Chapter 122
Chapter 122
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 122
Chapter Title: Storming In
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The Mage Tower's custom motor carriage lived up to its special designation—its durability was anything but ordinary.
A vehicle that could shrug off hand cannons or even anti-tank spells like they were nothing. Yet the beam that had just struck it was obliterated without a chance to fight back.
Everyone inside had spilled out, but no one plummeted to the ground.
After all, they were all capable of channeling their abilities to create "footholds" in midair without anyone needing to take the lead.
Everyone except Carlyle and Rachel.
"⋯⋯!"
Shea grabbed the pair by the scruffs of their necks just as they were about to hurtle toward the earth.
He smirked and muttered.
"⋯⋯You idiots. Only looking out for yourselves? This is when you rack up points."
"⋯⋯!"
"⋯⋯!"
Realization dawned on the faces of those nearby, but Shea shifted his gaze to the sky.
"What a flashy welcome. Must be because we're nobles."
At the edge of his vision floated two figures, just like them—humans hovering in the air.
More precisely.
They took human form, but parts of their bodies had mutated into grotesque shapes.
The man, clad in armor reminiscent of a knight, had a lower body that was entirely a spider. Beside him, the woman sprouted several shaggy, writhing wings from her back.
"Viscount Alistair. Preparations for welcoming our guests are complete."
"Viscount Cornelius. Greetings."
Carlyle narrowed his eyes as they bowed their heads in unison.
'⋯⋯Bugs.'
From their appearances, they were nobles serving under the Archdemon—"Greed."
And Alistair and Cornelius among them.
"Fatal Companion."
These two were a married couple.
Complete with all the "gimmicks" that came with it.
At Carlyle's mutter, the two noble demons turned surprised gazes toward him.
"⋯⋯That's an old nickname. How do you even know that?"
Knowledge of Hell wasn't something easily grasped by humans.
Anyone who came across it was personally killed, devoured, or turned into a puppet by the demons.
Yet this human.
Knew such details as if it were the most natural thing, all while staying perfectly sane.
"⋯⋯Impressive that you know all that and still resist 'Corruption.'"
"You get used to everything if you live long enough."
"Is that so? I'm curious how long you can hold out."
At those words, a question arose from the Holy Sword.
[⋯⋯Corruption?]
It was hearing the term for the first time.
[Hold on. Corruption? Does gaining knowledge about demons have some negative effect?]
'⋯⋯Well, judging by how fine I've been so far, it's not that big a deal.'
[Don't try to fool me.]
A voice thick with anger suddenly emanated from the Holy Sword.
She didn't know him as deeply as he'd observed her, but she knew plenty about Carlyle herself.
From that perspective, this man right now.
[You think I can't tell when you're lying?]
"⋯⋯."
Carlyle fell silent.
[Tell me now. What's this Corruption, and how does it work⋯⋯!]
'Later, Hero.'
Not now.
⋯⋯Not when the entire capital was on the brink of annihilation.
In the meantime, the knight with the spider's body—who had been silently listening—nodded and spoke up.
"As expected of the man the Archduke of Flies has his eye on. Cornelius, don't skimp on the welcome."
With that, Alistair turned and retreated into the spire.
Everyone found it odd that the enemy was splitting their forces right in front of them, but Carlyle just watched the pair calmly.
Well, these two didn't make much difference whether split or together anyway.
'If you think about how to tackle the final phase.'
Recalling that knowledge, he spoke.
"Let's split up."
He looked at Shea.
"Dean. Mind keeping these two company for a bit?"
"⋯⋯."
Shea stared at him and smirked.
"You sure?"
⋯⋯It really wasn't.
Detaching their maximum firepower here was tantamount to it. Bold didn't even cover it—not when they had no idea what awaited inside.
But.
"Yes."
It was the right call.
Considering these two demons' traits.
The one before them, Cornelius, flapped her wings as she spoke.
"⋯⋯You're a fascinating human, Carlyle Bellfast."
Cornelius smiled thinly. Her compound eyes, like a dragonfly's, spun around.
"You seem to know our 'strategy' in advance."
"Yes."
Carlyle smiled back.
"So I know you'll let us right in."
"⋯⋯."
The viscount smiled.
"Then shall we get this over with quickly?"
With that, Cornelius bowed her head and swept her arm toward the spire's interior.
A gesture truly like welcoming guests, urging them inside.
"⋯⋯."
Everyone alternated weird looks between Carlyle and the demons.
It was all proceeding so smoothly, like a scripted play where they already knew each other's intentions.
'It must look strange.'
But the other side likely saw leaving Shea here as a fair "compromise."
The 'real' fight would happen inside the spire anyway.
The question was whether the one they left behind could truly handle it.
"Dean. Thirty minutes."
"⋯⋯? Thirty minutes what?"
"The time you need to hold out against her outside."
By then.
They'd finish everything inside and come back out.
"You gonna be okay on your own—"
But before he could finish.
Shea smirked, cracking his neck.
"Hey."
And.
In an instant.
The air grew heavy.
"Who's worrying about who right now?"
"⋯⋯."
The former Hero winked at him.
"Go on. Leave this to me."
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As Carlyle's group vanished into the spire, Cornelius quietly regarded Shea.
This human was famous enough that even in Hell, everyone knew his name.
"⋯⋯An honor, former Hero. To spill blood with you."
Cornelius spoke with a touch of respect.
"I only wish I could face you at your peak."
Though he'd stepped down from the top now, this man had once wielded the Holy Sword. He'd borne the title of humanity's strongest.
To demons—beings born with an innate craving for battle and destruction—such a powerhouse deserved respect.
But.
"Thirty minutes, she says."
"Pardon?"
"Every time I hear that, I feel like some old geezer in the back room. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes⋯⋯"
Her opponent showed no inclination to return the respect.
"Hold out, they tell me."
"⋯⋯."
"Like three minutes won't be pushing it."
Cornelius's expression hardened for the first time.
⋯⋯The words themselves implied the fight wouldn't even be close.
But as she spat them out, Shea continued calmly.
"Brainwashing a catastrophe-level beast to attack the academy—that you demons' doing?"
"⋯⋯."
"And planting something weird in the Emperor's head? You guys too?"
"⋯⋯?"
Cornelius tilted her head at the sudden question.
Puzzled as to why he'd bring it up now.
Shea drew his sword nonchalantly.
"⋯⋯-"
And.
Suddenly.
"⋯⋯-?!"
Her body was shredded.
Startled, Cornelius regenerated.
Having her body torn apart wasn't fatal for a noble demon, but the problem was.
'⋯⋯What?!'
She hadn't sensed a thing.
⋯⋯No ability at all.
It was insane.
An attack that rent a noble demon apart without her sensing the precursor or even reacting in time.
What just happened was purely this human's bare-handed "technique."
"⋯⋯."
What.
The hell.
How did he launch that from this distance, without a single motion.
She hadn't felt anything.
Hadn't seen anything.
As Cornelius froze in shock at the inexplicable phenomenon.
Shea scratched his head with a sigh.
"Well, circumstances mean I can't use much mana, but this much is fine."
In the first place, what had made him a Hero wasn't explosive mana like Gray's or monstrous specs.
It was simply what Shea had honed.
A combat technique transcending human limits. Forged from unfathomable depths of talent through long experience—unprecedented in history.
One that encroached even on the realm of magic.
"When I first took the dean's seat, I swore it. Anyone who touches my friend or my students—doesn't matter who—I'll peel their scalp off."
And the Shea who'd done just that continued nonchalantly.
"You're not fighting me."
Though age had now passed the pinnacle to Gray Chasefield.
Once.
"Genius" was a title given to those who "somewhat followed" Shea Whiteburn.
This demon standing here was about to learn that the hard way.
"You're getting crushed."
As the outlet for his ire.
Like a bug.
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