WorldCrafter - Building My Underground Kingdom-Chapter 52: Draeven’s Idea

The flames collided with the Qilin—only for the lightning beast to tear through them, its form momentarily scattering, then reforming like it was never harmed. "Tch!" The Ashborn snarled. He swung again—harder, faster. This time, his axe clashed directly against the Qilin’s lightning-fanged jaw. The impact shook the air, sending out a shockwave—but the Qilin simply split apart, dodging the attack before reforming behind him. "Shit!"

Crackle!!! A lightning lash struck him square in the chest, tearing open his flesh. He regenerated instantly—but the moment his body reformed

BOOM!!

The Qilin struck again. And again. And again.

Each time, the Ashborn’s body was destroyed, only to be rebuilt in flames. But it didn’t matter—the Qilin kept coming, kept hunting, kept devouring him in an endless storm.

"ENOUGH!!!" The Ashborn let out a furious roar, pouring every last ounce of his ignited form into a final, desperate explosion—a last stand of flames and fury. But the Qilin did not stop. It rushed forward, weaving through the flames, its crackling form growing brighter, faster, unstoppable.

And then—Ka-BOOOOOOOM!!!!!

The Lightning Qilin slammed into him. A huge explosion ripped through the battlefield, blinding in its brilliance. A shockwave tore apart the molten ground, vaporizing stone, sending embers and debris flying into the air like the world itself was being erased. And when the light finally faded, All that remained was a deep, scorched crater.

The remaining Ashborn wasted no time, scattering immediately upon seeing the devastation. As the blinding glare dissipated, the Magus glanced around, noticing the Ashborn had already vanished. He tapped the air lightly, rippling his mana. "They sure run fast. Count yourselves lucky—I have other targets," he muttered to himself before shifting his gaze upward. "Will you come down willingly, or should I pull you down?"

Tzarek felt his heart freeze, every instinct screaming for him to flee. He glanced quickly toward Vek’tal and Draeven, but before he could say anything, Draeven confidently stepped forward and jumped down.

BAM! He landed heavily, cracking the battlefield further beneath him.

"Oh? You’re not running away. Interesting," the Magus chuckled lightly, tilting his head with curiosity. "You think you can’t lose either?"

Draeven lifted his hands slightly, palms out, a gesture of humility. "Ah, not at all. Please, let’s not misunderstand—I’m not together with them. We Ashborn aren’t exactly a unified group. They act on their impulses, but I prefer reason."

The Magus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And your reason tells you to confront me alone? Bold."

Draeven smiled faintly, lowering his head in polite deference. "Truthfully I was send here by the Ashking. I know you’re looking for the Traveler. Perhaps instead of wasting your precious time on mere distractions, you’d allow me the honor of guiding you directly to him."

The Magus’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Now that’s interesting indeed. So you’re saying the other act on their own?" As he spoke, immense pressure bore down upon Draeven.

"Yes, we’re a different group. I don’t know if the Ashking gave out two separate orders, but mine is simply to find the Traveler. As you can see, I’m not yet a full-fledged Ashborn. Finding the Traveler is supposed to be my final trial," Draeven said calmly, though his heart raced frantically. He knew a single wrong word would cost him his life; that was precisely why he had decided to weave truth and lies carefully together.

The Magus stood silently for several tense seconds, then abruptly asked, "And once you’ve found this Traveler, what’s your task afterward?"

"The Traveler is very strong, Sir Magus. According to the information I have, he defeated the Hell Worm."

Suddenly, the crushing pressure on Draeven vanished, replaced by the Magus’s unexpected laughter. He began walking toward Draeven with casual ease. "The Hell Worm? Hahaha, interesting. So you’re saying the Traveler is strong, huh?"

"Yes, very strong," Draeven replied cautiously, confused by the sudden change. He should have felt relief at the vanished pressure, yet apprehension still clung tightly as the Magus approached. Who could predict this man’s intentions?

Draeven vividly recalled how effortlessly the Magus cast his magic. No incantations, no relics—no visible preparations at all. Usually, even the strongest species required some ritual, a relic, or at least a tattooed magic circle glowing upon casting a spell. ’Was this Magus hiding such a method beneath his clothing, or had his people perfected something entirely new?’

The Magus stopped directly in front of Draeven, placing a gloved hand firmly on his shoulder. Draeven gulped nervously; the Magus’s white glove hid his identity completely, leaving his species unknown. He braced himself for whatever came next. "Very well," the Magus said cheerfully. "You’ll guide me to this Traveler, then. And what about your friends—will they join us, or wait here?"

This time, Draeven didn’t get a chance to respond. Tzarek and Vek’tal immediately jumped down, kneeling respectfully before the Magus. They quickly began showering him with praise, acting subservient and obedient. They had grasped Draeven’s plan perfectly: the mission remained the same, but with their original Ashborn group weakened, they’d need a stronger adversary.

Who better than this mysterious Traveler who defeated the infamous Hell Worm?

In their eyes, Draeven’s move was brilliant—striking two birds with a single stone. This decisive thinking was exactly why they’d willingly risked their lives to follow him.

As the group began making their way toward Ben, something stirred deep within the crater. Pieces of twisted, charred metal trembled, vibrating as if suddenly coming to life. Slowly, bit by bit, the fragments scraped across the scorched ground, converging into a single mass until they formed the crude shape of an axe.

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The axe shuddered violently, pulling in the blistering heat around it, its surface glowing brighter and brighter until it was fully restored. From the handle of the axe, flames erupted fiercely, twisting into a familiar form—the Ashborn warrior regenerated entirely, collapsing onto one knee and breathing heavily. His expression was filled with dread, and his voice trembled with barely-contained fury. "Fuck," he growled hoarsely, gripping the weapon tightly. "I really almost died. That Magus bastard... Just you wait!"