastmen; his physical reactions were always faster than his cognitive processes.

*Snap!*

Daken dodged an attack from a Rot-Fiend and used all his might to drive his short spear into the creature's eye. Not stopping there, he let out a roar and twisted his wrist, churning the spear violently inside the eye socket. Green blood sprayed out, covering Daken from head to toe, but he paid it no mind. He glanced back to see Felo swinging a massive wooden post he had scavenged from somewhere, smashing it repeatedly into the undead surrounding him. Flesh and blood splattered everywhere, and the wails of the dead were incessant. Daken found those screams beautiful. He hunched over, ignoring the searing pain of the wounds on his back, and leaped into the air. Using the weight of his descent, he drove his short spear deep into the carapace of a Galo-Fiend.

With a sharp *crack*, Daken’s spear shattered into pieces. As a reward, he had managed to pierce a thumb-sized hole in the Galo-Fiend’s hardened shell, and streams of green blood spurted out like a fountain.

Daken’s strength was inferior to Felo’s, but it was not insignificant. Yet, his full-force blow had only created a small hole, showing just how hard the Galo-Fiend’s shell truly was.

"Damn it!" Daken cursed. Faced with such armor, he didn't retreat. Instead, he clenched his fists and began raining heavy blows onto the small puncture wound.

"Ugh!" The Galo-Fiend, feeling the intense pain, let out a low roar and swiped at Daken. But its speed could not match Daken’s agility, and it missed him several times. After taking a few heavy punches, the tough carapace actually began to fracture. Seeing this, Daken let out an excited, savage laugh. His blood-stained face looked truly demonic. He threw one final, crushing punch, smashing a massive hole into the shell, then plunged his hand deep inside, grabbing whatever he could find and ripping it out.

Green blood, disgusting flesh attached to the shell, and a mess of entrails were all torn out in one go. The Galo-Fiend, unable to bear the agony, roared madly and lunged, its mountain-like frame threatening to crush Daken.

Daken, blinded by the bloodlust of battle, hadn't noticed the danger. Just as he realized it, Felo appeared from the side, let out a roar, and used his own brute strength to ram the giant Galo-Fiend from the opposite direction, flipping it onto its back!

"Daken, it’s just the two of us left now. Don't you dare die on me!" Felo panted, teasing Daken in the Beastman tongue. In those four days, the dozen Beastmen who had entered the Fog Zone with them had all fallen to the claws of the undead. Only Felo and Daken remained.

"Hmph, as if! I haven't even waited for Nasa to return yet. How could I die here?" Daken replied with a grin, showing no fear of death. He casually snapped off one of the Galo-Fiend’s limbs and used it as a weapon.

"You’re the one who shouldn't die!" Daken shouted, charging into the dense swarm of undead with his new weapon.

"Haha, impossible!" Felo laughed. Although he was severely wounded and his face was etched with exhaustion, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth—not caring if it was his or the creature's—and licked it clean. He swung his massive wooden post, ready to charge back in, when he felt a faint tremor in the ground. At first, he thought it was lightheadedness from blood loss, but a moment later, he realized the ground was truly shaking!

Something massive was charging toward them!

Felo’s face turned grim. Based on the tremors, the creature’s size exceeded that of a Galo-Fiend, perhaps even larger than a Gurodo-Fiend! Faced with such a thing, even if he and Daken fought to their last breath, it would be the end.

It wasn't just Felo; the undead creatures sensed the tremor too. Before they could react, a roar echoed from the distance. A beast, impossibly large, leaped from the air, its four feet trampling and crushing countless Rot-Fiends and Galo-Fiends alike.

"What is this!" Daken turned his head, his jaw hanging open wide enough to fit a thigh. Before he could recover, the giant beast extended a thick arm, grabbed him and Felo, and tossed them onto its back.

"Vael, hurry!" Scanoli roared.

"Understood! Just keep charging!" Vael said in a low voice. He swung his divine staff, and a thick wave of earth magic rippled out. Aside from the faint glow of the staff, there was no loud sound.

Although Scanoli didn't know what Vael had done, he charged forward blindly. Whether it was undead, trees, or boulders, everything was torn to shreds by Scanoli’s charge. The undead behind them instinctively gave chase, but the moment they took a step, they were shocked to find that the once-solid ground had turned into a swamp. No matter how they struggled, they were slowly but surely swallowed by the mire.

"Devour, sink!" Vael murmured. He raised his staff, and the stagnant swamp suddenly erupted. Waves of mud surged up like fountains, swallowing the surrounding undead one by one. Because of the unique environment of the Fog Zone—the abundance of soil and damp moisture—the swamp magic was several times more powerful than usual. Even so, Vael had exhausted every drop of his mana. As the last bit drained away, his legs gave out and he collapsed. Fortunately, Daken was quick to catch him.

"I can't... keep it up!" At that moment, Scanoli reached his limit. His massive body erupted in a brilliant light, and as it faded, the giant form vanished, replaced by his original, scrawny, and pathetic-looking self.

Coughing up a mouthful of blood, Scanoli turned his head back with heavy weariness. The undead behind them were all trapped in the swamp; even if they could escape, it wouldn't be anytime soon.

"Let's go," Vael whispered weakly. Including Vael, there were five of them, and not one was free of serious injury. Vael, Nasa, and Scanoli were completely incapacitated. They had to rely entirely on Felo and Daken.

Nodding, Daken and Felo said nothing more. Daken hoisted Nasa onto his back, while Felo carried both Vael and Scanoli. They exited the Fog Zone as quickly as they possibly could.