Oddly enough, after the black-robed man was cleaved apart by the runic greatsword, no blood spilled from the corpse. Instead, the cut revealed a strange black void, and the body immediately melted away into the room's shadows.
Seeing this, the elven master craftsman instantly shouted toward the automaton that had split the black-robed man apart:
"He's a Shadow Mage. Once per day, he can use his shadow to preserve his life. He's inside your shadow right now. Attack behind you!" (Ancient Elven)
Hearing that, the automaton that had branded Audrey with the slave mark immediately turned and stabbed at the shadow beneath itself.
The strike successfully forced the black-robed man out of the darkness.
The moment he leapt free from the shadow, the automaton relentlessly pressed him with sweeping strikes from its runic greatsword, forcing him into constant evasive maneuvers.
But as a Sequence Five, he was naturally no weakling. Even while dividing his attention to suppress the elven master craftsman, he continuously attempted to manipulate the automaton's shadow, trying to restrain or even seize control of it.
Because of that, several attacks that should have been unavoidable were narrowly dodged by the black-robed man.
At the same time, he could not help but curse himself for making the exact same mistake as the elf, believing he had everything under control while overlooking a critical detail.
This place was clearly beneath ancient elven ruins. They had even personally seen this still-functioning automaton before. So why had he never considered that this damned master craftsman might already have taken control of it at some point?
But regret was meaningless now. He had no choice but to focus on the battle before him.
Fortunately, there was still one reassuring thing.
The tremors rising from underground were becoming increasingly obvious and frequent, while the blossoming flowers spreading across the surrounding walls were growing ever more vibrant and enormous.
Even if that Count was intentionally trying to limit the scale of the disturbance, the people aboveground had probably already noticed that something was terribly wrong.
As the battle dragged on, the automaton's attacks gradually weakened as more and more of its shadow fell under the black-robed man's control.
The elven master craftsman was also desperately struggling to break free from the enemy's restraints. But even though they were both Sequence Five, he had already lost the initiative the moment his shadow was controlled.
At best, all he could do was occupy most of the enemy's attention.
Just enough to slow down the process of fully seizing the automaton's shadow.
And no, hiding in complete darkness would not help. Tricks like that were useless against a Shadow Mage. On the contrary, losing sight of one's own shadow only made it harder to judge how much of it had already been replaced.
Finally, after a long and exhausting struggle, the automaton's shadow was completely replaced by the black-robed man's own shadow.
Under the control of the gigantic dark silhouette looming behind him, the automaton froze in place, unable to move at all.
And after fully replacing the automaton's shadow, the black-robed man directly manipulated it into driving the runic greatsword mounted on its own arm straight into its body.
With a thunderous crash, the sweat-soaked black-robed leader finally relaxed.
Controlling both a fellow Sequence Five and an ancient automaton at the same time was still extremely taxing, even for him.
But now that the automaton had been destroyed, the rest would be easy.
The black-robed man once again walked toward the elven master craftsman.
"Well then, the interruption is over. Once I kill you, it'll be time for me to leave. Something this massive happening in the Special Zone... if I don't run fast enough, I'm afraid I'll send you off one second and end up meeting you in the River of the Dead the next."
The black-robed man pulled a dagger from his robes.
This time, he had no intention of savoring the process of killing an elven master craftsman. He would simply slit the elf's throat directly.
As for why the elven mastermind would appear to have died by his own hand?
Simple.
Afterward, all he needed to do was place the dagger into the elf's hand and disguise the scene as some kind of sacrificial ritual.
After all, he had just activated an ancient legion equivalent to Sequence Two.
But just as the black-robed man believed himself to be completely safe, behind him, deep within the dark sewers, a burst of sparks erupted alongside the sound of a gunshot.
Bang!
The black-robed man first felt a violent impact in his chest, followed immediately by intense pain.
He had been shot.
Almost instantly, the black-robed man spun around and pointed forward. Hidden within the darkness, Mozo's shadow was immediately seized under his control.
That made the black-robed man let out a harsh sigh of relief.
Thankfully, it was only a low Sequence individual. Controlling his shadow required almost no effort.
To a Sequence Five, lower Sequences were nothing but prey, even while heavily injured.
But he forgot something.
Under severe injury and massive mental exhaustion, one's control over their abilities naturally weakened.
And because of that, the elven master craftsman broke free.
At least partially.
Daedalus the Master Craftsman's shadow was no longer entirely under the black-robed man's control. It had become half human, half elf.
Using the half of his body that could move again, the master craftsman directly thrust his hand into the black-robed man's chest.
This should have been a fatal blow.
But the sensation he felt made the craftsman freeze for a moment.
No heart?
A Mirrorborn?!
It was precisely because of the black-robed leader's inhuman physiology that the master craftsman's killing strike failed to kill him instantly.
The wound was still fatal, but it bought the black-robed man enough time for one final counterattack.
Especially with half of the master craftsman's body still immobilized.
Realizing he was doomed no matter what, the black-robed man twisted his face into a savage grin and drove the dagger straight into the master craftsman's heart.
He was not escaping today.
But that did not matter.
As long as this elven master craftsman died here, the elves would remain the Empire's primary suspects.
Because he belonged to the Empire's secret forces. Even within the Empire itself, only His Majesty the Emperor knew his true identity.
Holding onto that final thought, the black-robed man looked upward after successfully plunging the dagger in and declared with satisfaction:
"Your Majesty... this minister has repaid the Empire's grace!"
With those final words, he collapsed dead.
As for the master craftsman, despite the dagger piercing his heart, his powerful elven physique prevented him from dying immediately.
Even so, he still collapsed weakly to his knees.
At the same time, Mozo, who had fired the shot from the darkness moments earlier, finally regained his freedom and stepped out from the shadows.
Mozo looked at the kneeling master craftsman with a complicated expression.
Those wounds were fatal.
There was no saving him.
Seeing Mozo approach, the master craftsman struggled to breathe as he spoke with difficulty:
"Take the girl and run, human. This place... very soon... very soon, it will be annihilated by my king's legion. Run. While there's still time, hurry and flee. And warn the humans above as well."
"I truly hate this city that desecrated my king's glory... but... I also understand that you humans who know nothing are innocent, so... cough... run while you still can."
Mozo gave no response to the dying craftsman's final goodwill.
He merely walked calmly toward the statue.
Noticing Mozo's actions, the master craftsman first spoke in confusion:
"Run... hurry and take the girl and run... use your legs if you have to... cough..."
But halfway through speaking, the craftsman suddenly realized in shock and fury that Mozo's target was the crown atop the statue.
"You bastard! What are you trying to do?! That is my king's crown, human!"
Driven by rage, the elven master craftsman, who should have already been at death's door, somehow found a final burst of strength.
Staggering forward with savage determination, he lunged toward Mozo.
Then, with one hand, he seized Mozo by the throat.
His face was twisted with fury and hatred.
Yet the weakness in his grip made it obvious that his body was already dying.
What sustained him now was no longer that broken, dying body, but something far more sacred.
The glory of the king would never be desecrated.