"That certainly sounds sincere..." Roben’s laughter-tinged voice faded into the dim basement.

Looking down at the backs of Miguel and the masked slave ahead, Ian followed them down the stairs step by step.

—This is the kind of place I’d love to make into my lair.

The air grew colder and more stale, and the tainted magic became clearer. Soon after came the familiar sensation of entering a corrupted den, as though the place had been completely cut off from the outside world.

The sudden hush behind him confirmed that the others felt it too.

"This is my personal laboratory," Roben added casually as he walked ahead.

Nodding slightly, Ian took in the room.

Two rows of thick pillars stretched across the chamber, as if supporting the entire mansion above. Between them stood a series of beds that looked disturbingly like operating tables.

"Impressive," Ian finally murmured after glancing even at the closed room behind the stairs, which was clearly a study.

The space was enormous.

"If you prove your ability, you’ll receive a residence with a laboratory like this as well. Keep following." Roben chuckled and glanced back at him. "And don’t touch my test subjects."

He was referring to the figures lying bound to several of the tables.

"Yes, Mentor," Ian replied calmly, scanning the ceiling.

Spell circuits containing corrupted magic flickered there. That was also why he had only withdrawn his hand from the pocket dimension earlier.

"Is there no risk of your research leaking outside?"

"Your distrust is remarkable..." Roben shook his head but answered easily. "No. What happens here can never be known outside. Even the sound is completely sealed."

"Even if an accident occurs during an experiment?"

"That’s what personal slaves are for. Though on rare occasions, situations arise severe enough that even they are caught in it..."

Walking leisurely past the rows of tables, Roben shrugged.

"But great achievements are born through such sacrifices. If no one enters or leaves the residence for a month, then the interior is searched."

"I see."

So there’s no alarm system.

Ian glanced at one of the tables beside him.

A tray rested on it, neatly arranged with bloodstained saws, sharp surgical knives, and long needles.

There was no need to wonder what they were used for.

On the next table lay a naked test subject bound with leather straps, completely motionless.

He appeared to be a young man who had just reached adulthood.

Across his pale upper body were spell circuits drawn in blood, half-finished and incomplete. In places where they had apparently tried to erase them, the flesh had been burned with a branding iron. Symbols and markings were also seared into his neck and shoulders like crude brands.

—All sloppy work... and they didn’t even finish it.

The most horrifying part was the head.

His eyelids and lips were sewn shut, and a long scar ran across his forehead, as though it had once been cut open. Several needles were driven deep into various points of his shaved scalp.

"Don’t misunderstand. It’s not one of my failures." Roben’s relaxed voice followed.

Without taking his eyes off the test subject they were passing, Ian asked, "You mean these marks are the work of another senior?"

"Several, actually. Despite appearances, they’re valuable specimens. It would be a waste to discard them just because one experiment failed," Roben answered casually.

His tone held no trace of guilt or hesitation toward human experimentation.

"Until their breath finally stops, they’re used in other studies or as practice materials."

"I see." Ian nodded.

Despite his calm expression, he was thinking to himself what revolting bastards these spellcasters were. The other test subjects they passed looked just as horrific.

—Hmm, still crude... but someone actually put some effort into this one.

Yog whispered.

Almost at the same time, Roben said with a faint laugh, "If they could still feel pain or fear, we wouldn’t be able to use them for this long. Are you realizing just how much help you’ll be receiving?"

"Yes, Mentor," Ian answered quietly as he looked toward another table ahead.

A girl about Lucia’s age was bound facedown with leather straps. She was probably the one that had caught Yog’s interest.

"I understand your curiosity, but don’t touch her," Roben added casually from ahead.

He glanced back at Ian with a smile. "She’s my favorite specimen. I’m certain she’ll produce a result worthy of being preserved on the top floor."

"So successful experiments are sent there," Ian murmured without taking his eyes off the girl.

Unlike the others, her eyes and mouth hadn’t been sewn shut, and her hair hadn’t been shaved. But several needles were driven deep into her brown hair, and half-finished spell circuits were etched across her back.

"Not all of them. Only those worthy of it are preserved there," Roben said with a touch of pride before finally stopping.

They had reached an empty operating table.

He turned toward Ian with a faint smile. "Stop there."

Ian halted calmly.

Roben nodded in satisfaction and continued, "If you wish, I’ll give you a proper tour after your qualification examination is complete. But for now..."

His gaze shifted toward Miguel.

Miguel stood with his right arm still twisted behind his back by the masked slave. His face had gone stiff, like wax.

It was impossible to tell whether it was fear or rage, or both.

—Just give the signal, my friend. As I said, there’s something I’d like to try with this crude servant.

Yog flicked its violet tongue from Miguel’s sweat-slick neck.

Roben, still examining Miguel with amused interest, added, "I think we should begin by performing the procedure on this unfortunate fellow. After all, he’ll be assisting us when we work on your remaining test subjects."

Miguel’s nose twitched.

"The one who needs the procedure isn’t him," said Ian.

"Hmm?"

"It’s you, Mentor."

At almost the same instant, Ian swung out his right arm from beneath his cloak.

A blue streak shot forward like a beam of light from his hand.

Crack!

However, the trajectory failed to pierce Roben’s forehead as he turned in confusion.

A translucent barrier flared into existence in front of him, blocking the strike.

Crunch—

The dagger was lodged deep in the center of the barrier. Blue magic crackled along the blade.

However, Roben didn’t even seem to realize it.

"What is—" He stared blankly past the barrier, his face filled with confusion. It seemed the barrier had simply activated automatically from a protective spell inscribed on his body or cloak.

Ian neither cared nor answered.

Tap, tap!

He had already launched himself forward toward Roben, leaving the others behind.

At the same time, he activated the Platinum Barrier and thrust his Willful Grasp toward the dagger.

Clang! Crack—

The barrier shattered like powdered glass under the impact of his Willful Grasp. Roben’s head snapped back as he was flung away.

"Ugh?"

The shockwave knocked Miguel sprawling as he tangled with the masked slave beside him.

Ian didn’t spare them a glance.

"Yog!" He shouted as he leaped again.

Laughter echoed through his mind as Yog released a pulse of chaotic power.

Crackle!

Above Roben’s face, which was snapped back, a blue flash burst from the dagger jutting out. The moment lightning pierced him, Roben went rigid.

Almost at the same instant, Ian thrust out the Platinum Barrier in his left hand with all his strength.

Crack—

The sharpened edge of the shield slammed deep into Roben’s neck.

The dark mage’s face came into view—eyes rolled white, the dagger buried in his forehead.

However, Ian didn’t loosen the strength in his left arm. Instead, he kicked off the ground again as the wall closed in.

Boom!

Roben’s back slammed straight into the wall. Gritting his teeth, Ian drove his left arm forward to the very end. In the next instant, the Platinum Barrier’s blade edge completely severed Roben’s neck.

Crunch—

Ian’s left fist struck Roben’s chest, and blood burst from the cleanly cut surface, spilling over the shield and soaking the back of his hand.

Splash!

Roben’s head flew away, spraying blood. For an instant, violet magic burst from it, though it lasted only for a moment.

Thud...

By the time Ian turned his head to look, Roben’s head, the dagger still embedded in the center of its brow, dropped onto the floor.

His eyes rolled white, nose pale, mouth hanging open as dark red blood streamed from the torn neck. It was the pitiful end of a senior dark mage who, if he had wished, might have been reborn as a demon.

However, Ian didn’t relax. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling. He couldn’t be certain there weren’t any alarms or traps in this place.

Even so, the reason he killed Roben instead of capturing him was simple—he couldn’t tolerate what the bastard had done.

"Ian! Is it over? Can we untie the ropes now?"

Ian finally let out the breath he’d been holding the moment Thesaya’s voice carried over from behind him.

At last, withdrawing the Platinum Barrier, he nodded as he shoved Roben’s body aside.

"Yeah. It’s over. You can untie everything now."

"Got it! Ugh, I thought I’d die from the suspense and not knowing what was going on."

"Not being able to see anything made it far more nerve-wracking than I expected."

As the rustling of ropes and voices followed, Ian turned around without even glancing at the headless corpse sprawled on the floor.

He frowned slightly, bothered by the sticky feeling of his blood-soaked left hand.

"Well done... damn it, that crazy spellcaster bastard..." Miguel muttered with a sigh as he sat on the floor.

Looking up at Ian, who was shaking the blood from his hand while walking past, he added, "But what about this one? Are we just leaving it like this?"

Ian’s gaze shifted beside him.

One of the masked slaves lay collapsed beside a table, twitching violently. Behind the mask, its eyes had already turned violet.

"The moment you shouted, it turned into smoke and shot out... then just slipped right into the mask," Miguel added.

A low laugh echoed through Ian’s mind immediately afterward.

—Don’t worry, Friend. It worked. I’m in the middle of completely taking over this crude spell. It’s my first time, so give me just a little longer...

Ian nodded and walked past Miguel. "Just leave it. You’ve had it rough, so rest for a moment."

"Got it... ha... Lu Entre..." Miguel groaned as he leaned his back against a fallen operating table.

Ian looked toward the others approaching. They had already removed their blindfolds and were untying the ropes around their wrists.

"It’s even more ominous than I imagined. Is it just this place?" asked Thesaya, looking around the room.

"Probably. From what I saw through the gap in the blindfold earlier, it was fairly bright outside," said Nasser.

She glanced at him with a slight frown. "Pulling tricks like that? What were you planning to do if you got caught?"

"I was confident I wouldn’t be, as you can see."

"So you’re shamelessly admitting you had no backup plan, Half-Ear." Thesaya clicked her tongue.

Ian tilted his chin slightly. "You all did well getting this far. Must’ve been exhausting."

Mev, who had been watching him silently, curled her lips into a faint smile. "You’re the one who had it rough, Ian."

"That’s right. You truly looked like a spellcaster back there. In a good way, of course." Nasser added.

That doesn’t sound like a compliment.

Before he could say anything, Thesaya smiled slyly. "See? My predictions were spot on."

"They were. Up to this point," Ian answered calmly and stopped.

He extended his right hand to the side and slipped it into his pocket dimension.

"But the real fight starts now."

Tilting his head slightly, Ian began pulling equipment out of the packed pocket dimension one piece after another.

"So, first, let’s finish getting ready."