Mirror Soul Spell

"Whoosh—"

Dago rushed into the building, and the first thing he saw was an enormous blacksmithing forge.

It was covered in dust, but one spot was conspicuously clean. That was likely where the forging hammer had rested—the same massive black hammer the metal puppet outside had been holding.

The air was thick with the stale scent of oxidized metal.

Dust danced in the light like particles of death.

Dago's gaze swept across every inch of the space like a cold probe.

A dwarf's home could lack a washroom, but it could never lack a forge.

It was not merely a habit of life, but the soul-brand of that race.

Information he had once read in wizarding books flashed through Dago's mind as he surveyed the room.

He quickly found a black spherical object among the scattered debris, then, with a shrill whistling sound rapidly closing in behind him, flashed away first.

That sound was death howling through the air.

It was the wail of several tons of metal tearing through the atmosphere.

Dago did not look back.

His mental power had already constructed a three-dimensional model of his surroundings.

Every flash was a precise calculation of spatial laws.

He was like a free electron, weaving through the crystal lattice of steel.

Wrapped in living silver, Dago carried Bronte III in one hand and the item he had just found in the abandoned building in the other, moving ghostlike between building after building.

The wind howled past his ears.

The shadows of the ruins became his best cover.

He calmly calculated the distance and the decay of aggro.

Only after the heavy footsteps could no longer be heard at all did he stop.

Setting Bronte III down, Dago casually tossed the spherical object from his arms onto the ground.

"Clang—"

The