I can evolve everything

The stitched-up corpse demon didn't last long under the combined attack of Karen and Ryan.

This monster was no match for Karen to begin with, and now that it had lost Mars's magical power, its massive body became even slower, like a large, writhing lump of rotten flesh. Its only advantage was its thick skin and tough flesh.

After damaging half of its body, Karen, with a cold face, went around to the rear of the corpse demon that had been exposed by its wild swinging, where there was a wound that Baron had just left.

The old knight gripped the greatsword with both hands in reverse, concentrating all his strength into a single point. The blade pierced the wound, then stirred inside, as if searching for something.

A moment later, Karen used her greatsword to pick out a fist-sized black crystal core, which rolled into the muddy water.

"Waaah..."

The stitched-up corpse demon suddenly let out a mournful cry.

Then, its massive body disintegrated like a collapsed pile of mud.

Countless severed limbs, rotting flesh, and foul-smelling sludge spread across the surrounding ground.

"That's disgusting."

Ella flicked the grime off her boots, looking at the corpse with a mixture of disgust and pity. "Just how many creatures and adventurers' remains did Mars sew into this thing?"

The battle ended quite smoothly.

Raine clenched his fist. This time, perhaps because he hadn't overused the breathing technique, his body temperature hadn't risen too much, and he could still move freely.

But Barron had already disappeared.

The hangman was like a vulture, looking for an opportunity to steal Mars's body from Karen's sight.

Once he failed to succeed, he would no longer covet the prize and would quickly disappear without a trace.

"Stop chasing."

Karen stopped Raine from following the trail. He sheathed his greatsword, turned around, and looked at the bone house a few hundred meters away.

"We can't catch up. Let's go check out what's going on inside that house. Ryan, follow us."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

A few minutes later, the four of them stepped into the bone house.

The interior of Mars's Bone House was filled with the pungent smell of some kind of medicine.

The furnishings inside were shockingly simple; almost all the furniture was made of bone and the leather of many unknown creatures.

"This guy's taste is absolutely awful." Ella poked at several glass jars on the shelf with her dagger, which contained various deformed biological specimens. "Seeing these makes me feel nauseous."

Raine didn't speak; his gaze swept quickly across the room, finally settling on one of the wooden planks.

After mastering the breathing technique, his perception improved considerably, and he quickly discovered that the wooden board seemed to be warped upwards, and that it was clearly hollow underneath.

"It's down here."

Ryan crouched down, gripped the gap at the edge of the floor, and pried it open with force.

Then, a stone staircase leading underground appeared in front of him.

The air in the basement was even colder and more gloomy than upstairs, and the walls were covered with iron hooks and all sorts of strange instruments. On a stone platform in the very center, manuscripts were piled up.

Those are Mars's experimental records.

"The Peeling of a Living Zombie", "The Magic Node Map of the Misty Swamp"...

Ryan casually flipped through a few pages, and the dense records on them made his scalp tingle.

This necromancer was not only researching necromancy, but these manuscripts also recorded how to transform the dead into a half-dead state, making them look no different from the living.

At the very bottom of this pile of manuscripts, there was a scroll.

Ryan picked up the scroll and unrolled it.

That was a contract.

[Regarding the trade involving Mars and Harold]

After a quick glance, Ryan discovered that Harold had already mentioned the contents.

Mars promises to cooperate with Harold's treatment and provide him with alchemical potions regularly; in exchange, Harold will protect Mars in the swamp and be responsible for guiding suitable materials into designated areas.

At the end of the scroll, there was a familiar signature.

Harold Wilder.

This scroll even bears a magical mark unique to Harold.

"The evidence is irrefutable."

Karen was standing behind Ryan at some point, looking at the signature with a remarkably calm voice.

Harold, who had been following at the back, swayed as he looked at the scroll, the sword of Damocles that had been hanging over his head for three years.

"This is the deal between him and me." Harold looked exhausted. "Although the contract itself isn't legally binding, Mars is insecure. He always feels that verbal promises are unreliable, so we signed this thing. He said if I dared to go back on my word, he would send it to the Knights of the Northern Fortress..."

"Put it away." Karen turned away, no longer looking at the contract. "This is evidence for the court."

Ryan rolled up the scroll and stuffed it into the leather bag.

Just as he was about to leave the stone platform, he suddenly caught a glimpse of something hidden behind an ink bottle out of the corner of his eye.

It was a round ball, only the size of a walnut.

It appears to be made of some kind of dark purple metal. Its surface is covered with extremely fine patterns, like intricate magical circuits.

What is this?

Ryan instinctively reached out and picked it up.

It is extremely heavy and icy cold to the touch.

He stared blankly at the sphere in his hand, waiting for the results of the analysis.

hum-

Unlike before, Renn suddenly felt a tremor in his soul.

As if sensing something, the misty corridor deep within my heart began to churn violently with gray fog.

Then, the next moment, without entering a meditative state, Renn once again fell into the misty corridor.

Text slowly emerged from a section of the wall that should have been obscured by the mist:

[Information carrier discovered (incomplete/dormant)]

[Description: Relics of an older civilization. It appears to be some kind of tool used to aid meditation or record mental models.]

Immediately afterwards, a line of text popped up from the evolutionary branch:

[Evolutionary Direction: Misty Corridor - Anchor Point]

[Required Resources: Mithril Powder (10g), Warg King's Fang, Energy Reserves (3 days' worth).]

[Time required: Three days.]

Ryan's heart skipped a beat.

This thing has an extremely short evolutionary time, but it has other limiting conditions.

Whether it's previous evolution skills or items, you only need to store up energy, and at most, the evolution item itself.

The evolution of this sphere actually requires two special materials?

Moreover, its evolution time is ridiculously short—only three days.

"Anchor point..."

Renn silently repeated the word to himself.

Although the specific effects are unknown, just by looking at the name "Rain," one can sense that this thing is inextricably linked to the Misty Corridor.

This is definitely something quite important.

"What? Did you find something?"

It wasn't until he heard Karen's voice that Ryan suddenly emerged from the misty corridor and returned to the real world.

Ryan naturally picked up the sphere and examined it closely.

"A very strange ball, Jazz. I don't know what it's for; it looks like an art piece."

Karen leaned closer, squinted at it, and then held her hand up above the sphere and waved it.

"There is no death aura, nor any magical fluctuation."

The old knight shook his head, seemingly uninterested in such a thing.

"It's probably just an artifact that Mars pulled out of some adventurer's pocket. Since it's not dangerous, you can take it if you want. Consider it a trophy from this mission."

"Thank you, Sir."

Ryan then put the ball into his pocket.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

After carefully searching the bone house and confirming that there was nothing else of use inside, the group left the bone house.

Mars' body was simply wrapped in several layers of cloth bags and carried by Ryan.

It was already afternoon, but the mist in the swamp had not yet dissipated.

The return journey seemed exceptionally long.

Harold was injured and walked very slowly.

But he didn't say a word and refused Karen's help.

On the return trip, the four of them did not speak to each other.

The outline of Tiemu Town was faintly visible in the mist.

For Harold, the place ahead was both the home he had protected for decades and the execution ground where he would be judged.