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Every time he came to the mine, Vincent would recall something from a long time ago.

“Look at them, Vincent. Take a good look at them.”

At that time, Simon Walde, who hadn’t become the Duke of Thorn, stood on a high spot and pointed at the miners working below as he spoke to him, who was still an Expert mage back then.

“They toil in the dark mines for more than ten hours a day with no safety measures. What can such hard work be exchanged for? Is it only enough for a living, one that plagues them with illnesses?”

Simon’s eyes seemed to be burning with fire.

“As they breathe the air in the mine, most of the miners who have worked here for more than 20 years will suffer from Silver Lung Disease because they inhale too much Elementium Silver dust. It’s said that their chests will feel as if they’re burning painfully every time they breathe. But guess what they call this?”

There was no trace of a smile on Simon’s face.

“Inheritance. This is because after they die, their family members can sell the lungs to the black market’s alchemists at a high price. They can extract crystallized Elementium Silver from them. Even so, the Thieves’ Guild that controls the black market still takes a considerable commission. What’s their mantra? There’s a moral code among thieves?”

With that said, Simon Walde covered his face and laughed maniacally.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Vincent waited until Simon was out of breath from laughing until he started a fit of coughs before slowly asking, “Help me.”

Simon suddenly calmed down and extended his hand to Vincent.

“Help me become the next Duke of Thorn; help me regain the Elementium Silver industry from the Empire, and help me make the Blackwater Province eternally free from the restraints of the royal family, the Astral Council, and the Church.”

Even today, he didn’t regret his decision that day.

He cursed the duke’s heir, barged into the Holy Sepulchre where his ancestors rested to seek strength, expelled the Empire’s envoy, and fought a Platinum Ring Battle Mage…

Even though he violated the Astral Laws because of this, causing him to never advance to the Legendary domain in his life, and even though his methods were too tyrannical, causing his wife to be assassinated by the Conservatives, he never regretted it at all.

“All of this is a necessary sacrifice.”

The man sitting on the Thorn throne who was becoming colder and colder had said this to him.

He took back the Elementium Silver industry, but he squeezed the miners even harder than the Empire. He expelled the Thieves’ Guild, but he created an even crueler underground black market.

In order to fulfill his ideals, he had almost gone in the opposite direction of his former ideals.

In order to resist the Empire, he had to firmly hold power in his hands and squeeze out the last bit of power in Blackwater Province.

But compared to the Empire’s 800-year heritage, that strength was still insufficient…

He could understand Vincent.

However, even he began to wonder if the price he had to pay for that dream was too heavy.

Holy Sepulchre…

If the duke really wanted to master the power of the Holy Sepulchre and awaken the millions of corpses buried in the cemetery for thousands of years as his army… Would it really be an ideal country to rule? A country filled with the dead?

More importantly, how could he guarantee that he could truly control that power?

The Rotten Moon Tide of the Undead a thousand years ago was the Blackwater King’s failed attempt back then. The final outcome was a natural disaster that could have destroyed the entire Blackwater Kingdom.

If not for the Doomsday Watchers at their peak and the hero William Kane killing the out-of-control Blackwater King at the critical moment, the entire Blackwater Province would probably be a silent Kingdom of the Dead.

Vincent thought about it and turned the last corner. Then, his vision cleared up.

It was an overly wide hall compared to the narrow mine from before. There was a small skull mountain in the middle of the hall. There was a pattern of a dragon and snake devouring each other on the rock walls around the hall, emitting a faint silver light.

However, his gaze was completely drawn to the gray-haired, silver-eyed man in front of the skull temple.

“Hello.”

The person wore a miner’s uniform and held a purple-robed wooden magical medium. Beside him stood a thin youth.

The person greeted him politely when he saw him walk in.

Vincent couldn’t tell the level of the person in front of him.

As a magic chanter whose mental strength had been tempered to the threshold of the Legendary stage and yet not seen through the other party’s level, this was enough to determine the other party’s level.

Peak Master? Or Legendary?

But as a heretical mage who can’t obtain magic power from the Astral Laws, where can he obtain enough magic fuel to maintain his level?

As his thoughts raced, Vincent asked, “Were you the one who killed the supervisor and took away the other half of the miners?”

“Yes,” the other party nodded and replied without any hesitation.

“Then, you didn’t choose to leave with them. Can I take it that you’re provoking the entire Thorn City?” Vincent asked.

“Then, can I take it that you’re provoking the entire Vic Continent by setting up a shrine worshiping the Moon Realm here?”

The other party knew about the Moon Realm, so his magic power fuel came from a Moon Realm contract?

According to the information revealed by the other party’s words, Vincent adjusted his countermeasures in his heart.

“The three Moon Goddesses have always been the faith of the Blackwater Swamp. She’s even older than the Seven Holy Spirits,” he replied.

“So those miners willingly let the Soul-Ingesting Spider Demon parasitize their bodies?”

As the person spoke, he pointed his purple yew staff at the Webweaver’s corpse in a corner.

Only then did Vincent notice the dead Webweaver’s corpse.

Corpse?

Why would a Moon Realm spirit leave behind a corpse after death?

Something incomprehensible had happened.

“Why did it…”

“Leave a body behind?” the person responded expressionlessly.

“Of course, it’s because it’s already dead.”

“That’s impossible,” Vincent blurted out.

Lunar Monsters were essentially a thought—a concept or something metaphysical. It was impossible to kill them with magic and swords.

“But as you can see, this has already happened. Let’s not talk about this first. You’re a little stronger than the people I’ve seen before. Even among the people I know, you can be considered third-rate. I believe you have some status in this city, right?”

“My name is Vincent. Do you understand now?”

“Who?”

Vincent fell silent.

Did the other party not even know who he was? Then, how did he turn the Silverstream Mine upside down alone?

Vincent wasn’t someone who cared about his reputation. Be it the titles of the number one person below the Legendary stage or Sage of Scorching Scars, they were all given by the nosy.

However, he wasn’t against those titles.

Many times, a resounding title was much easier than teaching a fool a lesson.

But the person in front of him…

“Vincent von Bergman, Duke Simon’s Chief Palace Mage,” he added.

This time, a change in expression finally appeared on the other party’s face.

“That last name… Who’s Liliana to you?”