The Hunt Closes In

Swish—

A crisp sound rang out like tearing silk. No ordinary blade had cut through cloth; a razor-sharp rule had forcibly sliced open space itself.

The Mirror Dagger flashed cold. Dago vanished like a pencil sketch rubbed away by an eraser, then reappeared in the blink of an eye inside another small, forcibly partitioned space.

This was the cage built by the Miracle Arcane Artifact. It was also the hunting ground.

Before his heels had settled, before those eyes that seemed to have seen through the world could take in his murky surroundings, a spell of hair-raising power surged straight at him.

It was a tide of foul, rotten energy, like a swamp filled with countless buried corpses rising in a wave to swallow the intruder whole.

Dago's expression did not change. There was no alarm on his face. Not even an eyebrow moved, as though the murderous force bearing down on him were nothing more than a morning breeze or a dog barking by the roadside.

He merely raised a hand and made a slashing motion.

The movement was simple and powerful, without a trace of flourish. It was like a woodcutter swinging an axe, or a butcher making a clean cut.

Riiip!

Brilliant silver-white light spilled out like a river of stars poured across the night sky, tracing a crescent blade.

Ghostly blue fire then roared up along its edge. It was a cold flame from the depths of the soul, bearing a chill that did not belong to the mortal world.

The crescent blade struck the surging tide of energy.

There was no earth-shaking explosion, only a grating scrape that set teeth on edge.

A narrow gap, just wide enough for one person, had been cut straight through that seemingly unstoppable tide.

That was the essence of