Chapter 93 Holy Kingdom (5)
Holy Kingdom (5)
Blood droplets began gathering from the pools of blood that had formed all around. The sight of blood converging into the man's hand made my brows furrow involuntarily.
The crimson liquid drawing together like a magnet resembled a scene from some ancient religious ritual.
'That... must be blood magic.'
Using magic to kill people. Then utilizing the blood of those slain to cast blood magic once more.
Through this cycle of repetition, blood magic grows progressively stronger.
It was truly the epitome of a vile magic. One might even call it a magic specialized for terrorism—after all, it grows more powerful with each life taken.
"Kehahaha! Die where you stand!"
With a villainous laugh, the man stretched his hand toward the guards. The corners of his mouth were stretched upward in a grin so wide it nearly reached his ears.
He caressed the orb of blood gathered in his palm as if it were something precious. His deranged appearance left everyone speechless.
By all appearances, this was not the mental state of a sane human. Does using blood magic come with the price of mental corruption?
There was simply no way to know.
A spike shot forth from the large blood orb floating beside the man. In an instant, it extended toward the guards.
Like roots branching out underground, the spikes spread in all directions. Moving at considerable speed, they seemed eager to taste the guards' blood.
"Guh!"
A guard conjured a shield-shaped barrier using holy power. Even if they were just Holy Gate guards, a holy knight was still a holy knight, after all.
They weren't completely helpless against the man's blood magic. The real problem was that their opponent was simply too strong.
KWAANG!
A deafening roar echoed in my ears. Through the dust, I could see a guard barely managing to raise his tattered arm. The ground around him had already caved in.
The force behind this attack was far more devastating than the previous crimson spikes.
Unlike conventional magic, which maintains a consistent power level, this was something else entirely. Suspicion gnawed at me, so I asked Sylphi.
'Sylphi, does blood magic grow stronger with more blood?'
[That's right.]
He answered with a sigh.
Before I knew it, he had manifested beside me, arms crossed as he observed the scene. Sylphi, too, seemed disturbed by the group calling themselves the Descendants of the Magic King, silently glaring at the man.
Unaware of Sylphi's gaze, the man approached the guard with slow, deliberate steps.
"Kuh... cough..."
The guard spat blood as he dropped to his knees. In contrast, the man strode toward him with leisurely confidence.
Even the blood the guard had coughed up began being absorbed into the floating orb beside the man.
At that ghastly sight, the guard's face turned deathly pale. Despair flickered across his ashen expression.
Watching this, I rose to my feet and called out to Sylphi.
'Sylphi.'
[Are you sure about this?]
His voice was laced with concern. I smiled faintly in response.
'Yeah. I can't just stand by and watch.'
I channeled all the mana I could into the necklace. Just in case the disguise magic faltered, I needed to keep it charged.
If the disguise suddenly dropped in the middle of a crowded place, suspicion would be inevitable.
Especially now, with the Descendants of the Magic King infiltrating and running rampant.
A gentle breeze spread outward. Grabbing the rapier propped beside the carriage, I stepped down.
Everyone's attention was fixed on the man, so no one noticed my presence.
I turned my head toward Abel, and he flashed me a knowing smirk.
Returning the smile, I raised the hand gripping the rapier. The weight felt familiar yet strange—solid in my grasp.
'Sylphi.'
[Alright, let's go.]
Blue Wind coiled around me. The flow of air shifted in an instant. At the same time, I kicked off the ground and charged toward the man.
Perhaps sensing the sudden approach, he whirled around in alarm.
Spotting me rushing at him with a rapier, his face twisted into a snarl.
"Ha! A mere Spiritualist?!"
'He recognized me right away.'
Does blood magic have some ability to gauge opponents? Not that it mattered now. The only thing that did was stopping him.
I couldn't let him rampage any further.
KANG!
The rapier sliced through a crimson spike midair. The man's expression darkened.
Gritting his teeth, he thrust his hand toward me.
WHOOSH!
The heightened senses I'd honed facing Katra traced the trajectory of the incoming spikes.
Though the force behind them was formidable, their paths were so simplistic that they weren't even worth dodging properly.
I cut down the spikes that obstructed my advance and sidestepped the rest with ease.
Clearly not expecting me to evade so effortlessly, panic flickered across the man's face. With a "Tch!", he unleashed another volley of spikes in all directions.
But the merchant group's escorts weren't pushovers who'd fall for the same trick twice.
Not a single spike found its mark, dissolving into powerless droplets that pattered uselessly to the ground.
"Keh—Kehaha! So, not just a Spiritualist after all!"
Without a word in response to the man's taunt, I swung my rapier. He drew a sword from his robes and blocked the rapier's path.
The man pressed forward with near-monstrous strength, driving my rapier back.
Yet my own strength, bolstered by the wind's power, was no trifling matter either.
Clang!
"Surrender quietly."
I glared at him as I spoke.
In response, he merely furrowed his brows, offering no retort. He must have known—his chances of victory had all but evaporated.
"Ha. Did you really think you could just wear us down with numbers?"
"What—?"
Before I could process his sudden words, he abruptly withdrew the force behind his pressing blade.
Staggered by the sudden lack of resistance, I nearly lost my footing.
Thunk.
"Wh-what...?"
A blade was embedded in his own chest—the very same sword that had been clashing with my rapier moments ago.
He pulled it free without so much as a flinch, his expression eerily serene as he let out a soft chuckle.
"Blood Magic," he said, "can be used like this too."
A massive magic circle materialized in the air.
From the gaping wound in his chest, blood gushed forth like a waterfall—yet before it could even touch the ground, it was siphoned into the hovering circle.
My grip on the rapier tightened.
[This bastard's insane.]
Silpi was right.
This man was a madman. The kind who wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice his own life for his goals. And if that was the case, his target could only be the Holy Kingdom—another terror attack.
The Descendants of the Magic King had always pursued that singular purpose.
Which meant—
'Silpi, is that a self-destruction spell?'
[Not certain, but yes!]
Clicking my tongue at his answer, I shouted at the top of my lungs:
"Everyone, evacuate this area immediately!"
As I sheathed my rapier, panic flickered across the faces of the crowd. Their hesitation, even in a life-or-death situation, was infuriating. I yelled again:
"What are you waiting for? Run!"
"But—if we flee now, when will we ever get another chance to—"
"Is the deal more important than your lives?!"
The merchant bit his lip hard enough to draw blood before barking a swift order. At his command, the crowd scrambled into motion.
He must have held considerable influence—it was rare to see a merchant group move with such military precision.
Their cohesion rivaled even that of Count Este's forces—Adel's father.
Taking a deep breath, I turned back to the self-mutilating madman.
'Silpi. Can we stop it?'
[Not easily. Even if we block the direct blast, the shockwave...]
Silpi grimaced as he answered, clearly uncertain whether we could withstand Blood Magic of that magnitude.
"No need for that."
A crisp voice rang out from somewhere. Androgynous in tone, it instinctively drew my gaze toward its source.
A man with snow-white hair and pitch-black eyes. His face was strikingly handsome—so much so that, were it not for the rough scar across his nose and the calloused hands, I might have mistaken him for a woman at first glance.
Clad in the Holy Kingdom's signature white uniform, adorned with golden insignias of Numen.
The medals pinned to his chest—three or four of them—marked him as anything but ordinary.
Even at a glance, he radiated the aura of a formidable warrior.
"Hear me, sinner."
His voice, at odds with his lethal presence, carried undeniable weight.
As he reached for his scabbard, an immense surge of Holy Power erupted forth.
A dense golden energy seeped from his entire body.
"To commit murder under the Goddess's protection is one thing,"
The sword slid free—a massive blade radiating brilliant golden light. Its mere presence froze even the fleeing crowd in their tracks.
An indescribable pressure locked me—and even the Blood Magic-wielding madman—in place.
"But to seek sins beyond that..."
Light spilled from the blade. The sheer might emanating from it rivaled even the colossal presence the Pope had summoned during the Subjugation Expedition.
Where had such a powerhouse come from?
"...makes you an enemy of the Holy Kingdom."
With those final words, the man's shadow vanished. A golden tempest howled in every direction.
In the same instant, he appeared before the madman.
Caught off guard, the man gritted his teeth and activated his spell. Even as droplets of blood levitated around him, he showed no fear—only swung his sword.
Downward.
A simple slash.
But its outcome was anything but simple.
Riiip.
The crimson magic circle suspended in the air split cleanly in half. The spell, moments from detonation, flickered and died.
As the fractured circle dispersed like fading embers, the madman's pupils trembled.
Then, his body slowly began to divide.
BOOM.
With a thunderous crash, his bisected corpse collapsed to the ground. The grotesque sight made me grimace involuntarily.
His remains crumbled to dust almost instantly, scattering into the wind.
"It's over."
As he sheathed his sword, something about the man sent a chill down my spine.