Chapter 259
Chapter 259
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 259
Chapter Title: Recapture (1)
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“……You came to kill the Weaponmaster?”
Kilo asked in a trembling voice. His eyes brimmed with disbelief.
“Absurd! Do you even know what kind of monster the Weaponmaster is? He’s one of the pillars of Pandemonium. You think you can kill a monster like that?”
“Well, he’s a bit of a pain, sure.”
Demian replied in a bored tone. Kilo’s jaw dropped at the attitude that seemed to dismiss the Weaponmaster entirely.
“Even if you have the power for it, we have no intention of cooperating with you!”
Kilo declared firmly.
“What happens after you kill the Weaponmaster? You’re not planning to take us over!”
Demian felt a surge of annoyance. Nothing ever went smoothly.
“You seem to think pretty highly of yourselves.”
Demian saw no need to persuade the dwarves.
The mood wasn’t right for it, and besides, he was currently role-playing as the “atrocious black mage Victor.”
“I couldn’t care less about stinking runts like you. The only thing I care about is the Weaponmaster.”
He mocked them instead, treating the dwarves with utter contempt.
“W-what?”
“I’m only saying this because your pathetic delusions make me want to puke.”
Demian infused his words with scorn.
“You said no cooperation? Better think it over and answer again. Because I’ll make you cooperate with me, one way or another.”
The undead encircled the dwarves.
At that murderous aura, Kilo and the dwarves all swallowed hard.
“Decide now. Will you cooperate quietly? Or do I force you?”
* * *
“That’s the emergency warehouse.”
Kilo and the dwarves led Demian deep into the valley.
Pushing through trees and thickets revealed a boxy building.
Without their guidance, he never would have found it.
“It’s where we store metals for rebuilding the city in case of emergencies.”
“Any defenses?”
“None. But it’s built like a fortress—once the door’s locked tight, no one gets in.”
The plain structure didn’t look like much.
As Demian inspected the warehouse, Kilo asked with a skeptical expression.
“……What you said to us earlier—was that true?”
“Hm? Oh, you mean I have no interest in you lot. Relax. Once I kill the Weaponmaster, you’re free to do whatever after that.”
Demian waved it off irritably. His obnoxious demeanor oddly reassured the dwarves.
“Hm? What’s that?”
Something caught Demian’s eye.
The warehouse doors swung open, and Dark Knights poured out in a rush.
“No lollygagging—get out here now!”
“Move it, outside!”
Chained dwarves stumbled out after them, shackled in iron.
Their bodies were covered in wounds—who knew what they’d endured.
“T-that……!”
Kilo panicked at the sight of the captives.
“You know them?”
“……Survivors from the city. They vanished when their hideout got raided not long ago. Never imagined they’d been taken by those bastards.”
Kilo muttered, dazed.
Meanwhile, the Dark Knights hammered stakes into the ground, securing the chains.
The stakes pinned the chains fast. The dwarves watched in wide-eyed terror.
“Hello?”
One Dark Knight addressed the dwarves—the only woman among them.
“Bet you were all startled, getting yanked out of bed like that.”
Her voice was melody to the ears. But the dwarves only trembled in raw fear.
“Thought about doing this inside, but cleanup would’ve been a nightmare.”
She clashed the daggers in her hands.
A grotesque change followed. Her hands fused with the hilts.
It didn’t stop there. The blades swelled, eyes bulging out. They split, sprouting teeth.
-Kieeeek!
-Kieeeek!
The daggers morphed into snarling beast heads. The dwarves screamed.
“You first.”
She swung at the nearest dwarf.
Crunch.
A sickening sound—and his leg vanished. He collapsed.
“D-dear!”
“Father!”
Dwarves who seemed like family cried out. The maimed dwarf yelled.
“R-run! Don’t worry about me, just run…….”
She swung again. His head tore clean off.
Blood sprayed from the stump. She looked enraptured.
“Haaa…… Delkoi…… I feel what you crave…… Yes…… Delicious, isn’t it? I’ll feed you more.”
Kilo, witnessing it all, cried out in horror.
“W-what the hell is that……!”
“They’re feeding dwarves to the demon sword.”
“What?”
“To wield a demon sword, you need a steady supply of prey. Otherwise, it devours the wielder.”
As Demian explained, her gaze shifted to the remaining dwarves.
“Uwaaaak! M-monster! It’s a monster!”
“W-we gotta run!”
The dwarves screamed, scrambling to flee.
But the staked chains held them fast.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She approached, arms spread wide.
‘I need to intervene.’
Demian rose. Kilo grabbed his hand.
“W-what are you doing?”
“What’s obvious. Kill them and take back the warehouse.”
“……You’re just charging in like that?”
“Don’t want to save your own kind?”
Kilo bit his lip at the words. He shouted in frustration.
“That’s a whole different league from the ones you killed earlier! We can’t just rush in blindly…….”
“Quiet.”
“What?”
Demian shook him off.
“Stay put and watch.”
Demian kicked off, vaulting the distance to land before her.
“……Hm?”
She halted her swing, eyeing him curiously.
“Who the hell are you!”
“What’s your business here!”
The other Dark Knights bristled, murder in their eyes.
She raised a hand, silencing them.
“Black mage? New face. Where you from? You know this is Weaponmaster’s turf?”
“Of course.”
Demian said flatly. Her eyes lit up.
“You came anyway? Doesn’t look like you’re here to swear loyalty to Master…… Don’t tell me it’s what I think.”
“That’s exactly it.”
“Wow, you see it all in life. You’re taking on Master? You nuts?”
Her smile masked a chilling killing intent.
“What are you supposed to be? Gimme a name.”
“Victor of the Logwood Sect.”
“Victor? Rings a bell…….”
She pondered, then shook her head.
“Doesn’t matter. Name’s Cheribel. Fair warning—I’m Master Class?”
Knights held the edge over black mages in straight fights.
Master Class versus Grand Black Mage? Same story. If anything, the gap widened.
Even Grand Black Mages were mayflies against Master Class.
To challenge one, you needed special prep or a personal ace up your sleeve.
Demian was no exception.
Vast knowledge or not, black magic alone versus Master Class was a nightmare.
“How kind.”
But things were different now. He’d awakened three Authorities.
Demian summoned his mana.
The Dragon Heart had nearly doubled his reserves.
He infused the vast mana with Envy’s Authority.
Envy’s Authority transformed essence.
Mana to black mana, black mana to holy power—freely, without limit.
Demian shifted it all to black mana.
The purest, most venomous sort.
The black mana churned outward. He layered on another Authority.
Wrath’s Authority.
Amplifier of all things.
The black mana swelled into a tempest. A black storm engulfed Demian Haksen.
Demian wove a formula. All his black mana fueled a black magic manifestation.
“……What.”
Cheribel’s face went rigid.
Her instincts screamed—something gravely wrong.
“What black magic is…….”
Then it seeped from the earth.
Water? No, wrong hue—like darkness melted down.
Black droplets welled from the ground everywhere, floating up.
“What is this?”
“Droplets?”
Her minions gawked curiously.
Demian clapped his hands.
The droplets flashed to vapor, dispersing wildly.
“Huh? Wh-what?”
“What the—?”
Instinct roared. Cheribel bellowed at her men.
“You idiots! Hold your breath! Get out of here…….”
Demian snapped his fingers before she finished.
Thorns erupted from her minions’ bodies.
* * *
Thorns burst forth.
Chest, gut, flanks, throat, skull.
No mercy. Innards shredded from within. Muscles and flesh pierced through.
“Keok!”
“Aaak!”
They collapsed screaming. Knightly resilience kept death at bay—for now.
“Aaak! Kuaaaak!”
“It hurts…… I’m losing my mind……!”
“Someone…… just kill me!”
All the worse for it. Agony shredding sanity.
Slumberblack.
One of Archlich Dorgo’s treasured ancient black magics.
A curse black magic.
Black droplets built curses inside on contact. Surpass the threshold, and it triggered.
Drained stamina and mana—then warped into thorns, bursting out.
“Still lacking.”
Demian eyed the dying Dark Knights.
A fraction of his past life’s Slumberblack.
No surprise. Back then, his black mana reserves were immense, his body studded with rare artifacts.
“Y-you…….”
One knight rose.
Cheribel—somehow unscathed. No thorns.
“What did you…… Uweck!”
Black sludge spewed from her mouth instead.
Slumberblack had gnawed her stamina and mana but expelled without thorn formation.
“Tough survivor. Master Class indeed.”
“How dare you…… touch Master’s men…… I’ll slaughter you!”
Cheribel lunged, dagger flashing.
Demian invoked Envy’s Authority, flipping mana to black mana instantly.
Index finger downward, he murmured.
“Crush.”
The sky blackened. No blue remained. Pure, lightless void.
Pitchblack.
Ancient black magic flattening all in range.
Crushing pressure slammed Cheribel. Her speed plummeted.
“More freakish black magic……!”
Master Class, though. Pitchblack alone fell short.
Demian unleashed Wrath’s Authority.
It amplified Pitchblack. Cheribel buckled, smashing face-first into dirt.
“Ugh…… Urk…….”
She gnashed her teeth, straining to rise. Not a finger twitched.
“Drained Master Class? Not scary at all.”
Demon sword aside, untouchable meant harmless.
“Come.”
Skeletons erupted from his shadow, encircling her.
Despair flooded Cheribel’s face. She pleaded frantically.
“W-wait……!”
The skeletons drove weapons into her.
Her agony-filled scream dragged on.