The Swamp Witch's Judgment
“But look at us now!”
One of the gathered men could no longer hold back and stepped forward, shouting. His anger was justified. El Nergavil had fallen, and most of the Dark Priests who had been granted the crimson robes had been slain by Ryban’s clones. Yet while their comrades died helplessly, neither Alsh Unak nor Urshus had shown themselves or demonstrated their power.
No prophecy of a glorious future could survive such an obvious defeat.
“Didn’t you promise us a glorious future? Weren’t we supposed to make those fools who persecuted us pay the price?”
The man’s eyes burned with disbelief and resentment. Unable to identify the sudden invaders, they had watched their summoned beasts being swept away and their brethren slaughtered without mercy. No salvation had come, no matter how desperately they prayed.
“Where exactly were Lord Alsh Unak and Urshus during all of that?”
At his cry, doubt began to flicker in the eyes of the others as well. These were people who had once been persecuted, people already dissatisfied with the present. They had gathered here only because they believed that even a dim, dark light might offer them a solution.
“……”
Those whose souls had not yet been fully tainted, as well as the survivors who had escaped El Nergavil, gradually turned their gazes toward the exit.
Most of the truly devout had already perished. The majority of those remaining would abandon everything the moment they became convinced that the dark flame could no longer solve their problems.
“……”
Olsidra said nothing. He merely stared at the man and the others with his skeletal face. His calm, lifeless eyes looked almost ominous against his skull-like appearance.
“…That’s enough. I’m leaving.”
The man turned away as if fleeing from that ominous gaze. After escaping El Nergavil, he had stayed out of lingering hope, but seeing this hopeless situation with his own eyes, he no longer had any reason to remain.
He quickly walked toward the exit, and the others who had joined later began to follow one by one.
“W-We’ll be going as well.”
“Me too.”
More than ten people left, leaving only half behind. Even those who remained were not free of conflict or doubt. They looked at Olsidra and the few remaining Dark Priests in crimson robes with uneasy eyes.
“Aaaagh!”
Suddenly, screams echoed from outside.
“W-What was that?”
“Everyone, stay where you are.”
Olsidra raised a hand to stop those who tried to rush outside. Sorrow and pity were clearly visible in his eyes, yet there was not the slightest trace of hesitation.
“Those who turn their backs on the name of the Dark Priest and the flames of Urshus shall not be granted any peace.”
A chill ran down the spines of those who remained at his cold voice. More screams followed, but no one dared to go outside or ask what was happening.
“W-What the hell are these things?!”
“Damn it!”
A massive white spider summoned by one of the summoners was swallowed by thick, black venom and vanished. Only a few goblins remained around them, but goblins—small and weak aside from their survival instincts in harsh environments—were hardly worth considering as proper forces.
“What exactly did you do to us?”
Those who had fled outside were quickly surrounded by shadows that emerged from the darkness. More than half were struck down before they could even resist. The survivors hurriedly drew summoning circles, but the beasts they called forth offered little help.
“Kreeee!”
Along with the goblins’ agonized screams, their frail bodies were swallowed by the black venom and disappeared. The unidentified creatures surrounding them looked as though they were made of thick black liquid, each wearing a different broken mask as a face.
“Is this how you treat your own comrades?!”
They shouted toward the cave they had come from, but no answer came.
“Comrades? Don’t say such naive things.”
The reply came from the opposite direction—from where the creatures had emerged.
“You were all just pieces on a chessboard from the beginning. And yet you try to leave the board? That’s not just naive—it’s pitifully stupid.”
It was a woman’s voice. A rather young woman’s voice. Yet the sharp, condescending tone and the distinctive mockery at the end carried the weight of long years.
“W-Who are you?!”
“Show yourself right now!”
They searched the darkness for the source of that unsettling voice, but saw nothing. Then, suddenly, one spot began to glow unnaturally, as if moonlight and starlight were gathering there.
“Well? Do you like what you see?”
A seductive woman stood there, wearing a wide-brimmed, pointed hat and holding a broom in one hand. Despite her youthful, beautiful appearance, she wore a long, tattered green robe that reached the ground, stained with mud and unidentifiable marks.
“Y-You! Who the hell are you?! How dare you—!”
He never finished. One of the strange creatures opened its mouth and spewed venom that covered his face. His body melted into the liquid and flowed to the ground.
“Even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand anyway.”
“D-Damn it!”
One summoner thrust his hand toward a summoning circle he had been frantically drawing. Black light flashed as it activated. From within emerged a massive figure with a black face and an extra arm growing from the back of its neck. Its eyes were pure white, without pupils.
When the giant swung its third arm—which extended from the back of its neck over its head—the black creatures recoiled as if frightened.
This black giant was called the Tongtong Mademingo. A powerful evil spirit that roamed old graveyards, terrorizing and devouring other spirits. Its third hand possessed the special ability to scatter unclean things and steal their power.
“Oh? So you do know how to summon something decent.”
The Tongtong Mademingo swung its third arm and struck one of the black creatures. The black liquid that formed its body splattered across the ground like thick mud and rapidly dried. The already cracked mask crumbled into dust.
Both the summoner who had called the Tongtong Mademingo and the other surviving summoners finally showed signs of life. They had confirmed a chance to survive.
“Don’t underestimate me! If you think I’ll die easily, you’re sorely mistaken—!”
“But an incorporeal being before me?”
The woman took something from her robe, scattered it into the air, and muttered an incantation. The Tongtong Mademingo’s black body began to tremble. Multiple blurry afterimages appeared as if it were splitting apart, and everything except the third arm quickly dispersed. The black creatures began creeping forward again. The Tongtong Mademingo tried to swing its arm once more, but its fading body could no longer maintain balance, and it collapsed to the ground.
“……!”
Even though they had no more summons left to call, the summoners desperately drew new circles on the ground. The Tongtong Mademingo’s body had completely vanished, and even its final third arm dissolved into smoke.
“I-I did it!”
The frantically drawn circle glowed and activated, but no summon appeared. The summoner was devoured headfirst by a black creature that had already reached him. The others lunged at their respective prey. It did not take long for the screams to cease entirely.
“Only this level? I expected as much when that guy contacted me, but this is just pathetic.”
At her gesture, the black creatures wearing masks returned and vanished into her shadow. Their passing left several new black stains on her robe, but she paid them no mind. She merely glanced down at her robe before casually tossing the broom forward.
The broom fell halfway to the ground before stopping in midair. The area near the handle seemed to tear open, revealing a single eye.
—If they were only this strong, there was no need for you to come personally. Sending a few of your disciples would have been more than enough.
The voice was slow and nonchalant. It clearly came from the broom, yet the woman showed no surprise.
“That won’t do. Even if he abandoned this mother and ran away, even if he’s a failure, he’s still my son.”
Her appearance was far too young to have a child, yet the expression on her face was that of a loving mother. The broom, however, trembled violently as if disgusted.
—Since when have you ever felt love for your son? The young master became like that at such a young age, and fled the swamp at such a young age, all because of the experiments you conducted.
At those words, the affectionate expression vanished from her face as if it had been a lie, replaced by a cruel, beast-like smile.
“That’s true. A failure with not even a speck of talent—there’s no way I could feel affection for him, even if I gave birth to him myself.”
—Then why…? You didn’t even bother searching for him when he escaped the swamp.
“I thought he had no talent as a summoner at all. But even if it’s clumsy, he’s managed to taint his soul and imitate a Dark Priest. Moreover, even these half-baked Dark Priests carry a trace of Urshus’s flame. If I use them, I might be able to reach Urshus—or perhaps even other demon gods.”
—So you came to confirm their level yourself.
“That’s right.”
She claimed to be disappointed, yet the way she looked toward the cave was filled with anticipation.
—You still haven’t given up?
“Why would I? Four hundred years of waiting have all been for this.”
The broom closed its eye again as it gazed into her madness-filled eyes. The woman stepped onto the broom. Even with her weight, it remained perfectly still in the air, as if standing on solid ground.
—Where shall we go?
“To the nearest city. It’s been a while since I left the swamp—I should do some shopping. And while I’m at it, meet some naive young noble lords.”
—You won’t greet the young master?
“We agreed to meet at the Sabat in a few days anyway. He probably wants to obtain records from the old grimoires held by those old hags in the west. Though whether they’ll hand them over is another matter.”
The broom soon carried her into the sky and disappeared into the dark night, where clouds obscured the moonlight and starlight.