Chapter 115 Saint Birth Festival (4)
Saint Birth Festival (4)
The fabric of my clothes was thoroughly soaked with thick, coagulating bloodstains. The pungent metallic scent of blood assaulted my nostrils, making me grimace. Mixed with the stench of mud, the foul odor seemed to vibrate in the air.
This wasn't the scent of ordinary human blood. Those who wielded magic through blood sacrifices carried their own unique brand of putrid stench—an indescribable reek like rusted iron blended with the smell of mud before rainfall.
"Haah... Disgusting."
I wiped the blood off my blade with little care. Turning my head, I saw a hill-like mound of corpses. Each one was clad in ominous black robes.
I had spent an entire week lying in wait to wipe them all out in one sweep. As much as I wanted to slaughter every last one of them immediately, I held back.
"Kkh, hh... You damn madman...!"
A man rolled across the ground, his left arm torn clean off. He seemed to be a low-ranking administrator among the Descendants of the Magic King.
"You think the Pillars will just sit back and do nothing?!"
"Pillars?"
Now that he mentioned it, I recalled they referred to their executives as "Pillars." My memory of the original work was growing hazier by the day. Minor details like terminology were especially hard to remember unless I had written them down in my notes.
Not that I bothered consulting those notes much anymore.
"Don't tell me you attacked us without even knowing that."
Lost in thought, I didn't react immediately—which the man seemed to mistake for hesitation. His voice grew louder, more emboldened.
Clutching his severed limb with his remaining hand, he pointed a trembling finger at me.
"...Haha."
The sight was so absurd I let out an involuntary chuckle. Irritated, the man scowled and glared at me.
His face beneath the robe remained indistinct. Likely due to the Perception Hindrance magic woven into the fabric. I could have shattered the enchantment easily, but I didn't bother.
I had no desire to waste mana, nor was I particularly curious about the face hidden beneath that robe.
"What's so damn funny?!"
"Weren't you the one who underestimated me?"
Did this fool really think I'd launch a massacre without any preparations?
His face paled at my words. Whether from blood loss or terror, his breathing grew ragged.
"W-what do you—"
Thud!
I sealed his wounds with Healing Magic. Letting him bleed out would defeat the purpose of keeping him alive. What I needed now was information—the locations of the Descendants' other hideouts.
The original work had only mentioned their base being within the Holy Kingdom, without any detailed descriptions.
To fill in these gaps, I had no choice but to gather intel the hard way. Not that it was particularly difficult, just tedious.
"Where are your other hideouts?"
"I can't tell you."
"Pity."
In the original work, Abel had been a one-trick mage specializing solely in Space Magic. Though skilled, he never reached the level of an Archmage, which naturally made him a rolling stone—constantly battered by the Empire's overwhelming magical forces.
But the current Abel—me—was an Archmage. Even if my rank was low, it meant I could wield more than just one type of magic.
Huuung...
"No way...!"
"Nothing beats this for information gathering."
Mental Magic.
Personally, I wasn't fond of it. But in terms of convenience, nothing else came close.
Sifting through another person's mind—especially a madman's—left a disgusting aftertaste, but for the sake of intel, I could endure it.
"Hah, with just Mental Magic—"
"Right. You must have defenses in place."
Probably Anti-Magic incantations or artifacts.
Mages were inherently vulnerable to Anti-Magic. The moment their spells were neutralized, they became little more than ordinary humans.
But against an Archmage? Such precautions were meaningless. What use were cheap tricks against one who understood the fundamental principles of magic?
Crack!
"H-how...?"
"Wrong opponent."
With those words, I seized his head. Countless Memory Fragments flooded into my mind. I discarded the useless ones, retaining only what I needed.
Prolonged exposure to the egos and memories of madmen was dangerous. The reason I sometimes felt my own mind warping was precisely because of these invasive recollections.
"Aaah, AAAAGH!"
Of course, the process didn't just erase his memories—it obliterated his ego too. Not that I cared.
He was nothing more than a fanatic obsessed with Sacrifice Rituals. No reason to spare him any sympathy.
"So these are the hideouts you know about."
As expected, there was no information on the Pillars' locations.
Not that I had hoped for it anyway. Still, for wiping out a minor branch, this was a decent haul.
"Kkh... Ggghh..."
The man let out a prolonged, animalistic groan. Leaving him behind, I flicked my fingers.
The black energy swirling in the air coalesced, forming the figure of a man wearing a familiar mask.
"One-ho, handle the cleanup."
"As you command."
With those final words, he dissolved back into the shadows. At the same time, the corpses scattered around began to be sucked away into the darkness.
I watched the efficient disposal for a moment before leaving. Passing through a corridor lined with torches at regular intervals, I ascended the stairs. For a secret hideout of heretics, the structure was surprisingly simple.
At the top of the stairs stood a door. The reason I had gone through the trouble of infiltrating this place was precisely for this door. Protected by powerful sorcery, it was impossible to locate or break through with magic alone.
At least finding even one is fortunate.
Had there not been a careless fool among them, even someone of my caliber as an Archmage would have struggled to locate this place.
That's just how it was—sorcery and magic were forces that barely influenced each other.
As I placed my hand on the door, it began to creak open with a thunderous groan. Dust spilled through the cracks, and I reflexively coughed.
They must come and go often—how is there this much dust?
The fleeting thought vanished as I spotted a familiar face on the other side.
Silver hair, dull as if weighed down, and sharp golden eyes. Even dressed in an ordinary leather tunic, her distinctive aura remained unchanged.
Estelle von Louis.
The protagonist of The Villainess Turns Back Time Today, the original work. At the same time, a woman who would burn herself to ashes to bring down the Emperor.
In the original story, she had begun cooperating with Adel in the mid-to-late stages, providing significant assistance. Though back then, Adel had nearly lost her humanity, so their partnership had been... rocky, to say the least.
"You took a while."
"Yeah. Some pests were particularly troublesome."
In the end, she had chosen to form an alliance with me. Knowing the original work, I was well aware of just how much Estelle despised the Emperor. In the final act, she had even sacrificed her memories and life to help seal him away.
The possibility of her betraying me was practically zero.
Still, I wished she had stayed out of this Holy Kingdom incident. Especially since the person she was involved with was Lev, the Tower Master.
Of course, if she were the type to listen to reason, she would have left the Holy Kingdom long ago.
Her stubbornness is something else.
Suppressing the sigh threatening to escape, I stepped forward. Estelle followed at a slight distance, keeping pace beside me.
The sound of trickling water echoed in my ears. The hideout was hidden in the sewers—right at the central hub, no less. The stench was foul, but magic could block that much.
Glancing back, I saw Estelle trailing behind, her face slightly scrunched in discomfort.
Tap!
With a flick of Space Magic, I encased her surroundings in a barrier.
"...Ah, thank you."
"Don't mention it."
An awkward silence settled between us. Not unbearable, but uncomfortable enough that I decided to break it with a trivial question.
"What about the Tower Master?"
"Waiting above."
"Must be bored."
"Hmm, I suppose so."
After that, only mundane conversation passed between us. Formal, perfunctory exchanges. Exhausting for me, but effective in passing the time.
Soon, silence flowed between us again. Only the sound of something trickling through the quiet waterways filled the space.
Estelle, who had been deep in thought with her arms crossed, turned her gaze back to me. Then, slowly, she spoke.
"Why do you hate the Emperor, Duke?"
"That's what you want to know?"
Why do I hate him? The biggest reason is that he's the Final Boss of the original work, but... I do have personal reasons for despising him.
But that's not something I can say right now. It's directly tied to the Emperor's secrets. Even if I spoke, censorship would distort the words beyond recognition.
Better to give a different reason.
"Because I despise puppets."
"...Puppets, you say?"
At my answer, Estelle closed her eyes, seemingly lost in thought. Yet she continued following me perfectly—proof that her eyes were indeed special.
In the original, she had used those eyes to find a way to seal the Emperor. Of course, this time, I had no intention of settling for something as half-baked as a seal.
If my assumptions are correct, there must be a way to completely annihilate him.
"You already knew, didn't you?"
"At this level, not knowing would be stranger, no?"
Even the other dukes must be vaguely aware of the Emperor's deeds. Most are just bound by their necklaces, unable to act recklessly.
To overthrow him, I'll need to bring the other dukes into the fold. Especially the Duke of the Eastern Region—he's non-negotiable.
Not just for his influence, but because his martial prowess rivals even the Emperor's Sword.
Of course, with the Emperor's watchful gaze as sharp as it is now, I can't move carelessly...
But after this Holy Kingdom incident, his surveillance should loosen.
That's when I'll begin moving in earnest.