The Power of an Eighth-Circle Black Mage
Ron’s provocation succeeded perfectly.
“You bastard!”
Shirokiel, filled with rage, swung his sword at Ron. A colossal, snow-white aura blade wave surged toward him like a slicing wave.
“Prismatic Barrier!”
Ron activated the seventh-circle defensive magic, Prismatic Barrier, and summoned seven layered elemental shields. When the white aura blade wave slammed into his defenses, he smirked.
As an eighth-circle grand black mage, Ron was far more dominant in combat—especially raw attack power—than any ordinary seventh-circle mage. Defense, however, was his one weakness.
Because the aura blade wave was forged from holy power, Ron’s Prismatic Barrier, powered by demonic energy, absorbed and redirected the strike with far greater force.
Yet the aura blade wave had only been stopped thanks to the Holy Sword’s protection.
While pure holy power itself remained untouched, the Holy Sword neutralized its damaging properties. All that remained was the aura blade’s own edge. The Holy Sword’s aura was exceptionally resilient with strong recovery, but its attack power was inferior. Even without the Holy Sword’s aid, the weakened aura blade wave delivered zero damage to Ron or his demonic energy. It was impossible for it to shatter his barrier.
And the undead I’ve summoned are moving at my command too.
They received no effect from the pure holy power!
If a black mage countered holy power this effectively, it would be an extraordinary advantage.
“Blocked?”
Shirokiel was stunned. He had never imagined that pure holy power would be completely ineffective against black mages. The fact that his attack had been repelled against a black mage famous for lacking defense made him doubt Ron’s strength was not even greater than he had expected.
Could he be… an eighth-circle grand black mage? No, maybe a ninth-circle one?
Ron fired another spell.
“Dark Fury! Fury of the Dark!”
The eighth-circle black magic, Fury of the Dark. It summoned roaring dark energy filled with destruction at the designated location, forcing the target area to erupt in fury and annihilate everything within range.
The smaller the area, the more concentrated the fury. The spell was devastating even against groups, but against a single foe it unleashed its full, terrifying power.
“Huaaap!”
Shirokiel enveloped his entire body in an aura barrier and deployed aura guards in all directions. The holy-power aura barrier and guards were incredibly sturdy.
It was a clash between the black mage’s overwhelming destructive force and the holy power’s unyielding defense.
Crash!
When the two forces collided.
“Summon. Appear. Phantom Griffin. Counter-summon. Death Knight. Summon. Death Knight.”
The spirits of the monsters—griffins, the fusion of flying birds and land beasts—emerged, forming necromantic undead. Above them, eight Death Knights materialized through reverse and forward summoning, riding atop the griffin corpses as if on mounts.
Although they were necromantic undead, like Ghost Dragons they could exert physical power whenever they chose. Following Ron’s will, they channeled strength so the Death Knights could ride them.
The Phantom Griffins were excellent riding summons with solid attack capability. Their eight mounted Death Knights were all Sword Masters.
“Grrr!”
Shirokiel was desperately holding back the dark destructive force. As the power began to fade, his expression relaxed. Then he saw the Death Knights charging toward him and frowned.
“You cowards! How can you commit such dishonorable acts in a holy battle!”
He valued one-on-one duels. Seeing the Death Knights attacking him mid-fight, he gritted his teeth in fury. Ron chuckled.
“What duel? This is war, you fool. When did I ever agree to a one-on-one fight? You too, go, Sophieel.”
Mocking Shirokiel’s duel talk, Ron gave the order to the waiting Sophieel beside him.
“Yes, Master.”
Sophieel answered politely and charged at Shirokiel with her sword raised.
“Sophieel!”
Shirokiel scowled as he realized Sophieel was coming at him, wondering what relation she had to Ron. He began clashing with the Death Knights.
Sword Masters were not a challenge for a Grand Master. But Shirokiel was not fighting them alone.
“Dark Fury! Fury of the Dark!”
Thanks to the Death Knights blocking, Ron could cast the eighth-circle magic again. He unleashed additional Fury of the Dark, pressing Shirokiel harder.
Shirokiel deployed holy-power defenses and fought desperately to endure Ron’s black magic. But Ron’s dark aura alone was not the only threat. Aura blades made from the dead air of the Death Knights—known as Death Blades—also struck.
Eight Death Blades hammered Shirokiel’s barrier. Sophieel flapped her four pure-white wings and crashed into his defense with her sword.
The sight of the pure-white saint swinging a dark blade flickering with black magic was utterly unbalanced. Shirokiel’s rage burned even hotter.
“What have you done to Sophieel?! Grrk! You bastard!”
Shirokiel roared, but Ron merely shrugged. He had done nothing at all.
He had simply gifted Sophieel to Reah. Nothing more. He had not trained with her, had not slept with her, and had not performed any additional brainwashing or biological experiments on her. All he had done was choose her from among the gifted angels.
Yet Shirokiel, unaware, assumed the wicked black mage had done something terrible.
“What did you do to my little sister?!”
Shirokiel declared that Sophieel was his little sister.
“Your little sister?”
It had been a blind spot. Sophieel and Shirokiel looked so alike that he had not recognized the resemblance at first. Her hair was sky blue, while his was a deep blue.
Both had emerald eyes, but their eye shapes differed, so the likeness had been missed.
Well, it was not strange. Older brothers often took after their father, younger sisters their mother. Plenty of cases existed.
Ron himself was not particularly like his little sister Rin. She had pure golden hair; he had golden hair with a reddish tint. Rin’s overall appearance resembled their mother, while his leaned toward his father—though a trace of their mother’s features remained. His hair felt rougher, whereas Rin’s was silky soft, like silk when touched.
Thinking of his little sister, Ron smiled with quiet affection. To Shirokiel, that smile looked like mocking laughter.
“You filthy black mage! Stop your dirty tricks and fight me yourself!”
“…I’m already fighting you.”
When Shirokiel continued, Ron answered with a shrug, amused.
He was already fighting directly. Unlike ordinary mages, black mages attacked with their own overwhelming power while commanding undead to strike the enemy. That was the standard combat style for black mages.
He was an eighth-circle black mage. While others fought scattered battles, he had not deployed every undead. Of the twenty-two Sword Master Death Knights he had summoned, he had taken only eight for this fight.
Coordinating with undead was exactly how black mages fought. That was their power.
“Can’t accept it? Too bad.”
His goal was revenge. He had no intention of being considerate. Especially not against someone trying to block his revenge.
“Die already. Funeral Destruction!”
Thanks to the Death Knights and Sophieel’s coordination, Shirokiel had another opening to cast the eighth-circle magic. Ron unleashed another devastating spell.
“Kwaaak!”
A wave of annihilation energy crashed into his barrier like an aura blade wave, shattering it. Thanks to the barrier’s sacrifice, Shirokiel endured the pain but did not die. Still, nine Sword Master swords pierced his body at once.
Thud!
“!”
Shirokiel died with his eyes wide in shock.
It was the empty death of a high-ranking angel.
“As a Grand Master, this corpse would become a high-rank Death Angel if turned into a Death Angel.”
Ron placed the corpse into his spatial storage, considering it excellent material. He then saw two other high-ranking angels fiercely resisting the Ghost Dragon and the Prime Dragon.
Their desperate struggle looked pitiful.
They were undead created by the Demon King, Reah. Although undead grew stronger the greater their master’s power, Ron’s eighth-circle strength limited full output. Even so, the pure strength of the Ghost Dragon and Prime Dragon was more than enough to overwhelm the high-ranking angels.
They were not even defending passively anymore. They were barely buying time.
Ron struck again.
“Dark Break!”
Using the seventh-circle black magic, he targeted one high-ranking angel still clashing with the Prime Dragon. Ron’s spell hit when the angel briefly opened a gap.
“Uwaaaak!”
The black breath made of dark magic engulfed the angel, swiftly draining its life.
The Prime Dragon’s breath was a deathly aura that pierced living bodies and brought death.