Reunion After Three Hundred Years

The faint light of the moonlight illuminated the ruins. It was the wreckage of Porvin, a rural town near the Southern Great Forest, where nothing remained but corpses and ashes. This historic village, fallen to the Demon King's army, had yet to find peace. Grotesque things wandered the streets littered with bodies—things that were neither human nor corpse. With empty black eyes wide open, they shuffled about, leaking pale starlight. They were undead.

Created by powers from beyond the world, their mere existence instilled a powerful sense of disgust in any nearby lifeforms. That was why no crows or rats—the usual scavengers of tragedy—gathered here. The undead, weeping tears made of pale starlight as if in agony, were corrupting their surroundings, gradually transforming the village ruins into something like the demonic realm.

Suddenly, their movements halted. One of the undead, shambling aimlessly, sensed a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠presence and turned its gaze. Toward the collapsed archway that once adorned the village entrance.

Moments later, two women in black cloaks appeared in the ruined village. The silver-haired girl slowly surveyed the area and murmured,

"...It's a mess."

"Yeah, sis."

The undead began to swarm. Ordinary magic wouldn't work on them, infected by otherworldly mana. A normal mage would have retreated to fetch reinforcements.

But there was no trace of fear in the two women.

"Fighting together with you after so long, sis—feels really nostalgic."

As the taller woman swept back her cloak, her elf-like beautiful golden hair gleamed under the moonlight. A stunning green magic circle floated up from the tip of her raised staff.

Honestly, when I first heard the news, I hadn't imagined things would be this bad. I figured it was just some traces of the Fallen Apple Wand being used.

I sensed something was wrong right after meeting Sylvia near the rural town of Porvin.

"...Sis, there's something you have to see."

Sylvia, who always smiled in front of me, had a grim expression. The only time she ever looked like that in my presence was during the Demon King War.

That catastrophe that swept the entire continent was a nightmare for anyone who remembered it.

As we headed to Porvin, Sylvia gave a brief background.

"The first discoverers were a merchant caravan passing through Porvin on their way to the imperial capital. Porvin's one of the few villages near the Great Forest, so no news had come through before that."

"That was three days ago?"

"Yeah. The local office just logged it as an 'undead incident' at first, so they didn't realize the severity."

I should have anticipated this when I heard 'undead.' Porvin under the moonlight was a devastating sight.

"...It's a mess."

I muttered softly, pulling my wand from my pocket. The undead were gathering at the noise.

For a quiet southern village, the numbers were unnaturally high—especially considering undead avoided sunlight and stuck to dungeons or overcast northern regions.

"Sylvia, since the Demon King War, has there been an undead horde this size anywhere?"

"Mm, yeah, but all in the north."

"So it's definitely a black mage..."

That explained why Sylvia had called me. Porvin was near the seal holding the first sinner.

A black mage's terror near the first seal? Highly suspicious.

"Have you checked the Great Forest seal?"

"No, I called you as soon as I confirmed the problem here."

As we talked, I drew my wand.

"Fighting together with you after so long—really nostalgic."

"Yeah."

Thankfully, the undead numbers weren't overwhelming. Porvin's population hadn't been that large to begin with.

Raising my revolver to the sky and pulling the trigger, a flare shot upward like fireworks, brilliantly lighting Porvin. Sylvia cast her spell as the undead writhed in agony.

"I'll put you all out of your misery soon."

Countless thorny vines erupted from the ground, piercing the undead and binding their movements.

Seizing the opening, she cast a second spell. Third chamber: diamond core.

Ice crystals enveloped the revolver, transforming it into a musket. The temperature plummeted as ten muskets materialized beside it. Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger—ten blue trajectories surged like a wave, piercing the horde.

The headless undead crumpled to their knees. At ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠last, true peace descended on Porvin.

"Hoo..."

I exhaled softly, white breath clouding the air. Shaking the revolver, the ice crystals shattered and fell away.

Tucking it into my belt, I asked,

"Any more detected?"

"None."

Sylvia reached toward the sky. A sparrow spirit of green particles flew in from the distant night sky, landing on her fingertip. It nuzzled her palm before vanishing.

"Then let's check things out properly."

Crossing the village threshold, a sticky black magic aura assaulted us—like stepping from blasting AC into the muggy humidity of late August before a monsoon.

"Ugh, the black magic concentration here is no joke."

It left a grimy feeling on my skin. This level was something from the Demon King War era.

But it wasn't conclusive yet. Not every mage who could wield this much black magic was the Demon King.

The path to the village square was even more horrific. The black magic was so potent it defied measurement, staining every ruin pitch-black without fire.

Stroking a collapsed pillar, black, viscous liquid coated my fingers—like a sponge saturated beyond capacity.

Wiping it on my cloak, I muttered,

"Magic this evil..."

Plenty came to mind. The Demon King's forces had killed creatively back then.

But in this scenario, one stood out. Three hundred years since the Demon King's fall—nations had grown far stronger. Even if corrupt, black mages couldn't operate openly yet.

"So a massacre like this with large-scale black magic can't just be murder. Too much risk for a quick thrill."

What black mages did after killing was simple: human sacrifice.

"Sylvia."

"Yeah, sis?"

"What was Porvin's population?"

She thought for a moment. "About three hundred, per the records."

Sacrifices vary in potency by ritual. The strongest a top summoner could call with three hundred...

"5th Circle familiar, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠maybe?"

Even a 5th Circle familiar threatened the seal. It'd take ten combat mages pouring firepower to fell one.

And there might be other attacked villages. Porvin was found days later—who knows elsewhere.

The circumstantial evidence wasn't in our favor.

"Oh god..."

Sylvia's shocked voice escaped. I felt the same.

The village center was nightmarish.

"This is..."

In the square's heart stood an altar of piled corpses—from three-year-olds to elders, no discrimination. Identities were impossible; black magic had melted them into barely recognizable human sludge.

Approaching, I saw pooled liquid—inky black, shimmering with pale starlight. Its nature was obvious.

"...Insane bastards."

Traces of humans liquefied by overwhelming magic. Only one wand I knew could do that.

"The Fallen Apple Wand..."

That instant, the silent forest awoke.

BOOM-!

A massive explosion echoed from the forest center—the first seal's direction.

"Sis."

"Yeah."

Sylvia and I raced toward the blast without hesitation—and there, we met the one we'd sought for over three hundred years.

"That's..."

The Fallen Apple Wand. In the hands of a mage cloaked and hooded in black, just like us—it was the wand that had scorched the world three centuries ago.