Genius Against Demon

He had only told Undine about the World Stone coordinates in his possession.

Undine must have reported it. It was no surprise that this secret had leaked, considering even the Miracle Wizards had people from the Revival Society among them.

What truly piqued Dago's curiosity was—

"So who is it?"

His expression calmed. He simply sat down where he was, narrowed his eyes, and let his gaze sweep over the figures darting through the battlefield.

"Who decided in advance to claim my life?"

Boom!

The tremendous blast made everyone's hearts tremble, as though a corner of hell's lid had been pried open.

The reddish-gold flames did not seem to be burning. They resembled a pack of starving beasts, savagely tearing at the air as they crackled with delight.

A huge hand, as vicious as a monster's claw and covered in black crust like cooled magma, slowly opened.

A charred corpse—perhaps, moments ago, a living, proud, self-important wizard—was now casually thrown to the ground like a tattered sack.

Dust billowed up, making that life seem cheaper than a grain of sand.

Ignatius stood there. Or rather, the monster that had once been called Ignatius stood there.

His body had grown several times larger, like a walking volcano.

Two twisted horns protruded from his forehead, manifestations of evil intent. Orange-gold patterns lit up between the chunks of black armor on his body, pulsing like breaths. They were power, and they were disaster.

His eyes no longer held the distinct black and white of a human's. Only near-pure gold remained—cold, greedy, the gaze of one looking down upon ants.

With every breath, a thick stench of sulfur burst forth, tightening people's throats. Perhaps this was the unique "body odor" of the strong in a world where the weak were prey to the strong.