Chapter 284: Signal (12)
Chapter 284: Signal (12)
Translation: Godtl
The army of corpses created by Belphegor.
Though their speed was slow, they advanced relentlessly forward.
Belphegor watched their movements with evident delight.
"......Slow."
Frondier also turned his trembling gaze toward the army.
Most of them, with their incomplete bodies, staggered forward unsteadily. Only the four-legged monsters managed to move slightly faster.
"No matter how slow they are, they will reach the barrier."
Belphegor spoke.
Once this army reached the barrier, the already precarious defense would surely collapse under the monsters' assault.
"That won't happen."
Frondier replied. Belphegor's eyes scrutinized him.
"Still all talk, I see. You'd try to stop them, wouldn't you?"
"It's not me who will stop them."
Belphegor's brow furrowed.
"......Then who will? The Empire is very far from here. Even if someone were to come, these creatures would reach the barrier much sooner. And even if you met them beforehand, you wouldn't be able to stop them all."
Belphegor spoke while checking his own reasoning for flaws. But there were none.
Frondier was nearly out of mana, and the distance from the Empire to this edge of Manggot was vast. Moreover, few would even know the way here.
Yet Frondier smiled.
From Belphegor's perspective, there was no issue.
"Belphegor, there are three things wrong with what you said."
From Frondier's perspective, it was riddled with problems.
"Wrong, you say?"
"First, as I already told you, they won't reach the barrier."
"What trick are you planning now? You're practically empty-handed."
"Of course, my mana is nearly exhausted. But."
Frondier raised his right hand.
Faintly, a thread-like wisp of mana gathered in his palm.
Belphegor's eyes narrowed.
"......You didn't collapse even after exhausting your mana. Truly, you're insane."
Belphegor immediately recognized the reason behind Frondier's renewed mana.
Through past experiences, Frondier had learned how to avoid collapsing even after depleting all his mana. On top of that, he had mastered a few 'shortcuts' to draw out additional mana.
"But what can you do with that pitiful amount? Neither your prized Magic Circle nor the weapons forged from Fragments of Helheim will work properly now."
As Belphegor said, the mana he was drawing out was pathetically meager.
Until now, it had only served as a slight supplement to his existing reserves. Drawing out mana from an already depleted state held little significance.
"True, with this, I can't create a Magic Circle or a weapon."
Yet even as he spoke, Frondier extended his hand.
His fingers pointed not at the advancing army of corpses, but far ahead of them.
"But I can interfere with what's already been made."
The moment he uttered those words—
Menosorpo.
Expansion: Open.
Belphegor sensed a surge of magical energy sweeping in from the distance.
A Magic Circle.
The Magic Circle of 'Menosorpo' began expanding its domain once more, stretching from afar.
"......What?"
Belphegor stared in bewilderment at the sight.
Frondier's mana had already reached its limit. No matter how much he squeezed out his life force, it couldn't possibly match his original reserves.
It made no sense for him to manifest such a Magic Circle with so little.
"......I see! You—you prepared a small Magic Circle in advance!"
"Correct."
This was one of the tricks Frondier had tested during the previous Devil incident.
Just as he had expanded the Menosorpo pre-installed in the Emperor's chambers back then, he had prepared the Magic Circle beforehand and was now unfolding it.
"What's the point of creating just one magic circle! It's impossible to take on all of them at once!"
"That's the second one."
Frondier spoke.
"From the Empire to here—it's not a 'long distance.'"
The expanding magic circle of Menosorpo continued to spread.
And within the domain of that magic circle, revealing itself—
Menosorpo
Void Fabrication, Ripple
Workshop
Frondier's workshop manifested into view.
Belphegor was left speechless at the sight.
"......Where did that come from? How could a building of that size appear without me seeing or sensing it?"
The workshop had continuously grown in size, having swallowed countless artifacts from the past.
The workshop, now revealed through the Menosorpo magic circle, was already brimming with grandeur.
Frondier shouldn't have enough mana left to recreate something of that scale. Clearly, just like the magic circle, the building had been prepared in advance.
'He had a spell completely unrelated to combat prepped in advance! Against me, no less!'
Moreover, the fact that he hadn't sensed it—Belphegor, a Devil closer to the realm of mana than any human, one of the Seven Deadly Sins—couldn't believe it.
"Belphegor, don't be surprised."
Frondier spoke calmly, observing him.
"You know about Fabrication well enough, don't you? Surely you haven't forgotten."
"......Fabrication."
"Exactly."
It wasn't originally visible.
Because it was fake.
"You bastard!"
Belphegor's hand shot out.
His judgment was precise. Whether it was the workshop or the magic circle, if the caster—Frondier—died, everything would vanish.
A sinister fist imbued with mana—previously, just one blow had sent Frondier crashing into the ground, rolling helplessly.
'Not even a moment's delay can be allowed.'
Frondier's eyes gleamed. Both his hands stretched out toward Belphegor.
Fabrication—a magic that replicated objects stored in the workshop as illusions.
Magic—a phenomenon, not a physical substance, that influenced reality.
For a sword, the 'phenomenon of cutting.'
For a shield, the 'phenomenon of blocking.'
Fabrication
Workshop 3rd Fabrication
Grade - Common
Iron Shield
His invisible shield met Belphegor's fist.
Though unseen, the shield was there, intercepting Belphegor's strike.
A magic manifested at a perfect timing that allowed not even a moment's error.
KWAANG!
A momentary shield deflected Belphegor's punch—then tore apart like paper.
"GAAAAH!"
Frondier was sent flying, taking the full brunt of the damage the shield couldn't absorb.
His parry had been flawless. But that alone wasn't enough.
The force behind Belphegor's punch, having shattered the shield, also broke both of Frondier's arms.
THUD, THUMP!
He crashed into the ground once more, rolling helplessly. His nearly mana-depleted body absorbed the full impact.
An excruciating pain tore through his entire body. Lying face down, he barely managed to breathe.
Though his body was wrecked from a single strike, he was still alive. That alone was something to be grateful for.
SCREEEECH!!
But the place he landed was unfortunate.
Whether Belphegor had aimed for it or it was just bad luck—
He had crashed right in front of the army of corpses.
The reawakened corpses harbored hatred for all living things. Naturally, Frondier, still breathing, instantly became their prime target.
THUD-THUD-THUD.
The slow, creeping footsteps, the eerie wails bordering on screams—they gradually surrounded Frondier.
His prone eyes remained still, enduring the pain, while his gaze flicked toward the workshop.
——A signal.
BOOM!
At that moment, the door of Frondier's manifested workshop swung open.
And from the workshop,
Flutter—
A tiny droplet-like thing floated leisurely through the air, drifting forward.
"......?"
The corpses, about to pounce on Frondier, halted and turned their attention to the approaching droplet.
It was so small it could barely be seen, yet for some reason, they clearly perceived its presence, their focus inevitably drawn to it.
And the moment the droplet touched the nearest corpse—
Kwaaaaaaaah—!!!
The droplet transformed into a storm wreathed in flames.
The storm chained from one corpse to another, targeting all nearby.
The filth surrounding Frondier was instantly swept away, leaving behind a brutally clean void as the fiery storm advanced.
Vermilion Bird Rise - Avici Hell.
The shambling corpses were burned away without even leaving bones behind, becoming mere fuel for the flames before vanishing from the earth.
"......!"
Witnessing the sight, Frondier turned his gaze toward the workshop.
From the open door of the workshop, a girl stepped forward, taking the lead as she emerged.
Hair the color of sunset,
Eyes holding a blue lake.
A girl who, simply by existing, painted the scenery—yet now, her eyes swelled with an overwhelming fury.
"How dare you."
Whoosh!
She strode forward more boldly than anyone, standing before the army of corpses.
"Just who the hell do you think you're messing with?!!!"
Elodie's voice rang out, clear and resonant. Even alone, she did not falter before the horde, radiating a dazzling brilliance. Every ounce of Divine Power she wielded made its presence known.
"......Ines!"
Belphegor, too, recognized her, his voice tense.
He had heard enough about Elodie—favored by five Gods—and had been wary of her. At full strength, he could have handled her, but he had just taken Frondier's full-powered attack head-on.
Though his Sloth-like nature made him appear unharmed, considerable damage had already piled up.
From what he knew, Elodie was, after all, a mage. Considering Frondier was half-dead, Belphegor could drag her into close combat.
"Third."
But his thoughts were cut short.
Frondier's low voice, though he lay far away, reached Belphegor's unnaturally sharp ears with cruel clarity.
"What's coming isn't just 'one.'"
And as if answering his words—
Thud.
One by one, figures emerged from the workshop, responding to Frondier's signal.
Aster, Sybil, Selena, May, Aten. Starting with them, Constelle's students had crossed the Empire's borders and reached this place.
And lastly, Osprey. His gaze swept over Frondier, collapsed on the ground, and Belphegor.
'......To have inflicted such wounds on a Sin Devil alone.'
Osprey quietly suppressed a shiver as he realized just how far Frondier's combat prowess had reached.
"Fron!"
"Frondier!"
Elodie and the others cried out in shock at the sight of Frondier.
Covered in blood, both arms broken, barely breathing as he lay sprawled.
"......Hhk!"
He forced himself up. With his arms useless, he could only lift his upper body with his waist and lower body.
He couldn't greet his long-awaited comrades in such a pitiful state.
"Everyone."
Frondier slowly opened his mouth. He took in the faces of those who had made it here.
The weight of his decisions pressed heavily on him—the personnel deployment at the Barrier, the fact that the Empire had implemented it without a single adjustment or supplement. Not a single one could be lost, yet not a single one was in perfect condition. Every one of them here must have suffered.
Frondier had forced hardship upon his comrades.
And so—
After looking at their faces, he spoke without realizing it.
"Is anyone hurt?"