Chapter 556: To Be Old Is to Be Worn
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 556: To Be Old Is to Be Worn
“I was waiting—”
“Skyblade Art.”
Slice.
The Regressor didn’t wait for the black magician to finish. Wreathed in lightning, she instantly beheaded him. With a strike that rent the very air, the black magician, Mugul, was decapitated in the blink of an eye. Even as his head fell, his mouth did not stop moving.
“—for you. You who came from beyond the plains. I doubt you’ll answer, but let me ask you one thing.”
“Thunderbird.”
CRACKLE! The lightning sparking from the wound incinerated the black magician’s body. Burns spread along his veins, and Mugul’s body crumbled like ash.
But the Regressor didn’t relax her guard. Instead, her presence grew even sharper. This, too, was likely just a puppet.
“How did you know to come here? The people from beyond the plains shouldn’t have any interest in this place.”
“I heard you were trying to resurrect an evil god.”
“You mean Lord Ankra? Indeed, he is a being that even those from beyond the plains would fear… but it should be of no concern to you, should it?”
The Regressor flung a blade of wind toward the voice’s origin. A mountain of bones was cleaved in two by the single strike, bone dust scattering like snow. The Regressor scowled, glaring at the collapsing pile of bones.
‘He’s hiding inside the bone altar. Tch, when I use my Jade Eyes to see through a person, they look like a skeleton. The black magician probably didn’t know, but if he’s hiding among a pile of bones, it’ll be hard to spot him with the Seven Colored Eyes.’
“This is a savage land where we kill and are killed. A place where even Muhu died with her face torn off, a place rife with curses and superstitions. You people have come here countless times, but you always left with nothing but a pittance in your hands.”
The black magician’s voice emanated from the bones themselves. The countless bones of this altar were his mouth, his hands. The Regressor thought.
‘The altar is even imbued with mana. Unless I get rid of all these bones, it won’t be easy to single out the black magician and kill him.’
“I pride myself on my great ambition, but I do not harbor the desire to conquer the lands beyond the plains. It’s not a matter of whether it’s possible or not; it’s simply unrealistic. The great plains are too vast, and the world beyond is too far.”
The Regressor thrust Chun-aeng in the direction of the voice, but it only pierced an empty pile of bones. As if mocking her, the black magician’s voice now came from behind.
“The reverse is also true. This land is too far for you. Whatever happens here should be none of your business, no?”
“Business or not, that’s not what’s important. The very attempt to awaken an evil god is the problem.”
“A problem? You speak as if you were the king of this land.”
Mugul’s voice echoed from the darkness, his presence completely concealed.
“You don’t look after the people of the jungle, nor do you feed them, yet you seek to interfere in how they live? Do you know the humans who carry the souls of beasts? Do you know those horned sages? Do you know the witches who command dark and powerful magic?”
“I do,”
“But it seems you have little interest in those who cannot survive without relying on that power?”
The black magician used humans as his materials. As such, he was more skilled than anyone at exploiting the human body and mind. Realizing the Regressor was not motivated by profit, Mugul tried to provoke her sense of justice instead.
“In this ancient land, where powerful beasts and great spirits breathe, humans are nothing more than insects. There are only two ways to survive here. Either rely on that power, or overcome it with human strength alone.”
“And that’s why you use humans as sacrifices?”
“They are lives that will die like insects anyway. Instead of just letting them perish, I add their strength to that of humanity. You could call it a sacrifice, I suppose.”
“Oh, is that so?”
But the Regressor was not the type to be swayed by such petty words. She snorted and replied.
“Then this time, you can be the sacrifice. Your life is no different from an insect’s to me, so I’ll be the one to take it.”
“…You’re all talk. For someone who can’t even find me.”
“Find you? You’re around here somewhere, right? That’s good enough for me.”
The Regressor held Jizan in a reverse grip and slammed it into the ground. With just that, a small earthquake shook the jungle floor, covered in grass and soil. Feeling the unusual tremor, Mugul shouted.
“What are you doing?!”
“Terra Firma Arts, Ground Upheaval.”
The Regressor pulled Jizan as if yanking a stake driven deep into the earth.
And the ground itself rose up. As if all the surrounding soil and rock were stuck to Jizan, the very stratum was pulled out, churning like a volcano.
The Regressor stood on the rising earth and pulled Jizan, and as Jizan was pulled, the earth was torn out. It was a manifestation of the Arcane, completely ignoring the laws of action and reaction.
After the earth’s birth pangs ended, a fifty-meter-high stone mountain had been born in the dark jungle. The newborn mountain trembled and cried like a baby.
“Guuuh…! What is this! Why is such immense power…!”
Mugul finally felt the difference in their class. Hiding somewhere in the bone altar, he belatedly drew upon his mana, using the bones as a medium to cast his magic.
“O ancient souls, soothe your spirits with the blood of the living!”
The piles of bones shot up in unison. Human hand bones flew of their own accord, soaring toward the Regressor. Tens of thousands of the dead reached out, craving the lives they had lost.
Then, the mountain flipped over.
A great tidal wave of earth and stone swept over the bone altar. A tsunami that would have been a disaster even if it were water now greedily swallowed the world with soil and rock. Where it touched, the bones crumbled. They broke into pieces, shattered into fine bits, and became part of the sand and dirt.
The bones of beasts, born from the earth, returned to the earth once more. The altar of sin, built over thousands of years with human corpses, was buried in the dirt in a single moment.
Having interred the black magician along with all traces of his sins, the Regressor dusted off the bone-laced dirt and spoke.
“Well now. Come on out, if you don’t want to die.”
“Cough!Cough, cough!”
Mugul, who had been hiding in the pile of bones, had headed for a secret passage just before being swept away by the earthen tsunami.
‘Can’t go up! That’s instant death. I have to dig down!’
The secret passage was collapsing and twisting from the force of Jizan, but Mugul was a formidable black magician in his own right. He chanted an incantation at a nearby spine and ribcage, and the spine slithered deeper into the passage like a snake. The ribs literally became the passage’s framework, and Mugul slid down through them.
“That thing…! I need the sacrificial ritual. Unless I summon Lord Ankra himself, I won’t be able to face it!”
Muttering to himself as he desperately fled, Mugul suddenly stopped, a thought striking him.
‘Can… can Lord Ankra even defeat that monster…?’
In truth, Mugul didn’t know much about who Ankra was or what powers he possessed. He only knew the stories—that he was an evil god who ruled this land long ago, before Muhu, that he reigned over a hundred tribes and devoured a thousand people.
Ancient humans weren’t weak, but… could he really win against something that could cleave the wind and make the earth tremble?
‘No, he has to win. Otherwise, everything I’ve done until now will be meaningless. To be defeated by a single person from beyond the plains! How could I ever reach the pinnacle of black magic?!’
Steeling his resolve, he reached the underground prison, flung open the iron door, and shouted.
“Sacrifices, hear me! Offer your deaths to me! With your fleeting lives, I shall summon the evil god!”
‘I haven’t gathered a thousand yet, but! The number is just for ritualistic significance; five hundred should be enough! If I use the lives of all the remaining sacrifices…!’
Mugul, about to use the freshly dead bodies to perform the final ritual, came face to face with me in the blood-soaked prison. I waved at him with a tired expression.
“Ah, welcome.”
“So you were here.”
“Yes. And this is the end for you.”
“Hmph. The end is for you. Did you think I cast the Curse of Madness without any preparations?”
Mugul glanced at the sprawled sacrifices and smiled wickedly.
“It was to have the sacrifices killed by another’s hand, thereby transferring the grudge to you. These corpses will become the evil god’s body! Thank you for killing them for me. As a reward, I’ll grant you a painless death!”
He slammed his open palm onto the ground. The tattoo on his arm squirmed and connected with the floor, and the bloodstains began to converge on his hand. With Mugul’s arm as the epicenter, the sacrifices’ blood drew a magic circle, covering the entire prison.
“This place is both a prison for the sacrifices and an altar! On the boundary between life and death, I call upon the god’s remains scattered throughout this jungle! O Ankra, inhabit these deaths…!”
Wooooong. A strange mana flowed through the fallen sacrifices. As if trying to stitch the corpses together, the blood flowing from Mugul tried to seep into them.
But unfortunately for him, his mana couldn’t reach them.
“They’re not dead.”
Because all the sacrifices were still alive.
The dead cannot resist mana. The living, on the other hand, will resist. It is the basis of life to endure all sorts of external interference and attacks to protect oneself. The black magician’s mana was powerful, but to control the sacrifices’ bodies, he first had to kill them.
And I hadn’t killed them.
“What?!”
Mugul belatedly assessed the sacrifices’ condition. They were mostly unconscious or groaning in pain. Riddled with poisons and drugs and afflicted by the Curse of Madness, their bodies and minds had suffered severe trauma. It wouldn’t have been strange if they had died at any moment.
“Ughhh…”
“My… my head feels like it’s going to split…”
“Help… help me! Aaaargh!”
But they were not yet dead. Realizing the faint traces of life, Mugul was horrified.
“H-how? How are they still alive?”
“They’re alive because they didn’t die.”
“The Curse of Madness is a curse that makes one attack everything around them until they die! I stole their reason with poisons and drugs, turned them into half-corpses, and encroached upon them with black magic! They shouldn’t be alive!”
“Are you the only one who can use black magic?”
“What?!”
“I used it too. Using my blood as a medium, I infused them with mana and controlled their bodies… to act according to their own will.”
It didn’t require much mana. Mugul had already done most of the work. I just… slightly altered the purpose.
Instead of dying to become sacrifices, they would cling to life and move as they wished.
“Im-impossible!”
“What is?”
“Black magic is about suppressing and controlling a human’s will! I broke and shattered their will once. It can’t be restored!”
“Why not? If you can suppress and control, you can also suppress and control them to ‘regain their own will,’ can’t you?”
“That’s a contradiction! Even if you reattach a broken branch, it’s just a branch you attached; it’s completely different from the original! The moment your will intervenes, their will is as good as gone. It’s impossible for them to regain their own will!”
So black magicians are still magicians. It seemed that even in this crisis, satisfying his curiosity was more important. Explaining it wouldn’t be hard, but I wasn’t sure if he could accept it.
“I can.”
This was possible because I am the King of Humans.
I am not an outsider. I am the King of Humans, the Herald of the species, and with my mind-reading, I can perceive their will and desires as they are.
That is why I can return their lost reason to them.
“Their desires are my desires. The black magic I use has the exact opposite effect of normal black magic. It makes humans act according to their own wishes… You could call it the normalization of the abnormal, I suppose.”
“Nonsense…!”
“There’s nothing more meaningless than debating the possibility of something that has already happened. More importantly, are you going to be okay?”
Faint shadows appeared around Mugul. In the blink of an eye, a spearhead made of bone pierced his body. Mugul coughed up blood from the surprise attack.
“Keuk…!”
“This is revenge, sorcerer!”
Taking advantage of Mugul’s distraction, the captured tribesmen fulfilled their desires. With bloodshot eyes, the tribal warriors tore at Mugul’s body, shouting.
“You said you’d leave my family alone if I became a sacrifice quietly!”
“To move my body as you pleased and desecrate the spirits…! I curse you! May you become leopard dung!”
“Kikiki! This is revenge for being turned into a puppet!”
Deep-seated resentment ripped Mugul’s body to shreds. Mugul, who had appeared in his true body and not as a puppet, collapsed onto the cold floor, mortally wounded.
I walked toward him, stepping over the spreading pool of blood, and spoke.
“Now it’s time to fulfill your desire, Mugul.”
I had no memory of him introducing himself, but I called his name as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Mugul, in his dying body, trembled as he looked up at me.
“A frail body with insignificant power. You, who were far weaker than others, craved power and sought to become an evil god, didn't you? But summoning one with sacrifices won’t make its power yours.”
Sacrifices were merely a coward’s idea to pass on the price of black magic. A gamble with no risk could never have a great return.
“The essence of black magic is using one’s own body. Performing a miracle with yourself as the price—that is true black magic. Now, the stage is set. An altar, a sacrifice, and death.”
This place was the altar he had prepared.
The sacrifice was Mugul himself.
And now, if he failed to summon the evil god, this was the end for him. It might not be the end of the world, but to avoid his own end, he had no choice but to call the evil god into his own body.
“I’m curious about this evil god, too.”
And I was curious about its true identity.
Inspired by my words, Mugul desperately clenched his fist. He gathered the blood flowing from his own body and smeared it across the stone floor, chanting an incantation.
“De sulla alhanan tam. Ankra, Ankra. The full vessel has been emptied, so enter the vacant one!”
The final stage of black magic is offering oneself as a sacrifice. It is far more powerful and profound than using others. Mugul used his flowing blood, his life, and his impending death to call upon the evil god’s shadow, which had spread throughout the jungle.
“Ugh?!”
“An ominous energy…!”
As the people backed away from the powerful surge of mana, I observed Mugul intently. I didn’t know what this evil god was, but could it really be resurrected? Was it truly a being comparable to a god?
I read the changes occurring within Mugul and tilted my head at the strange sensation.
“Khah, hahaha!”
Vigor returned to Mugul’s dying body. A suicide attempt known as a sacrificial ritual is far more likely to fail than succeed. If it truly granted power, black magic wouldn’t have remained a fringe art.
But for some reason, Mugul had actually succeeded.
“Success…! Thank you, whoever you are. It seems you were the right answer! Great power cannot be obtained without abandoning oneself!”
Despite the blood he had lost, his body seemed perfectly fine. It was as if his body was now operating on a completely different principle.
Mugul grabbed the bone spear embedded in his body and crushed it. It was a monstrous strength unbelievable for such gaunt arms. Feeling the overflowing vitality, Mugul laughed in ecstatic madness.
“Thank you! You were a good omen! I have finally obtained the power to become a god!”
“Are you satisfied now?”
“Of course! I am more than satisfied! Now, with this power, I will strike down those haughty druids and filthy beasts and reign as the one true god of this land…!”
Strange. Does one gain power simply by believing? Is it really a god similar to the Sky God?
But if so, his understanding of that power is too shallow. If power could be gained through such vague belief, the Fallen Dominion would have become a land of monsters.
Are there any other examples? I feel like I need to see more.
“First, I will kill you humans from beyond the plains!”
Mugul broke the iron bars as if to show off his overflowing power and approached me. The sacrifices, terrified by his fearsome aura, stumbled backward. Pleased by their reaction, Mugul roared.
“Become the evil god’s sacrifice…!”
“Ah, there you are.”
The Regressor smashed through the ceiling and burst in from above. Jizan fell right on top of Mugul’s head.
When you crush a bug between two large stones, the bug vanishes without a trace, as if it had escaped somewhere.
A similar thing happened to Mugul. Pinned between Jizan and the stone floor, his body burst from the back and was mercilessly crushed. Even the power of an evil god was helpless before the solemn weight of the earth. Without a chance to display his immense power, Mugul was reduced to a splash of blood.
It was a somewhat anticlimactic end. Then again, if the evil god had been that powerful, it wouldn’t have vanished in the first place; it would have been living large.
Blood splattered in all directions. Chunks of flesh scattered like dust. Deflecting the blood with her Qi even amidst the gruesome death, the Regressor approached, her clothes immaculate.
“I can’t believe you escaped underground in all that chaos. Anyway, I felt a strange presence. What happened?”
“Nothing particularly special.”
“Really? Then that’s… huh? What’s this? They’re all alive and well? Weren’t they berserk?”
“I used a little of my power.”
“You can even calm a berserker rage?”
“Black magic is a human art, after all.”
“Still, to calm a berserk human… well, whatever. All’s well that ends well.”
Shrugging it off cheerfully, the Regressor took a wide look around and tilted her head.
“Is this it?”
‘This is the ancient evil? Even if we’re blessed, this is too easy. No trial has ever been this easy before…?’
Who knows. I wasn’t sure if this was the ancient evil the Saintess had spoken of. But there was still work to be done.
“Shei. It’s not over yet.”
“I figured. What’s left?”
I pointed to the tribesmen still collapsed all over the underground prison and said.
“We have to send these people home.”
“Ah.”
Facing a cleanup bigger than the job itself, the Regressor let out a heavy sigh.