Blood spilled endlessly from the corner of Serdan’s mouth, the searing pain in his abdomen nearly devouring him whole.
As a mage, to be caught off guard and stabbed at close range by a ranger stronger than himself, he had no chance to react.
Yet the wound was nothing compared to the shattering pain of betrayal—from the hand of his dearest friend.
He clutched desperately at Pelagel’s arm, the one holding the bloodied arrow. Bloodshot eyes locked onto him as he forced out a hoarse question between his teeth.
“Why…?”
“All of this… is for the great cause of the ‘Boss’…”
But even as he spoke, tears streaked uncontrollably down Pelagel’s face.
“I… what am I doing? No… I must do this. This is all for… for…”
Pelagel staggered back two steps, releasing his grip to clutch his own head, as though trapped in a violent inner struggle.
Serdan’s eyes widened in shock, then it was as if he understood.
Ignoring his wound, forgetting even to heal himself, he threw spell after spell at Pelagel without hesitation.
“Clear Mind!”
“Will Protection!”
“Purification!”
He didn’t know if any of them would work—he wasn’t one of the rare mages who specialized in the mind. All he could do was throw out every possible countermeasure.
Not far away, the puji arranging the ritual paid no attention.
To Lin Jun, Pelagel’s life or death was entirely his to decide.
Even full parasitism, which reduced combat efficiency, still allowed obedience. And a gravely wounded Serdan could hardly even fight a puji now.
From the moment Serdan was stabbed, he had ceased to be a threat.
But…
Watching Pelagel’s frantic struggle, Lin Jun couldn’t help but feel speechless.
Really? Just a few words and gestures, and his self-will was already stirring?
Was it because he hadn’t used professional hypnosis methods? Or was Pelagel’s willpower simply too strong?
A fully parasitized puppet was clumsy, far weaker than one with partial self-awareness.
If possible, Lin Jun didn’t want to lose such a valuable asset—an elf who could move freely in elven territory—just yet.
Faced with this confused “child,” Lin Jun had to speak directly into his mind.
“Pelagel, there’s no need for doubt! Everything is for that great cause!”
“For… the cause?” Pelagel echoed unconsciously. “What cause?”
???
Why so many questions?
How was Lin Jun supposed to know what cause he had?
But Pelagel clearly needed a clear answer. Without one, he would collapse—and then Lin Jun would have no choice but to let mushrooms consume him completely.
So Lin Jun spun a lofty-sounding goal in half a second.
“Everything is for saving this world! Iros’s path, Serdan’s path—they are both wrong. Only by following me can we change that destined future!”
What grander cause than saving the world?
And it aligned perfectly with the ideals of the former “Ark” members.
“Yes… saving the world…” Sure enough, Pelagel’s emotions calmed, his eyes clearing of confusion.
But Serdan would not just lie down to die.
Collapsing to his knees, he used the last of his strength to seize Pelagel’s cloak, his bloody hand dragging a crimson streak across the fabric.
“Kill me… if you must! Without you, I’d have died countless times already! But… Pelagel! Wake up! Don’t act like some fool trapped in a cheap illusion, letting yourself be used like this!”
Pelagel’s grip on the bloodstained arrow trembled violently as he stared at his friend at his feet.
“What are you hesitating for?” Lin Jun’s voice pressed into his mind. “This is all for saving the world! What you see before you is nothing more than a ‘necessary sacrifice’…”
But it was obvious—Pelagel’s resolve had not yet reached such heights.
When the “sacrifice” was his life-bonded friend, his resistance surged.
Seeing this, Lin Jun shifted tactics.
He whispered instead that Serdan was merely blinded by Iros’s false theories. That he should be restrained for now—and once he witnessed the truth himself in the future, he would awaken, just as Pelagel had.
That phrasing finally smoothed Pelagel’s feathers.
And under Serdan’s despairing gaze, Pelagel struck with a hand chop, knocking his dear friend unconscious.
…
Meanwhile, the other puji was not idle.
It had already arranged a crude Abyss ritual.
As the spell activated, a fissure ripped open in the Divine Tree’s consciousness.
It resembled Lin Jun’s own crystal core—but not entirely.
This rift couldn’t transport physical bodies, but it offered Lin Jun an entrance into the Divine Tree’s inner “control switches.”
Iros’s ritual before had been a carefully tuned, complex “official version.”
Now, Lin Jun was forced to grope his way forward blindly.
Fortunately, unlike his own crystal core with its countless options like stars in the sky, here many permissions were still sealed. The choices were numerous, but within reason.
Lin Jun plunged his awareness in and began to experiment—recklessly.
In his own Dungeon, he’d test carefully. Every switch pressed meant long observation, fearful of triggering something like “self-destruct” and blowing away all his years of work.
But this wasn’t his Dungeon. This was sneaking through someone else’s window, rifling their house for spare keys while they slept.
Time mattered more than caution. If something broke—so be it.
Every option he saw, Lin Jun tested, batch after batch.
And soon, side effects appeared.
Above the Divine Tree Dungeon, the massive barrier that drew sunlight down into the cavern suddenly halted.
Instantly, save for the spiral edge where natural light still reached, most of the Dungeon sank into darkness.
Only a few mushrooms glowed faintly in the black.
But the reckless search bore fruit too!
In the next moment, the puji, Pelagel, and Serdan all vanished from where they stood.
Lin Jun had found the switch!