Chapter 157
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 157
Chapter Title: Artificial Demon -3-
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Various wizards, each wielding magic of different attributes along with their own spells and applications.
Some pursue convenience in daily life, others victory in war, and still others pure scholarship—magic evolves every passing second for all these reasons.
Among them, one irrefutable fact no one can deny.
When wizards of equal caliber clash, nothing surpasses black magic in terms of lethality and destructive power.
Not merely relying on mana or legal catalysts.
Black magic, established by overlaying living creatures or souls in a spectral state as sacrifices upon the fundamental structure of spells, grants destructive power that exceeds the caster's own capacity by at least one full rank.
"Sinner's darkness. Deep and dark..."
The black magic chanted by the demon was Aim's Torchfire.
Its advantage: instant activation upon completing the cast, without any flying projectiles.
A high-level black magic spell unleashing a massive explosion across a wide area from the ground.
Even in the game, a few actual black magic users employed it.
'What to do with this...'
The moment he heard the chant echoing from the air, he began listing out his options.
Charge straight through with his resistant body and launch an attack?
His usual go-to method, but rejected. Rike had told him to avoid getting hurt as much as possible when leaving the Church.
So for this exchange, evasion or defense it was.
Conveniently, something he'd tried with Gleipnir came to mind.
"Aim's Torchfire."
⟨ Aim's Torchfire ⟩
The chant completed, and the array etched into the ground.
Boooom!!!
A colossal explosion no fragile human life could survive.
The ground heaved and churned, turning the dead of night into a cacophony of destruction—a perfect display of power that even satisfied the demon himself.
Thud!
He landed amid the scorched wasteland wrought by his innate specialty: black magic.
The faint influx of soul sacrifices from those hiding in alleys or clinging to life confirmed he'd cleanly swept them all away, filling him with ecstasy.
The flames on his severed arm had vanished, and regeneration proceeded slowly but steadily.
"Grk..."
His single eye rolled wildly, but the man was nowhere to be seen.
The demon drooled as he laughed.
"Muhahaha!! This body shall stand at the pinnacle of all creatures!!!"
A pity he couldn't devour that special corpse, but he could simply hunt down more exceptional beings from here on out.
Swish-!
"Kid... I'm jealous of that confidence."
Seeing the chain coiled around his neck, the demon's face twisted into a grotesque mask.
Even a skinless, hideous visage could convey emotion so perfectly.
"...How! How...!"
"Wanna know?"
Clink! Clink!
I shook the chain wrapped around my hand and drew closer.
Aim's Torchfire was a spell that spewed mana upward from the engraved ground array, detonating in an explosion.
Just like soundproofing, I wrapped my body in a spherical mana barrier.
Then drew Gleipnir, coiled it along the trajectory, and fixed its form.
It felt just like turning into a single armadillo.
Impromptu as it was, his mind spun as if it had been waiting for this moment, yielding flawless results.
'Even without White Flame, I could've endured this no problem.'
Wary of the explosion's aftermath, he'd ignited White Flame, enveloped his body in thick mana, and braced at full power. It passed without a single scratch.
"Little bird. Star of Decarabia—"
Whoosh!
I yanked the chain around the demon's neck as he began chanting another high incantation. White Flame flared, melting through neck muscles and burrowing deeper.
"Kid, you treat people like total chumps."
"Mgaaak...!"
With his regenerated hand, he summoned flames to pry at the chain entwined with his muscles.
But nothing destabilizes a foe writhing in agony quite like it does.
Smack! Thwack!
I kept beating him to prevent him from loosening the chain tightening around his neck.
Even as he took hits in a daze, he refused to yield his eyes or face—this demon's thirst for victory burned fierce.
Whirr-! Whirr!
The demon's solution: concentrate mana on his neck to repel the White Flame. But an elemental advantage wasn't so easily overturned.
Abandoning proper chants, he unleashed a barrage of black magic at point-blank range with mere words in his tongue.
■... ■...!!
"Die...! Die...! Dieee!!!"
Single-activation chants continued, black smoke billowing from my body as black magic detonated in bursts.
■! ■...!
Splash—
My lighter body flew back from the blasts compared to the demon's, but the taut chain halted me.
Whirr!
I wrapped the chain tighter around my arm, shortening its length.
Kicked off the ground, charged in, and drove an uppercut into his gut. With a whoosh of displaced air, the demon's body lifted slightly before slamming down.
"Guek..."
"Hoo-! Push it away, and the noose tightens even more painfully? Fire again."
Blood Ghost
With the Blood Ghost activation alert, the force of my punches and kicks intensified.
■!!!
I took the black magic frenzy head-on, pouring violence into the demon's body.
"You're the one who's gonna die, you punk!"
The goal was to win without a scratch, per Rike's words.
But as fear flickered in the demon's single eye and movements, he shifted tactics, locking them together with Gleipnir.
Evasion between them was now all but impossible.
It wouldn't release until he slipped up or died.
For him, single-activation black magic was hard to dodge; he had to interrupt any full chants.
For the demon, he needed to kill before White Flame-laced violence overwhelmed his regeneration.
'This bastard might bolt again.'
Past precedent made it easy to anticipate.
No idiot adventurer would buy the demon's claim of not running anymore.
'Gonna kill him right here for sure.'
No reckless gambles like forcing Nachal's cooldown.
Even demons summoned via black mage pacts relied on souls or sacrifices harvested in this world for their black magic—the opponent wouldn't escape that rule.
Steady, relentless attrition would yield the answer.
Compared to his tussle with the wolf-formed demon back then, the matchup was completely reversed now.
Back when he lived by raw strength alone, facing this demon would've gone beyond a hard fight—regen-fueled mutual destruction strikes would've made victory uncertain. But now was different.
'Limits to sacrifices and regeneration will come.'
Whether from alley humans devoured en route or a preset stockpile, prolonged combat had a visible ceiling.
It would apply to bodily regeneration too.
White Flame wounds, akin to holy magic damage, demanded far more mana and sacrifices to heal than ordinary cuts from auras.
"Hup!"
Bam bam!!
After relentlessly hammering the centerline—solar plexus and gut—the demon's face guard finally opened.
An uppercut nailed the jaw, pulverizing it and chewing his lolling tongue into a severed chunk.
"Gak..."
As the demon knelt in agony, his head aligned perfectly.
Grabbing both horns, I rammed my knee into the single eye.
Splurt!
The eyeball burst with a juicy pop.
But eyes must've been vital—even with White Flame invading, it forced rapid regeneration.
The eyeball, fist-sized like his head, reformed until our gazes locked. Smiling, I asked,
"Endurance battle. Fun, right?"
"Kraaa!!!"
Screaming to purge the mounting emotions of defeat from his heart.
The demon snatched up the greatsword lying discarded on the ground.
Given the dire situation, Eclair—faster than Mazella—scooped up the Saintess and ran.
Mazella, struggling just to keep pace, confirmed her choice hadn't been wrong as her breathing grew ragged.
-Kyaaah!! Skeletons...!
-Mommy!!
...
Arriving at the Church in the capital's bustling district on urgent word, it was utter pandemonium.
Screams mingled with the undead's oozing howls, pure chaos.
Church priests and paladins.
Empire guardsmen and their knights.
Hastily assembled adventurers—all banding together to hold the line.
But the undead poured in like endless waves.
Pathetic fodder crumbling to ordinary blows.
Yet dangerous to civilians, and in such numbers, even battle-hardened pros strained.
-Grraa!! Guak!
-Krr...
Masses spilling from dark alleys, crushed and squeezing out en masse—danger aside, it screamed that something was gravely wrong in the Empire's capital.
Eclair set the Saintess down at the Church entrance. She scanned the surroundings gravely before issuing commands.
"What in the... Mazella!"
"Yes!"
"The source of this unholy aura—I'll scout it with Mazella. Until we pinpoint the cause, everyone else: minimize casualties, focus on healing the wounded! Form phalanxes at alley entrances and hold!"
"Understood!"
Even veterans versed in every trial falter briefly when facing the utterly unforeseen.
Eclair's duties ended the moment the Saintess stepped out.
But with the capital in crisis, she couldn't stay behind.
The moment she saw the situation exceed all expectations, her mind flashed first to her brother over the Empire's welfare.
'Chloe...? Still with Roman? It has to be.'
It had to be.
If so, greatest relief—but the late hour left no certainty.
No guarantee outskirts-dwelling Roman even knew of the issue.
Freed from Saintess guard duty, Eclair turned from the Church toward the mansion.
"S-Sis...!"
A familiar voice pierced the clamor.
Hallucination? No, too vivid—Eclair's gaze snapped back inside the Church.
"Chloe!"
The instant she spotted her sister, goosebumps prickled her skin amid profound relief and joy.
Ignoring stares, she strode in and crushed Chloe in a hug, exhaling deeply.
"Thank goodness. Really..."
"Sis... Brother... Brother...!!"
Chloe fidgeted, glancing around. Knowing it wasn't for open ears, she kept her voice low—but urgency brimmed over.
"Calm down. Tell me slowly. What happened?"
"He took a spell for me to protect... Said he's fine, but...!"
"Hmm..."
Hearing Roman had taken a spell, Eclair's expression darkened with a grave hum.
"Told me to wait here and just... vanished somewhere...!"
Through teary, quivering words, Chloe spilled fragmented details.
'I see. Roman dropped Chloe off at the Church.'
Without witnessing it herself, worry gnawed at her—but calming Chloe came first.
She craved full details on the outside incident, but impossible in this state.
"He's an honest man—says he's hurt if he is, fine if he is. If he said fine, he is. No need to worry."
"Hic... Uh..."
As her sister finally broke into tears, Eclair wiped her eyes and patted her soothingly.
Her gaze met Rike's, seated on a Church bench afar.
'Yes. It figures...'
Roman must've arranged for Rike and Chloe to meet—unavoidable, the only choice.
Lots to discuss with Chloe once this ended.
"Stay here. I'll scout while searching."
Chloe's face and eyes screamed reluctance to let her sister head into danger.
But after agonized thoughts, she slowly released her grip.
"...Sis. Be careful."
"With Chloe safe here, I can move freely. You stay safe too."
"Yeah..."
Watching Chloe return to Rike's bench, Eclair exchanged brief gestures and intent with Rike before turning away.
Step—
Outside the Church, Eclair approached the Saintess and Mazella, who had finished basic commands and were heading toward the epicenter.
"Saintess. I'll accompany you."