Chapter 236
Chapter 236
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 236
Chapter Title: Invited to the Lab (2)
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[I'm sorry for disappointing you, Mother Bathory. I didn't pay much attention since he was just a substitute sent by the professor... but somehow that bastard pulled something off... Really, I'm sorry.]
A voice laced with anxiety came through the receiver.
The man desperately tried to maintain his dignity, but he couldn't hide his nervousness.
Ha-! Men... Mother Bathory replied without hiding her contempt.
"It's fine, Mr. Hall. These things happen. Everyone makes mistakes."
"Th-thank you for understanding. I mean it."
"That said, with our recent shortages, I might end up making a mistake with you too... You understand, right?"
"Wh-what?! Wait, what do you mean...? Mother Bathory?! Mother Bathory!!"
A desperate, almost vulgar shout echoed from the receiver.
But Mother Bathory casually ignored it and handed the receiver to her daughter.
The daughter slammed it down on the communicator, ending the call.
With a click, the noise from the receiver vanished, leaving silence in its wake.
Satisfying.
Mother Bathory sank into the warm blood-filled bathtub, thinking how utterly pathetic it was.
Grown men—old ones, even—throwing tantrums like children.
But she could understand it, in a way. Over the past three hundred years, she'd seen countless old fools cling to life.
They seemed wise and detached in their old age, but it was all a lie.
People grew more foolish with age, more obsessed with life than newborn infants.
"Hmph..."
Mother Bathory rose from the tub. Her marble-like skin, utterly bare, gleamed flawless milky white—without a single blemish. Mingled with the blood trickling down her body, it formed a horrifying yet alluring figure.
"My daughters."
About forty women in hoods and her blood slaves, born of blood magic, knelt in unison.
Zombies that were neither truly dead nor alive, bound by blood.
Splash. Splash.
Mother Bathory stepped out of the blood bath.
Droplets of blood from the floor and her body wriggled to life, weaving into a crimson dress.
"It seems Vivian can't bring the guests on her own... Could you help your sisters and bring them for Mother?"
"Yes, Mother."
The forty hooded daughters answered in unison and vanished with unnatural speed.
The blood slaves followed. Once all were gone, Mother Bathory turned to the image on the screen, watching the two men holding their own against a surprise attack in the darkness.
***
Pak-! An extinguished bulb.
The already dim lab corridor plunged into total darkness.
All that could be felt were the killing intent and beastly growls closing in from all sides.
Any ordinary person would panic and fall to the ambush without a fight.
But these weren't ordinary people.
The pitch-black sea rippled, filled with beastly snarls and metallic clashes, until a sudden ignition flared.
The intense crackle of burning air.
Roarrrrr-!!
Darkness receded as ferocious red light filled the void.
Willes had drawn his longsword, hidden with shrinking magic, and set it ablaze.
The blaze alone blinded foes and forced them back.
But that was merely a bonus. The true power unleashed when Willes swung.
The flaming blade cleaved living zombies like butter, instantly reducing them to ash under compressed heat.
Even Oliver, who hadn't yet gauged average mage levels, knew this was extraordinary.
To incinerate flesh to ash in an instant while confining the flames to the blade's edge.
It demanded vast mana reserves and exquisite control.
Personally, he figured it was on par with Kevin.
But equally impressive was Willes's combat sense and swordsmanship.
Most mages would struggle just containing the flames, yet Willes simultaneously emanated mana to sense enemies and wielded flawless technique to dispatch them efficiently.
Proof: most foes turned to ash in two exchanges.
Having learned close combat from Joseph, Oliver could appreciate the strikes' efficiency—no wasted motion.
Thanks to that?
Oliver's tonfa defense alone felled enemies one by one, shifting the battle in their favor.
'These guys are weird. Zombies, no doubt, but...?'
Oliver thought as he eyed a foe lunging despite a broken neck.
Corrupted by dark magic aura, yet their life force flowed naturally like the living, with faint emotions too. He'd assumed manipulation dark magic, but no.
Even under control, human anatomy held—broken necks should kill or immobilize. These raged fiercer.
Undeniably traits of reanimated corpses.
'But they have life force and emotions. Fascinating.'
As Oliver readied mana chains to capture one alive, distant observer Lena moved.
Disguised as a mere guide, she erupted with hidden mana, closing on Oliver in a flash.
"You first...!"
As Lena reached for Oliver, he preempted with a blinding flash.
No physical impact, but it stung the eyes. Caught off-guard, Lena retracted her hand to shield hers.
"Kyaaah! My eyes...!"
"Must be bright, huh... Good."
Oliver, eyes covered in perfect timing, said honestly.
No malice, but Lena raged blindly, flailing arms.
"You damn bastard! I'll crush you with my own ha—Gah!!"
As she swung, Willes—having cleared the rest—charged.
Lena rubbed her eyes, vision partially restored, and dodged Willes's flaming sword with agile grace.
His blade missed her torso, slicing air by a hair. Not entirely fruitless, though.
"Kuh...!"
It grazed her arm.
Flames devoured from the cut, and Lena poured mana to resist—but they intensified, threatening to consume her.
Realizing something, she tore off her arm below the shoulder to shed the blaze.
Splatter-!
Blood gushed, but coagulated into veins, forming a new arm with bone and flesh.
A rare sight, yet Willes watched calmly.
"Quick on the uptake for a dark mage. A moment later, and you'd be fully aflame."
Oliver grasped Willes's meaning.
This wasn't ordinary fire.
Potent heat, yes—but deadlier was its mechanism.
Typical fire magic fed on injected mana. Willes's twisted the formula to self-absorb mana.
Thus, suppressing with mana only fueled it more.
More venom than flame, in nature.
'Like my Devouring Flame. Impressive either way.'
Oliver admired sincerely.
Seemingly simple—flame as active agent—but far from it. Harder to control, and failure meant catastrophe, dwarfing standard spells.
Untamed, it could devour the caster. Massive power boost, equal risk.
'Why amp it so? Some reason?'
As Oliver pondered, new-armed Lena addressed Willes.
"Not your average fixer, are you?"
"Regrowing like a lizard tail? You're no ordinary dark mage either... Blood-based, so Bathory Family?"
Bathory Family. New to Oliver, but Willes's tone suggested no pushover.
Oliver eyed Lena for confirmation; she smirked mockingly.
"Think we're dark mages?"
"No, filthy soul-sellers to demons. Heard the rumors, didn't expect to meet you. Charmed. Here to steal mage research data?"
Lena just sneered at Willes's disdain.
"Heh. Heh. Clueless fool... [Lightning Chain]."
Lena swiftly gathered mana, unleashing a massive bolt at Oliver and Willes.
Inky blue lightning surged like waves, but inflicted little harm.
Willes's blade-flames devoured the mana as fuel; Oliver mimicked, his tonfa absorbing the spell's power.
Willes blinked in surprise.
The pure-mana tonfa shifted properties to electricity per Oliver's will.
He hurled it.
Lena dodged the sudden strike, but its floor impact sparked widely, shocking her with her own magic—burns and paralysis.
Willes closed in—but her necklace shattered, spraying blood.
He halted; from the blood, fleshy balloons like boils summoned.
They quivered, then popped—Pop! Pop!—spraying blood everywhere.
Thick red pools coated the floor with wet slaps.
Before assessing, blood pillars erupted, birthing two women.
They immediately cast attack spells at Oliver and Willes, easily blocked as before.
But that sufficed—the distraction let them scoop Lena and melt into the blood pool like water.
Oliver watched, impressed. A bizarre fusion of magic and dark arts.
Splash!
Lights flickered back on as Lena vanished with aid.
Just ashes from Willes's foes and lingering blood pools.
Hectic, but fun.
"They're politer than expected. Turning the lights back on and all."
Oliver retrieved his tonfa, scanning for usable corpses—alas, all ash. Pity; those life-rich zombies intrigued.
"Polite?"
"Yeah... Lights on again?"
"They just tried to kill us."
"Must have their reasons. Anyway, grateful for the light."
Oliver stood, no intact bodies. 'Oh well, just ask directly... Bathory Family, was it?'
"Mr. Willes, mind a question?"
"Perfect timing. I've got one too. Trade?"
"For me? What?"
Willes turned, facing Oliver squarely—no killing intent, but wary certainty.
"How does a dark mage infiltrate the Magic Tower as staff?"