Published at 24th of April 2026 6:33 am

Chapter 1693 Cruel Irony

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Calsley, Haynam Empire.

Located in the eastern region of Europa, Calsley was a city much like Jomuran. In that, it housed one of the four great prisons of the Empire.

In the past, it served as a stronghold for the Empire. Although the city didn't possess many natural resources, it fared well under the Empire's support.

The city's primary purpose was to train soldiers and house some of the more powerful criminals, enemies of the Empire deemed too valuable or too dangerous to execute.

To the east lay the infamous Dark Valley, a forbidden zone that not even the bravest of men dared to venture. In all other directions, however, Calsley remained secure under the Empire's protection.

But now... Calsley no longer remained the stronghold it once was.

Its walls had crumbled in several places, leaving the city exposed. Buildings lay shattered, some reduced to nothing more than piles of broken stone and timber. Some lingered in the air, rising from pockets of ruin that still burned.

Corpses littered the streets. Some were sprawled where they had fallen, while others lay half-buried beneath debris. Among them were the undead, who now lay motionless, their rotten bodies twisted and broken, no longer animated.

Blood ran along the cobblestones, pooling in cracks and forming thin streams that followed the slope of the streets.

And the living... they were running.

Citizens fled in all directions, clutching whatever they could carry. Bags, children, scraps of food, anything that might help them survive. Their faces were pale from fright, and their movements were frantic as they were driven by a single purpose: escape.

When war spread across the land, it was always the common people who bore the worst of it. They were not the ones who declared war. They were not the ones who planned for it. But they were the ones who lost their homes, their families, and their lives when it arrived.

Cities turned into battlefields, and everything they had built over the years was undone in minutes. The fields they farmed were trampled. The streets they walked became stained with blood. The roofs over their heads vanished, leaving them with nothing but the road ahead.

They had no power to stop it. They could only endure. And so, while kings spoke of victories and generals of strategies, it was the common people who paid the price.

Adam had experienced it firsthand. He had lost his father simply because the local lord fought another over land. And now, he stood on the other side. Because of his actions, countless innocent people had lost their homes, and some even their lives...

The irony was cruel. Once, he had been the one suffering from the ravages of war. Now, he was the one bringing it to a foreign land. He understood their fear, their loss, their helplessness, more than they realized.

And yet... he did not stop.

He sat silently on a piece of rubble in the center of the broken city. All around him, corpses had piled up, forming small mounds. Dozens of Mana Vortex Magi, hundreds of Mana Liquefaction and Mana Foundation Magi. And even more undead creatures.

Three Mana Core Magi lay at his feet. The light in their eyes had long since dimmed.

Adam sat motionlessly, his shoulders heavy from the guilt gnawing at his heart. His tenebrous eyes gazed at the corpses of the Mana Core Magi, but he didn't feel a shred of remorse for them. No, in fact, he even reveled in butchering them.

But it was the deaths of the innocent citizens that clawed at his conscience. He had tried his best to prevent unnecessary collateral damage. But when the battle was over, a few of them died. They always did. And he hated it. He hated this feeling. This feeling of helplessness.

Behind him, the mangled corpse of the four-headed abomination squirmed lightly.

He was right in assuming that all the great prisons were experimenting on captured Mana Core Magi and creating the four-headed undead creature. Calsley was already the third great prison he had laid waste to, and the monster behind him was also the third of its kind.

Adam turned his head slightly, his face devoid of any emotion. He weaved hand seals and burned the monster- or what remained of it - with fire magic. It was a powerful Rank 4 Spell, but the abomination wasn't so easily destroyed. Still, after having fought two of them before, he was getting proficient in killing them. As could be seen by how few injuries he had sustained in this battle. His robes were tattered, and there were bruises on his body, but not a trace of his blood. Not even dried-up blood.

Just like he was learning more about his enemies and their undead through constant battles, he was also learning more about himself. Specifically, the blood flowing through his veins.

Because of his recent transformation, his body was far sturdier than before, and his blood granted him regeneration abilities. His injuries didn't heal instantly, but the time it took was far less than it used to be.

And his blood... no matter how much he spilled, it would always mysteriously return to him.

Adam's body was changing slowly, every day. The more he bled in battle, the more he learned about his own physiology. And these were just the physical aspects. He hadn't even begun to truly understand its magical aspects. He was only scratching the surface.

For now, all he knew was that the blood granted him a deeper understanding of space. It was something related to the concept of Gates. That much he knew. But beyond that, nothing. He was still learning. And it came at a great cost.

He clenched his fists as his mind wandered to the innocent lives that had been lost in the earlier battle. It weighed heavily on him. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that this was war, and that innocent lives would be lost one way or another, his heart just refused to accept.

If only he were stronger, he had thought, he could prevent the deaths of more innocent people. If only he had greater mastery over his magic, he could have killed his enemies more quickly and not affected the mortals. If only... Amidst his heavy thoughts, his senses picked up on several figures rapidly approaching from a distance.

Half a dozen figures soared through the skies and appeared above the ruins of Clasley, glaring at him with hatred, anger, and... fear. And behind them,

countless more cultists arrived aboard a flying vessel.

The Soulmark Lantern had led them right to him.

Just as he wanted.

The Dark King let out a heavy sigh and stood up. He silently took a step

forward and walked straight toward his enemies.

A new battle began.

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