Chapter 63
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Chapter 63: Dawn
The protective barrier created by his supreme staff got shattered by a fist.
A 17-level gap couldn’t hold up against that Extreme Swordsmanship.
He, Wiseman Newton, actually lost to some nameless nobody from a loose feudal state like Belmar?
Even Wiseman—who’d witnessed countless phenomena and engineered countless marvels—felt this must be a dream.
But the stench of death clinging to his broken body and his fading life force confirmed this was reality. That black-haired boy had stubbornly survived three days of relentless pursuit, then grasped some overpowering technique to defeat him.
Underestimated the opponent…
Got careless.
Capsized in shallow waters!
This was Wiseman’s cold assessment after regaining composure.
If given another chance, he’d immediately order the Demon Swordwomen to defend while keeping optimal casting distance himself. Using necromancy’s superior ranged firepower and crowd control, he’d suppress Midi completely before reducing him to ashes. Not recklessly charging into melee range like some novice.
But the world had no “what-ifs.” The victor was Midi Asreks, while Wiseman Newton—the man who made Delos Empire tremble—became mere stepping stones.
Ah well. Losses happen. There’s always next time!
After mere seconds of frustration, Wiseman’s mood stabilized, much like when Mist Sorceress Alice escaped—brief disappointment before finding joy in the new hunt. Madmen survive by being exceptional, and Wiseman’s specialty was this twisted resilience.
Though things looked bad, Wiseman remained far from desperate. As a necromancer, his grasp of life surpassed even famously powerful clerics. His contingency plans were plentiful.
“Soul Transfer” being one.
Shame about losing this perfectly crafted body though.
With that regret, a ghastly smile twisted the necromancer’s lips. “You won this round, Midi Asreks. We’ll meet again.”
Assuming you survive my final move, Wiseman added silently with arrogant pride.
As he spoke, Wiseman’s face contorted. Blood seeped from his perpetually squinted eyes as smoke rose from his body, crimson droplets sizzling at his mouth’s corners.
Midi was already moving. Past-life experience taught him Wiseman never died easily. Many adventurers had died assuming victory, only to be killed by the necromancer’s death throes.
Twenty years since his reincarnation, Midi wouldn’t repeat such mistakes.
The instant Wiseman started gloating, Midi instinctively dropped into a retreat—no triumph, no relief, no confusion at the enemy’s casual demeanor. Pure tactical withdrawal.
He’d barely cleared ten meters when Wiseman’s surroundings warped from sudden heat. Orange fire-serpents wriggled through boiling air, forming cryptic runes around the necromancer.
Flickering light raced across the flaming symbols. Countless light particles converged into a blinding white dot that collapsed inward before exploding outward—silent yet devastating.
The forest trembled. A second sun bloomed at ground zero, followed by eardrum-shattering roars and volcanic heatwaves uprooting the landscape.
Though outside the blast radius, Midi still got hurled dozens of meters by the shockwave, fresh bruises layering over existing wounds.
Stabilizing himself, he saw a black Mushroom Cloud rising above a ten-meter crater—now just flames and ash resembling molten hellscape.
Over?
Self-destruction should mean no more traps.
Midi remained wary. Even with Ultimate Intent and destroying Wiseman’s physical form, he knew this enemy too well—the undefeated nightmare from his past life demanded utmost caution.
But it was not over.
In the forest came rustling leaves, crisp snaps of trampled foliage, and three sets of heavy footsteps approaching from different directions.
Three Demon Swordwomen staggered toward Midi like Zombies or puppets on strings.
The earlier Ultimate Intent strike had shattered their weapons and flung them aside. Such force would’ve killed ordinary humans instantly. Yet these were no humans—the experimental subjects’ monstrous recovery still functioned, dragging the Demon Swordwomen back from Death’s doorstep.
Before his explosion, Wiseman must have given orders. Now crimson light burned in the Demon Swordwomen’s eyes as their mangled physical forms regenerated visibly. Their original level 30 limits shattered as their power climbed—
31…32…33…
Halting abruptly at level 35.
This wasn’t exchanging lifespan but burning it recklessly, like desperate gamblers staking their entire future.
Meanwhile, Midi had exhausted every resource.
His mangled hands hung useless, trembling violently. Three Ultimate Intent uses had drained all power from his body. Three days of draining Physical Strength and Mental Energy, countless wounds from endless battles, rivers of spilled blood—he couldn’t even stand, let alone run. Staying conscious itself was a miracle.
He watched the three level 35 Demon Swordwomen advance.
An inescapable brink.
Yet Midi’s gaze stayed steady.
He’d sworn never to yield to fate, to conquer Death and return to Fina and Alice.
When the Grim Reaper’s scythe swung again, he faced it calmly.
His gaze swept debris-strewn ground until finding a sharp stone. Painfully, he shuffled forward, bent down, and clamped the stone between his teeth like a blade.
Useless hands?
Teeth remained.
Immobile body?
Mind still clear.
While breath lasted, he’d resist.
The red-haired girl’s smile and black-haired girl’s face flashed through his mind, reigniting brilliance in his eyes.
This life, he wouldn’t quit.
As if answering his iron will, the demon god in his left arm trembled faintly.
Midi inhaled scorched air, feeling warmth seep through lungs into limbs. His heart kindled faint heat.
Come.
Clenching the stone-blade, he waited statue-still as the Demon Swordwomen lurched across hundreds of meters. He awaited the primal battle’s savage commencement—no strategy, only survival.
His chance of winning? Perhaps zero. Irrelevant.
Yet in that moment, fate’s anger reached its Drawn Bow.
Or perhaps Midi’s unyielding will finally shattered an invisible cage.
The battle ended before it began.
Hundreds of glowing beams shrieked through the air like a sapphire rainbow, streaking over Midi’s head to hit the Demon Swordwomen’s position with perfect accuracy. Countless Magic Beams poured down like storm rain, instantly flooding the area with violent explosions.
Simultaneously, Devil’s Vines erupted before Midi, rapidly crisscrossing to form an impenetrable wall – loyal guardians shielding their master.
Then came rushing footsteps cutting through the wind.
Midi strained to turn his head. First he saw blazing crimson hair, then a waterfall of black locks following behind.
Fina reached him first.
The red-haired girl instantly took in Midi’s pitiful state – his body riddled with wounds, bloody hands, exhausted face, pallid skin, cracked lips, and… that absurd stone fragment clenched between his teeth.
This guy!
Fina’s chest constricted sharply, her heart stinging as if pierced.
Still pushing himself this far?
This went beyond courage or fear of death. Any other hero would’ve faced their end standing tall with defiant pride.
But not Midi. He kept fighting – ugly, laughable, hopeless – refusing to yield.
How much effort did that take? How could anyone endure this?
All her prepared speeches vanished from Fina’s mind. She just wanted to hold this battered boy properly.
Without hesitation, she acted.
Light fragrance enveloped them as Fina pressed against Midi, her face buried in his chest, flaming hair swaying in his vision. The softness, warmth, and steady rise-fall of her breathing surrounded him.
A dream?
Though their bond had deepened through battles, romance hadn’t blossomed yet. Between constant warfare and scarce opportunities, there’d been no time.
So why this embrace?
Girls’ hearts were needles in the Sea Bottom – unknowable even through reincarnation. Midi stopped questioning, simply savoring Fina’s realness – her skin’s texture, arms’ strength, scarlet silk brushing his cheek.
Worth it. Every struggle. More than worth it!
Midi’s usual stoicism melted into a radiant, goofy grin. Pain and weariness dissolved. This embrace was enough.
The moment shattered when ruthless hands tore them apart.
Who dared interrupt? Face my Ultimate Intent!
Midi spat out the stone, glaring murderously – only to meet the Mist Sorceress Alice’s frostier gaze. He hastily looked away, unable to withstand her soul-piercing eyes.
"What are you doing?" Fina demanded sharply, her voice hot with anger.
"I need to treat him. Move aside," Alice stated coldly, her words carrying frost.
To emphasize her point, the Mist Sorceress summoned an emerald-green plant. It instantly took root and bloomed with six pale golden petals, emitting a soft glow that soothed Midi’s body. His Physical Strength and Mental Energy began recovering steadily while his wounds closed.
Even the proud Queen of Magic swallowed her retort. Yet Fina’s gaze remained sharp as a blade, stabbing toward Alice.
Alice narrowed her eyes, returning the icy stare.
The two girls locked in silent battle.
Midi sat motionless between them, wisely staying silent as stone during treatment.
Mediate now? Better face Wiseman’s wrath!
To arriving observers, Midi seemed blessed. Beside him stood Belmar Duchy’s jewel – Hamilton family’s heir – and the forest’s mysterious ruler controlling Elven Tribe. What mortal man deserved this?
The girls’ confrontation radiated danger. None dared approach, especially with Alice’s Emerald Daffodil healing effectively.
"Spread out. Hunt the three enemies. Watch for ambushes." Klasty ordered softly, avoiding looking directly at the trio.
"Circle formation. Protect Young Master Midi." Bartran arranged troops meticulously – though the nearest guard stayed over 100 meters away, clearly avoiding the trio.
Battle instincts kept even seasoned soldiers from interfering.
"That idiot Midi! Knew this’d happen!" Lilian glared murderously before slumping defeatedly.
"Let nature take its course." Sigmund grinned, watching the girls. "But he’s in trouble now. Can’t chew more than you bite."
Asreks troops, Nightblade Cavalry, Fina’s guards – all eyes drifted toward the trio. The youths noticed nothing.
Or perhaps saw only each other.
"Welcome back," Fina finally told Midi, breaking the stalemate. Joy lit her crimson eyes.
"Welcome home," Alice added softly, icy tone melting into music.
"I’m back." Midi nodded, smiling at both.
Just like before.
Dawn’s golden light draped them like glowing veils.
Their dawn.
Their victory.
