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Around Fontasierra Hill, where the Bardenas Reales were taking place, a strange heat was rising.

None of the nobles who had stepped forward to draw the sword had succeeded, and now the turn had come to the commoners who held honor and power. Among them, various emotions flickered.

The desire to draw the sword and ascend to the throne of Hiberia, the disappointment of failing to draw it, the admiration for those who stepped forward to try, and the envy of those who now sought to seize the opportunity they had missed—these emotional fluctuations were creating an undeniable force.

The royals felt relief that none of the nobles had succeeded, but they were also uneasy about the commoners attempting to draw the sword. The nobles, unable to hide their displeasure, frowned and whispered among themselves.

The commoners, filled with unprecedented hope and confidence, were brimming with excitement.

Knights, adventurers, mercenaries, scholars, spellcasters, judges, and merchants—all renowned figures—stepped forward with a fervor that far surpassed the lines formed by the royals and nobles.

Admiration turned into passion, passion into desire, desire into disappointment, and disappointment into envy. This emotional transformation was generating an undeniable force.

Everyone was intoxicated by it, unknowingly immersed in the moment.

Watching this, Maria couldn’t shake off a strange, uneasy feeling.

When did she realize the source of this unease? Like Maria, there were others who felt restless and tried to calm their inner turmoil. Warriors and spellcasters who had reached a certain level of training suddenly realized the cause of the eerie sensation they had been feeling.

“Huh? What’s that…?”

“Why is there a sudden storm cloud?”

“I checked the weather this morning, and it was supposed to be clear!”

At first, it seemed like an ordinary cloud…

“Wait, it’s coming from multiple directions!”

The storm clouds, gathering from all directions, were no ordinary phenomenon as they passed over Asturias.

But the most critical phenomenon was something else.

“The connection to the domain… it’s been severed!”

“Cough! It’s a backlash! Everyone, seal off your external spell circuits!”

As the storm clouds gathered over Asturias and cast their shadow over Fontasierra Hill, the spellcasters were struck with a severe shock.

Normally, spellcasters manipulated spell waves by combining them using their main strength. However, the ultimate source of these spell waves was the domain—the boundary between the domain and the world. For example, fire spell waves came from the fire domain, and life spell waves from the life domain.

Thus, those who delved deeper into specific spell schools sought direct connections to specific domains. This allowed them to gain a deeper understanding and draw purer power directly from the domain. It was a method well-known among spellcasters.

But this became their downfall.

As the dark clouds covered Fontasierra Hill, the spellcasters realized that their connections to the domains were being blocked by something. Those who tried to cast spells with their links open suffered severe backlash from the reversed flow of their main strength.

The spellcasters, who had hastily sealed their domain links, were shocked and confused. They couldn’t deny that the dark clouds above them were the cause of this disaster.

But even in the face of such an issue, a spellcaster who simply sat back without investigating the cause didn’t deserve the title.

Soon, they each tried to uncover the nature of the dark clouds… and realized it was a massive cluster of instruments.

“Where did such an instrument come from?!”

“Demons, daring to cause trouble on the sacred Fontasierra Hill?!”

Of course, the leaders of Hiberia, who received reports from the spellcasters, were in an uproar. Hiberia, a land they considered their own, was at stake. An important ceremony, attended by dignitaries from various countries, was being disrupted by demons?

The anger stemming from indignation and the fear of the unknown created a tense atmosphere that quickly spread through the crowd.

Meanwhile, the sky above was undergoing tumultuous changes, indifferent to the reactions of the people below.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh——!

Above the people’s heads, strange distortions began to appear. It was a phenomenon created by the interaction between the ritual ground and the ominous clouds.

The distortions soon connected, forming geometric shapes in the space.

Spellcasters, who had trained deeply enough to reach the domains, could recognize the wisdom embedded in the patterns of these shapes—a diagram of the world’s laws.

The problem was that this wisdom was not in its pure form but had been altered by something blasphemous.

Regardless, that wasn’t the important part.

Whoosh!

Flash, rumble!

Thud, thud, thud!

A strong wind blew, making eerie sounds, and with each flash of lightning, deafening thunder followed. Hail the size of fists fell, pounding the ground, people, and the tents indiscriminately.

While warriors trained in the Reverse Muscle Technique struggled to keep the tents from being blown away, spellcasters began to erect wind barriers to protect the people.

The sudden weather change was enough for even the ordinary folk to realize that something strange was about to happen.

Soon, the influential figures gathered for a meeting.

Royals, nobles, renowned knights, scholars, adventurers, and spellcasters—all gathered for an emergency meeting. The result was this:

First, they all agreed that they had to prevent the spell above them from completing, no matter what.

Of course, with a massive mysterious phenomenon unfolding above their heads, no fool would just sit and watch.

What effect this phenomenon would have was irrelevant. It was a significant variable that had appeared outside their expectations, posing a sufficient threat to their safety.

The question was how to stop the spell from completing… and here, opinions diverged.

“We have renowned and capable spellcasters from various Hiberian nations here. Why not have them combine their powers to cast a dispel spell?”

The first suggestion came from a well-dressed spellcaster from a noble family. Despite his impressive mustache, he was immediately shot down.

The rebuttal was that there was no time to analyze the spell for a dispel.

Generally, spell formulas were intentionally complex to prevent being easily dispelled. But this ominous spell, despite its perfection, had no gaps to exploit.

Some spellcasters, despite the threat, were momentarily entranced by the spell’s perfection. It was a stimulus that could lead to significant advancements in their spellcasting if they survived.

With the first suggestion blocked, a second one was proposed.

“If the spell’s perfection makes dispelling difficult, what about this? It seems the spell is reacting to the ritual ground below. If we dismantle the ritual ground, we could disrupt the spell or at least buy some time.”

“You’ve done some analysis, but it seems you haven’t simulated further. While it appears the spell and the ritual ground are interdependent, the spell is maintaining its current state because of the ritual ground. If we dismantle it without a plan, the spell will complete instantly.”

“Understand? Unless you can find a gap in the spell in less time than it takes a dwarf to walk ten yards, dismantling the ritual ground is suicide.”

The suggestion from a young, scholarly-looking spellcaster was dismissed by a more experienced adventurer and a middle-aged spellcaster. It had merit but wasn’t sufficient.

“But even as we stand here, it’s gradually completing.”

The young spellcaster sighed, looking up at the ominous summoning circle in the sky. Thanks to his precise analysis, they had some conclusions about the spell’s nature.

It was a summoning circle. Specifically, one designed to summon something from a supernatural realm by offering a formal tribute.

‘But what are they trying to summon? Such a vast aura of evil and such a perfectly crafted spell. It’s too much for summoning just any ordinary being.’

Whatever was coming, it wasn’t going to be good for the land. Not because the summoners were likely demons or cultists, but because such a transcendent being’s arrival would be a disaster, regardless of its nature.

As they fumbled, the light from the summoning circle grew deeper. The gravitational pull from the spell’s core became so strong that even those with low spiritual sensitivity could feel it.

The spell was more than halfway complete. The spellcasters couldn’t take comfort in the fact that there was still half the time left. Instead, they were shocked and tense, realizing that the summoning circle was trying to call forth something unimaginable.

“Damn it, find a way!”

“Here, if we twist the z-axis to find the k-value…!”

“The intermediate value is wrong, you fool! This approach will never yield an integer!”

“Senior, you’re driving me crazy! Destruction! Chaos!”

“This kid’s finally lost it!”

With exclamation marks flying around, those who weren’t spellcasters were left out, unable to grasp what was happening.

‘This won’t do.’

Conra made his decision around this time.

The spellcasters needed to snap out of it so others could figure out what to do.

Of course, the civilians and royals without self-defense capabilities had already been evacuated. Those remaining were either spellcasters or those who stayed to protect or assist them.

To make effective use of them, a quick decision was necessary.

Fortunately, Conra had a method that might work.

Brantley Somz, who had just finished a discussion, nodded at Conra with a supportive look.

“Spell reversal, I can do it!”

““““What?””””

Conra’s voice, filled with deep energy, reached the spellcasters’ ears clearly, cutting through their anxiety and madness. It was as if he was speaking right beside them, breaking through the chaos in their minds.

“A dwarf walking ten yards’ worth of time. Correct?”

“To be precise, it’s shorter now. Seven yards.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Conra nodded at the old spellcaster’s correction and continued.

“Within those seven yards, I can reverse the spell. Right after dismantling the ritual ground.”

Conra’s statement was enough to draw the spellcasters’ attention. The reason the summoning circle above seemed perfect was because it perfectly corresponded to the ritual ground below. If the ritual ground was removed, that perfection would collapse. But there was a catch.

As mentioned earlier, without the ritual ground, the summoning circle would complete instantly, leaving no time to exploit any gaps.

Dismantling the ritual ground to create a gap for dispelling the spell would backfire if the spell completed before they could act. It would be wiser to let the summoning circle complete and focus on escaping.

Assuming they had the means to escape, of course.

“Can you really do it?”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, it’s impossible. Analyzing a spell of that scale in seven yards is impossible.”

The spellcasters, now calm, brought up common sense. Conra responded briefly.

“I can do it. If it’s me.”

His confident declaration left the spellcasters stunned. As they looked at each other, a middle-aged spellcaster in a neat suit stepped forward.

“Well, that’s quite the confidence. So, who are you to speak so boldly?”

“Conra mac Setanta. Son of Setanta mac Labhradha of Ulster and Alexandra di Kaliastra of Tuscany, and disciple of Sophia de Chazel, Paladin of the Church Order.”

Conra’s introduction had a clear effect.

“Son of Light!”

“The Miracle Alchemist!”

“Could it be the son of those legends?!”

“A disciple of the Church’s Lore Master?!”

Names revered by different factions were called out, and the spellcasters’ gazes toward Conra changed. As the son of such figures, he was naturally expected to be extraordinary.

But not everyone reacted positively.

As the crowd’s gaze turned favorable, the middle-aged spellcaster, whose judgment was clouded, muttered to himself and then spoke to Conra.

“Hmph! Impressive, but that’s about your parents and master. You look like you’re not even twenty, so you haven’t been practicing spells for long. How can a greenhorn like you claim to do what even seasoned spellcasters can’t? What makes you think you can handle spell reversal in such a critical situation?”

“That’s a flawed argument.”

The crowd’s attention shifted to the voice that countered the middle-aged spellcaster. It wasn’t Conra but another man—Brantley Somz, clad in a gray robe, holding an obsidian staff, and rolling rune stones like dice.

“Objectively speaking, there’s a significant gap between your spiritual body and the boy’s. Of course, the boy is far superior. Isn’t it you who’s losing objectivity and speaking out of turn?”

“The ethereal brain isn’t everything for a spellcaster! And who are you to defend this boy?”

The middle-aged spellcaster, flustered by Brantley’s direct logic, quickly asked for his identity.

The spellcasters, now focused on Brantley, waited for his response. With a casual smirk, he revealed himself.

“I’m Brantley Somz.”

““““The Court Poet of the North!””””

His simple statement carried weight. Among the spellcasters present, none hadn’t heard of Brantley Somz, the rising star of the Somz family.

In the end, a spellcaster’s reputation was tied to their skill. Brantley’s recent paper on the relationship between domains, main strength, and spells had already elevated his status above most spellcasters here.

“Y-you….”

The middle-aged spellcaster, trembling, stood speechless. Maria, who had been holding back her anger at the disrespect toward her senior, finally stepped forward.

“Enough of this! If you have nothing useful to say, then step aside! You seem intent on denying Senior Conra’s words, but what exactly can you do in this critical situation? Frankly, it seems the only way out of this mess is to trust Senior Conra!”

“Those not part of the spellcasting world should stay out of this!”

“You’re the one who needs to shut up! Can’t you see how urgent the situation is? Fine, from now on, I’ll take charge. {By the authority of the future Queen of Catalonia, if there’s no clear plan, follow Senior Conra’s lead!}”

At that moment, the blessing of royal bloodline activated, transcending the foreign land.

 

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