Chapter 206
Chapter 206
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: The Mage of Mages (26)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
****
“Puhah! Cough, cough, kuhuk!”
The sensation of being utterly covered in something wet and sticky. The air I breathed in was thick with the smell of blood, and my entire body throbbed as if I’d been beaten to a pulp.
‘Blood smell? My body hurts?’
.
.
.
.
.
.
I’m alive. Am I alive? I’m alive!! Whoa, I survived! Being alive is great!
Something about existence this, ego that—what was all that? My heart just squeezed once, and bam, fully healed. As expected, a full belly leads to useless thoughts crowding your head. Made a bit of money and suddenly you’re full-on bourgeois, Professor.
Naturally, the place I’d been ejected from the consciousness space back into the game was right there in that room—not inside the game anymore, but the spot where the wraith knight had caused chaos and I’d clashed with my party members.
Suuuuuup— Haaaaah~
‘Ahh, this feeling. Haven’t had it since Roman shoved me in that well back in the lab days. The air tastes so good.’
While Professor—having overcome the crises of both ego and flesh—savored the joy of resurrection, the surroundings gradually came into focus.
‘What the hell is this?’
Uh.... First off, it hurts. A lot. My whole body aches, probably because after rampaging around, my insides are mush.
But the massive iron spikes driven through my hands and feet? No way to spin that as part of some healing process, even generously.
‘And this faint holy power.... Isn’t this the wooden board they use in church inquisitions for heretics?’
The pulling sensation above the impaled spots meant gravity was tugging downward, and this wasn’t some casual setup—they’d properly nailed me to a wooden cross and hung me up.
First fact established: I was currently experiencing Jesus vibes, against my will.
The spikes through my hands and feet were engraved with all sorts of sacred runes, clearly no ordinary items at a glance. And topping it off, iron chains—like something from a drawbridge—bound my body.
If I were still in that monster state, I could understand. But right now, I’d reverted to human form? Familiar or not, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It hurts like hell. Even Jesus would lose faith in the world after this. No doubt.
Alright. Got the gist of how they’re treating me. So what about my companions?
The last scene in my memory was Aldrich’s palm slamming into my face amid a sunlit downpour. Pretty sure Ottoman, Aldrich, Borca, Notum, and even Yggdrasil were all there. So why aren’t they around now?
“Hey—”
Clang!
Shwoooosh!
“The monster’s awake!”
“Milord! Fetch the lord!”
“That voice rising from the River Styx! Cut its head off before it’s too late....!”
Hm. Tried asking the nearby soldiers where they were, but my raspy, cracked voice backfired completely.
From the vibe, I was fully the captured monster. Soldiers thrusting spears but slowly backing away, knights with fire blazing in their eyes.
Given the surroundings—like a fire truck splattered with red paint—their reaction made sense.... But how do I talk my way out of this?
Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop.
As Professor’s freshly booted brain started spinning at full speed, the soldiers encircling me parted like the tide, and a horse bearing the border lord approached.
Whummm!
The horse stopped before my dangling, spiked form, and the border lord’s sword—faintly sheathed in aura—touched my forehead.
“You granted me one chance to appeal, so I grant you one. Explain yourself.”
Exhaustion plain on his face, yet those sharp eyes unwavering as ever.
This was a man who’d follow through. My neck still bore the holy relic unscathed, proof of my qualification as Ro Haram’s hero.
But the lord’s gaze screamed, ‘Don’t care about that—convince me now.’
‘Let’s see. Where to start? Storming in at dawn declaring myself the church’s hero and proclaiming heresy? Transforming into a monster reaching the ceiling of your grand reception hall right in front of you? Or the mutant raid hitting at the perfect timing after I arrived?’
Thinking about it, I’d racked up quite the list.
“No words, then. You treated us by church law, so I’ll treat you by Bizillen family code. In Sigfilland City, a criminal who stays silent is deemed to admit guilt, and execution follows on the spot—”
‘Damn it! At least give me time to think—!’
“For what crime do you judge me?”
Tzzzzz!
Seeing the aura-laced blade slice through the chains binding my body without hesitation, my mouth moved before my brain caught up.
‘Image, image! Gotta solidify the image. The first thing he said when he arrived was about granting me appeal in that overbearing priest getup. In their eyes, I was the church’s arrogant hero turned grotesque monster devouring other monsters. If the priest act slips now, nothing I say will be believed. Act the part, Professor! Slap on that thin glass mask!’
Maybe because I’d shaken my brain out with Hydra earlier. In that split second, exactly what to do flashed clear.
My ragged, cracked voice dropped even lower, like a wounded beast.
My bloodshot eyes, red from the flow, half-lidded in calm serenity, brimming with profound meaning.
Blood not just soaking but forming little streams, soldiers’ spear tips aimed high at my suspended, impaled form.
Perfect atmosphere for the scene.
Why not use it?
Clank!
Ignoring the sword at my brow, I leaned my suspended body forward, tautening the binding chains. The aura-clad tip grazed my forehead, a drop of blood welling.
“Sin. You call me a sinner. Then let me hear the charges. As Ro Haram’s hero, all I’ve done is serve him and tear heretics asunder. What reason have you to persecute me so?”
“I never said you sinned. I merely said you need to explain. As border guardian, I’ve fought monsters my whole life—slayed the beast wearing my son’s skin this morning, and now face a house-sized monster reverted to human. Can you blame me for this much preparation to probe your nature? First: are you human, or beast like that thing?”
“I am the moth chasing light from the deepest dark, blinded to all else by glory. Your question misses the mark, lord. Such things matter not to me.”
A massive man nailed to the wooden board spoke in a cracked yet utterly steady voice. The cryptic reply furrowed the lord’s brow in anger.
“....Test not my patience. I seek plain facts, not riddles. You claim no link to that massive raid? They struck the city not two days after your arrival?”
“Light a torch, and rats scatter—it’s natural law. An inquisitor exposes heretics, and they lash out. Is that so hard to grasp?”
Shring—!
My answer drove the lord’s aura deeper into my brow. Another displeasing reply. Push further, and he’d cave my skull.
“....Eloquent. Fine. Hard to believe, but reports say though one district lies in ruins by your hand, no deaths occurred—so I’ll grant that much. We skip the first two. One last answer: that body.... Truly the church’s creation?”
Unlike before, his tone softened slyly. He thought he hid it, but to play word games with me, you’d need Dome’s chancellor, the Archbishop of Light, or a 300-year-old elf hero master. Only in this final question did true emotion faintly show.
‘....Bastard. Martial artist turned noble knows his tricks.’
He’d gotten reports on my actions from the townsfolk. No deaths even in my frenzy, so no need for this drama now I’d reverted. Thus, this elaborate, twisted trial, the gleaming spears, the probing aura—all to pressure for that last question.
‘Border lord’s like a small city’s king. Makes sense he’d have this political savvy.’
Of course, against me, it fell flat.
“....I’ll say only this: even the deepest dark admits a single ray of light.”
To one craving clear facts, I gave the most uncertain reply. Uncertain, yet untouchable—religion. A vague, atmospheric dodge.
‘Was bracing for this question, that’s why I piled on the priest framing. No good answer otherwise.’
Straight truth like ‘Mutant-corrupted body, could snap anytime~’ would get me spiked like a sewing machine and stashed in some basement. Or ‘Pitiable lab experiment from mage tinkering~’ like in Lordric? ‘Eastern magic advanced that far? Making magic weapons....’ Off to the imperial mage tower or academy as a guinea pig.
Not what the border lord wanted either, I bet. Even a top imperial master swordsman struggled with the wraith knight—while the rampaging me demolished it with some never-seen power. A powerful monster that talks, shows no aggression to humans? Irresistible to a border lord who’s faced mountain monsters lifelong.
Hence this bizarre noble trial to wring the source, the truth from my lips. Too bad the real answer was invincible ignorance: [Ro Haram did it. It’s his blessing. God said so, so it is.]
Tzzzzzt—
Frowning deeply before my non-answer beyond ‘priest stuff,’ the border lord pondered.
Drip—
A blood drop from my brow trickled down his blade, as a sweaty fat man whispered in the lord’s ear,
Swipe, click!
The lord’s sword, poised to split my head, retracted into its sheath.
“Shadow of Light, eh. Yes, I’ve heard rumors. Servants of god committing unbelievable atrocities. Ro Haram’s shadow has a long tail, it seems.”
“....Bright the light, vast its echo.”
“......”
Clank!
The lord, face etched with torment and fatigue, rubbed his eyes briefly, then turned from me to a nearby knight. Convinced I was church-made monster, beyond his reach.
“Release him. And the restraints on his monitored companions, the mage’s mana seals too.”
“....If I may counsel, reconsider, my lord. Witnesses say he was blood-mad, unable to distinguish friend from foe—”
“Speak not twice, Knight Rodell. Process aside, the hero harmed no ally, stood shoulder-to-shoulder against the raid. Since when do Bizillens abandon comrades?”
The knight fell silent at the lord’s icy tone.
‘This.... Should be passing grade?’
No ‘enemy’ from the lord’s mouth. Amply sold the Ro Haram fanatic bit....
“Hup!”
Craaaack— Twing!
Finally, had to show I wasn’t restrained pleading, but merely ‘allowing’ talk.
Flexing my shoulders, child’s-wrist-thick chains snapped one by one, and I yanked hands and feet free from the board spikes as is.
“Ugh....”
“Monster, it’s a monster....”
Soldiers around paled plenty. But rumors already pegged me neighborhood bloodsucker—better lean into the scary rep.
Step. Step. Step.
Pierced hands and feet gaping, I headed for the white-robed bishop above, watching with clasped, trembling hands.
“Latura.”
“O, ooooo.... Latura, Latura Ro Haram! Saint, vanguard against the dark....!”
The bishop quaked like aspen leaves. But unlike townsfolk, not from fear.
I’d saved him from the collapsing temple with my barrier, the holy relic taut like shackles on that bloodied monster neck—proving me fit as Ro Haram’s tool despite it all.
Seeing that, amid chaos, he’d knelt blood-smeared, praying on the spot.
In his eyes, I was likely ‘evil-born yet true faithful embracing Ro Haram’s will deep, chosen his tool’ or such. Why else would he, fielding endless holy messages from church HQ, be here not the temple? To persuade the lord, or if not, save the city from heresy and witness my execution for canonization.
“Bishop.”
“I am Maleus, lowly tool of Light!”
“Good. Brother Maleus. Heretic horde crossed Blueline into the empire, city drowned in blood—purge needed now. Contact the church at once....”
“Quest priests already linked the ‘Eye of Light.’ Priests and holy knights from nearby domains en route; per HQ directive, earth mages hired to monitor all eastern imperial domains underground. Also....”
Near tears, the bishop gazed rapturously at the bloodied scene, proud as could be.
“No purge needed for this city, saint. Your blood has purified it.”
‘What bullshit is this?’
Frowning deeply, the bishop—unable to contain ecstasy—knelt, tears streaming, hands clasped before me.
“The evil god’s ‘blood infection’ is already handled. Save districts your feet missed, every spot your holy blood sprinkled shows no infection! Clearest proof you’re saint! No vile evil god trick harms where Ro Haram’s touch reaches! Matches scriptures perfectly! Ooo, Ro Haram.... First to the neediest always! Aaaah, punish me—foolish priest too slow to grasp your will, failing to serve the saint....!”
“B-, Bishop. Say that again. My blood.... What?”
“Latura, Latura.... Euugh!”
Shaking the frantic, knelt bishop’s shoulders, but lost in religious rapture, his mind raced to distant Ro Haram.
‘My blood.... Suppresses mutant infection factors?’
Professor gulped, eyeing the crimson-drenched city.
Something profoundly important was happening.
****