Caught in the magical flux of space, the Faceless Believer was left with no choice, but to expend his divinity to fight the currents converging at him.

He was caught off guard by Matt, and it won’t happen again. The Faceless Believer promised himself that. But in order to make that promise come to life, he has to survive this first. He raised his hands, calculated the imperceptible flow of mana, and fixed the spatial folds that was ought to cut him.

Even though he is already a demigod, he can still die from things like this. Ancient magic, to think that he would see it cast right in front of his face. Not to mention, the degree of power it has.

It tasted bitter to his mouth, but even demigods are at mercy of any ancient magic in existence. That’s why Empyrea banned the study of ancient magic. This enigmatic form of magic is unmasterable and impractical. It’s just one of the reasons why ancient magic was abandoned.

However, the biggest reason for them all is different. It’s due to ancient magic being the antithesis of demigods and immortals. To the 13 Empyrean gods, it is a threat that has to be eliminated.

“Hmm… There is something else that bothers me though.” Faceless Believer found himself surrounded by a gloomy and sandy scenery. It was the Darkest Dessert. His eyes are still crying tears of blood.

These tears didn’t happen because of some silly reason that the petty mortal psychologically shook him with his words. The reason is more magical than that. When the Faceless Believer tried to peer inside the mortal’s head, he was blocked, repelled, and almost trapped in limbo.

It’s a very interesting experience for him. Most curious of all is that the said petty mortal was speaking in the old tongue. To be specific, it was English. The Faceless Believer knows almost every language in this current era.

Compared to that, he is a bit lacking when it comes to the old tongue. English being one of the most prominent languages back then, the Faceless Believer thinks that he can’t be mistaken.

He was standing right there, just quiet, thinking of what he should do next. Interrupting his thoughts are the faked coughs of a skeleton. Faceless Believer looked over unsurprised by the undead’s presence.

After all, this is the Darkest Desert which is a convergence point of negative energies.

“What do you want, lich? I have no time for you.” The Faceless Believer said his piece and turned his back away. He was about to cast his teleportation magic when the lich invoked a DISPEL magic.

“Do you have a death wish, lich? I am the Faceless Believer, one of the 13 Empyrean Gods!! I suggest you behave.” Faceless Believer with bloodshot eyes manifested his grandeur by unleashing his dormant mana. He hoped to get the lich to back off with this as he was slightly exhausted, but he can’t be more wrong.

With the lich’s hoarse and eerie voice, it said in the familiar tongue of the dark elves. “So, you are one of those egotistic bastards. Tell me, where is the dark elf? Where is the Ev-Dar?”

…

Meanwhile, in the burning forest near Harkhall city.

“WHAAT THE FUUUCK!?” Soralla, the Ev-Dar, cried. At one moment, she was surrounded by an empty desert. Then suddenly, a burning forest!!

Her chocolate skin and silver hair created a strong contrast. She is a beauty but no one is here to appreciate it for the burning forest doesn’t invite guests.

Soralla calmed her nerves eager not to die. The burning forests are easier to defend than the miasmatic and radioactive desert, so there’s no way Soralla is going to die to this.

With an ANTI-FLAME spell, Soralla thought hard as to how she got here.

“…” And as expected from her unthinking brain, she got nothing. It’s interestingly impressive how she even managed to reach the prowess of a 7th-tier archmage.

Soralla noticed the roughly patched magic circle below her. She can’t stay any longer. The flames might not kill her, but the heat will. Archmages are not gods, their mentality has limits, and the mana of the world can’t be taken lightly.

Many mages die from mana overdosed yearly. Well, that’s what the newspapers say. Soralla decisively gouged the part of the earth where the magic circle was, and put it in her dimensional pouch.

She was about to pick a random direction and run there, but the Ev-Dar pact suddenly called to her. It was a magical pact of her race that was more of a bloodline than learned magic. It allows their people to survive for a long time.

This pact connects the survival instincts of the Ev-Dars closest to them. It’s a form of magical unity that increase their desire to want to survive and want to help. The Ev-Dars were redesigned by the first Ev-Dar Queen to a biological level so that their race can survive.

In fact, dark elves can’t murder their own kind. Because their population and reproductive abilities are too low, the first Ev-Dar Queen made this magical pact with her race. It was an insane thing to do, too extreme to Soralla’s opinion, but as a far descendant, she has no say in her ancestor’s decisions.

Soralla can’t say it’s bad, but she doesn’t really like it. Forced to make decisions, not of her own, she rushed from where the pact is calling her. She treaded the burning forests with alacrity and swiftly arrived at her destination.

Ruins of a city greeted her. There was a giant Flesh Golem making havoc, and mages contributing to the chaos. She can’t see her fellow Ev-Dar, so she can only wait.

Dust and debris scattered everywhere. The Flesh Golem is ferocious and horrid. The machines wielding all sorts of weapons were defenseless against its might. Soralla estimates it to be a product of 8th-tier magic.

Soralla followed the pact’s calling still under her invisibility. In a mound high enough to see the full picture of Harkhall getting destroyed, she saw three silhouettes.

Two tall figures, and one small… She felt the presence of the pact from the little one who was wearing a hooded robe. ‘Must still be a child… These scums, are they slavers? But they look too good to be one.’ She scrutinized the two mages in front of her. Their identity is revealed to her by their choice of clothing.

Sleek and uniformed magic robes. Proud gaze. Straight backs. Soralla is certain, they are mages. She extended her hearing with magic trying to listen to what the two mages are talking about.

“His excellency Faceless Believer was suddenly gone. Don’t you think something bad happened to him?”

“Shuuush… Do you want to die? Stop saying blasphemous things. He is a god, okay?”

“But really, do we have to guard this elf?”

“Yeah, you are right. She looks dead to me. She must be heartbroken to see her city being destroyed like this…”

Soralla listened carefully. Her emotions are in chaos. Faceless Believer? That’s a freaking Empyrean God, she will die at this rate if she continues, she knows this. But... the pact calls to her!! What can she do?

‘No, no… Wait, calm down. It looks like the so-called god is missing. I only have to take care of the two mages.’ She cooled her panicking heart, trying her best to straighten her priorities.

She resolved herself. With a swift single strike, she stabbed the other mage in the heart while covering his mouth. The other was then paralyzed by her own magic spell, the PETRIFYING GAZE. After that, she also stabbed him in the heart.

“Hey, little girl elfkin, let’s go.” Soralla addressed the little elf. When she removed the little elf’s hood, she was surprised to see that she is not dark.

…

“Wh-y— Why are you white? Did you get a tan?”

“???”

Vyrna who was dull, despondent, and heartbroken can’t help but show emotion. She was surprised when a dark elf came to her, but more so when the said dark elf asked her if she got a tan.

Rather than a dark elf, it’s more of a dumb elf. No, it’s inappropriate to call her a dark elf. She is an Ev-Dar, Vyrna corrected herself in her mind.

“I am Vyrna. Who are you?”

With a business-without-pleasure attitude, she inquired of what is the Ev-Dar’s name.

“I am Soralla. Just call me big sister. As per the Ev-Dar’s pact stated, I’ve offered you aid. And from now on, you are indebted to me. In the future, I hope to receive aid as I’ve offered you… Now, let’s go. This place is dangerous.”

This is the first time Vyrna has met an Ev-Dar, so she doesn’t know their laws, the Ev-Dar pact, and so on. The fact that the Ev-Dar pact also encroaches on her is a mystery, but Vyrna and Soralla don’t even know how did this mystery even come to be.

Soralla thinks it just is… Meanwhile, Vyrna is just ignorant of it.

“No, we have to get dem-dem…” Vyrna voiced her thoughts, but Soralla just mercilessly shook her head.

“No, we can't. Do you see that horrid Flash Golem? I am no match for it. Not to mention the several mages that dwell in the city. We have to go.” Of course, that was a lie.

She can easily evade the golem if she wants to. The hostile mages too are manageable. The only risk is that there might be a strong mage somewhere here. The Faceless Believer can’t also be discredited even if Soralla has evidence that the Empyrean God is not here.

Soralla is only responsible for Vyrna, her kin. Whoever or whatever this dem-dem is… she doesn’t care. Who knows, it might just be a plushy toy that the young Vyrna loves very much.

This is the kind of person Soralla is… selfishly logical. The only reason she helped Vyrna in the first place is because of the pact forcing her.

The two rode on a shadow familiar in the shape of a horse. Soralla brought Vyrna along with her for no particular reason but to adhere to the pact. Apparently, helping Vyrna doesn’t end in Harkhall.

Soralla felt weird about the situation. She has helped and removed Vyrna from danger already, but the pact is still telling her that Vyrna still needs help.

“Vyrna, have you been marked? I mean did someone do anything weird to you? Not the touching or anything… Aaah… How should I say it so that a little girl can understand?”

“I can understand just fine, I am old enough.”

At Soralla’s inner turmoil, Vyrna explained herself.

“Yeah-yeah-yeah… Every kid says that. By human standards, sure, your old. But to me, you are barely juvenile and are not even past 100 years old.” She criticized Vyrna, which the latter took as an insult.

“Shut up, dumb elf.”

“Whaa-a-aat? I might not look like it but I am a mage!”

The two bickered while they continue on their journey. After they made a considerable distance, they camped east of where Harkhall was. It was near the creek where water is easily accessible. Soralla quickly made camp with the help of her magic.

“Sleep tight, I’ll stay watch.” She said to Vyrna. Soralla moved to a corner and summoned the dirt she gouged from whence she was summoned. It was still intact as a whole thanks to the solidification magic technique.

Vyrna came, her interest piqued. “It’s ancient magic.” She said.

“And how do you know that? I am the mage, you... are a kid.” Soralla rebuked.

“I may not be capable of magic, but when it comes to analysis, no mortal would be my match.” To Soralla’s ears, it sounded empty boasting. Vyrna with faith in her own abilities continued. “It looks like a magic circle using outdated methods. I can’t say if it’s really outdated. The symbolisms used in the magic circle might look chaotic, but there is a logic to it.”

Though it is coming from Vyrna, Soralla can’t help but agree.

“Logic might be an understatement though. I believe there’s a touch of genius to it.” Vyrna added.

For some reason, Soralla felt irritated. It’s as if her intelligence was being questioned. She doesn’t want to admit that Vyrna is doing much better than her in analyzing the magic.

“This is no time to be narrow-minded… sigh… fine, tell me what you see…”

“This is formulated for teleportation. According to the vitality lost in the blood used as a medium, factoring the erosion time, and the spell caster’s mana residues… It is safe to say the magic circle has been used twice. I can’t say to where with the lack of equipment, but it is safe to assume it’s far, very far… this magic must’ve been devised as a means of escape. Another thing, it looks like the state of the magic circles were different between the first time it was used and the second time.

Vyrna’s explanation was informative, exact, and easy to understand.

Soralla nodded, not finding any rebuttals to Vyrna’s claims. She looked at Vyrna and thought, that she must be a genius. It would be perfect if she were to suggest her mentor take Vyrna as another disciple.

“Hmmm… Good, thank you Vyrna. Please, rest now.” She praised Vyrna and asked her to rest. Soralla now has theories as to how she got to this place in the first place.

The most reliable theory, for now, is that she actually swapped places with the person teleported from the magic circle. Soralla felt a bit worried for her mentor. Judging from the magic circle’s complexity, its caster must be tremendously strong.

"Agh, damn it... Maybe the caster is actually an idiot since it was a faulty teleportation..."