Chapter 237
Chapter 237
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 237
Chapter Title: Batory Family (1)
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“How could a black mage disguise himself as a Magic Tower employee and get hired?”
Welles asked. But this was closer to confirmation than an actual question.
The vanished doubt and the more solidified conviction were proof enough.
Well, it wasn't all that strange. We'd talked about leather masks, seeing mana flows, and all sorts of black magic stories.
Plus, suspicion had been piling up since the village.
‘No, maybe it started on the train?’
So Oliver stopped hiding it.
"Somehow?"
"Sorry, but I need a more specific answer. I've got a ton of questions."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. How'd you end up as the personal aide to a campaign mage fighting in Burerton? I heard you got out safely, but were you actually captured?"
Burerton was the city where Oliver, at the city's request, had gone with Arthur to arrest Welles.
There, he'd briefly fought Welles but ended up cooperating thanks to the campaign mage's intervention. The world sure worked in mysterious ways. Just like right now.
"Eh? But... are you revealing your identity right now?"
"You already knew, so what's that supposed to mean? Do I look like an idiot?"
Welles, realizing his own identity was already out. Oliver was impressed.
“Ah... impressive.”
"That's my line. What the hell are you?"
He meant it. Welles's eyes gleamed with suspicion, curiosity, and caution.
Oliver debated mentioning Merlin for a moment, then settled on a suitable answer.
"Hmm... I'm acquaintances with one of Professor Kevin's friends, and through his introduction, I got the job somehow."
“That's crazy talk. You expect me to buy that?”
“Even if it sounds insane, it's the truth.”
Oliver spoke with utter sincerity, leaving Welles speechless.
Even absurd tales could carry conviction depending on who's telling them, and Oliver was exactly that kind of person.
Oliver pondered for a bit before speaking up.
“...By the way, you don't seem surprised that I can use magic.”
"Hewitt and Alistair, the ones you caught, told me you used magic."
“Ah... are the two of them doing okay?”
"Not okay, thanks to you... Spill it. Are you a rare case? Or one of those black mages using forbidden knowledge like the Batory Family?"
"Forbidden knowledge? ...Not sure, but I'm probably a rare case. It just happened out of nowhere. But what's the Batory Family?"
Oliver asked about the Batory Family. He had a lot of questions about them.
Their disguises were superior to ordinary leather masks, their zombies brimmed with life force and emotions, and they'd just used that unique blood-mediated ritual. Even in that brief glimpse, their techniques had left Oliver in awe.
Welles answered.
"You're a black mage and you don't know the Batory Family?"
"I'm not up on that scene... Is it the Black Hand?"
His calm, almost brazen response made Welles's expression slacken in sheer disbelief, his energy draining away.
"Not as far as I know. If anything, it's the opposite."
"Opposite? What do you mean?"
"The Batory Family stands against the Black Hand's cannibal chef faction. At least that's my understanding."
"Oh, got it... But how do you know all this, Welles?"
“The Batory Family was once a big player in the Northland human trafficking market, so I learned about them while taking down trafficking rings. First time seeing them up close, though.”
“Does the Kel Independence Army, busy fighting the kingdom's forces, really have time to tangle with traffickers?”
Welles leveled his flaming longsword at Oliver.
Even at a distance, the heat was palpable.
"Asking questions is fine, but don't lump us in like that. The Kel Independence Army isn't some reactive group just clashing with the kingdom. We're a proactive force fighting for the Kel people's freedom and safety."
It was a sore spot; Welles bristled. But his words rang true. You could sense the resolve, pride, and determination in his emotions. Quite admirable—on Kevin's level.
"My apologies. I spoke out of ignorance... Then, could you tell me more about the Batory Family?"
Oliver asked again, and Welles hesitated before replying.
“...A small but powerful black mage organization with roots on the continent. Word is they've been around for over a century.”
“A century... impressive.”
"Demon worshippers who prolong their lives by drinking blood and steal others' magic. They use blood as a medium for black magic too... Looks like it's true."
Oliver nodded in partial agreement. Their black magic was nothing like the standard stuff.
In that case, it was probably power or knowledge gained through deals with demons.
‘Or maybe original black magic they developed themselves... But even if they steal magic through demonic power, can they really master it that well? Possessing power and wielding it are two different things.’
"What now?"
Welles asked the lost-in-thought Oliver.
“Hmm... If there's time, I'd love to chat with that Batory fellow. Got a lot to ask about their unique zombies, blood rituals, magic, and all that.”
"That's not what I meant. I'm asking if you're bolting or sticking around."
"...Pardon?"
"I know you're skilled, but the Batory Family's an outfit that survived clashing with the Black Hand's fingers. They've got real power. And this place is basically their hideout. Going deeper could get you killed... What's your move?"
It sounded like, if you're scared, bail. Rough around the edges, but considerate in its way.
“Hmm... What about you, Sir Welles?”
“We finally tracked down the kidnappers—what do you think I'll do?”
A straightforward answer, no hesitation. Oliver liked it.
"Then I'll tag along. Entrance is sealed anyway, and you don't look like you're letting me go."
Oliver said, eyeing the corridor deeper into the lab.
Normal eyes saw nothing yet, but his black mage sight picked out multiple enemies closing in.
Batory Family's custom zombies.
“Cya ha ha ha ha!!!”
“Ku ha ha hak-!!”
“Kya a a a a a a ak!!!”
“Cya rururuk—!”
As the cries sharpened from the distant corridor, Welles raised his flaming longsword. Oliver downed a mana potion from his pocket to top off his reserves.
Kevin's potions were top quality—packed a ton of mana for the volume.
“You planning to hold off on black magic?”
"Given my position and the world tree nearby, better to avoid it."
“Ah... right.”
Welles nodded. With the world tree close, net navigators or magic hackers might spot black magic use.
"A black mage fighting straight magic... Don't come crying if you die."
“I'll do my best not to get in the way.”
"Now that's an attitude I can respect."
With that, Welles swung his sword, hurling flames ahead.
Cya ha ha ha ha—!!!
Welles's flames spiraled like a serpent, striking the onrushing zombies.
In the relatively narrow corridor, that level of firepower could've ensnared even sorcerers, but Welles's masterful mana control prevented any mishaps.
Proof positive: the serpentine blaze reduced the zombies to ash alone before winking out as gently as a match flame.
To wield wide-area fire magic—with its immense power and reach—with such precision. Oliver could only imagine the effort Welles had poured in.
‘And with skills like that, he threw in with the Kel Independence Army... He could've had a much cushier life staying at the Magic Tower.’
Oliver mused, recalling the待遇 professors enjoyed.
They were upper crust even in Landa, basking in wealth and respect.
Yet Welles had walked away. Oliver was curious. Why?
‘Because he's Kel? Nah.’
Oliver shook his head.
Skill alone could elevate even a discriminated redhead to Magic Tower master, earning recognition. A Kel tribesman? No issue.
Even amid the urgency, Oliver wondered.
What drove Welles to pick the thorny path of the Kel Independence Army over the Magic Tower's easy street?
"I'll take point—you stay tight on my six!"
Welles called out, dashing forward after more or less clearing the zombies ahead with fire magic.
Oliver snapped back to reality and shadowed him closely, as instructed.
Volunteering for the lead, Welles charged straight into the fire-weakened zombie pack, sweeping his longsword from left to right.
Pya ha hat—!!
The flames traced a crimson streak through the air amid an eerie hiss, igniting everything in arc.
Most zombies crumbled to ash in an instant under the onslaught, but a few showed different reactions.
"Cya hak!! Cya ha ha hak!!!"
In agony and terror, the zombies clumsily channeled their own mana to resist the blaze.
Of course, that only fed Welles's flames.
Pa ha ha hat—!!!
Reacting to the condensed mana, the fire detonated, swallowing not just the fumbling resistors but nearby zombies too.
Zombies shrieking like beasts dissolved into ash, fueling the blaze as it swelled.
Welles glanced back in alarm.
The flames had ballooned more than expected—enough to engulf Oliver behind him. But incredibly, Oliver was mimicking Welles, deftly manipulating the mana to keep the fire from touching him.
".....!!"
Welles stared, genuinely taken aback. He'd toiled hard to master his own flames, yet here was a black mage copying it on the fly.
But once you knew the details, it wasn't so surprising. Oliver had tamed greedier flames before—devouring fire far nastier than this.
"Something wrong?"
Oliver asked Welles, who'd halted mid-stride.
Welles shook his head.
“Nah, nothing... Flames treating you okay?”
Oliver glanced at the surrounding blaze.
"A little tricky, but manageable."
"Tricky... Alright, we punch straight through like this. Any issues?"
"None."
Welles synced his mana to the flames and thrust his sword forward like a conductor's baton.
The wildly devouring fire surged ahead in unison, like a pack of hounds unleashed.
"We break through and nab the boss. Taking out the head's the most efficient play."
"You know where?"
“Bottom level of this lab, probably. Bosses always hole up in the safest spot.”
“Oh, spot on.”
As they passed burning zombies into a wide hall, a voice rang out.
A blast of frigid storm slammed into Welles's flames, erupting into steam and gusts.
The clash of intense heat and cold vaporized the fire, flooding the space with obscuring steam.
“Hng...!”
Welles didn't flinch at the sudden mist, swinging his flaming blade to part it before slashing again.
It looked like a swing at empty air, but he cleaved something darting in through the fog.
"Kya ak-!!"
A pained groan echoed as a woman fell back. Another Batory Family black mage, like Lena.
Even after blocking successfully, Welles stayed vigilant, parrying the follow-up assaults.
Two women burst through the steam.
Kka gang-! Kang!!
Not the sound of cleaving flesh, but metal on metal.
Upon inspection, the black mages wielded swords and scythes forged of ice.
Mana-born ice, astonishingly neutralizing Welles's flames and halving their bite.
“What? Didn't see that coming?”
One black mage taunted, ice sword in hand. The density of mana in the ice and the tight ritual weave marked her no easy mark.
Not just her—similarly skilled black mages had encircled them, clutching ice spears and channeling ice magic.
All ice magic. It felt off, unnatural. Like it'd been chosen specifically to counter Welles.
“Kya a a a a ak-!!”
As they sized each other up in standoff, an ear-splitting shriek shattered the tension, drawing all eyes.
A Batory woman clutched her shredded cheek, staggering back.
Her remaining eye glared venom at Oliver with pure hatred. He gazed impassively at the half-face skin dangling from his tonfa's tip.
The fresh, dripping flap of skin made even the war-hardened Welles grimace, but Oliver skipped revulsion for analysis, spotting one key fact.
“Ungrocessed leather mask... No, you're wearing raw skin.”
Welles eyed the woman's torn face at Oliver's words.
Sure enough, beneath the rip lay another face.
A gray, corpse-stiff one.
"Revolting... Now I get the blood-drinking."
Welles blurted without thinking.
He wasn't a black magic expert, but a lifetime of human dregs and crises had honed his instincts, experience, and insight enough to nail it.
It wasn't just for power or immortality. For them, blood was survival rations.
Food to sustain those cursed, near-dead husks.
And Welles wasn't the only one to clock it.
"Oh... So you're zombies too. Batory Family zombies. But with self-awareness... Fascinating. How were you made? You all."
The awe at superior zombies and the innocent follow-up question enraged every female black mage. They charged Oliver and Welles outright.
Welles steadied himself and shot Oliver a line.
“You always gotta say just a little too much.”
"Not easy."