Chapter 219
Chapter 219
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 219
Chapter Title: Part 2, Chapter 7: The Cursed Village (3)
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Doubts arose.
Why had the necromancer been summoning only ghosts for months now?
This part was incomprehensible.
Some black sorcerers raided small villages, using the residents as test subjects.
But in this land ruled by the 12 Gods, operating as a black sorcerer was extremely difficult.
They struck swiftly, taking only what they needed before vanishing.
As a result, villages hit by black sorcerers were known to evaporate overnight in the public eye.
Yet here, curiously, only ghosts appeared—no signs of any scheming black sorcerer.
'I'll find out by checking.'
Jamie stepped into the alley where the ghost had vanished.
Heavy yin energy blanketed the air.
This concentration surpassed even a typical cemetery.
Proof it wasn't a naturally occurring ghost.
There was one case where natural ghosts carried such potent yin: when they became evil spirits.
But evil spirits reeked of horrific malice, impossible to miss.
These ghosts, however, emanated yin spanning the entire cemetery without a trace of malice.
They were under someone's control.
'Close by.'
Jamie sensed the ghost's presence and gradually stirred his black mana.
His eyes dyed purple.
If he hadn't known, he might have overlooked it—but now that a necromancer was involved, he couldn't just walk away.
He had sworn it when he saved Vena.
That he would personally reap the seeds of evil he had sown.
He picked up speed.
The distance closed in an instant.
"Found you."
A black silhouette loitering in the distance.
Jamie soared up in a flash, blocking its path.
The black silhouette rippled.
Jamie fixed it with his purple gaze.
Invisible to ordinary eyes, but to a black sorcerer like him, the massive yin churning around it was crystal clear.
"Undead."
The black silhouette convulsed, slowly taking shape.
Arms and legs sprouted, a half-rotted face emerging in a translucent haze.
It must have had a bushy beard in life—the dead fuzz fluttered in the wind.
Armor draped its form.
The battered plates looked ready to crumble off at any moment.
Jamie reached out a hand.
"Take me to your master."
Black mana surged forth.
It carried considerable yin, but it was still just a single undead.
For the progenitor of black sorcery, usurping a soul's ownership was child's play.
Under normal circumstances, anyway.
Crackle—
Black sparks erupted between the ghost and Jamie.
Jamie's eyes widened slightly.
He didn't know the owner, but the soul's bondage was extraordinarily potent.
The binding force shielded the ghost, rejecting all interference like it would allow none other.
Did a necromancer this powerful even exist in the current era?
'As far as I know... all necromancers nowadays are pests.'
His curiosity about the ghost's master deepened.
Jamie intensified his black mana.
Greater power devours lesser.
If the standard method failed, he could simply invoke Authority: Defying Heaven.
Black voids tore open behind him, and Defying Heaven's chains wrenched free with a deafening clamor.
The chains ensnared the soul at blinding speed.
"Come to me."
Crackle-crackle!!
The dominating bondage thrashed wildly.
The ghost writhed in torment.
Its soul was suffering.
Jamie narrowed his eyes and summoned more chains.
They rocketed out, embedding into the soul's chest.
"Call Undead."
The ghost's body shuddered violently.
The bondage began to weaken bit by bit.
No matter how adept the foe, Jamie was the founder of black sorcery.
Necromancy had been born from his own hand.
In this degenerated age of black magic, no one could challenge him.
'Even accounting for that, it was impressive...'
Clank!
Defying Heaven's chains coiled around the ghost.
He would reverse-trace the bondage ritual from here.
Mana's foundation couldn't be altered on a whim, and black mana—being soul-bound power—was even less mutable.
Escape was impossible...
"Hoo?"
Clang—
Defying Heaven's chains crashed to the ground.
Jamie eyed the fallen links with keen interest.
They had clearly bound the ghost moments ago, yet now not a shred of soul remained.
Jamie muttered in mild surprise.
"Reverse summoned?"
In the battle for soul ownership, Jamie had emerged victorious.
The opponent's binding had been rendered null, making the ghost effectively his familiar.
Yet it had been reverse-summoned.
For that to happen required one condition.
Namely:
"Overwhelming loyalty."
Lesser undead were mindless puppets obeying orders, but those with presence could act with reason intact.
Azad and Raiza were prime examples.
This ghost had exuded substantial yin and undergone reverse-summoning...
Meaning it possessed at least some intellect.
'Even so, it broke free of my binding?'
All yin remnants had vanished completely.
Jamie glanced at his empty hand and chuckled.
"Interesting."
A thought crossed his mind.
Perhaps the foe possessed one of his creations from the Diablo Volpir era.
If so, he couldn't simply leave.
He had planned to depart at dawn, but it looked like he'd be staying a few more days.
"Yawn... a few more days?"
Jin let out a massive yawn in his still-sleepy voice.
"Something interesting came up."
"Interesting?"
"...By the way. You sleep with the mask on too?"
"Sleeping without it feels more uncomfortable."
Jamie eyed Jin, thinking the guy lived a tough life.
He wore the mask even while sleeping, eating, and—astonishingly—bathing.
Come to think of it, Jamie had never seen his bare face.
"So, what's this interesting thing?"
"Ah. I went ghost-hunting last night."
"Ghost? That story from yesterday?"
"Yeah. Felt it suddenly during night meditation."
"...Ordinary folks don't sense supernatural stuff like that. Mages different?"
"I'm a saint."
Jamie waggled his left hand, and Jin nodded as if convinced.
"Right, you're Pyro's saint too. Quite the talents."
"Anyway, as the goddess's saint, shouldn't I resolve this village's bizarre issue?"
"You didn't mention it yesterday."
"Let the small stuff slide."
"But does ghost extermination really take days?"
"Wasn't ordinary."
"Hm?"
"Seems a rather troublesome black sorcerer is involved. Not certain, but it repelled my divinity and reverse-summoned. Got me wanting to catch it."
"Black sorcerer?"
Jin's expression hardened slightly.
If a black sorcerer was involved, it was no small matter for a Frontier member.
Frontier pursued freedom above all.
Black sorcerers, plunderers of that freedom, were exterminated on sight.
"Can't ignore that... Need any help?"
"Hm. Not really?"
Jin squinted one eye.
The mask hid his grimace, but his eye betrayed it.
Jamie said,
"Leave the undead to this saint."
As he flexed his left hand repeatedly, Jin snorted.
"If you need help, say so. Black sorcerers are humanity's enemies. Those vile scum need total eradication."
"Cough!"
"Caught a cold?"
"...Just a little throat tickle."
The black sorcerer rubbed his nose, feeling oddly sheepish.
Pivion had come to the market alone today.
With his hat pulled low, he glanced warily around, sticking to the most deserted paths possible.
Running into people just meant curses hurled his way.
If it were only curses, that'd be lucky—the kids who hounded him and his family daily even threw stones, and those hurt like hell.
Praying he wouldn't cross paths with them today, he arrived at his usual shop.
This was the one place in the village where someone pitied him and his family.
"Ah, Uncle."
Pivion called the shopkeeper from outside in a timid whisper.
He glanced around furtively.
Fear that someone might overhear his voice.
Fortunately, business was poor here—no foot traffic.
Pivion checked again before speaking up.
"Uncle. It's me."
"Ah! Pivion! Come on in."
James the shopkeeper's voice rang from inside.
Pivion's face brightened a touch.
He brushed the dirt from his shoe soles and stepped inside.
It was a small diner in a remote corner of the village with mediocre fare—not a popular spot.
Especially amid the current grim mood, visitors were nonexistent.
But to Pivion and his family, this food was the best.
James spoke with his kindly face.
"Two portions to go, right?"
"Three today!"
"Oh. Three it is, then."
"Money's here."
Pivion fished a few coins from his threadbare pants pocket.
Three coppers.
James's expression soured at the sight.
He knew how hard this kid toiled for mere pennies.
Truth be told, that barely covered one bowl—but James smiled and took the coins.
"I'll whip it up quick. Hang tight."
"Thank you!"
Pivion beamed, squatting by the entrance to wait.
Trips to buy food were his happiest moments.
"Three portions should last a week, at least?"
With money from grueling work, they bought food here once a week.
But only two portions, so hunger gnawed daily.
This time, though, his boss gave an extra copper.
From two to three a week—a whopping 50% income boost.
One copper per bowl meant three bowls now.
How could he not be thrilled?
Yet considering even easy jobs paid at least five coppers a day, Pivion was basically working for free.
The innocent ten-year-old simply grinned at his extra copper, oblivious.
That was when it happened.
"Hey? Isn't that the cursed beggar brat Pivion?"
"Ugh! Why's that filthy thing here?"
The village delinquents appeared.
Pivion flinched at their sudden arrival, hugging his knees and ducking his head needlessly.
These weren't like the usual tormenting kids.
He'd crossed them wrong multiple times and gotten thrashed badly.
His body trembled on instinct.
"Know how annoying it is we can't roam at night 'cause of you and your family? Why crawl out here?"
"Angry, huh? Why do good folks like us suffer for cursed scum? Huh? Pivion."
"W-we're not cursed!"
At "cursed," Pivion shrieked like he was seizing.
One delinquent snickered and raised a hand.
"Who're you yelling at?!"
He backhanded Pivion's cheek.
The shock rattled the boy's skull into dizziness.
His paper-thin, malnourished body tumbled across the ground.
The others burst into guffaws.
"Just kill him! They say offing the brat might lift the curse? Kehihihi!"
"Hey, cursed trash? Get up. Let's test if your death ends the village curse."
"If you don't cut it, we'll do your family too. No worries~"
"Especially your mom—we'll take good care of her."
"She's a looker. Puhehe!"
"N-no joking!"
At the jab at his family, Pivion shuddered and staggered to his feet.
Blood filled his mouth from a split lip, and his left eye—hit hard—was nearly blind.
Pivion rose shakily and warned the delinquents.
"Touch my family... and I'll kill you all. Every last one."
"Ooh, scary!"
The slapper kicked Pivion square in the chest.
The agony was so intense no scream escaped.
Pivion collapsed clutching his chest as the delinquent strode over.
"Already in a foul mood—perfect timing. Let's beat you to death today, our ghost-ridden Pivion."
"Make him a mute first!"
"Good idea!"
The delinquent grinned wickedly as he closed in on Pivion.
He meant to smash every tooth.
Pivion stared up in terror.
They looked fully capable.
"H-help...!"
Pivion pleaded for his life.
"Someone help! Please!"
But no one came.
"Moron. Who'd help trash like you?"
"Your death's a boon to the village. Right? Kiki!"
"Please... help me..."
Suddenly, he wondered why James hadn't emerged.
His voice must have carried inside.
What was he doing?
Deep down, he knew.
Why he stayed put.
James wanted this too.
Just like always.
'Abandoned.'
Pivion's eyes went pitch-black and dead.
"Die!"
The delinquent reared back his foot to stomp Pivion's face.
"No holding back on kids."
Crack—
The delinquent stared at his leg, twisted at an unnatural angle.
His leg was warped.
He couldn't comprehend.
Why had his perfectly fine leg suddenly contorted like this?
'What's this hand?'
Someone gripped his twisted leg vise-tight.
Fingers dug deep into his calf.
The hand's owner spoke.
"Yelling your lungs out. You own the place or something?"
"A-Ampha..."
The delinquent who'd mocked Pivion from behind broke into cold sweat, calling his buddy's name in a weird laugh.
Ampha—the one called—swallowed dryly.
Part fear of the grip, but mostly a deeper dread.
Namely—
"Gaaahhh!!"
The pain from his mangled leg finally hit his brain.
Jamie's eyes were ice-cold.
"Bullies need extra punishment."
[The Pain]
‘3rd Stage Authority: Cursing’—curse pain maximized.
The two delinquents began writhing like earthworms.