Chapter 94: Driving the Tiger to Devour the Wolf
In truth, Scarface had been quietly pleased when Paul ordered him to trigger the trap. He merely put on a show of reluctance so as not to arouse suspicion.
In his original plan, if the clay doll had successfully crossed the trap and entered the next chamber, he might have seized the treasure first and escaped with it. But now, that hope had been utterly shattered.
"Scarface, I'm truly sorry you lost such a valuable magical tool," Paul said with feigned sympathy.
By now, Scarface was no longer a threat in Paul's eyes.
Still, the problem remained—how were they supposed to get across?
"Does anyone here have a broomstick?" Paul asked.
The surrounding wizards exchanged bitter smiles.
"Paul, even if we did have broomsticks, we couldn't afford magical containers big enough to store them."
"Exactly. If we had that kind of money, we wouldn't be doing this in the first place."
Their complaints only fueled the irritation rising in Paul's chest.
"Enough," he snapped. "Just say no and shut up."
Instantly, the room fell silent.
This stone bridge was clearly a deliberate trap—there was no chance of crossing it safely.
As that realization settled in, Paul's gaze drifted toward Scarface, who looked utterly despondent. Paul leaned toward one of his companions and whispered a few words. One by one, crooked smiles appeared on their faces.
"Scarface," Paul said warmly, helping him to his feet, "to compensate for your loss, you'll be allowed to choose one item from the treasure first."
Scarface didn't believe a single word.
"And there's just one small favor we'll need from you," Paul continued.
Before Scarface could react, Paul moved like lightning and snatched his wand away.
"You—!" Scarface glared at him, fury blazing in his eyes.
Paul offered no explanation. He simply waved his hand.
At once, the wizards beside him raised their wands and aimed them at Scarface. Before Scarface could even react, he felt his body lift off the ground.
Paul's method was brutally simple.
Since the stone bridge couldn't be crossed from the middle, they would go around it.
A Levitation Charm was cast directly on Scarface's clothes, and under its pull, he was floated smoothly toward the far side.
The plan worked flawlessly. Not a single obstacle interfered. Scarface was delivered safely across under the spell's effect.
What a twisted way to clear a stage, Russell couldn't help thinking.
Paul wasn't worried about Scarface running off with the treasure alone—after all, his wand was still in Paul's possession.
Sure enough, Scarface made no attempt to open the door. He stood obediently where he was, waiting.
Paul ordered Mick to guard the entrance. Once everyone else had crossed, Paul turned to Scarface and gestured politely.
Scarface didn't dare resist. He stepped forward and pushed the door open—
—and the moment it opened, a skeletal arm glowing with eerie light shot out, clamping around his throat and lifting him clean off the ground.
Scarface's face twisted in agony as his breath was cut off. But when he finally saw the owner of that skeletal arm, his eyes went wide with terror. He struggled desperately, pleading silently.
The skeleton knight was unmoved.
With a casual flick of its arm, Scarface was hurled through the air in a graceful arc—and plunged straight into the abyss below.
"Damn it—there's something like this guarding the place?!"
Paul roared, grabbing an unfortunate wizard at random and hurling him toward the skeleton knight, then pulling the remaining people in front of himself as shields.
Yet despite his fury, a sense of relief crept in.
If anyone had entered the ruins before them—even if they had crossed the stone bridge—they would have been killed by this guardian by now.
The skeleton knight showed no hesitation. Amid the man's screaming, it snapped his neck effortlessly.
Paul glanced at Mick and clenched his teeth.
He did have a way out—Mick was his contingency plan.
But the treasure was too close. Based on his experience, a guardian like the skeleton knight usually meant this was the final trial.
"Fiendfyre."
Paul raised his wand—not at the skeleton knight, but at the wizards standing before him.
Demonic flames erupted from the void, engulfing them. Their screams fed the fire, which grew stronger and more violent, gradually shaping itself into monstrous beasts.
Fiendfyre thrived by devouring combustible material.
Paul didn't know whether the skeleton knight's flames could rival Fiendfyre's primordial fire—so he used his own men as fuel first.
Once every wizard had been consumed, the Fiendfyre turned its attention to Paul and the skeleton knight. The blazing beasts lunged at both.
"Finite Incantatem!"
Paul swung his wand desperately, driving back the Fiendfyre rushing toward him. He knew the counter-spell—he only needed to hold out long enough for the flames to finish devouring the skeleton knight.
The knight had no real means of resistance. It could only spread the blue fire within its skull across its body in defense.
But how could that compare to Fiendfyre?
Its pristine bones were quickly blackened, crumbling into ash piece by piece.
In the end, only its skull remained, still resisting stubbornly.
At that moment, the Fiendfyre began to weaken.
The fiery beasts shrank unwillingly, dispersing into nothingness.
Paul had intervened deliberately—he feared that if the skeleton knight were fully consumed, the Fiendfyre would evolve into something even he couldn't control.
Now, the guardian was completely helpless.
"Glacius Maxima."
Paul froze the remaining skull into a solid block of ice.
He was in high spirits.
Though he had lost nearly all his manpower, this alone made the venture worthwhile. Anyone who bought it could simply give it a new body—and gain a powerful servant.
Taming it was someone else's problem.
Just as Paul prepared to store the frozen skull, he suddenly realized—
Mick was gone.
"Mick? Mick!"
He called out several times. No response.
Panic crept into his chest.
Without Mick… how was he supposed to get out?
Had Mick fled on his own? Or was he afraid Paul would kill him too?
It never once occurred to Paul that someone else might be waiting patiently in the shadows.
With no other choice, he pinned his hopes on the next chamber containing an exit.
Mick, of course, hadn't left.
He had simply been thrown down by Russell.
Russell felt no guilt whatsoever.
Anyone who dared covet what Morgan had left behind was already courting death.
To be safe, Paul cast shield charm on himself. The battle with Fiendfyre had drained him badly—his protective barrier was now dangerously thin.
Just as he reached for the final door, years of fighting on the brink of death screamed a warning in his instincts.
He turned to respond—
—but it was already too late.
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