Contradiction
The needless brawl between the Empire's noble knight orders—who came charging in yelling "let me have just one bite from afar"—and the Holy Kingdom's forces showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. It was a clash between the side that had finished prepping the ingredients and the side trying to wolf them down, so things staying amicable would've been the real surprise.
After all the shouting back and forth, the coordination meeting for subjugating the black mages regrettably got pushed to tomorrow.
Well, it was obvious from the start that some of those knights were in the black mages' pocket anyway. No way it was ever gonna happen.
And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon into night, the black mages launched what they saw as the perfect plan.
Our plan to turn the tables on their "perfect" scheme? We'd been ready for ages.
—They're really moving now, you know?
Her clear, crisp voice came through the communication orb.
At the same moment, the ground shook violently. Boom! The earth trembled.
—Didn't expect them to move this fast. Did you see the future or something?
"As if."
"Yeah, figured. Otherwise, you wouldn't have gone for that fake engagement nonsense. You wouldn't have ended up caught by me like this."
Sylvia's words made me burst out laughing. Couldn't exactly deny that one.
"So, what's the situation?"
—Looks like it's already started. You know, that huge steel golem thing. It's moving.
Hmm. Right on schedule, then. I'd been wondering what those dwarves were cooking up. Guess they scraped together every weapon they could find to forge a god related to war.
—Whoa. It's actually heading this way.
Boom! Every time the steel god took a step, shockwaves rippled out in all directions.
At about ten stories tall, it was impressively sturdy for a golem, but for the black mages' bloodcurdling circus act? Kinda underwhelming.
"Lianna, can you shine a light on things over there?"
Obviously, it'd come with side effects. Those guys aren't total idiots—they've got brains.
—Looks like some kind of mental magic.
Through Lianna's description, knights from various territories were turning on each other, swords raised. Plenty had already collapsed, bleeding out long ago.
Judging by the infighting, it was almost certainly a god of war, strife, or distrust.
And the moment someone clocked the mental attack, Evangeline—the hero party's healer—sure as hell wasn't sitting idle.
"Whoa... what is that?"
Following Sylvia's excited gasp, I turned to see a torrent of navy-blue energy cascading from the night sky. The sheer power suggested a Possession ritual, or something close.
"Sanctuary."
She'd told everyone else not to use it, then went and popped it off herself. Well, our situations were different.
"So, she's on her way now?"
—Yup. Time for me to hide. "Got it. It's chilly, so bundle up in that robe."
—...I'm short, but I'm not a kid, you know?
With that, the comms cut off. They must've noticed by now.
"...Hmm. If I survive this, I'm gonna marry Daniel oppa—"
"Don't joke like that."
Things usually go smooth, but words can jinx you. Better keep it zipped. Not that it'd matter against a spell that earned perfect fives from over a hundred black mages.
If they'd shared intel among themselves, they might've resisted my magic a bit. Too bad it was so damn effective—every black mage who'd tasted it was long gone to the afterlife.
So.
"Come on."
Twisting my killing intent down and swallowing it, I just waited.
"Grrrrr!!!!!!"
The god's shell rose up. Even unfinished, its divine might was beyond what any human could withstand.
To the horde of black mages riding atop the war god's head, everything looked like ants.
Especially satisfying was watching the knight orders, driven mad by glimpsing the god, tear each other apart. If they'd had time to spare, it'd have been a masterpiece worth spectating. Shame they didn't.
"Target spotted!"
A 6th circle black mage in a green robe raised his right hand—a signal that his reconnaissance spell had hit something.
"Project it now."
"Yes, sir!"
He deftly manipulated his mana, projecting the scene into the air for all to see.
As every black mage's gaze locked on, a pink-eyed woman stood in the dim forest.
"That's her."
Ten years ago, the vessel he'd pampered for creating a vessel of flesh.
The memory was still vivid. If those priests hadn't barged in, he could've reached divinity.
"..."
"Something wrong?"
A black-haired, black-eyed man stood beside her—someone new.
Something nagged at Helix's mind upon seeing him. A sense of wrongness?
"No. Nothing. Zoom in on the woman."
"Yes, sir!"
At Helix's command, the projection enlarged. What filled their view—
What the fuck are you lookin' at
—was her flipping them off with the middle finger, spewing curses. Right at them.
"...M-Master. I must've messed up the—"
"No."
Cheap provocation. As if any black mage would waver at that.
If anything, it confirmed they lacked the power to stop the god.
Otherwise, the great saintess wouldn't have opened a Sanctuary to protect the priests the instant she saw the war god.
If they had the strength to threaten us, holy spells and miracles would've rained down already.
"..."
So, just press on toward the goal.
"Grrrrr!"
In the march alongside the god, what was there to fear?
Slow but steady, the massive god lumbered toward the test subject.
Overwhelming force. Reason-devouring authority. This was the divine form they'd craved.
The god of war. The seed of conflict to bring chaos back to the world.
Not a full Possession, but no mere priest and test subject could halt this disaster. Devour the subject, and it'd ascend to true godhood.
"..."
Which made it all the stranger.
The man and woman under the god's shadow were far too calm for death-row inmates.
"I'm going down."
"...Pardon?"
"Aren't you curious? Why they're waiting for us here?"
With that, Helix descended to the ground, riding anti-gravity winds in a slow fall.
What he saw: the pair chatting merrily.
"Whoa, he's actually coming down?"
"Told you he would."
They kept talking like lunatics. Curiosity piqued, Helix asked.
"Why didn't you run?"
A genuine question. The god was clearly targeting them. No reason not to flee.
But he couldn't have predicted their answer.
"Field trip?"
"...?"
"Oppa hardly ever gets to see a god up close. So I stuck around to check it out with my own eyes."
Sylvia stated it flatly. Her next words froze Helix's thoughts.
She acted like they were on a picnic, ignoring him and his horde entirely as she turned to eye the god.
"Whoa, so this is a god. Kinda tingly..."
"Sylvia."
"Yeah?"
"Get ready. It's about to start."
At my words, Sylvia pouted.
"Tch. Was hoping to sightsee a bit since it's been so long."
Sylvia nodded reluctantly.
Then she flicked a tiny flame above her head. In that instant—
"...!"
Space warped, swallowing Sylvia. Even grand magus Helix could barely react to the speed.
The test subject vanished in a blink. Mana flows suggested she wasn't the caster. Which meant a spellcaster nearby. Still time if they acted now—
"Audience to the stands, actors to the stage."
"..."
"You won't die easy, right?"
His killing intent surged, bloating the unease. A familiar voice stirred his memories.
"You won't die easy. You're too precious to waste on death."
...!
No way?
Before the ten-year-old memory could overlap—
I'd finished all my prep ages ago.
Gods are built for immortality, so they don't drop easy.
That's why humanity forged mysteries rivaling them: 10th circle magic, pinnacle aura techniques.
But I wasn't allowed that path. No talent for handling such mysteries.
Only one way left.
Can't climb the tower? Bring it crashing down.
Drop the mystery, the monster, the dragon, the god—to our level.
With that resolve in a faint breath, my dark red blood emerged.
Boiling lead—or liquid fire—trailed in the air. The agony shook the atmosphere into a scream.
Black mages tried chanting, but way too late.
The crimson heat scar in the sky twisted into letters, devouring all mana.
Each bizarre stroke added to the word made my heart stutter. Black blood flowed in resonance, its curse howling.
A language beyond human wisdom etched into the world.
True dragon tongue—not wyrm or earth dragon.
The mystery countless mages chased, now complete before the black mages' eyes.
The catalysts—dragon blood and bone powder scattered in the woods—resonated with my dragon words.
In that split second, as a dragon, I intoned lowly.
"Ye who are stained by demonic arts, be thou purified."
⟨ Contradiction ⟩
All demonic arts fell silent. 9th circle mages, artifacts, the god striding the skies—all washed clean.
Deceleration, halt, erasure. My unique mana property applied to every demonic force here.
Mana began vanishing. Even gods couldn't escape this law.
An ancient god with eons of divinity might resist, but this newborn? No chance.
"Grrrrr!!!!!!"
Emitting an incomprehensible roar, the god's form crumbled. Hastily fused weapons scattered endlessly.
The metallic clamor didn't last. Left behind: a mountain of armaments and dozens of dazed black mages frozen in place.
"Wh-what the hell is this?!"
The black mages couldn't comprehend me. They'd seen dragon words—the language closest to the world's secrets.
And it just sealed all demonic arts? That wasn't magic.
Magic twists rules, drives change, elevates the self.
"This... isn't even a mystery!"
Curses and spells focus on transformation. But this denied all change.
An insult to mages—rejecting magic's very philosophy.
But to me? Meaningless noise.
"Why isn't it magic?"
"...What?"
"Why isn't it magic?"
Magic's root is change.
Pyromancy ignites flames, electromancy hurls lightning, cryomancy flash-freezes foes, aeromancy slices sharper than blades.
Yeah. All that change? To kill.
From that angle—
"Isn't it perfect magic?"
Pure, unadulterated killing intent. Everything else irrelevant.
"Romance, divinity—who cares? Swordplay and spells evolved to kill people from the start."
The Empire, Mage Alliance, Rubelheim Kingdom—they pour fortunes into knights and mages.
Why? Mana's the best tool for killing.
Those who don't get it?
"They die."
Crunch!
My words ended as a black handaxe buried in Helix's collarbone.
Bone splintered, tendons snapped in one blow. Blood seeped from the deep gash.
"Gaaahhh!"
Weapons from the war god's flesh now in my hands.
Each step toward the black mages etched terror on their faces.
"Sh-shit!"
The tide had turned.
Their arrogance? Gone.
They bolted for escape routes—but—
"...? Fuck!"
The lead runner's ankles severed in a flash.
He crashed down. The others stared.
No magic—just physical traps. Thin wires now sliced his tendons.
Every black mage realized: trapped in a cage of pure malice.
"What're you waiting for?"
Weapons up.
With that, what couldn't even be called a fight began—the black mages' desperate flailing.
"Fuck! Stop this goddamn spell right now!!!"
A pale-skinned black mage swung a sword at me. Clumsy—never held one properly.
"...Sigh. A dagger?"
I sighed, snatched his wrist. Then crack.
"Gaaahk!"
Folded his arm like it was nothing. Twisted at an impossible angle—grotesque.
The others charged en masse. Their last edge: numbers.
But wielders who'd never gripped a real blade? No clue on footwork, guards, or weapon gaps.
"Hey! You fuck! Why swing at me?!"
"Get outta the way yourself!"
A rabble. Tangled meat. Even farm bulls scarier. This was—
"Deal! Let's make a—"
Some nameless black mage's throat crushed under a shield rim. Crack. His death rattle cut short.
Mace, spear, longsword. Each new weapon in my hand pulped a skull, pierced a heart, shattered a chest.
Screams echoed in the simple slaughter. When they faded, the silent forest held one thing.
"..."
Just a blood-soaked man's ragged breaths.