Chapter 360
Chapter 360
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 360
Chapter Title: Dragon Slayer -1
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Lately, I've often found myself thinking about what lies beyond the end.
What will my life look like after I've wrapped everything up? Once I've reclaimed a healthy body free of the evil dragon, what color will my days shine in?
First off, I'd get married. That's a given. I'd send out invitations to everyone I know, and even if it's not extravagant or luxurious, I want it to be a lively affair.
Yuri even chimed in a bit last time. She said we'd probably end up having at least two weddings, maybe three at most. And when it's her turn, she wants to switch roles so I can be the bride.
I could sense her ulterior motive to force me into my TS form for the ceremony.
Still, it didn't feel all that bad. If I'm the bride, I'd get to toss the bouquet. Attaching flight and stealth functions to it and turning it into a treasure hunt sounds like fun.
And if I end up having kids with them...
I'd prefer they take after their mothers more than me. It'd be great if the kids all got along with each other. How many per wife? Three each?
That's something I need to mull over.
Someone might say it's too early to be sipping on kimchi soup when 90% of it is still swirling in my head, but honestly, I've prepared for pretty much everything possible. There are only a few gaps left.
Turning the black mages—those tentacles of the evil dragon—into half-cripples... Success.
Researching and analyzing the evil dragon's traits and abilities... Success.
Powering up enough to eventually throw down physically... Success.
Gathering a ton of allies to help me... Success.
Acquiring the Dragon Heart... Success.
Ascending... Failure. Damn it.
See? Half of it happened because I was messing around in sessions and the story just flowed that way, but in the end, I've ghosted the evil dragon like a pro.
The seal in my mind is solid. I've overcome the side effect of losing my emotions. I've even succeeded in partial suppression surgeries like the ones on Aisha or the great monster.
Of course, it was more like the evil dragon betting a chunk of itself with a "Try carving up my piece if you dare, or you're dead." But the fact that I did it matters. Attempts come with experience points.
If I hone "cutting and discarding the evil dragon" for life, eventually I'll whittle it down bit by bit, no matter how much it thrashes. Look, it took me exactly ten years to enter the Violet Magic Tower and grow this far.
Give me unlimited funding and another ten years...
So, as long as there's no external interference, it'll get resolved someday. Which means my final task is to completely eliminate the possibility of that "external attack."
Scouting and eliminating the dragon body.
With the emperor of the Empire as my backer, we'd wage total war. We'd hunt down the evil dragon's flesh hidden somewhere on this continent and smash it together. Turn the bastard into chicken stock. Then slowly sort out what's left in my head.
That'll be the finale for the "Mad Wizard."
Once I've boiled that dragon carcass into stock, I won't need to be a mad wizard anymore. Semi-mad wizard, normal wizard, wizard of love and peace. Time for a name change.
That leaves the "how." How do I find the dragon body? Judging by that thing's vibe, it's hidden pretty damn well.
I could outsource it to Aisha and let her handle it.
"You bastard."
But there's a method worth trying first.
I heard from Irid. The Empire's Sword Saint, the boy knight... has no name. For someone with such widespread fame, it's weirdly few people know it. No matter how hidden, even the imperial court that commands him shouldn't be in the dark. That's inexplicable.
I know this symptom. The name was devoured by the evil dragon and erased. I'm a living case.
Plus, the boy knight's patterns are odd. Unless the court needs him, he roams the continent drying up black mage seeds.
Chewing on it, it's strange. A knight loyal to the court should be on 24/7 close protection in case the emperor's in danger, right?
Even if not that extreme, he should stick around nearby to rush over at a moment's notice.
And his duties are quirky too. He tours the magic towers assessing imperial funding. Thanks to that, the Violet Magic Tower got fat subsidies and kept up the happy research life.
Doesn't it look like he's searching for something? Means or end.
In my view, the boy knight's deeply influenced by the evil dragon. But whether that's positive or negative for me, I don't know yet.
Either way, he's likely holding info I don't have. So I need to meet him and talk.
Not one-on-one, of course.
"Jewel wants to try business in Crown Hall. She thinks a mid-low price clothing brand targeting the middle class could hit big..."
Sublimation-level Illusion Mage, Yuna Blackraven Violetiris.
"Having a surname like Black Raven is kinda lazy naming, isn't it? Makes me not want to be your daughter-in-law."
The evil dragon's split-off avatar, fearsome no more, Aisha Blackraven.
"Then snag a husband with a cool surname and marry into his family."
Once-in-history genius mage, Mad Wizard the Blackraven.
And—
"...W-Why do I... have to be... here...?"
The true hero of the Goddess Church, acknowledged by the goddess herself, Ping.
"What's with her?"
I dragged Ping along for a reason. Apparently, she has a direct line to the goddess. Even more authority than the sword-pulling hero Bennett in some areas.
So if worst comes to worst and the boy knight's an evil dragon avatar or loyal tentacle, I'd use Ping to call in a divine power airstrike from the goddess.
Even if the goddess wants humans to judge for themselves, she's super proactive with divine punishment when the evil dragon's involved.
Alright.
Three mages and one hero. Hero party complete. Perfect balance of offense and defense. Time to go meet the boy knight.
Aisha tilted her head sideways.
"So where's the guy at?"
"He's out harvesting black mage necks today too, they say. He reports his route to the court in real-time, so I got his location from Irid. Let's head out."
"Yeah. Let's chat quick and grab souvenirs on the way back."
"W-Why me... I was supposed to stargaze with His Holiness..."
We set off on a short trip.
No one in the Empire doesn't know the Sword Saint. His fame spreads across the continent.
He wanders in the form of a boy, purging evil. Where he passes, only villains' rotting corpses remain. He can fell a knight order single-handed. He might be the strongest on the continent...
"All talk. Makes no sense one guy could be that strong."
The skinny black mage snorted.
Those who abandon humanity for power know it bone-deep. Humans have limits. Even the "most efficient" method of ripping souls and sucking mana doesn't make you invincible.
This world, where souls bloom diverse powers, inevitably has counters.
The black mage watered flowers with a sprinkler. Splish, splash. The stream soaked petals, and the blooms glistened with vitality, brimming with moisture.
Beautiful flowers. If only the soil weren't human corpses.
"My metamorphosis is called 'Other Shore Poison Flower'. It lets me cultivate flowers from corpses. Heh heh... These flowers exude different poisons based on cause of death."
Poisons that stop hearts, rot limbs from the ends—plenty of varieties. Fruits of long research.
But poisons have limits. No matter how potent, you have to get them into the target's body to kill properly.
"Guys wrapping themselves in thick mana barriers or outright shielding? A pain to deal with. Counters exist. So I formed a group."
Swoosh, slither.
People scattered in the cultivation room rose. Poison-veined skin under blue vessels; without regular antidote, they'd die.
Shing.
One by one, they drew blades, readying for battle.
"Damn, sorry. I have no choice to live..."
"Antidote, need the antidote. My body's itching so bad!"
"Sniff, sob... Hic!"
All once lived their own lives. Dungeon explorers, wandering knights investigating disappearances, hunters after game.
Now, the black mage's minions. He grinned sourly with hollow eyes.
And to the young boy standing blankly in the distant shadows:
"Humans have counters too. Self-righteous justice types always lose to the free-spirited unbound. See, these are all innocents. Gonna kill 'em?"
"......"
"Subdue without killing if you want. But the second my head rolls, no more antidote. You'd be killing them all yourself. Sword Saint."
What'll you do?
Hesitate, surely. The Empire's heroic, righteous Sword Saint would. Smart folks exploit that gap.
The black mage stealthily released gaseous poison, watching. Takes about a minute to fill the room. One minute of hesitation, and he's poisoned.
But the reply differed from expectation.
The boy's clear voice rang, heavy with fatigue.
"Everyone says it. People easily mistake killing the wicked for heroic rescue. But no. Judges and hunters are different."
"......?"
"I came to kill."
Swoosh.
Cloth rustled, and a plain longsword appeared in the boy's right hand.
No hesitation in the boy knight's sunken eyes. Just the dim light of a damp basement.
Chill.
Feeling sharp crisis, the black mage barked:
"Damn it, attack! And bloom, 'Poison Mist'!"
Swoosh.
Almost silent. No afterimage on the sword's path. But results were instant.
Controlled victims' heads flew skyward, poison mist filling the room vanished, arrows snapped midair and plummeted.
He killed the mind-controlled without hesitation.
"...What?!"
Too unreal for swordplay—more like magic.
"Damn, 'Curse of the Poison Bog'!'Arrows of the Burst Evil Ghost'!"
Swoosh.
Sliced away.
"Ah, artifact, activate! 'Teleport'! Send me outside the dungeon...!"
Swoosh.
Artifact halved, spatial warp around black mage split and gone. Now the boy knight stood right before him.
He collapsed, trembling, scrambling back.
"H-How— Impossible, this can't be!"
"Slicing the unslicable. That's the power. Perfect for an old sword-obsessed fool. Clear now?"
How? Such power? Metamorphosis reflects the inner self. A metamorphosis to slice anything—what does the boy knight seek to sever?
"Now that I've sated your curiosity... your turn."
"......"
"Ever felt fate? Sensing your life flows good or bad by some will."
"No—"
Thud.
Black mage's head severed. Mouth agape, eyes bulging, it rolled across the floor, stopping in the dungeon corner.
The boy addressed the severed head.
"Knew it. Your life didn't look that special."
Clack. Sword slid into sheath. Only corpses left in the black mage's dungeon. Boy turned away. Another bust—time for the next draw.
A man's voice rang from behind.
"Impressive swordsmanship. Watched closely. But... with that power, couldn't you have saved the captives?"
"If he was the 'winning ticket,' my life would've been at risk. Facing gods, best skip needless regrets. You?"
"The 'Mad Wizard'... that's what they call me. Lost my name on the way here, so stick to that for now. Let's talk. First, send these folks back."
"......"
Snap.
The Mad Wizard snapped fingers. Hostages, seemingly decapitated, reappeared unconscious in midair. He'd swapped them out before the Sword Saint struck.
In that instant, boy and wizard sensed each other's difference.
Same goal, different paths.