Chapter Forty-Six: Entangled Struggle

Thunder rumbled.

In that instant, the world was washed in white. A blinding flash erupted with a deafening roar, coalescing into a radiant blade that lunged headlong toward the golden warhammer. Blade met hammer, and the ensuing burst of sound and shockwave swept through the entire mine, sending up a storm of dust and searing heat that forced everyone in the heat of battle to instinctively retreat a few paces.

This is bad!

Witnessing this, Alex was deeply shaken. As a Pilgrim Bishop of the Sanctum Order, his strength was considerable—though not yet legendary, he was close. Unlike the others, he was not blinded by the lightning, and thus saw with chilling clarity how the summoned Hammer of Judgment dissolved into nothingness with a single, crisp explosion the moment it collided with the adversary's lightning blade. The Thunderblade, undiminished, pierced through the Judgment Hammer and sped toward him!

What terrifying power!

Cold sweat broke out across Alex’s back. The Hammer of Judgment was a high-level divine spell of the Order, and as Pilgrim Bishop, he had rarely found it matched in battle against demons or heretics. Even seasoned mages could only barely withstand its might, most forced to retreat or surrender. Yet this time, someone had broken it with ease—who exactly was this opponent?

But Alex had no time to ponder. As the Thunderblade hurtled toward him, he hastily raised his holy symbol, chanting loudly in praise of the Holy One. With a flash of light, a translucent shield materialized out of thin air, encasing him in protection. Almost simultaneously, the crackling blade of thunder crashed against the barrier with unerring precision.

A long, resonant peal of thunder erupted. For a moment, it felt as if everyone’s heart had been struck by a heavy hammer, leaving them reeling. A few of the weaker warriors coughed blood and collapsed to their knees, barely conscious. Before they could recover, a shadow flickered past behind them, and with shrill screams, the soldiers were dragged away, vanishing swiftly into the darkness of the cavern.

When the light faded a moment later, those remaining finally saw the scene before them and couldn’t help but gasp in horror.

The old bishop still stood atop the stronghold’s gate, but his face was as pale as parchment. Though he bore not a single wound, the once-impenetrable gate beneath his feet now gaped with a half-meter-wide crack reaching into the earth, and the leaning wall had completely collapsed. This sight alone testified to the devastating power of the lightning that had struck.

Even Alex was left rattled, clutching his holy symbol with trembling hands. Such overwhelming force he had never before encountered; when the Thunderblade struck, it felt as though a dam had burst, a flood of fury roaring toward him. Even with his shield raised, he struggled to withstand it. Only when the lightning finally faded did he breathe a long sigh of relief.

“Tch...”

Unlike the sweat-soaked Alex, Jain clicked his tongue in frustration. So far, he could only cast two spells—no matter how many ways he twisted them, it was still limiting. This was much like Elise’s magic flames: impressive in appearance, but if an opponent had the right counter, they became useless. Jain wielded thunder and fire, and with his status as Dungeon Lord, his spells had the power of legend. But what of it? If someone saw through his tricks—a high-level mage casting Elemental Guard or Immunity—he would be rendered helpless. There was no such thing as an invincible spell; every magic had its counter. Even the much-vaunted spatial magics, so revered on the prime material plane, could be undone by a dimensional anchor or spatial lock, leaving them little more than garbage.

Regrettably, Jain could not learn spells from books like a true mage. To acquire new magic, he needed to build a library and assign a unit to research. Now that the dungeon had advanced to level three, he had two vacant spell slots beyond “Thunder’s Wrath” and “Serpent of Flame,” yet no suitable candidate to staff the library. This left him rather frustrated.

The dungeon system had strict requirements for such units; one could not simply assign just anyone. Summoned creatures like xenomorphs or banshees were useless for this purpose. Only hero units—such as Enoya, Bix, or Vilna—could activate the building’s function. Yet Enoya, as his lieutenant, could not remain in the library all day; Bix, a gnome, was an engineer with no magical knowledge; Vilna, a female dark elf, knew only her innate skills, and her talents were better suited to the Blackstone Watchtower than to magical research.

Elise was the most suitable: as a sorceress, her magic system differed greatly from standard arcane practice, but Jain cared little for this. The dungeon system required only a spellcaster unit to staff the library for automatic research, regardless of rank or school. Of course, the higher the level, the faster and more powerful the research, which was certainly desirable.

Unfortunately, to this day, the system had yet to recognize Elise as an “ally.” Perhaps it was because she hailed from Onyx Stone City and belonged to another power, unlike Vilna, who was a true outcast. Jain could only hope that “conversion” would eventually win her over; even if she did not fully fall to darkness, at least the dungeon system might finally acknowledge her, allowing him to truly begin magical research.

But it seemed that moment was near.

Noticing the faint blush on Elise’s cheeks, Jain’s eyes gleamed with anticipation; he released his hold on her waist. At that very moment, the old bishop raised his holy symbol once more, shouting loudly.

“In the name of the Holy One, warriors! Bathe in the sacred light and purge these evil children of darkness!”

At his cry, beams of radiance fell from the heavens like sunlight piercing the clouds, enveloping the warriors around the stronghold. As the light descended, a pale halo shimmered over their bodies. No longer cowed by Jain’s magic, the soldiers steadied themselves, the terror on their faces replaced by unwavering faith and resolve. Weapons raised high, they charged at Jain and his companions with loud war cries.

“Lord of the dungeon, um... what should we do?”

Nestled in Jain’s arms, Elise felt little awkwardness or embarrassment—perhaps because, in her dreams, she and Jain had done things far more “stimulating” than this. Rather than feeling uneasy, she experienced a strange, familiar intimacy. Thus, when Jain released her, she felt a pang of disappointment deep within.

Yet her combat instincts were keen. Seeing the soldiers advancing once more, she snapped to alertness. Even Elise had to admit that these surface-dwellers were formidable. Back in Onyx Stone City, dealing with the combined forces of dark elves, mind flayers, and duergar had never been this troublesome. Mind flayers had their unique psychic attacks, but nothing so specifically targeted against her as these men and their peculiar, restraining spells. She was genuinely worried and uncertain how best to respond.

Jain’s expression, however, remained unchanged by her inquiry, and his command never wavered.

“Kill them all. Leave no one alive.”

With that, Jain took up his staff and struck the ground firmly. With a whoosh, a torrent of flame erupted from the earth like a geyser, splitting into three colossal serpents of fire that lunged, jaws agape, at the oncoming warriors.

As the fiery serpents drew near, the soldiers did not panic, scattering in hasty evasion. What they failed to expect was that the fire serpents moved as if alive—twisting in pursuit, they turned sharply mid-strike and swallowed up those nearby in a single gulp. Amid a chorus of screams, several charred corpses were quickly added to the scorched ground.

Had this been before, these soldiers would have broken and fled in terror. But beneath the shelter of divine power, fear no longer touched them. To them, nothing was more important than spreading the holy light, annihilating darkness, and striking down evil—even at the cost of their lives.

Yet faith and strength are not the same.

The warriors of the Sanctum Order feared neither death nor pain, but Jain’s companions were seasoned killers themselves. Under the combined assault of Enoya, Vilna, and Elise, the tide of battle turned swiftly—warriors fell one after another beneath the lash of lightning, the daggers of the dark elf, and the chill of magical flames.

This is dire.

Watching the scene unfold, the old bishop’s brow furrowed. He had witnessed the terror of the magical flames firsthand, but he dared not act rashly now, for he could sense that the noble-looking mage among their foes had his eyes fixed squarely on him. Any move would likely draw the full brunt of that devastating thunderous onslaught—and the bishop doubted he could withstand it.

The underdark truly was a dreadful place! Such powerful dwellers of darkness were rare even on the surface. Where had they come from?

Could they be the very ones the Holy One had prophesied must be destroyed?

The thought struck the bishop with a jolt. If this was true, then he had made a grave mistake.

“Hurry, send word to Lord Lox! Tell him we are under attack and need reinforcements!”

At once, the bishop barked orders to a nearby warrior, who paled and rushed into the stronghold.

To guard against surprise attacks, the Sanctum Order had established special signaling devices in the stronghold—one touch would alert all nearby units to come to their aid. The old bishop had initially believed these incursions were mere probing attacks by underdark monsters, but after crossing spells with Jain, he realized how wrong he had been. Now, there was nothing for it but to call for help. If this stronghold fell, it would be too late for the Order.

As he issued commands, the old bishop kept a wary eye on Jain, fearful that the mage would notice his actions. Yet Jain seemed oblivious to the bishop’s efforts to summon aid, calmly twirling his staff at the rear of the battle.

But the old bishop failed to see the strange, chilling smile curving at the corner of Jain’s lips.