Chapter 115
Chapter 115
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: Duncan (4)
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Magic.
It was a discipline that only a select few, chosen by the gods themselves, could wield.
Some called it hubris, insisting that wizards were mere mortals like anyone else.
But no one could deny the monumental achievements of wizards.
This held true even for politicians, businessmen, and those royals and nobles whose purpose had long been forgotten.
Why else would people whisper that even the great gods had been overshadowed by magic?
And so, wizards took immense pride in their identity, from the handful of legendary grand wizards to those who could barely cast basic spells.
Yet, that pride came at a steep price: magic demanded extraordinary talent.
First, one needed a substantial reservoir of mana, the driving force of magic.
Then came mana control to wield it, mana affinity to endure its use without bodily collapse,
and the intellect to comprehend, analyze, and construct intricate spell formulas.
Lacking even one meant hitting a growth ceiling—or failing to become a wizard at all. And surprisingly, such people were more common than one might think.
Duncan was one of them.
Born into a decent family with an environment conducive to becoming a wizard,
he was still denied that path because his innate mana was far too abundant.
It was ironic, but true.
Excessive mana required even greater control, yet Duncan's was only average.
Every attempt to cast a spell overwhelmed him, leading to failures from overload.
In the end, he had to abandon magic.
All while enduring the scorn, contempt, and mockery of everyone around him.
So Duncan left home for the cold streets.
Not a wizard, but with pride as unyielding as one, he sought revenge against those who belittled him by seizing power through other means.
That's how he became a Pinkman, mastered the trade, and struck out on his own with his Pinkman agency.
Though his venture failed due to lacking business savvy, landing him as Edith's underling,
Duncan never lost his dream. He was gambling on life once more.
To achieve that dream, exact revenge, and above all, become the protagonist of his own story.
Wouldn't living as someone's side character be too tragic?
Yet now, he felt a sorrow deeper than any before.
At the hands of a mere black wizard, no less.
"S-Stop extracting it!!!"
Duncan screamed, swinging his tonfa wildly to sever Oliver's extraction.
Oliver, unperturbed, bundled the extracted emotions and life force into a test tube. As a bonus, he cradled the mana he'd pulled and examined it closely.
His eyes sparkled like a child who'd found a pretty stone on the road—because even he hadn't known he could extract mana.
He'd gone all out to pull emotions and life force quickly, never expecting mana to come along too.
He'd never learned, heard, or seen anything like it. Utterly fascinating.
'Like this?'
Oliver took a portion of the mana in his hand and manipulated it.
It felt similar to handling emotions—slightly easier, in fact.
Emotions resisted fiercely the stronger they were, while mana merely surged wildly.
Crackle!
The mana in his palm roiled, then flashed into blue electricity.
"...!! What the—!"
"O... It works?"
Duncan and Oliver reacted in unison.
Oliver had roughly mimicked a lightning wizard he'd fought before—and it shocked even him.
Magic, so distinct from black magic in perception and prestige, something he'd longed to understand.
But to him now, it felt no different from black magic.
The core mechanism was identical.
Control the energy source as intuitively felt, grasp its flow and structure, project it onto a mental image, and tweak its form and properties slightly.
Do that, and the envisioned concept manifested in reality.
Rather than joy or mysticism at using magic, Oliver felt like he'd merely extended his black magic repertoire.
Whatever it was, it intrigued him.
Bzzzzt—!!!
Oliver converted the mana to electricity and scattered it lightly across the floor.
Much like when he'd toyed with emotions back in Joseph's Family.
The electricity buzzed in his ears, splitting into branches that scorched the ground black.
Oliver tested controlling it.
The chaotic eight strands merged one by one into three, then aligned to his finger count.
As he clenched his fist slightly, they fused into a thick, condensed bolt.
"Hm..."
He murmured, intensifying control to compress it further into a stable orb in his palm.
Like a blue marble, but up close, it revealed lightning raging like a storm within a thin membrane.
Squeeze!
Oliver clenched his fist.
The electric mana reverted to raw mana beneath his grip.
Duncan's eyes widened again, but Oliver ignored him, focusing on the mana before him.
He tried turning it to fire, superheating it to explosive molecular disruption, or cooling it into ice crystals.
He even whipped up a tiny vortex in his hand.
Not as versatile as emotions, but magic was undeniably fun.
"...What are you?"
"Pardon?"
"A black wizard who can extract mana... Are you some rare case?"
"Beats me. I just found out myself. What exactly makes a 'rare case'?"
Duncan ignored the question and fired back.
"Then how do you know how to control mana? Multiple elements, even."
"Just mimicking folks I've seen before?"
"......"
"Lightning, explosion, mana bolt, and... Oh! Spatial school. That's a bit tricky."
Oliver attempted a purple spatial spell but failed as a tiny door fizzled out.
Considering spatial magic's infamous difficulty among all schools, it was expected.
Of course, Oliver had no clue, so he just felt disappointed.
Still, overall, it had been a fun day. Near-death experiences aside, thanks to Duncan, he'd played with mana.
As he turned to express gratitude, something odd caught his eye.
Rage, injustice, hatred, jealousy, resentment... Negative emotions surged so violently they leaked from Duncan's body.
"You okay?"
Oliver asked worriedly. He'd never seen emotions churn like this—it was devouring his reason.
Indeed, Duncan's eyes had turned feral.
"Why... Why... WHY... WHY THE HELL... A LOWLY BLACK WIZARD LIKE YOU!!!"
Duncan roared with mana-infused voice and charged.
Mindful of the holy items, Oliver wielded mana offensively.
'Explosion magic and lightning...'
He combined the two most practical spells he'd encountered, splitting mana into dual properties, merging them in his palm, and thrusting forward like a punch.
[Chain Explosion Bolt]
An impromptu spell. Electricity-laced explosions chained forth, engulfing the charging Duncan.
The narrow alley left no escape save above, so Oliver prepared accordingly.
[Holy Light!!!]
Brilliant radiance illuminated the world, visibly weakening the electric chain blasts.
Duncan bellowed, smashing through head-on.
"The great god's power weakens not just black magic, but true magic too—!!!"
Another revelation.
Oliver felt intrigued, yet strangely unafraid.
Even in a situation where Duncan could kill him.
Instinctively, he glanced at the mana in his hand, the life force and emotions in the test tube.
And the puppet's artificial soul that came to mind.
It was just emotions, life force, and mana combined—but its essence was wholly different.
Recalling it, Oliver tried merging the three.
"Ugh...!"
The repulsion was fiercer than expected.
Now he understood why puppets required all that equipment.
Duncan shattered the electric blasts with mana-charged tonfa swings, healed via necklace, and lunged again.
Exhausted, but enough to kill Oliver—who ignored his burning hand, desperately fusing the trio.
It was grueling.
'No choice.'
Finally, Oliver slashed the quantities drastically, merging tiny amounts.
With less volume, he barely suppressed the backlash, injecting it into his shadow to activate Bind Shadow.
Different materials made it faster than usual. More astonishing: it moved with seeming self-will, more adeptly than Oliver could direct.
As if it knew exactly how to catch Duncan.
Despite his fatigue, Duncan couldn't react in time and was snared—the proof.
His ankle caught, Duncan desperately triggered a holy item.
[Holy Light]
But the shadow tendrils ignored the sacred glow—unlike any black or true magic before—seizing his shoulders, neck, waist, and knees.
"W-What?!"
Panicked, Duncan struggled, but the tendrils overpowered him.
Then, Oliver felt the shadow tendrils speak to him.
Just a hunch, but he instinctively responded, converting the infused mana to electricity.
"Grrraaahhh—!!!"
Duncan convulsed with a monstrous shriek from the powerful shock.
His body stiffened grotesquely, leaving him defenseless—yet he still spewed mana to offset the damage.
His unbreakable will fueled it.
Oliver couldn't help but admire it.
"You're truly impressive."
With that, he raised both hands skyward.
And extracted emotions, life force, and mana with all his might once more.
Shrieeeek—!!!!!
"Gaaahh—————!!!"
His resistance crumbled under the massive drain, letting the electric shock slam straight into Duncan's brain.
His body shuddered violently as he soiled himself, foam bubbling from his mouth.
Oliver said pityingly,
"No, you can hold out longer! You can hold... Ah."
With a sigh of regret, Oliver halted the extraction.
Any more, and he'd die. Releasing Bind Shadow, Duncan simply collapsed forward.
Twitching sporadically. A bit regrettable.
"You okay?"
Oliver approached and asked.
He was genuinely concerned. Despite the trouble, Duncan had enabled a thrilling experience... And he still hadn't gotten answers.
"Um, Duncan. Why did you want power? I never heard your answer. Duncan?"
Oliver asked politely, but Duncan, consciousness fled, couldn't reply.
Sigh... What a shame.
Then, Duncan murmured fragments.
"Magic Tower... Prove... Revenge... I am never... Defective..."
Oliver committed the disjointed words to memory.
That's when something unbelievable appeared before him.
A beautiful light, unseen since the lightning wizard, Joseph, and Joanna!
Instinctively, Oliver pulled an empty test tube and extracted it.
Fearing it might vanish, he squeezed every drop without mercy into the tube.
Thanks to that, he harvested slightly more than from Joseph's death.
Oliver sprang up, sealed the tube, and stared at its contents.
No dream—this was real. In gratitude, he laid Duncan's body straight, straightened his clothes and shoes, and offered thanks.
"Thank you. Truly, thank you, Duncan."
Oliver closed Duncan's eyes, tapped his chest twice, and murmured a brief prayer for the departed.
For a few seconds, a somber silence fell over the alley.
"Phew... So, could you step out now?"
Oliver addressed the darkness.
Silence answered, but soon heavy footsteps echoed as a group of men emerged.
Among them, a man in a pink suit—the apparent leader—doffed his bowler hat and spoke.
"Good day, sir?"