Chapter 70
Chapter 70
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Hunt (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
As the unleashed black mana spread in all directions, the entire cavern filled with it.
“A knight from the subjugation force has black mana?”
Even the Corpse Puppeteer couldn’t help but shudder.
Demian Haksen wasn’t just any ordinary knight—he was an ally of the Church.
For such a person to possess black mana?
Moreover, the amount of black mana was far from ordinary. It rivaled the combined power of three high-ranking black mages.
But the truly astonishing part wasn’t the quantity of black mana. It was Demian Haksen himself, the one dominating that vast power.
Black mana typically arose from negatives like death and suffering. It scattered easily if mishandled, making it far harder to control than ordinary mana.
Yet Demian had complete mastery over this enormous amount.
“You… what the hell are you?”
For the first time, fear crept into the Corpse Puppeteer’s voice.
“My identity? Trash like you doesn’t need to know.
Demian Haksen began to manipulate his black mana.
The black mana intertwined, forming a magic circle and incantations.
“He can even use black magic…?”
Not only black mages used black mana. Demons, demonic beasts, and rarely, even swordsmen wielded it.
The Corpse Puppeteer naturally assumed Demian Haksen was one such swordsman.
But that was a mistake. Demian Haksen was far beyond that. He was a black mage himself.
He was even manifesting incantations and a magic circle simultaneously with black mana.
This wasn’t some superficial knowledge of black magic.
“What a lunatic…”
The Corpse Puppeteer felt a chilling dread.
Moreover, these were incantations and a magic circle he had never seen before, so he couldn’t identify what black magic Demian Haksen was preparing.
But his instincts told him it was something utterly dangerous.
“Stop him from completing that black magic!”
The “masterpieces” charged toward Demian Haksen.
Generally, the most vulnerable moment for a mage was while preparing a large-scale spell, as they couldn’t move while controlling their mana.
And that applied to black mages too. No matter how skilled a knight Demian Haksen was, he couldn’t fight the puppets while preparing black magic.
…Or so the Corpse Puppeteer thought—until that judgment shattered in the next instant.
Demian moved his left hand. Black mana in the air condensed, forming countless spears.
Creating spears was a simple black magic in itself. But the additional spells imbued in them were not.
The highest-grade curses of decay, corrosion, and disintegration formed on the spear tips. Behind the shafts, the air began to compress.
All these black magics completed in the blink of an eye.
“Multiple casting…?”
A feat even supreme black mages couldn’t perform easily.
The moment the Corpse Puppeteer recognized it, the spears launched.
The compressed air exploded, propelling the spears forward. They pierced through the masterpieces.
A deafening roar erupted as the impaled puppets were torn to shreds. Their bodies shattered beyond repair.
Even the relatively intact ones crumbled in moments from the curses on the spear tips.
“…Attack! Stop Demian Haksen now!”
The Corpse Puppeteer screamed. The black mage puppets unleashed their freshly completed black magic.
The Yulan members turned into black mage puppets had both originated from the School of Ruin.
True to its name, the School of Ruin specialized in the most destructive black magics.
The two black mage puppets prepared their most powerful spells.
Breath of the Demon.
A black magic that reduced everything in a set area to dust.
Black mana gathered in the air, spinning fiercely to form orbs. They looked like compressed storms.
The two black mage puppets hurled the orbs at Demian Haksen.
Just as the orbs were about to collide with him, Demian Haksen raised his hand.
A rune on the back of his hand began to glow. In the next moment, the black magic composing the orbs unraveled, and even the black mana scattered in all directions.
Proof that Demian Haksen had seized control of the approaching black mana and dismantled it.
“…”
The Corpse Puppeteer thought he was dreaming. Otherwise, this couldn’t happen.
Even as puppets lacking finesse, those two were genuine high-ranking black mages.
To so easily dismantle carefully prepared black magic from high-ranking black mages? And even dominate their black mana?
“…That’s why the world is so interesting.”
The Corpse Puppeteer felt grateful.
To himself for tirelessly seeking out exceptional materials.
To himself for honing his puppetry craft.
And thus, for finally completing his masterpiece, Kite.
“Kite, your turn. Finish it.”
The ceiling.
Kite had somehow moved there.
Kite kicked off the ceiling. Dropping vertically toward Demian Haksen, he swung down the blades on his elbows.
The strike, like a falling thunderbolt, was about to smash into Demian Haksen’s crown.
Demian Haksen flicked his finger. Shadows surged up, forming a massive shield.
The blade failed to cleave the shield and was blocked. Kite poured strength into his arm, but it was futile.
In the next instant, the shield’s surface bubbled and erupted with blades identical to Kite’s.
The blades slashed Kite’s body. Kite was flung far away.
“…Shadow Shield?”
A black magic that returned an attack exactly as blocked.
Incredibly complex, it required utmost concentration even from high-ranking black mages. Yet Demian Haksen completed it in a flash.
“Impressive, but that level of black magic can’t stop Kite.”
Kite, flung far away, rose as if unharmed. But the iron plates protecting his torso rained down.
Demian unleashed black magic again. Countless black spears formed in the air. The linked spell that had destroyed the masterpieces in one go launched.
Black mana gathered on the blades protruding from Kite’s forearms.
The blades, absorbing the black mana, glowed red-hot. Kite swung them, unleashing intangible blades.
The multiple blades sliced through every black spear.
Aura.
Incredibly, the puppet Kite was using a technique permitted only to knights.
“How’s that? This is my ‘masterpiece.’”
Even mid-battle, the Corpse Puppeteer swelled with pride.
A puppet capable of producing aura. A function truly worthy of a “masterpiece.”
“Kite, kill him.”
At the command, Kite charged toward Demian Haksen.
“Support Kite!”
The Corpse Puppeteer ordered the black mage puppets. They flew toward Demian Haksen.
The black mage puppets attacked Demian Haksen with black magic.
School of Ruin black magics poured toward Demian. But none reached him.
Any that got close transformed into black mana and vanished.
Yet it was enough to draw Demian Haksen’s attention. While the black mages attacked, Kite closed in.
Kite assumed a stance and swung his blades. A massive aura blade hurtled toward Demian Haksen.
The Corpse Puppeteer was certain of victory. Aura was humanity’s strongest weapon.
No monster’s body could withstand aura. Not ogre hide, nor drake fangs.
And black magic was no exception.
No matter how sturdy a shield black magic created, it was paper-thin before aura.
At that moment, the magic circle above Demian Haksen’s head completed.
His shadow ignited like flames, spreading across the cavern floor.
Soon, iron chains erupted from the shadows, shattering the aura blade to pieces.
“What the—!”
The moment the Corpse Puppeteer cried out in shock, bundles of chains burst from beneath Kite’s feet.
They pierced Kite’s body entirely, pinning him to the ceiling. The iron plates surrounding his body couldn’t block them in the slightest.
The black mage puppets followed, skewered by chain bundles.
“Gah…!”
The Corpse Puppeteer wasn’t spared. Chains erupted from the ground, piercing his abdomen, chest, and limbs.
“Move… Move, damn you!”
The Corpse Puppeteer screamed at the puppets. They heard their master’s command but couldn’t twitch a finger.
Shadow Chains.
One of the ancient black magics Archlich Dorgo had left as his personal secret.
It summoned chains that sealed the movement of everything in range.
Those pierced by the chains couldn’t move and had all powers—mana, holy power, everything—sealed.
“Demian Haksen! What the hell are you! How do you even know a black magic like this!”
The Corpse Puppeteer shouted at Demian Haksen. Demian approached him.
The closer Demian Haksen got, the paler the Corpse Puppeteer’s face grew.
Utter terror spread across his features.
“Corpse Puppeteer Delant.”
Demian spoke. For a moment, the Corpse Puppeteer wondered if he had ever revealed his name.
“Where is Dorgo?”
But the follow-up question erased all doubts.
“…How do you know that name?”
Archlich Dorgo.
The savior who had bestowed teachings on Yulan, a mere black mage group, and given them purpose.
Dorgo had hidden his identity thoroughly. Only a tiny few black mages even knew of his existence.
Then, a hypothesis flashed in the Corpse Puppeteer’s mind.
“No way… Are you also a sworn follower who received his teachings?”
If Demian Haksen was a sworn follower, everything made sense.
His mid-class swordsmanship, his supreme-level black magic prowess.
“Yeah, black mages of this caliber aren’t common… But if you’re a sworn follower, why attack me?”
Confusion clouded the Corpse Puppeteer’s face.
“I’m a sworn follower too! A comrade who vowed with you to usher in the era of black mages alongside Lord Dorgo when the promised day arrives…!”
Demian flicked his finger. Another chain erupted, piercing his body.
“Gaaah!”
The Corpse Puppeteer screamed. He hunched over, gasping in agony.
“Answer me. Where is Dorgo?”
“Heh, hehehe… Hahaha…”
The Corpse Puppeteer let out a bizarre laugh.
“I don’t know why a sworn follower would betray him… but you think I’ll tell you?”
“If not, I’ll kill you and ask your soul.”
“Hah! Sure, that’s what any black mage would do! But here’s the thing—my soul already has a restriction!”
Demian’s brow twitched at the Corpse Puppeteer’s words.
“I placed a restriction on my own soul to prevent speaking of him! If you ask about him, my soul disintegrates!”
Demian stared silently at the Corpse Puppeteer. He finally clicked his tongue.
“It’s true. You mad bastard. Putting a restriction on yourself.”
“See? You can’t get anything out of me!”
The Corpse Puppeteer shouted triumphantly. Demian watched him quietly before speaking.
“Then I’ll just kill you.”
Even with death imminent, no fear showed on the Corpse Puppeteer’s face.
Only joy filled it. To die for him—it was the perfect end.
“You’re dying anyway. Serve the restless dead instead.”
But those words left him flustered.
“Restless dead…? What are you talking about…?”
Demian raised his finger high. The remaining black mana from Shadow Chains reacted.
It formed incantations. Soon, eerie sounds erupted.
-@#$@#%!
-@#!$!!%@!
Sounds incomprehensible to humans. Just hearing them sent chills down the spine.
“Hear that? The voices of the restless dead who hate you.”
“That’s nonsense… There are no restless dead here!”
“A black mage who can’t even see that? You’re as good as blind.”
The Corpse Puppeteer hadn’t seen them, but Demian had felt them all along.
The grudges of the restless dead surrounding him.
Thousands in number, but the Corpse Puppeteer’s black mana had been too strong for them to affect anything.
But now was different. Demian was lending them power directly.
“No matter how I thought about it, this seemed the way to inflict the most exquisite torment.”
The Corpse Puppeteer’s eyes widened. He tried to bite his tongue.
But Shadow Chains piercing his body wouldn’t allow it.
“No… Don’t… Just kill me…!”
The Corpse Puppeteer begged Demian.
As a black mage, he knew all too well what the restless dead did to those they hated.
“Please, just kill me!”
Thousands of restless dead flowed into the Corpse Puppeteer’s body along the chains.
A scream filled with despair and agony burst from the Corpse Puppeteer’s mouth.