Chapter 231
Chapter 231
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 231
Chapter Title: Forgotten Darkness
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Thanks to various administrative cover-ups and magical devices, it had become a darkness now forgotten even in existence.
In the underground sewers beneath Seoul, long abandoned, Della let out a hollow laugh.
"If people saw me like this... there'd be no end to those who'd rejoice..."
It was certainly true.
She had seized what she wanted without regard for means or methods, so the grudges against her must be as plentiful as her spoils.
They would burst into roaring laughter at her pathetic state.
The avaricious Witch of Embers, Della, reduced to whimpering in agony like a mere bug, clinging desperately to life.
Della's appearance was truly wretched.
Her once-vibrant red hair, always gleaming with luster, was matted with clotted blood and dust, as if doused in ashes.
Her limbs were pierced densely with white spears, suspending her against the wall like a pinned insect specimen.
Having vomited blood repeatedly, a foul stench mingled with the thick metallic tang of blood rose from around her mouth and the chest of her dress.
Pain?
At this point, she could barely feel it anymore.
Della was undoubtedly a great witch of the 20th hierarchy.
With ample combat experience, she was confident she could crush most foes without breaking a sweat.
However.
As her current state made plain, Della had been utterly defeated by the thirty-two White Knights replicated by Paola.
The White Knights, cloned from Red Knights as templates, possessed four 'eyes' each.
With stats like that, even thirty-two, a hundred, or more would have been no match for Della.
But these White Knights were different from ordinary homunculi.
Their movements were far more systematic and refined, and they hunted Della with what seemed like high intelligence.
The greatest contributor to Della's disadvantage was the white spears wielded by the White Knights.
These spears linked to the distortion ability of the Red Branch, replicating even its unique power.
Because of this, Della expended far too much energy handling each one individually, and after incinerating twenty, she was captured.
-Clack, clack, clack.
Echoing through the vast cavern came the sound of footsteps from a single person.
The three White Knights standing watch over Della parted, revealing the Witch of Cowardice, Paola.
In Paola's hand was a long-necked bottle.
"Drink."
"........."
"If you don't, you won't last even a day."
Della glared at Paola with sharpened eyes before parting her lips.
As the bottle's spout was pressed to her mouth, a foul-tasting liquid flowed in.
This contained various potions to restore her spirit body.
The fact that Della, riddled with spears throughout her body, had survived this long was thanks to this medicine Paola administered daily.
Knowing this, Della had no choice but to obediently swallow the medicine, even without knowing Paola's scheme.
"...Paola."
She halted Paola, who had turned away after feeding her the last of it.
Paola glanced back with indifferent eyes.
Her unscarred half-face was perfectly expressionless.
Della, suspended on the cavern wall for twenty-four hours straight, had witnessed everything Paola was doing.
Using the replicated 'Dagon's Flute,' Paola had massacred humans without even deploying a backworld barrier, harvesting vast amounts of mana in the process.
As a high-ranking witch herself, Della could discern the purpose of the magic circles etched across the entire cavern and the Red Branch embedded at its center.
Thus, she offered advice.
"Stop now, while you still can."
"Meaningless words. Just as expected."
Paola turned away as if it wasn't worth hearing.
"Paola!"
Della called out again in a voice hoarse from exhaustion.
At her desperate plea, Paola's eyelashes trembled faintly as she faced Della once more.
"You know what you're trying to do, right?"
"Secure a massive amount of mana."
"Through mass slaughter, you mean."
Seoul boasted an enormous population density.
What would happen if Paola completed her knight order and unleashed them?
Could the witches in Seoul stop them?
Before the indolent Kether Duke stirred, there would be unprecedented casualties.
Even Della, steeped in witch-like elitism, knew it was wrong.
The most tragic part was that this horror would unfold at the hands of her friend, Paola.
That was why she had tried to end Paola's life herself.
"So what?"
But Paola didn't so much as blink.
She was already broken.
Della had sensed it, but not to this extent...
"Even if you can revive the dead using distortion as you claim, you'll die by Kether's hand. Your disciple too! Cough! Cough!"
In a desperate bid to persuade her, Della cried out, coughing as if her body would shatter.
Blood trickled from her mouth.
Paola watched, then wiped Della's lips with her sleeve.
"Della, Della, foolish Della."
Paola spoke in a sing-song tone.
Feeling the mockery, Della jerked her head away, avoiding the touch.
"........."
"Kether Duke won't move."
"How do you...?"
"The Witch of Whispers told me."
Della's eyes widened in shock.
"You really believe that con artist?"
"I do. More than you, who pretended to be my friend only to stab me in the back."
"She's a liar. She won't care what happens to you!"
"Don't speak so loudly. The echoes make my head hurt."
Paola melancholically covered Della's mouth.
Della tried to say something but ultimately resigned deep within.
It was too late; she had already mingled words with that female serpent.
The poison injected by the Witch of Whispers was incurable.
It must have seeped cunningly into every crevice of Paola's shattered heart.
No way Della's persuasion—after betraying and opposing her once—would work now.
"So... why keep me like this? If you don't trust me, just kill me."
Half-resigned, she voiced thoughts she wouldn't normally utter.
It was partly sincere.
Though she didn't want to die, being impaled and dangling from the wall all day was torment.
In the sunless depths, she couldn't even tell how many days had passed, her mind fraying bit by bit.
"No matter how much you whine, I can't release you. You know my entire plan. You'd surely interfere."
"...At least clean my body. It's unbearable."
Paola snapped her fingers.
Instantly, all the filth on Della's body peeled away.
"Why didn't you ask sooner? I thought you liked it that way and left it."
"You call that 'liking it'?"
Paola vanished between the White Knights without hearing more complaints.
She paused briefly and spoke without turning.
"I'm not killing you."
Her final words echoed repeatedly through the vast cavern.
"Because I still consider you a friend."
2.
"You'll learn how to wield the Contract of the King of All Diseases in time. But when clashing swords and spears with foes, inevitably moments arise where you're locked in ambiguous standoffs. That's when fist and foot techniques become essential."
With that explanation, Eloa no longer let Siu hold a weapon.
She even forbade crafting the armor and sword he usually used.
Only sparring bare-handed, with the body solely enhanced by mana.
Yet the goal of recent training was to heighten proficiency in fajin.
Just as Eloa did, so Siu could freely employ fajin in any posture or situation.
"Hah!"
After exchanging a few blows, Siu spotted an opening in Eloa.
He dropped his body to knee height and lunged like a predator.
A tackle, aimed at uprooting the opponent's lower body from the ground.
Though called a mere tackle, Siu already handled mana-enhanced physical reinforcement adeptly.
Moreover, he utilized fajin at peak power moments to fine-tune his force.
It was a colossal technique, too fast for the naked eye and capable of toppling an elephant.
Regrettably, it never dragged Eloa to the ground.
"Urk!"
Eloa's leg slipped aside like a matador's, wedging sideways between Siu's.
The exquisitely timed leg trip robbed Siu of all balance.
As his center of gravity pitched forward, Tiphereth grabbed his nape and slammed him effortlessly to the floor.
To be precise, she lifted him slightly just before his back hit, softening the impact...
-Boom!
Even so, the cement cracked wide.
This marked his fiftieth takedown.
Eloa clicked her tongue.
"Charging like an enraged wild boar? Too much motion, too many flourishes."
"Hah, hah... Isn't wild boar a bit harsh?"
Siu rubbed the back of his head as he propped up his torso.
"Head down, barreling straight ahead, collapsing under your own momentum. Textbook wild boar, no?"
Siu scratched his head at Eloa's teasing.
Perhaps from repeated training and sparring, drawing them closer?
Eloa had begun bantering with Siu playfully at times.
Thanks to her relaxed demeanor, Siu occasionally grumbled in complaint.
"Just now, you said not to hold back timidly, to move big and strong."
"Not meaning a gap-riddled bull rush. Didn't I teach you power doesn't require exaggerated motions?"
"This is... tricky."
"The only easy thing in training is lying down. Here, up you get."
Eloa extended a hand, and Siu grasped it, rising fully.
A month into training, full autumn had arrived.
Compared to when he flew back from Eloa's every move, it was tremendous progress—but no further gains lately.
Then again, she was a veteran of countless battles, the Hero of Reversal. Expecting to catch up in days might be presumptuous.
"Still want more?"
"Yes. Ending like this feels unsatisfying."
Siu felt Eloa as an immense wall.
An impossibly thick one.
But that didn't lead straight to despair or surrender.
Such wasn't his temperament.
Even attempting to scale a towering wall brought fulfillment.
Trading despair for effort and focus meant no wasted time—at least, Siu knew that much.
And with purpose in learning, his concentration never wavered.
After spars, he'd head home and watch UFC matches or such—not that he'd admit it.
The 'wild boar tackle' Eloa mentioned? Adapted from yesterday's bout.
"Aspiration is always good. Persist without complacency, and results will come."
Eloa gazed at Siu approvingly, barely showing it.
She'd known his endurance was exceptional.
But she hadn't imagined he'd charge relentlessly for over ten hours daily despite the beatings—such tenacity and grit.
Prejudiced, perhaps, but Siu's scholarly look suggested otherwise.
"Something to tell you about that last attack."
"Ah, yes."
Eloa adjusted her slightly disheveled windbreaker and clasped hands behind her back.
"Know the most dangerous moment in combat?"
"Magic battles? Or the physical ones we do?"
"Both included."
As Siu pondered silently, Eloa spoke.
"The moment you attack."
"Attacking?"
"Vision narrows, mind fills with one thought. Fixated on offense, gaps are inevitable. Thus..."
Eloa placed hands on hips and pointed sharply.
"Always remember in battle: See wide, see deep."
In truth, training with Duke Tiphereth had a koan-like quality.
Less rigid formulas for body use, more mental principles.
"Could you elaborate? Like, take this stance. Or attack this way to reduce openings."
"Forcing into molds isn't good. Natural is best. Like flowing water. I'll only guide so your stream doesn't veer uphill. The rest is yours."
"Understood. I'll give it a try."
Another cryptic riddle, as expected.
But he harbored no doubts.
He felt his skills improving daily, clearer than anyone.
"Then, again."
"Come."
Watching Siu reignite his resolve, Eloa smiled faintly.
===== This is Eloa Tiphereth drawn by PCHN.
I absolutely love the windbreaker and training outfit, along with the coloring!
Personally, I adore this colored-pencil-like shading, and it fits my tastes perfectly!
Especially those weary, exhausted eyes... they're truly artistic....
Thank you so much for the wonderful fanart!!