SSS-Class Overlord: My Harem Rules the Realms (18+)-Chapter 64: The Extinct Magic?

A silence swallowed the room like a black ocean.

Ethan stood there, staring at empty air, chest heaving so violently it felt like his ribcage would

crack open. His sword arm was trembling. Sweat poured down his temples and slid along his jaw,

dripping onto the wooden floor with soft splashes that seemed far too loud in the suffocating

stillness.

He tried to speak but only a strangled sound came out of his throat. His vision pulsed at the

edges.

He sucked in another shaky breath, forcing his lungs to fill. His entire body felt electric, as if the

woman’s mere presence had left lightning still buzzing under his skin.

What the fuck...

He swallowed hard and finally rasped, "System... tell me you picked up something on that

woman."

A soft digital chime resonated in the silence.

[Processing query... Searching logs...]

Ethan’s breath hitched as he waited, eyes glued to the floating translucent panels flickering before

him. He almost wanted to punch through the screen, the seconds stretched on so painfully.

Finally:

[No data found regarding individual identity.]

[Error: Unregistered magical signature detected. Insufficient records in current Dominion Archive.]

Ethan clenched his teeth until his jaw throbbed. "No data found? Are you kidding me? She’s

clearly not some random street rat. You can’t just give me ’no data.’"

The system chimed again, its voice neutral yet somehow managing to sound almost apologetic:

[However. Partial data acquired regarding magical technique utilized.]

[Would you like to review?]

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat. His eyes flared wide as hope burst inside his chest like a tiny star.

"Proceed. Show me everything."

Lines of neon text began cascading across the air:

[Technique Analysis Result: Classified under Arcane Subgroup – Long-Distance Spatial

Compression Manipulation.]

[Designation: Dragon King’s Secret Art – Shadow Stride.]

[Historical Note: Originally developed by the ancient Dragon King Val’Kareth during the Draconic

Wars nearly 8,000 years ago. Thought to be extinct. Involves folding spatial layers, enabling

instant traversal and high-precision object manipulation.]

Ethan blinked, mind frozen.

A single phrase bounced around in his skull, ringing louder than church bells:

Dragon King’s Secret Art.

He lifted a trembling hand and dragged it through his sweat-damp hair, leaving strands sticking

up. His pulse hammered so hard he thought he’d vomit.

"Dragon King... that’s supposed to be long extinct..." he whispered, voice barely audible.

The air felt thin suddenly, like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

He remembered all those dusty pages he’d devoured at the academy—the Dragon King

Val’Kareth, a mythical creature spoken of like a god. A being who could tear apart space, whose

roar alone had toppled empires.

And that woman... used magic created by him.

Ethan’s throat tightened.

This mystery wasn’t just about monsters anymore. It wasn’t just the corrupted cores, or rogue

mages, or even hidden cults.

It was something older. Bigger. Deeper.

He staggered backwards and almost tripped over his discarded sword sheath on the ground. His

eyes fell on it, and for a second his gaze went distant, as if he wasn’t seeing it at all.

I’m so fucking far out of my depth...

The memory of the woman’s voice haunted him like a ghost:

"You’ll need me in the future, Mr. Saviour."

He couldn’t tear his mind away from that name. Mr. Saviour. She knew. Somehow she knew about

his system, about who he was supposed to become.

He tried to slow his breathing. Each inhale felt like dragging broken glass into his lungs.

"Focus, Ethan... You don’t have time to collapse here..."

He bent down and picked up the Warlord’s Fang sheath, his fingers shaking so badly he nearly

dropped it again. He slid the sword home with a sharp click that somehow felt like an anchor in

reality.

The weight of the blade calmed him a fraction.

He closed his eyes, took one more long breath, then glanced at the floating interface that hovered

in front of him.

[Quest Objective: Complete the Investigation into the Corrupted Beasts.]

Ethan stared at it. His heartbeat still hadn’t calmed.

"Yeah... you’re right. This isn’t over."

He wiped the sweat from his brow, smearing it into his hair. His body still felt raw, nerves crackling

as if he’d been set on fire. But there was something else in him now too—a rising, stubborn

defiance clawing up through the fear.

He squared his shoulders.

"Alright then... enough of this. Let’s finish what I started."

He stormed toward the door, shoved it open, and stepped into the corridor.

Outside, the fortress corridors buzzed with life. Footsteps echoed on stone floors, metal clinking

as knights hustled back and forth carrying weapons, reports, and crates of supplies.

But Ethan barely heard any of it. His mind was spinning with visions of crimson eyes, molten

monsters, and now the image of that woman’s silver gaze cutting into his soul.

He descended the stairs, one hand still clenched tight around the hilt of his sword as though it

were the only solid thing in the world.

Each step felt like stomping through syrup. His body felt sluggish, drained.

But there was no way in hell he was going to stop now.

Outside, the sun had slipped below the city’s towering walls. Evening light spilled across the

streets in a red-gold glow, like blood on cobblestones.

He stalked through the gates into the lower city. People were sweeping debris off the streets,

burying corrupted beast corpses, scrubbing dried blood from storefronts. But even amid the

sounds of hammers and shovels, there was a tension in the air, like the whole city was holding its

breath.

Ethan exhaled a slow, shaking sigh.

He touched the pommel of Warlord’s Fang.

"One thing at a time, Ethan. Find the cult. Figure out the cores. And..." His voice grew quiet. "...

find out who the hell that woman really is."

The system flickered again in front of his eyes:

[Quest Progress: 15% Complete.]

[Sub-Objective: Investigate disturbances near the Southern Watchtower.]

Ethan tilted his head.

"Southern Watchtower, huh...? Guess that’s where we go next."

He wiped the last bit of sweat from his forehead, and a small, feral grin twisted his lips.

"Let’s see how deep this rabbit hole goes."

And with that, Ethan turned his back on the fortress walls and started making his way toward the

shadows gathering in the southern quarter of Calsoz City.

No matter how terrified he was... he was done running from mysteries.

He’d find the truth, even if it killed him.

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