Chapter 46
Chapter 46
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: What Happened That Night (1)
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Jamie thought he had misheard for a moment.
So he asked again.
"What did you say?"
"P-Please take me as your disciple......"
He quietly observed Vena's expression.
Her face clearly showed tension, but she didn't avoid his gaze.
And Mind Check told him her feelings were genuine—not something she said just to escape danger.
That didn't mean he intended to stop.
Jamie reached out his hand again.
"W-Wait a minute!! Please!"
Vena grabbed his pants leg.
Now she was even pleading in polite speech.
As Jamie tried to push Vena away, she clung tightly to his leg and began begging.
"Ten years ago, I lost my parents in an accident and was dragged here by the school leader, forced to become a black sorcerer. Every day was hell. The experiments that sacrificed lives gnawed at my sanity, and my colleagues scorned and tormented me for it. I didn't even have the courage to run away, so I've been trapped here for ten years. I know it. I'm a coward and a hypocrite. But I want to stop now. I really... really want to stop."
"What does that have to do with becoming my disciple? I'm a black sorcerer too."
"The black mana you showed. It was completely different from what I handle. It's not made by sacrificing lives, is it? Right?"
Not made by sacrificing lives.
Jamie let out a hollow laugh at those words.
Just because it felt that way didn't make it the truth.
Sometimes, even the purest "darkness" existed.
"You're wrong."
"......Huh?"
"And above all, no."
When he shook his leg, Vena tumbled to the side.
"P-Please, take me as your disciple!"
As Vena hurriedly tried to roll over, Jamie's hand touched her head.
With that, her consciousness faded.
A moment later, Vena, who had lost consciousness, opened her eyes.
She stared blankly into space, then began fiddling with her face.
Then, with a tearful expression, she hugged her knees against the wall.
"What do I do......"
It seemed she had confessed everything.
Jamie watched Vena from a distance.
"A disciple."
He didn't lack disciples.
Before inventing black magic, when he reigned as a great sorcerer, he had taken several.
Each one possessed remarkable talent.
He had believed that, if raised well, they could one day stand with him as adversaries to the gods.
"Kukuku."
Jamie pressed his temple at the distant memory.
The ones who had followed him, calling him master.
But all that surfaced were their backs as they betrayed him.
A bitter past. Jamie withdrew his smile and looked back at Vena with slightly moist eyes.
"Well. It's not entirely because of that."
Vena's talent. Her personality.
Nothing about her seemed helpful for what lay ahead.
It would be a relief if she didn't grab his ankle.
So he had no intention of taking her as a disciple.
"Ignore her and get to work."
According to the information he'd extracted from Vena, the black sorcery school in Nesman was the Gav School.
Specializing in curse magic.
About twenty black sorcerers resided there.
Among them, school leader Gav was a high-level curse master—an absolute existence Vena couldn't resist.
"Quite a few."
For black sorcerers hiding in the shadows—not a standard magic school—twenty was horrifying.
'Does that lord not know? Or does he know and overlook it? But that doesn't seem right.'
Count Piol, Nesman's lord, was a middle-aged man with a good impression. He didn't seem the type to compromise with evil, even if he couldn't eradicate it.
True feelings could only be known by reading minds, but a sorcerer of Jamie's caliber had instincts that rarely missed.
Moreover, Nesman was the gateway to the north.
Closest to the capital, it was hard for darkness to lurk—or perhaps that's exactly why they chose it.
"The darkest place is under the lamp" for good reason.
As a group of sorcerers, if they hid thoroughly, the chances no one knew were high.
"How much have they stockpiled? Let's find out."
Jamie rose from his seat.
He would witness firsthand how far modern black sorcerers had advanced as the price of their self-corruption.
If disappointment outweighed expectation—
Tonight would be long.
"Damn it. Why do I always lose these stupid bets?"
A black sorcerer grumbled as he emerged from the warp passage linked to the Gav School research institute.
He had lost to his lab-sharing teammates and was off to buy booze.
His third straight loss.
No clue if he sucked at rock-paper-scissors or if they cheated.
"Bastards. Someday I'll turn them into frogs and toss them to snakes."
No idea when, but he lived for that day.
"Why's it so damn hot tonight?"
Midsummer nights were hot, of course, but the real heat was from losing.
"When I get back, I'll push for a late-night snack bet. You damn jerks."
It was then.
"Anyway, why's it so fa—...!"
The instant he passed the alley, a hand shot from the darkness and yanked him in.
"!!!"
A silent outcry.
A moment later.
"Hmm."
The black sorcerer strolled out of the darkness casually. Awkwardly touching his face, he muttered.
"Filthy greasy bastard."
Jamie, cloaked in the black sorcerer's skin, scowled and brushed his robe idly.
"But this'll do."
Jamie's plan, deeming a full assault on Gav School too risky.
Wait nearby; when one emerged, steal his form and infiltrate.
He'd figured it'd take time, but this one came quick.
"Prep's solid."
Recent memories absorbed—exposure risk minimal.
"Let's go."
Jamie schooled his eager expression and entered.
A vast, pristine white corridor unfolded.
Cool air soothed his heated skin. Air-conditioning was top-notch, likely for comfort.
'Better than expected.'
He'd pictured dingy basements; this was spotless.
As Jamie scanned around.
"Pica! Booze already?"
"Pica's back?"
An anchovy-thin black sorcerer and his obese counterpart emerged.
The pair who'd bet against Pica—Jamie's disguise.
Skinny Nelson squinted at Jamie's empty hands.
"The booze?"
"Ah, well."
Didn't expect them immediately.
Were they guarding the entrance?
"What gives?"
Obese Boll rubbed his bulging gut irritably.
Jamie hesitated, then pulled a gem from Pica's memories.
"Nelson. Remember?"
"What now?"
"Boll chugged your prized 33-year whiskey."
"What?!"
"Pica! W-What?!"
"Hey Boll! True?!"
Nelson raged at Boll.
Boll flailed denials. Flustered, he mouthed why say that? at Jamie.
Jamie smirked, turning to Boll.
"Boll. You remember?"
"......?"
"You prepped twenty rat specimens last time."
"Yeah."
"Nelson swiped two. Said you'd never notice, pig-slow as you are."
"......That true, Nelson?"
"B-Boll. Me?!"
"Totally you!"
Boll shoved; smaller Nelson flew, tumbling rolls.
"You prick! Die?!"
Nelson whipped out his wand; Boll matched.
"Hated you forever."
"Mutual, pig!"
"Don't plan on surviving!"
"You neither!"
Bangs drew nearby lab black sorcerers out to gawk.
Jamie vanished amid them, grinning.
The institute was massive.
For ~20 Gav School black sorcerers, ample space.
White marble floors, premium walls—immaculate.
'Secret build like this? Impressive.'
Vena and Pica's memories: Gav School ~15 years old.
Short history, small numbers, but specialty paid off.
Black magic "curses" tormented foes.
Biological over supernatural—medicine overlap.
Gav School crafted meds, exported via legit merchants.
Wealthy for newbies.
'Amusing.'
Harmers selling healers for gain.
Jamie pressed on.
Glanced into labs: curse experiments, gruesome.
Grimmest:
"Uwaaaah......"
"Eeeeeeh......"
Wall-hung man and woman, tongues lolling.
Eyes crossed, unfocused.
Slit guts; sorcerers probed curse effects.
"Insane. Lungs still working."
"Stomach nuts. Hurts to die. Kekeke!"
"Guts squirming. Poop incoming?"
Sorcerers snickered at subjects like toys.
No humanity—just play.
Jamie watched briefly, moved on.
Deeper: intensity rose.
One lab: dismembered corpses hooked, heads blinking alive.
'......'
Further.
Larger labs, gear everywhere.
Blood spatters screamed horror. Inside sorcerers maniacal laughs.
Jamie halted at empty lab, entered.
Neatly tidy.
Inner door: empty, central desk with papers.
Experiment theses. Final page: notes.
1. Rat dosed A: convulsed, died. Simple immunity? Human subject: agony thrash, quick death. +3 min vs rat.
2. A research lacking. Post-convulsion: blank doll state needed, but dies. Lower dose.
3. Lowered A on human: wild fit, unconscious. Dead? No—ego erased, blank. Success.
4. B on blank: still, then lively eyes on me. Mouth opened, agony death. A proven—success.
Jamie checked drawer: two vials, A & B. The horrors.
Holding them, he pondered.
Why invent black magic?
'Kill gods. Any means, no holds barred.'
Means for end.
Stripped emotions.
Shunned ethics, embraced enmity.
Evolved it ruthlessly for win.
Never took lightly.
Shouldered sins. Never forgot weight.
Even as emotionless beast, resolve burned within.
Modern black magic?
'Knew.'
Books, tales.
Knew their nature.
Not the extent.
'I—'
Footsteps outside.
"Who's in there!"
Heavy strides.
Door slammed open: bald head entered.
Frown-scanned room.
"......Hallucination? Thought I heard someone."
The black sorcerer cocked his head at the empty room.