Chapter 77: Where Power and Pride Collide

The level of muddy water that had momentarily turned the dried ravine into a flowing river began to subside, slowly sinking back to its natural state.

The aqueous fortress encasing Curtis , too, diminished in size, sliding away as though it were being swept along by the retreating flood.

Of course, it wasn’t actually being carried off—it was simply returning to its dormant form, mimicking the natural dispersal of water.

Though Curtis  had long since exposed his spirit openly, the elemental still appeared as nothing more than a massive body of water. If he had to, he could still claim it was an advanced water spell.

And in truth, it was considered rude to pry into a mage’s secrets. Of the witnesses, only Mayra and Lilia had truly seen the full scope of his battle, and both were allies. Neither would press.

“Vainglory’s Flame won’t be so easy to explain away… but that’s for another time.”

For now, he was simply too exhausted to overthink it.

As his adrenaline ebbed, fatigue surged into his limbs. His head throbbed from overuse, his body ached from repeated shockwaves. The urge to collapse then and there was nearly overwhelming.

Yet oddly, Curtis ’s mind felt sharper than ever—cleared by the rush of leveling up.

[ Water Manipulation: Lv.60 ]
Progress to next level: 3%

[ Spirit Conjuration: Lv.45 ]
Progress to next level: 7%

Three levels in each. Both disciplines had surged.

One level alone was a leap. But three? His magic had ascended with brutal clarity, jolting his mind into a state of unnatural wakefulness.

“I only used the spirit in a support role… maybe the contribution to the demon’s defeat was factored in retroactively.”

He still didn’t fully understand how the system worked. The display was minimal, with no manual or guidance. All he had were his own observations.

After a certain point, self-study stalled. Sparring or actual battle worked better. The wider the gap between combatants, the greater the gain.

And killing blows—those delivered the most significant leaps. There didn’t seem to be a “last-hit” rule, more like some invisible contribution scale.

Naturally, the gap mattered. The greater the difference in power, the greater the bonus.

The last time he’d gained this much in a single leap was back when he’d killed that assassin. But that had been early in his journey, when every breath earned him growth. Now, at a higher tier, every level was a mountain.

“Sure, the reward’s sweet… but I wouldn’t do that again unless I had to.”

Better to hunt ten weaker targets for thirty percent gain than risk death for a massive windfall. That was healthier—for both body and soul.

And to be fair, they hadn’t known Moritz had struck a demon pact. If he had still been an ally, the three golden ranks could’ve easily taken the demon together.

Still, in the end, they’d prevailed. And if he included the battle gains, Curtis  had effectively climbed five levels in a day.

“Phew.”

With a long sigh, Curtis  recalled the now-shrunken spirit, wrapped his bracelet around his wrist, and walked forward.

Mayra and Lilia were already approaching what remained of Moritz.

His body, now revealed as the waters receded, was a ruin. Twisted limbs, broken joints, the missing arm—it was a wonder there was anything left at all.

“He’s dead,” Mayra confirmed after checking his breath and heartbeat. Curtis  nodded in silence.

Even without her saying so, even without seeing the EXP bar rise, he would have known. If Moritz had survived in that condition, he wouldn’t be human—he’d be a troll.

Mayra’s voice turned somber.

“Strange… that one who surely knew the cost of dealing with demons still succumbed to the temptation. I never imagined he bore such bitter resentment toward his own limits.”

Achieving the Golden Realm should have been a source of pride. But for some, ambition was a curse. When faced with the wall of their own limitations, some shattered. Others turned to forbidden paths, desperate to break through.

Demon pacts were the worst kind. The fall of one would drag all those around them into the abyss.

“But I thought demon power was always temporary,” Curtis  said. “Wasn’t it already fading? Why risk everything for a fleeting boost?”

“This case was different,” Mayra replied. “The demon forcibly injected power into him—unnatural, and thus unsustainable. But that’s not what a true pact looks like.”

“Oh?”

“In a proper contract, the change is gradual—and permanent. A person reshapes themselves with demonic power over time. Like reforging a blade.”

“Huh. That’s… almost measured.”

“Remove the soul-corrupting part, the slow loss of humanity, and yes, it strengthens a warrior or mage quite effectively.”

“Yeah… that part’s kind of a dealbreaker.”

“He must have believed his wall was too tall to climb. You wouldn’t understand it, not yet.”

Mayra’s words were gentle but firm. Curtis  grimaced, sheepish.

He thought of athletes on Earth—the ones who turned to forbidden enhancers. Not all of them were failures. Many had tasted greatness and simply couldn’t let it go. They knew the risks, accepted them, and leapt anyway.

Moritz must have felt the same. He wasn’t blind to the price. He just couldn’t bear to stop climbing.

Curtis , with his absurdly overpowered status window and clean growth path, had never truly known a “wall.” So how could he judge?

“Well, regardless of what I think… wasn’t it Lilia who dealt the finishing blow?”

“Mm.”

Even Mayra had no rebuttal for that. She and Curtis  both turned toward Lilia.

“Earlier I was too distracted to ask,” Mayra said. “But Lilia—when did you learn the Miracle of Radiance?”

“Oh, just now!” she chirped.

“Truly?”

“Yes! You two were fighting so hard, and I didn’t want to just stand around. So I prayed! And then—boom! It happened!”

Lilia beamed, innocent as sunlight, utterly guileless.

“…Is this normal for priests?”

“If mere prayer made miracles real,” Mayra muttered dryly, “we’d be neck-deep in archbishops by now.”

Curtis  couldn’t help but snort a laugh.

The truth was unbelievable.