Ryan wasn’t completely sure what he was doing. Well, he had a few plans from past experiences on the realmnet, but not even adventurers at the peak of fourth realm did things the way he was about to do them.

  Oh sure, the greatest fourther teams go up against an army in the fifth Trial and win.

  But just smacking an army didn't solve the problem.

  Just because you slew the King it didn’t mean all the horrific practices would end. Sometimes adventurers slew a horrible royal boss, only to find out that in the Sixth Trial, worse people had taken up the power vacuum. Then there was a good chance that your Trials turned into a very, very dark world, one where everyone was a piece of shit and the only thing you could trust was that everyone would eventually stab you in the back.

  And that wasn’t even mentioning the dragon that would start raining hellfire from above.

  In the end, no matter how good or kind you were, it was impossible to have a completely happy result for your Trial world. As such, how you handled these Trials never really accounted for your morality to most people.

  Oh of course people on realmnet and the internet argued over it. Discussing the vast moral and ethical quandaries that existed with a people that were technically alive but wouldn’t ever remember the disasters and misfortunes that would be inflicted on them.

  In the end, nothing ever came off those discussions. Completing the Trials provided power and it was unrealistic to stop the new generation from gaining power. After all, everyone else that had come before had done it.

  …It’d be hypocritical to stop new adventurers from climbing. Especially just for a bunch of people that would get reset and never remember anything anyway.

  So you just shelved it, made yourself believe that these were just ‘Trial People’ and everything was fine. You grew and learned off the lessons in the Trials, became better for it and made an impact for those that counted.

  You could tell yourself that until you saw a child in chains. Eyes blanked out without a single spark of hope in them.

  Then… well there was no excuse for that.

  Perhaps it was guilt then that Ryan was doing something so stupid. Agrinth had looked up at him with those beady puppy dog eyes and Ryan had caved.

  “Another escort mission.”

  “Uh, what was that Artigan?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s a big army.”

  “.”

  “Will you be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine. You’re the one I’m worried about.”

  “You said this was your fault and you could fix it. I want to see it. Either you die or you fix it.”

  “You’re a cheeky little shit, did anyone else ever tell you that?”

  Ryan pinched Agrinth’s cheeks, maybe a little harder than he intended to. The demon kid yelped in pain and held his cheek with both hands, glaring up at him.

  “Yes, the slavers did.”

  Somehow Ryan had lost an argument with a twelve year old. That was probably also his fault. He had, in a moment of weakness, told the kid that was the reason why the Demon King had died.

  That was when Agrinth half-begged and half-demanded to witness what would happen until the end.

  And now he was about to face an army with a child standing next to him. The worst part? Rax’s golem didn’t have a ‘protect’ function on it. Ryan could either control it fully or make it follow simple commands. It had quite a fair bit of orders it could follow but something like ‘protect’? Nope. Rax wasn’t the sort to leave that kind of function in his golems.

  They kept walking towards the army. The army tensed as they slowly stepped forth. A loud authoritative voice rang across the hills, amplified by magic.

  “Halt! Your actions against the Duchess Rudalia–Stop one more step and we will fire!”

  The duo kept walking forwards, ignoring the demands. A silver haired elf holding the hand of a demon child. Walking towards an army thousands strong. Magical barriers were being raised by mages that were sitting in a formation best suited to link their mana together.

  Melee classes of various realms littered the landscape, shining bright with polished armor and spears. Rogues with bows and crossbows that were aiming for their heads.

  They had identified who he was. They knew he was the elf that had slaughtered their armies and their top Strategist. Duchess Rudalia’s forces hadn’t underestimated him given the information they had on him. In fact, unless she knew that he’d fought the demon king single handedly then this was pretty overkill for a fourth realm.

  A true army thousands strong. All lined up neatly against him.

  “Fire!”

  Spears from artillery warriors littered the sky, arrows from rogues shot forward and a few fireballs were flung from the mages in formation. They were too fast for the child to follow, too slow for Ryan’s current might.

  Ryan’s aura formed a blade twenty feet long and started rapidly slicing. The volley of projectiles shattered long, long before they could reach him.

  And the two of them kept walking forwards.

  There had to have been rumors of the Demon King tearing through their armies alone, trying to force an encounter with the Trial System. Those stories were probably fresh in their minds as they saw the elf walking towards them. A blur of red whirlwinding around them as it broke everything they could throw at him.

  His voice echoed throughout the land, piercing the mana barriers with a presence more regal than their King.

  “Duchess Rudalia has offended me greatly. One warning. Get out of the way or die.”

  The army’s crier seemed to think that was an invitation to have a joust with words. Probably thinking that this was just an attempt at intimidation.

  “You will never last long enough to get through us! Even the Demon King has never dared to face an army like ours head on! We will end you here, before you become a greater threat to our lands.”

  Those words seemed to bolster their forces quite a bit. Comparing him to a hated foe that had to be stopped at any cost was a good way to make sure the army’s morale didn’t break.

  Unfortunately they weren’t up against the Demon King.

  Ryan sighed, then let go of Agrinth’s hand. Then he placed the mana cannon on his left shoulder. He felt his volatile mana core start to spike as volatile mana started to seep out of his arm and into the cannon, activating its long dormant runes. The mana cannon started to make an odd crackling sound and Ryan realized something.

  He’d never fired the mana cannon before. The Trial System had just called it an ancient mana cannon and hadn’t described its current state.

  He barely had the foresight to wall off Agrinth with a solidified barrier of aura.

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  It was just in time as the cannon fired. The recoil shook the ground as it kicked him backwards and he had to stomp the ground to make sure he didn’t fall over.

  A brilliant light blue blinded the battlefield.

  What fired from the cannon wasn’t a single laser or a projectile, it was his own goddamn mana. It shot out like lightning, smashing the barriers. it branched out, like seeking lasers that were targeting the places with the most concentrated area of mana. When all of those points were touched by a branch of light?

  There was a pause and a crackle. Ryan could see the expression of horror on a mage’s face as they tried to recall their mana from the barrier.

  It was too late.

  The army’s barrier shattered. The beams of light blue light launching forward, targeting the richest sources of mana. The Mages themselves. It turned all of their mana volatile in an instant. It was technically a series of two explosions, one for the massive barrier, the second with all of the mages.

  For the army?

  It was like someone had detonated a massive fireball above them that had knocked them flat. Then multiple fireballs in and around the army.

  Ryan blinked.

  Agrinth blinked.

  When the dust settled, more than twenty percent of the soldiers had been taken out. Every single one of them was trying to recover, staring at the devastation, at the spots where the light blue lightning had landed. Every single spot was where a mage had been.

  Every single mage had exploded, taking out the soldiers around them.

  His volatile mana had infected the core of the device and completely taken it over.

  Ryan took the speechless demon child’s hand in his right hand and put the steaming mana cannon back on his back. He had a feeling the mana cannon was completely broken.

  But the army didn’t need to know that.

  They just kept walking forwards, as if nothing happened.

  “I’m here for the Duchess’ head. Leave if you don’t support her.”

  There was no crier to yell back at him. He had been standing next to a mage. Without a leader, the army was either recovering or just watching in abject shock and horror.

  The monster with a demon child in hand. Aura billowing sky high, stronger than their royal guards, stronger than the Demon King. The soldiers started to abandon the fight, fear on their faces.

  A champion jumped forwards, charging him, an evolved warrior of the army, deranged and lacking common sense from the war against the demons. He laughed like a madman, his own aura like a burning golden light.

  “Finally! A true–”

  The champion’s head went flying off mid-sentence.

  And the rest of the army scrambled back to flee.

  Agrinth looked on in wonder. He who had suffered under human hands, the child smiled at the death and carnage of the humans, trying to convince himself that this was reality and not some crazy dream he was having. The duo kept walking until they reached the fortress with an enormous barrier wrapped around it. The walls started to light up with an offensive spell.

  They weren’t so advanced in magecraft that they could throw attacks from inside such a tough barrier. Instead the walls themselves had inbuilt magic that they could throw against invaders.

  A tornado formed in the air. An unfortunate and disappointing design, probably designed for armies, not for a single overpowered foe.

  Ryan raised his fist, drawing all the fear of the army and those watching in the walls.

  And punched.

  The tornado scattered as an echoing crash rocked the barrier. To Agrinth’s surprise it held against that domineering fist. Though now there were obvious cracks in the barrier.

  Ryan put his left hand against the crackling barrier.

  [Arcane Volatility]

  The ensuing explosion shattered the walls, throwing the fort in a cloud of dust.

  –

  Duchess Rudalia kicked off her heels and started sprinting down the hallways when her fortress barrier cracked. When she’d done a full analysis of the silver haired elf she didn’t believe he could make it past the army let alone break the damn barrier. It was only a decade ago when he’d tricked both human and demon armies into slaughtering each other.

  Even if you raised his strength to the Demon King’s level then he still couldn’t have destroyed the barrier. If he still stood outside and attacked the barriers? Then they’d whittle him down with other armies from afar.

  It was the perfect plan. She was the leading Strategist for the kingdom after all. She just hadn’t expected her life to be threatened by the very elf that had helped her promotion in the first place.

  And she wasn’t going to go the way of her predecessor. Slaughtered like a dog in some unknown waste. His death had been so pathetic it made her question all of his decisions. Now she was facing a similar problem.

  Rudalia had never made such a deep miscalculation in her life. Though she at least would not die like a dog.

  It was why there were emergency plans. When the barrier exploded she immediately fled for one of the emergency rooms in the corner of the fortress. There she would be safe, there she would wait until the silver haired elf left.

  He could bring the fortress down, it would only make it harder to find her.

  Duchess Rudalia slammed shut the door to her panic room and sat down on a very comfortable chair. She took a breath to center herself, poured herself a glass of wine and took out a scrying orb. Her heart slowing down she moved the scrying spell around the castle’s arrays, scenes zipping past her.

  Her staff and slaves were all fleeing from the castle. Plenty knew of the hidden passageways and this would not be able to track them all down. Sooner or later, when he was done slaughtering the fleeing staff he would have to admit that she had gotten away.

  That was her beautiful plan.

  She kept zipping through the scenes, looking for–one of the installed arrays showed a weird white static.

  It was right outside of her castle, she flickered around with the scrying orb’s spell, detaching it from the castle’s array and making it zoom outwards. Then the image started to clear and the picture became clearer. A blasted silver haired elf and a disgusting demon teen.

  He had antimagic methods but nothing that prevented scrying. In closer inspection, his left arm was continuously leaking a weird light blue mana that made the scrying orb lose its focus. It also made her hackles rise.

  “.”

  Rudalia had always argued that elves were a primitive species that didn’t deserve all the mana rich areas they inhabited. Rudalia looked at this elf as the prime example of her argument.

  Though she had to admit this was one of the most striking elves she had ever seen. She contemplated exactly how many more lives it would take to put him in chains rather than kill him. Having him kneel before her would be worth however many lives it would cost the kingdom.

  She drank some of her wine to quench her thirst as he walked around her castle.

  “Keep looking around little savage elf. You’ll never find me.”

  Her safe room had layers and layers of enchantments. Her safe room had anti-detection, anti-scrying and anti-everything enchantments. Her safe room had walls with multiple layers of dampening material that would–

  He grabbed a fleeing servant and started shaking them for answers. They pointed to the way of her personal chambers. The silver haired elf then let them go.

  Rudalia would remember that servant for later.

  Not that it mattered. She was quite a fair distance away from her chambers. She kept sipping her wine, gloating over the elf searching around like an idiot. He walked down her corridors, barely glancing at her grand portraits, looking at them, portraits like they disgusted him.

  Oh she would string him up and make him a puppet. Make him kneel and sing praises of her beauty. Then she’d get the finest painter to make her a painting of that moment.

  He reached her chambers and shattered the protective enchantments in her bedroom like they were paper. That sent a ripple of fear down her spine. For a moment the elf’s eyes flickered to her scrying orb and her heart skipped a beat. Then he looked away.

  Of course the primitive elf hadn’t noticed her scrying spell.

  Then he started rummaging around her chests. He took out one of her undergarments and looked disgusted, then threw it over the demon child’s head. Like they were trash.

  “H-how dare you! I will have you stripped and beaten in public! I will have you broken and humiliated! I will have you singing praises of my name!”

  It would not be enough. She would have to invent new and creative tortures for him. Rudalia fumed as he kept searching through her belongings. As if she would leave anything truly valuable behind in her bedchambers. He kept searching, then seemed to have found what he was looking for.

  In a dresser drawer, by her vanity, he took out a quill and inkpot.

  Then he went to the biggest painting in the room. The one that she kept in her bedchambers, then dipped her quill in the inkpot.

  Duchess Rudalia had no words. She knew of conquering kings that would ravage everything in a castle, declaring it theirs, or tearing it down, brick by brick. This elf did not tear down her castle or destroy her belongings. He did not draw his insignia nor declare this castle as his.

  No, he was drawing a crude phallus on the forehead of her favorite, portrait. As if he were a common bandit or an unsavory footsoldier. He then turned to his demon companion.

  “Hey want to get in on this?”

  The filthy demon nodded his head, and the elf raised him by his torso so that he could draw an even more crude phallus on her cheek.

  “Hmm, a little crooked.”

  “It’s hard when you’re holding me up.”

  “Yeah I’ve never used a quill before either. Good thing we’ve got lots of space to practice huh?”

  By the time they were finished, her favorite painting was half filled with male genitals. Mostly centered around her face. Rudalia’s skirt was clenched in balls of fists, her glass of wine shattered on the ground.

  The silver haired elf took a step back and admired their handiwork, then nodded in satisfaction.

  “Alright, we’ve got a whole hallway of narcissistic portraits to improve. Better get a move on.”

  Duchess Rudalia screeched in her chambers.

  …

  Duchess Rudalia had broken her fourth wine glass and was on her third and last scrying orb. Most of the non valuables that she could reach had been broken. This was the most humiliating hour she had ever experienced in her life. No matter how many creative tortures she could come up with it would never be enough. A lifetime of tortures would not be enough for this elf.

  They had learned quickly that ink, if not used properly, would drip down and ruin their drawings. So they carefully placed each painting on the ground, moved onto the next painting, then put them back up when the ink on the previous portraits had dried.

  They were on their last painting. Both of them carefully taking their time to make it their last drawing a masterpiece.

  As if drawing phalluses was a skill to be mastered. They had become more intricate. It had started off with depictions of… excretions that came out from the ends of the phallus. Then veins on the shaft got more pronounced, the… scrotums began to have more wrinkles. Then came the stray pubic hair on the wrinkly scrotums.

  The demon and elf were competing with each other to make each phallus as vulgar as they possibly could.

  By the time they had gotten to the last painting, they had indeed come a long way in their artistry. A intricate drawing of a veiny, wrinkly, hairy male genital was being aimed at the serene smile of Duchess Rudalia.

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