Don't Haggle—Start the Fight (2)
Raban counted primes to steady his mind. '2, 3, 5, 7….' The task demanded just the right level of focus to help him shake off the mental shock and view the situation objectively—
"What the hell is this?!"
...but it didn't work. Losing his hidden slush fund—no, his black mana reserves like this was completely unexpected. Raban kept rubbing the nape of his neck.
First off, the situation isn't all bad. Most of the familiars he'd painstakingly crafted by slicing his wrists had evaporated, along with the mana he'd stored in each one, but it wasn't a total disaster. He still had plenty of negative thoughts steeped in his eco-friendly erosion-body pulverizer compost herb tea, and the mana accumulated in his own body remained intact, if modest. He'd have to harvest his wrists for a few days straight, but it wasn't a huge loss. He'd already achieved the outcome he'd schemed for.
The massive crocodile monster was rampaging, clashing head-on with Salamandine in a blaze of flames, turning the Black Forest into a real-time inferno of black char. Charles's wicked plot to use Nai Hyun as a sacrifice was effectively ruined.
The problem was that crocodile monster. After slurping up Raban's vein familiars like snacks, it was now sniffing around like, 'Oh? Smells tasty.' It was trying to gobble up every last familiar. It must have sensed Raban himself while devouring the vein familiars linked to him. First it'd devour the nearby vein familiars, then charge straight at Raban's main body with a heartfelt, 'Thanks for the black mana of this world—bon appétit!'
If I leave it alone, it'll probably tangle with the magical girl. But he wasn't sure that would resolve things. The crocodile, bulked up from rapid growth, was steadily regenerating by chomping through the Black Forest's black mana even under the magical girl's mana barrages. No—its body wasn't just sprouting new flesh; it was swelling larger with every burn and bash.
Given how it absorbed my vein familiars, does it have an adaptive predation ability targeted at mana itself? At this rate, the only effective counters were pure fisticuffs or overwhelming it with firepower exceeding its regeneration in one shot. The magical girl's mana was inexhaustible, so if she gritted her teeth and pummeled it long enough, it'd die eventually... but...
This thing might chew through every attack, bulk up even more, and complicate everything. With mascot backup, the magical girl had a high chance of victory, but the prolonged fight's fallout might expose Raban himself.
What the hell was Charles thinking, unleashing a monster like that? It was a bona fide emergency. And in emergencies, you needed emergency measures.
Raban raised his left hand. A fleshy tendril dangled from his index fingertip.
"Sigh..."
He hesitated for a few seconds, then yanked it off with his pristine white right hand in one go. The flesh stretched endlessly, morphing into the shape of a phone.
"We love you, dear customer. This is Ramashut Holdings Co., Ltd., always striving for integrity and sincerity. How may we assist you today?"
"Hey. Let's slap on some rank insignias and throw down."
"Could you repeat that, customer?"
"It's been a while since we called a truce. I've faithfully handled the subcontracts you've thrown my way. But what did you give me in return?"
"...?"
"A big, beautiful middle finger! I wanted to come to my home Earth, not this chimera dump!"
The current president of Ramashut Holdings, Inian, twitched her snake-haired locks. Her feet, resembling a bird of prey's talons, quivered with bloodlust.
Inian pondered deeply. This guy's acting on impulse? He's no black mage.
But contracts with demons forbade lies. Even magical loopholes would backfire on the caster. Raban was a seasoned black mage; he'd mastered penalties for contractual deceit. As a great demon duke, Inian's discerning authority confirmed his rage was genuine.
"Fine. What're you wagering?"
"Souls. You win, you get mine. I win, you cough up mana."
"Reasonable."
Inian saw through the black mage's scheme. He had two immediate tricks: the bet's type wasn't specified, and draws weren't addressed. Intentional loopholes.
No—he didn't even say 'all' his soul. He's pulled this scam before to dodge full collection? Inian ground her teeth, recalling how Raban's tricks once led to her ancestral castle's seizure. That damned black mage loved mocking contracts with bizarre card games— she still shuddered at echoes of those incantation-like phrases: —Draw Stan Main Field Magic Activation? Summon Effect Trigger? To Graveyard, Graveyard Effect Activation?—
This time, no humiliation via fine print. Reverting from client-contractor to demon duke vs. shady black mage, Inian smirked coldly and added terms.
"Agreed. We'll hash out details in person—soul transfer ratio, draw conditions, everything."
"...If you cover mana costs until we finalize terms."
Inian nodded. He was really mana-starved. His dimension must be globally depleted or discriminatory against black mages—stats favored the latter.
A dimension ruled by sharp minds.
"Deal, Raban. Per our old contract, you proposed breaking the truce first. Great Duke Inian will come seize your soul."
A door opened.
And Great Demon Duke Inian came face-to-face with the crocodile lunging at her, jaws agape and drooling.
"Grroooaaarrr!"
The situation made no sense, but one thing was clear.
Raban, that bastard, had scammed her again.
Magi List sensed an ominous presence. Crackkk. The sound of the boundary between their world and the outside crumbling, just like during Ebon's revival ritual.
Papirun looked at Salamandine. Salamandine frantically shook her head. She really had no idea!
A bizarre rift tore open in the Black Forest's center. The trees and ground warped, tracing a pale purple horizon.
The crocodile turned toward the rift.
"At least it's stopped heading for the city. Let's gather max mana while we—"
Kurrrung—! A thunderous roar echoed.
Something clawed its way out from the distant rift, ripping it wider.
"Medusa...?"
Magi Black murmured in disbelief. Countless snakes writhed on its head.
But that was just the start. Harpy-like talons for feet, crow wings on its back. The left arm sprouted boar tusks; the right was fur-covered, ending in a wolf's maw instead of a hand.
"An otherworldly abomination!"
As Salamandine tensed and summoned flames, the crocodile charged the newcomer.
"Huh?"
While the magical girls and Salamandine reeled in shock, Papirun stared grimly at the rift.
This was bad. Mother had awakened.
Raban brushed off the telepathic spike straight to his brain with a snort.
"Hmph. Pays you back for ignoring my pumpkin seeds-for-gold-bullion swap."
The plan was a success. The crocodile saw his mana as a snack. And demon-black mage contracts influenced both ways—the longer the pact, the deeper the demon's aftertaste lingered. Inian's mana naturally mimicked Raban's.
Raban gauged the timing. Inian would shred the clueless monster without identifying it, then split herself in two to hunt him down.
But Hikarius City's barriers repelled otherworldly interference. Having agreed to self-fund her mana, Inian wouldn't escape the Black Forest before being sent packing.
Best part: No need to hide his mana for a while. Leftover black magic traces would pass as demon residue from the intrusion attempt.
"Now, time to watch the great demon duke dismantle that monster..."
His black mage instincts warned him. Everything's going too smoothly for a black mage scheme—something's off, right?
"Huh?"
The barrier vibrated.
Gaiaheart gazed at the uninvited guest from beyond the dimension. Hikarius trembled. This intruder existed outside the world's rules—a true threat to the land, the people.
That couldn't be allowed. Mother Fairy blinked, and her authority descended on the Black Forest.
Inian's right arm—wolf's maw—snapped at empty air. Flesh vaporized from the crocodile's neck. Mana like blood poured from its scream.
Inian's snake-hair glared at the crocodile. She aimed to petrify its destabilized flesh with her evil eye in one go.
Then the sky flushed pale pink. A pink beam stabbed down at Inian.
The demon duke felt crushing pressure that could pulverize her. She couldn't even scream.
The overwhelming force swept over her. When the light faded...
"My body's gone all weird-sawayo!"
No mythic monster—instead, a gothic lolita girl with crow wings.
"And why's my speech like this-sawayo!"
Her head's wolf ears perked with each wing flap. Unlike the jet-black wings, they were fluffy gold fur matching her hair.
"Damn this 'sawayo' won't go away-sawayo!!"
"The beam that turns you into a magical girl if it hits...?"
Raban shuddered in terror.