The blue ice covering the garden door was crisscrossed with spider-web-like cracks.
Before swinging his axe, he instinctively knew. One more strike would shatter it completely. Ivan slowly controlled his magical power, extended his arm, and spoke.
"Dmitri."
"Yes, senior."
"After we open the door, if a Type 1 situation is confirmed, retreat and regroup. Inform the homeland and abandon Kalion."
"...Yes, senior."
A Type 1 situation—the worst scenario the Annihilation Squad could face in demon territory—meant only one thing.
A direct encounter with one of the Seven Dragon Generals.
Throughout the development of tactical doctrines for almost all combat situations, this was the one scenario that had no real countermeasure.
That's why regroup points were always specified in tactical orders. The Annihilation Squad was always deployed to the enemy's rearmost areas and depths. With exceptionally bad luck, there was a possibility of actually encountering a Dragon General.
When encountering a Dragon General, protocol dictated that the most senior member would stay behind. This was the only way to maintain the unit's survival rate. While the most capable agent bought time, the junior members had to escape along the retreat route.
Someone had to relay the frontline situation to operation command. Information like a Dragon General's current position was classified as top-priority intelligence.
And here, now, Ivan was the most senior member of this unit.
"Elfihera."
"Y-yes?!"
"Don't worry."
Finally, Ivan covered Elfihera, who was on his back, with his coat and tied her securely around his waist.
"We will definitely make it back alive."
Ivan raised his axe. The magical power he had been holding back surged like fire, heating his nerves. His muscles, enhanced to their limits, twitched roughly.
-CRASH—!!
The noise was so loud that he couldn't hear Elfihera's response.
But the warmth of her body against his neck was comforting.
Snow whirled around like a visor. Visibility was extremely limited, and the storm deadened all sound.
Ivan started to wipe the snow sticking to his face but stopped and quickly moved his hand behind his back.
Though she was wrapped tightly, he couldn't take chances. While maintaining body temperature would be simple for someone who could use magic, Elfihera wasn't in a condition to do so.
He quickly untied the cord around his waist and took the small, huddled Elfihera into his arms.
"—!!"
Her voice was buried. The moment it left her mouth, the sound dissipated into the storm. Ivan soon gave up on conversation and tightly closed his coat flaps. He could feel her trembling body underneath.
"—!!!"
Elfihera shouted something. Perhaps I should have taught her sign language, Ivan thought, clicking his tongue at the situation that made even lip-reading impossible.
He placed his hand on her neck and let his magical power flow. For a mage, magical power functions similarly to an electric current. Just as every machine requires different voltage and power, one cannot simply use another's magical power without consideration.
Naturally, this wasn't something one should attempt under normal circumstances. The delicate magical circuit could easily overload. Of course, under normal conditions, Elfihera would be skilled enough to break down and absorb external magical power instantly.
But now, this was the best option. All he could do was trust.
"—?! –!!"
He could feel Elfihera urgently shouting beneath his hand. Her neck vibrated distinctly. Since he couldn't understand her anyway, Ivan ignored her words and surveyed their surroundings.
'Not indoors.'
Obviously a snowstorm wouldn't rage indoors, but considering the structure of the Eternal Palace, this phenomenon was impossible.
The palace garden was covered by a massive glass dome.
An effort to always provide perfect conditions for the ancestors. To maintain appropriate humidity and temperature, regulate sunlight, and block animals and pests.
"..."
Ivan barely managed to turn around to look behind him. The door they had just come through was nowhere to be seen.
No door, no building. He narrowed his eyes and carefully examined his surroundings. A snow-covered plain. Perfectly flat. In the darkness of night, the white ground stretched to the horizon.
Again, he looked more carefully, checking for any other signs of life.
'It's certain.'
No other presence. Except for Elfihera who was pressed against him, all the other agents who had been with them were gone.
A hallucination-type spell? No, if that were the case, Elfihera wouldn't have crossed over with him.
'A royal domain.'
Ivan was familiar with this phenomenon. He bit his lip slightly and raised his axe. There was no denying it anymore. This was a Type 1 situation. Not just a sudden encounter, but a royal domain intrusion level.
This was the domain of beings who had become gods while living, those who had achieved immortality with mortal souls. The domain of those who had become incarnations of concepts.
A royal domain was like another world. All the royal domains he had experienced were like that. It wasn't simply a well-built fortress or dungeon.
It was a space where the concepts of the world were distorted. If he had to describe it—yes, it was a god's world. The world of those who called themselves gods.
So this place now...
-WHOOSH—!!
The Eternal Palace where they had been standing just moments ago was gone without a trace, and this space, with only snowfields and storms, was itself like the royal domain of a Dragon General.
'Then there should be inhabitants.'
What gods need most are worshippers. That was one reason Ivan didn't believe in gods. They were beings who couldn't be complete on their own.
Every Dragon General had worshippers. As representatives of their species, their worshippers were essentially their entire race.
But what being in this space grew from receiving worship?
Idranhill, the city of elves. What demon race could flourish enough here to create a god?
"—."
Something was seen writhing at the edge of the horizon. At first, he thought it might be an illusion caused by the heavy snowfall, but looking closely, it was growing larger.
Ivan moved toward the writhing things, taking care not to jostle Elfihera as he walked.
Soon he could directly face the moving objects.
"Huh."
Deep-sea leeches. A bizarre mass of frozen ones on the snow, and small, squat creatures feeding on them, all writhing together.
"I see. The sea, is it?"
Ivan looked around with fresh eyes. He stared for a long time at the flat horizon and the snow piled softly on it.
Suddenly, he swept the ground with his foot. The firm surface shifted softly. Beneath it lay pitch-black ice.
The sea was frozen over.
"Techniques for controlling magical beasts, enhancing intelligence, and extracting divinity by compressing souls... Clever."
Ivan looked at the leeches with cold eyes.
The leeches had already turned their heads toward Ivan. As if listening to someone's orders. No, as if listening to his words. As if they possessed intelligence.
"You enhanced the intelligence of magical beasts and instilled faith in them. Not a god of the elves, but a god of the familiars created by elves. Did you try to control a god?"
One of the magical beasts writhed. Its mouth, shaped like a lamprey's, moved, and a strange sound like twisting metal was heard.
Tick, tick, tick. Such noises overlapped one by one. Each individual began making different sounds with different patterns.
It was a collection of sounds. Like when an orchestra plays, and the characteristics of each instrument blend into a single piece of music. The small noises, mere sounds, came together to create a rhythm.
The maggots, each making brief sounds, overlapped to begin stammering words.
-Eternal, ly, prosper, we shall.
That sentence was being repeated endlessly. The leeches shook their heads as if intoxicated, muttering.
Suddenly, a light flashed beneath his feet. Ivan pushed the snow away with his foot to examine the ground.
The dark sea's glacier. Beneath it, a faint light shimmered. Like a galaxy spread out from far away.
Narrowing his eyes, he could make out a vague outline.
It was a city. A sunken city, no—there were "cities." The unfamiliar style of ruins and the magical power flowing between them were vivid.
An unfamiliar terrain. Since Ivan never forgot a terrain he had seen once at the military map level, the city he was looking down at clearly had an unfamiliar form.
No region in the United Kingdom had such a form.
A piece of cloth like a rag was floating and drifting in the current above the city, like garbage.
"42 islands... I see."
The military flag bearing the emblem of Kalion was fluttering beneath the glacier.
-Eternal,ly, pros,per, we shall.
The maggots began to writhe and tangle together. Ivan tucked Elfihera to one side and raised his axe. After patting her trembling shoulders reassuringly, he readied his stance.
The tangled form of maggots took on a human shape. With pointed ears and unfamiliar attire. The maggots occupying where hair should be protruded, creating a strange form.
Just by silhouette, it looked like an endlessly growing tree.
"Yere, Lord Yeremov."
Elfihera whispered faintly, her frozen lips barely moving. She was looking toward the horizon with terrified eyes.
More and more writhing things were gathering from the snowy horizon. The maggots began to form silhouettes.
Each individual entity took the form of an elf standing like a tree.
The horizon looked like an endlessly sprawling forest.
"Le, leave me behind. Y-you can, can find a way to, to survive on your own."
"Yes, I could."
Ivan pressed Elfihera's head firmly, hiding her within the folds of his coat.
"I've done it before. Stay close to me."
After all, this wasn't his first visit to a Dragon General's royal domain. As a scout for the Hero Party, he had explored royal domains and returned alive to guide the heroes.
So, doing the same for the current party wasn't such a remarkable experience.
And a trained agent should not find it difficult to repeat something they've done before.
The ancient souls of elves imprisoned in the deep sea.
Magical beasts that accumulated by gnawing on those souls.
Controlling those beasts, granting them intelligence, awakening them as a single "demon race."
Creating faith among those demon races and concentrating them into a single entity.
"Theoretically, it's possible to directly produce something on the level of a Dragon General."
Beolgrin laughed quietly as he moved his hand. As the knight moved, the opposing hand pushed a pawn.
"But should we call that a god?"
Beolgrin's question echoed through the darkness.
"I would rather call this a vessel."
His hand gripped the knight and moved it. Clack, the pawns that had advanced earlier were trampled and burst like maggots.
Was it the flesh-biting cold, the deeply penetrating otherworldly magic, or fear?
If her trembling hands were due to fear, it wasn't fear of her own death.
Elfihera carefully traced Ivan's cheek with her pale fingertips.
-SQUISH.
An elf made of maggots was crushed under the axe. The maggots quickly scattered and faded beyond the snowfield.
Soon, another elf rose from the horizon.
"Yere, Lord Yeremov."
As she barely managed to unstick her frozen lips to speak, Ivan swung his axe without even looking at her.
The remains of the burst maggots were scattered in dots across the snow.
"Do what you need to do, Elfihera."
"I, I..."
"You can do it. Don't think about anything else until then."
Even in this situation, his voice remained the same as always. Heavy, solemn, unwavering low tones. Breathing that wasn't rough at all, firm but not cold. Reassuring.
"Don't stray from me."
Elfihera nodded at his words.
What she needed to do.
What a mage of the Hero Party, a mage who had lost her magic, a mage who was helpless and terrified, needed to do.
What a mage of the Hero Party needed to do under otherworldly magic that tangled her magical circuits.
-CLICK.
The gears of the circuit turned. Even as they distorted the structure and overheated, trembling violently.
Although the extreme pain felt like her nerves were being seared with electricity, nevertheless.
What a mage of the Hero Party needed to do.
What the heir of Grikenkos needed to do.
"That's right."
Ivan laughed softly, pressed Elfihera's head once firmly, and then brought his axe down on the head of an approaching elf.
Squish, the fluid soaked his coat flaps.