The Shadow of the Holy Kingdom (9)
The three topknotted mafiosi exchanged glances. Papapabat—! They circled Larilura at blinding speed, as if deploying a formation. The afterimages trailing behind them suggested they shared some common footwork or martial art.
I clicked my tongue at the venomous looks in their eyes. They’re ready to die.
These bastards had mistaken Larilura for an aura user. Yet here they were—punks who wouldn’t even qualify as Gold Class—charging at her with such desperate resolve. It meant they had resolved to fight even if it cost them their lives.
The realization filled me with a deep sense of unease. Why aren’t they running?
Was it some misguided loyalty that kept them from abandoning their comrade? No, that was absurd. There’s nothing more hollow than talk of loyalty or honor among criminals.
My predecessors used to say that when any group constantly emphasizes something, it’s precisely because that thing isn’t actually practiced. After all, no organization in the world bothers to stress that humans need to breathe to survive. Truly natural things don’t require constant reminders.
That’s exactly why criminals obsess over loyalty. If you betray your own family, bloody retaliation will follow—so don’t even think about it.
Feeling Larilura’s tension, I narrowed my eyes. These selfish pricks were willing to throw their lives away? It could only mean they believed that even if they escaped this place, “pursuers” would hunt them down with brutal retribution.
In other words, they had a backer so ruthless and thorough that betrayal wasn’t even conceivable.
Spirit possession combined with corpse manipulation. A forbidden branch of undead transformation black magic.
Kyaaaaah—!!
The red-eyed topknotted swordsman unleashed his illusionary blade once more. He had drawn too much mana; despite his wounds the number of swords increased, but their precision had fallen drastically. Still, he probably didn’t care about accuracy anymore. He had comrades covering his back.
—Tap.
Larilura’s footwork carried her forward. She spun and leaped faster than the incoming illusory swords could reach her. She snatched the mace aimed at her head as casually as grabbing a pillow in a pillow fight, then hurled its owner backward.
Heuk?!
—Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
With her lightning speed and merciless hands, the Wall Street Family executive swinging the mace was instantly skewered by his own comrade’s sword.
Having pinned two of them down, Larilura turned her attention to the last foe. The axe-wielder, trembling in terror, tried to buy time with a clumsy throw. The result was the complete opposite of what he intended.
Larilura’s catch-ball skills—honed through years of juggling—let her snatch the axe handle cleanly out of the air.
—Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh! Thwack!!
The axe returned to its owner in a tenth of a second and planted a passionate kiss on its beloved master. The exchange of affection was so fierce it cost him his life.
Larilura confirmed the mafia thug had rolled his eyes back in death, then turned. The topknotted swordsman kicked his comrade’s corpse aside to free his blade and took a thrusting stance. He let out a hollow laugh, as if even he found his own technique ridiculous.
“The mystery of my blade—containing both truth and falsehood—was my greatest pride. Yet you won’t even entertain it.”
“If I wanted to play some stale game of reading each other, I would’ve gone next door to the gambling house instead of wasting time with you lot.”
“Kahaha! True enough. At least in gambling, you can win money.”
As she listened to his laughter, Larilura swung her arm like a streak of light.
“Kyaaak!!”
A heavy wallet slammed into the back of Temurgul’s head as he tried to flee. He must have thrown his own wallet because he had nothing else on hand, but in this world without paper currency, wallets had a distinctly brutal weight. The metallic clang made me genuinely worry for the man’s survival.
“……Huu.”
The topknotted swordsman didn’t even glance at his boss, whose head was now fit only for recycling.
—Glare!
Eyes overflowing with killing intent snapped wide open.
“The final strike of my life—receive it!!”
"By the will of the thunder god—"
⟨ Lightning Missile ⟩
I poked the snake’s head out of my robe and fired the spell. The topknotted man left behind a single short death cry before dying from electrocution. With the boss down and the rest of the executives dead, I saw no reason to hold back.
“Ah, senior! Thank you♡!”
“You’re welcome, but you didn’t lose control of your strength and burst that pig’s head open, right?”
That was partly why I had stuck my head out—to end the sluggish fight that had been worrying me. Larilura clapped her hands as if she, too, had been concerned. She then checked the fallen boss’s pulse.
“How is it?”
“Umm… I don’t know!”
“Haha. I’m the idiot for expecting anything when you checked his pulse.”
Truth be told, I wasn’t confident in determining life or death myself. If I used the Ansuz rune, I’d be able to tell whether he’s kicked the bucket or not.
That was what I was thinking when I prepared to release my transformation.
Goosebumps erupted across both my skin and Larilura’s.
Black mana suddenly surged from Temurjin’s body like a massive pillar, piercing straight through the ceiling and floor.
Whoosh—!
The mana rose like threads spun from a pupa by some grotesque insect. Larilura covered her mouth and executed a backflip. Temurjin rose in a bizarre manner, like a drunkard being lifted by the collar.
“……Gulp.”
Larilura clenched her fists and swallowed the saliva that had pooled in her mouth. No matter how superhuman someone was, they couldn’t stand without planting their hands or feet on the ground. Someone had clearly interfered with Temurjin’s corpse using magic.
An eerie pressure radiated from the rising corpse. The one controlling it overwhelmed the entire vulgarly decorated space, making the already narrow room feel even smaller.
Analysis Mode — Activated
—Kiiing!
I recognized the danger and opened Odin’s Eye. There was no time to worry about side effects. No other presences existed in the room. Were they hiding with some method I couldn’t detect? Or controlling everything from afar?
The answer was the latter.
……Threads?
Temurjin’s body was bound by invisible strands, twisted like a receipt tangled with earphone wires inside a pocket. At first glance it resembled Puppetry, but it was an entirely different kind of magic.
Odin’s Eye dismantled the complex structure down to the smallest magical units. By dissecting the spell formula, I understood it was a fusion of two distinct magics.
Spirit possession and corpse manipulation.
Broadly speaking, it was a branch of black magic dealing with undead transformation. In other words, it was a forbidden spell that turned a pre-enchanted corpse into an undead vessel and infused it with the caster’s consciousness.
……I wondered what was happening when one of my limbs started dying.
Temurjin spoke in a completely different voice than before.
So the “mining site” I invested in was being destroyed. It was only the other day I provided business funds because I admired the effort put in.
—Crack!
The mage whose identity I could not determine used Temurjin’s hand to snap the corpse’s neck. Ironically, it was the exact same method Temurjin had used to kill his subordinate Gals.
But there was one difference. After breaking it, Temurjin immediately reattached his own neck.
Business investment always presupposes loss, but that doesn’t mean I can overlook the bastard who caused chaos in my workshop. Don’t you agree?
As he spoke, the whites of Temurjin’s eyes turned pitch black. The corpse that had been in a near-death state had now reached complete death, and darkness and negative mana seemed to have permeated every extremity.
……Tsk.
I finished my analysis and closed Odin’s Eye. An excessive refreshing sensation flooded my brain, making my head throb. More importantly, the killing intent radiating from the enemy was so distinct there was no room left for conversation.
To protect Larilura, I need magic.
With Odin’s Eye active I couldn’t chant spells properly. The words came out strangely, making rune magic impossible. Exceptions were chantless spells or Beast Regression. Of course, it was absurd that I couldn’t use Odin’s own magic while borrowing his wisdom, but that was a complaint for another time.
—Kwaaaang!!
My trivial thoughts were cut short. The corpse of Temurjin had begun a charge, rushing forward like a rampaging tank.
Like controlling a game character, the unknown intruder wrapped the heavy body in mana and hurled punches.
—Shupapapapat!!
Larilura and the intruder exchanged several blows in the blink of an eye. Neither took damage, but their expressions were polar opposites. It had only been a probing exchange, yet Larilura clutched her numb hands, the blood draining from her face. Meanwhile, a ferocious smile that looked completely out of place on Temurjin’s face bloomed on the man’s lips.
“Your skill is quite good! Why don’t you tell me where you came from!!”
“Las Vegas!”
“A place I’ve never heard of or seen!!”
Larilura, who had recited the fake origin I taught her, dodged the fiercely incoming uppercut.
—Paang!!
The master’s snapping uppercut exploded the air where her chin had been a moment earlier.