Chapter 113: Twelve Sixty-Five
First, he was told of the crisis looming over the Parkinson Family, then warned that they would die one by one. Lord Parkinson instantly lost all ability for rational thought. And after being cured of the poison, the emotional whiplash left his gaze toward Leon complicated.
The deadly toxin that could have killed him without warning was, astonishingly, neutralized by a simple potion from the Gilded Rose—just one with tentacle extract.
Lord Parkinson sat in silence for several minutes before suddenly raising his head.
"Archmage Merlin, my son is in the hands of the Viper Bandit Group. I cannot defy their orders."
Leon nodded.
"Give me the coordinates. I'll bring your son back."
Upon hearing Leon's words, Lord Parkinson hurriedly nodded.
Rumor had it that the true owner of the Gilded Rose was someone named Archmage Merlin. Unexpectedly, the rumor was true—and his mastery of alchemy was terrifying. That life potion was seven or eight times stronger than any I’d ever seen. With his strength and alchemical skill, he certainly wouldn’t fear the Viper of the Viper Bandit Group...
And when the Rodney Family tried to seize it by force, that notorious necromancer nearly got killed right at the Gilded Rose’s door. Even if the Gilded Rose isn’t quite as powerful as the Rodney Family, it’s not far off.
On the other side, Leon stepped through the Gate of Space, materializing five thousand meters above ground. The air was frigid, the mana violently chaotic and explosive. Fortunately, the concentration of magic up here was much lower than on the surface, so no elemental storm formed.
As time passed in the demi-plane, Leon’s understanding of the laws of space surged. He even deciphered over three hundred new runes of truth—a significant breakthrough, bringing him one step closer to Sainthood.
The number of spatial runes condensed from the laws soared past two hundred, meaning Leon could now cast space magic in battle—his spells powerful enough to sway the outcome.
To open a Gate of Space at specific coordinates with such precision was a feat that rivaled mages who specialized in spatial laws.
Suspended in midair, Leon cast Eagle Eye and peered downward. Thick mist blanketed the ground, muffling all sound—no sign of life within. Three kilometers away, through a ripple in the fog, he could just make out the faint outline of buildings.
Masking his mana signature and silhouette, Leon drifted down into the mist. It glowed faintly green, saturated with a lethal toxin. Only the forest’s darkest green trees, with their powerful resistance, and a handful of magical plants survived: bloodthirsty vines, carnivorous man-eating flowers, and marrow blossoms clinging to heaps of bone.
The forest was eerily silent, broken only by the constant rustling. Leon frowned; his mana sense revealed that everything moving in these woods was poisonous—venomous insects, snakes, and ants. Not a single bird or beast remained.
The intelligence said the Viper Bandit Group’s base wasn’t exactly a secret—many knew its location. Yet, after all these years, the bandits thrived. The reason was simple: their headquarters was shrouded in a toxic mist that never dissipated.
Once, the Viper Bandit Group provoked one of the Odin Kingdom’s top-tier families. Their enemies sent an army to wipe them out. Among them, a Sky Rank wind mage unleashed a supernatural spell—a howling gale that swept through the forest, tearing away most of the vegetation and wildlife. Yet the toxic fog remained.
It wasn’t that the mist couldn’t be dispersed—its concentration would drop, only to recover moments later. The invading army, save for titled magi and Sky Rank mages, was consumed by the poison: skin rotting, flesh torn apart. They died before help could reach them, leaving nothing but bleached bones.
The number of spatial runes condensed from the laws soared past two hundred, meaning Leon could now cast space magic in battle—his spells powerful enough to sway the outcome.
To open a Gate of Space at specific coordinates with such precision was a feat that rivaled mages who specialized in spatial laws.
Suspended in midair, Leon cast Eagle Eye and peered downward. Thick mist blanketed the ground, muffling all sound—no sign of life within. Three kilometers away, through a ripple in the fog, he could just make out the faint outline of buildings.
Masking his mana signature and silhouette, Leon drifted down into the mist. It glowed faintly green, saturated with a lethal toxin. Only the forest’s darkest green trees, with their powerful resistance, and a handful of magical plants survived: bloodthirsty vines, carnivorous man-eating flowers, and marrow blossoms clinging to heaps of bone.
The forest was eerily silent, broken only by the constant rustling. Leon frowned; his mana sense revealed that everything moving in these woods was poisonous—venomous insects, snakes, and ants. Not a single bird or beast remained.
The intelligence said the Viper Bandit Group’s base wasn’t exactly a secret—many knew its location. Yet, after all these years, the bandits thrived. The reason was simple: their headquarters was shrouded in a toxic mist that never dissipated.
Once, the Viper Bandit Group provoked one of the Odin Kingdom’s top-tier families. Their enemies sent an army to wipe them out. Among them, a Sky Rank wind mage unleashed a supernatural spell—a howling gale that swept through the forest, tearing away most of the vegetation and wildlife. Yet the toxic fog remained.
It wasn’t that the mist couldn’t be dispersed—its concentration would drop, only to recover moments later. The invading army, save for titled magi and Sky Rank mages, was consumed by the poison: skin rotting, flesh torn apart. They died before help could reach them, leaving nothing but bleached bones.
Later, for reasons unknown, their enemies abandoned their revenge, and the Viper Bandit Group became even more adept at sizing up their opponents. They never provoked forces capable of wiping them out, and with their base shrouded in toxic mist, they’ve managed to survive in Odin Kingdom until now.
Sensing the poison mist, Leon immediately felt something was off. The source of the mist wasn’t the forest’s toxic plants or venomous creatures—it was the mist itself that had shaped the forest into what it is now.
But over time, the population of toxic plants and venomous creatures has exploded, making the mist even more complex and deadly. Anyone below Sword Saint level would be killed before reaching the Viper Bandit Group’s base.
Even titled Archmages, if they stay here for more than half an hour, will see their strength plummet. Within two hours, their power drops by at least twenty percent, and if a low-level titled Archmage stays longer than twelve hours, there’s a real risk of death.
But the mist only affects living things—Sky Rank mages are almost entirely immune.
Leon casually opened a Plane Path, and Xuban, Reina, and Hubert stepped out from the demi-plane. Behind them, alchemical golems followed one by one. After ten minutes, a legion of alchemical golems, all at least level thirty-five, appeared in the forest.
With this commotion, the forest’s venomous creatures began to swarm toward them, and the bloodthirsty plants swayed, ready for the slaughter to begin.
After the alchemical golem legion appeared, the mage corps also emerged from the demi-plane. As fifty corps mages appeared, the air around them grew scorching hot.
Ever since a volcano appeared at the southern edge of the demi-plane, the laws of flame have grown and branched like a sapling, and the mage corps have been training there ever since.
With Leon’s guidance, the laws of flame constantly swirl around the fifty corps mages. Even if they haven’t fully grasped the laws yet, they’re laying a solid foundation, and their levels are rising quickly.
Kurum is already a level seven titled Archmage, and the lowest among them is level five. At this stage, they can finally begin to touch upon the laws, though what they grasp is only the surface.
From level five titled Archmage onward, they gradually come into contact with the laws. At the pinnacle of this rank, once their foundation is laid, they can prepare for their extraordinary transformation.
Both truth runes and the laws of flame are made available to the corps mages, so it’s no surprise they’re advancing quickly. From level five titled Archmage onward, progress depends not on mana accumulation but on understanding the laws.
When the fifty corps mages emerged, it was as if a Sky Rank fire elemental creature had appeared. The surrounding plants began to dehydrate from the heat, and even the venomous creatures gave up approaching.
“Destroy the entire mist-shrouded forest. Everything in our path—reduce it all to ashes.”
At Leon’s command, a thousand blade-wielding alchemical golems charged forward, shredding everything in their way. Two thousand spellcasting golems spread out, unleashing spells and destroying everything in sight.
The mage corps, led by Kurum, flew into the air. As their mana surged, flames ignited in the sky, elemental fire rapidly gathering. The fifty corps mages formed a rune-like shape, mana converging to trace the outlines of runes.
A few seconds later, Kurum solemnly raised his dragon-scale staff.
“Burn.”
It sounded like a spell, yet not quite—a true word, spoken in two harsh syllables. As the incantation echoed, the formation of corps mages blazed with crimson light. A ring of red radiance rippled outward from their center, igniting everything it touched: damp trees, forest streams, all set ablaze…
The ring spread less than a kilometer, but wherever its light reached, flames erupted. Wildfire swept through the forest as the mage corps advanced, igniting everything in their path.
Especially the plants shredded by the golem army—just a touch of the corps mages’ aura, and they burst into flames on their own…
Xuban hefted his warhammer, grinning as the forest around him transformed into a sea of fire.
"Lord Merlin, you didn’t call me out here just to watch Kurum’s kids play with fire, did you? If you want someone dead, I’ll smash his skull right now. My warhammer hasn’t tasted fresh blood in ages."
Leon gazed into the distance.
"This is the Viper Bandit Group’s den. We’re here to turn this serpent into a corpse."
Xuban let out a savage laugh and charged in the direction Leon pointed, warhammer raised.
Leon led Reina and Hubert after him. For a bandit group to warrant his personal attention was a rare honor; originally, he’d planned to simply wipe out their lair.
Once they lost their base, trouble would find them from all directions. The Rodney Family couldn’t protect them—not openly, at least. The Rodney Family would never publicly associate with the Viper Bandit Group.
After noticing something strange about the poison mist—something oddly familiar—Leon’s curiosity was piqued.
In less than half an hour, the forest spanning over twenty kilometers was completely ablaze. The place became a sea of fire. The poison mist thinned slightly due to the flames, but the effect was minimal—proof of its unusual nature. Ordinary poison mist would never survive in such an inferno.
Ahead, the sounds of battle echoed. The golem army had already clashed with the Viper Bandit Group. Unfortunately for the bandits, every golem Leon deployed was at least level thirty-five—a rarity, since the golem base couldn’t produce them quickly. These were stockpiled over many days.
Three thousand golems, all above level thirty-five, were enough to sweep away any bandit group in the Odin Kingdom—unless a Sky Rank mage intervened.
"Idiot, stop running! Come here—try Xuban’s hammer for yourself…"
Xuban’s roar echoed from afar. By the time Leon arrived, it was a one-sided slaughter. The Viper Bandit Group had two Sky Rank mages—one of them had already been smashed half to pieces when Leon arrived…
The other wore a dark green robe, wielding a staff shaped like a viper. He hurled toxic spells and venomous creatures at Xuban, but unless his poison rivaled that of an ancient Poison Dragon, it was utterly useless against Xuban…
Within seconds, the Viper mage fled deeper into the bandit base, Xuban swinging his warhammer in pursuit.
Flames raged and buildings crumbled. The assault was as smooth as Leon had predicted. The Viper Bandit Group’s base had no walls—the only thing they relied on for defense was the toxic mist that spread for over twenty kilometers.
Unfortunately for the bandits, Sky Rank mages didn’t fear the mist, alchemical golems were immune, and the mage corps radiated enough heat to disperse any poison near them.
Leon hadn’t brought Reina, Xuban, and Hubert just for the Viper Bandit Group—the real goal was to investigate the source of the poison mist. The Viper’s escape led toward its thickest concentration; all the mist originated from that direction.
While the golems cleared out the bandit base and slaughtered hundreds of ruthless outlaws, they still hadn’t found Lord Parkinson’s son.
A few minutes later, they finally found him in a dungeon—guarded by a single swordsman, nothing more.
Clearly, the Viper Bandit Group hadn’t expected anyone to attack their stronghold, let alone reach it so quickly.
Everyone in Odin Kingdom’s upper ranks knew the Viper Bandit Group followed in the Rodney Family’s shadow. As long as the bandits didn’t cause trouble, no one bothered to destroy them or risk crossing the Rodney Family.
Those willing to attack the Viper Bandit Group lacked the strength to do so and could only endure the bandits’ raids.
Leon glanced at young Parkinson, confirmed he wasn’t poisoned or mortally wounded, then moved on. He left Hubert and the mage corps to handle the aftermath, taking Reina to pursue Xuban.
After ten minutes of walking, they found Xuban raging in a small valley, smashing everything in sight—the Viper had vanished.
Entering the valley, Leon immediately noticed the poison mist was densest here, utterly unaffected by the flames. The mist kept spreading outward, yet its concentration inside never diminished.
Seeing Leon approach, Xuban gave a sheepish grin.
"Lord Merlin, that green-skinned bastard’s gone. I chased him, but in a few seconds, he just vanished…"
Runes flickered in Leon’s eyes as he scanned the area. He walked to the end of the valley and spat out a dozen rule runes.
Instantly, a ripple of spatial energy appeared—a Plane Path opened before them.
As the Plane Path appeared, thick poison mist surged through, mingled with the stench of death.
Leon frowned, spat three more runes into the Plane Path, then led the group through.
They emerged in a desolate world, dotted with black-red plants like weeds. The plane was small, barely twenty kilometers across, its sky perpetually dim—a realm without night or day, its laws incomplete, with no hope of further evolution.
As soon as Leon entered, he sensed a surge of magical energy overhead. Emerald-green toxic flames rained down from the sky, and the Viper, his face twisted, brandished his staff. As he crushed a potion bottle, the thick toxins in this small plane began to gather toward them.