17. Black Market (5)

I drew the Revolver Opus and engraved spells into each chamber.

These memorized spells symbolized the four elements—fire, water, wind, and earth—low-rank magics I'd relied on heavily up to now.

Crackle, crackle...

Sparks flew as Opus resonated ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with my mana.

Whoosh...

By the time the smoke cleared, Miya and I locked eyes again.

「A... gun?」

She sounded incredulous, as if it was hilarious that a mage like me would pull out such a primitive weapon.

But this wasn't just any gun—it was a custom-made firearm for mages, handcrafted by a master artisan. In other words, a playmaker of a weapon, capable of endless variations when combined with magic.

At that moment, I finally understood why Barrett had made such a fuss over Opus. It was an incredible tool, more than enough to throw even an Executor off balance with unexpected variables.

Click-clack—

Opus's cylinder spun, coalescing the engraved spells into one.

It held the explosive force of flames. The sharpness of water currents. The freedom of gales. The solidity of earth.

A single strike blending only the basics of elemental magic—and that's precisely why it was powerful. Fundamentals were the foundation and framework of everything. Sometimes, simplicity was strength itself.

Vreeee—

The theory of all things in elemental magic. The realm of the Twilight Tetralogy.

Alchemy had long held that properly blending the four elements could reach the pinnacle of providence. Gold was merely a metaphor for that mineral.

The process of transmuting lead into gold symbolized washing away sins and delusions to achieve ascension. The utopia sought by great alchemists was the supreme state where matter and spirit merged in perfect unity—a transcendence.

I had reproduced a fragment of it, imperfect though it was.

Opus was now enveloped in brilliant golden light, radiant enough to momentarily overwhelm even the darkness radiating from Miya.

「Golden transmutation, huh... Interesting. If you wanna shoot, go ahead.」

She taunted me, but the barrel wasn't pointed at her.

I smiled and slowly raised the gun.

"Sorry, but I don't really feel like shooting you."

Click.

The muzzle aimed straight at my own head.

Miya flinched for the first time as she watched my movement.

「You... right now...」

"Awakening borders on death. Beauty reveals itself only when the shell shatters."

Bang—!

The golden bullet pierced my skull.

The moment the gunshot faded, a torrent of blinding light swept through the surroundings.

I hadn't shot myself in the head just to commit suicide.

This tied back to my origins—recall the beginning of all my suffering. My body was an artificial human, cloned and cultivated from someone, fused with the Grimoire from the start, connected to every truth in the world. An alchemically perfect homunculus.

A normal human would have self-destructed from the elemental clash of that headshot. But for a created human like me, it was a blessing.

The golden transmutation ritual was a means to approach providence itself. The moment its pinnacle pierced me, I successfully entered a temporary awakening state.

'Ngh...'

Pain crashed over me.

The four elements' mana surged through every vein in my body, my heart pounding as if it might burst. My brain and organs burned away in excruciating agony.

It was only natural. The golden transmutation I'd cast was imperfect and rudimentary. Improvised on the spot to counter this Executor bitch, the side effects were inevitable.

This power wouldn't last long... but even so, I desperately needed it.

I was ablaze, wrapped in golden aura.

「Nice. I like it. In that case, I'll get serious too...」

Whoosh—

Miya, now intrigued, began moving in earnest.

Step. Step.

With each step, thick darkness writhed, dominating the space around us. Soon, the ominous pressure cloaked everything in unnatural blackness. She was finally using her real power.

「I'll just take your head. I'm curious what's inside it. Oh, don't worry—you won't die. I can reattach it later.」

As Miya reached out, the darkness lurking around me morphed into countless clawed hands and surged forward. Hands of the damned clawing from graves or drowning in swamps—desperate grasps of despair made manifest. The magic, like solidified hopelessness, warped the space around me, gradually closing in.

And so, I...

"...so that's the principle."

...finally confronted what black magic truly was.

Now I could see it. The true reason for forcibly awakening my soul and senses with the golden transmutation ritual.

To analyze high-rank magic too vast for my current vessel—and find a way to counter it.

It laid bare every hidden truth.

My intellect was sufficient; even realms beyond comprehension became mine to copy perfectly.

If I couldn't reach the stars, I'd become one myself. Transcending limits to usurp truths beyond.

Of course, my body felt like it was being crushed by the backlash, but who cared.

Mages were those who pursued mysteries even at the cost of their own lives, weren't they?

Now I understood how Miya compressed her mana, how she manipulated the density of her darkness.

Black Magic.

Magic directly tied to the human psyche.

Primal evil. The savagery and ferocity passed down from when humans were mere brutal beasts. Chaos before order. Eternal darkness before light.

Black magic was a mirror reflecting humanity's dark side.

In the end, all magic converged on the human mind. If refined magic was orderly prose, black magic was the study of the screams and raw flesh before those sentences formed.

With that realization about black magic, I simultaneously understood the Outer Sea magic I'd used without even knowing its name—the tentacle-summoning spell I'd hesitated to wield because it was too potent.

This was a dirge for the black abyss perishing at the deep-sea trench bottom. Humans are born from the sea and return to it.

I chanted softly.

Outer Sea Ravager embodied the fear of the unknown as black magic. Its manifestation as the deep sea stemmed from that nature—the deep sea symbolized realms beyond human intellect, uncertainty itself.

Didn't some great author say the strongest human fear was of the unknown? That explained the tentacle ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠magic's overwhelming ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠power. As black magic tied to the psyche's essence, its strength scaled with the target's primal awe.

Outer Sea Ravager Form 1—what I'd called the tentacle spell—manifested fear of the unknown into physical strikes.

Then what was Form 2, Gui Xu?

In the ocean depths, massive vortices formed where currents descended—silent storms dubbed abyssal whirlpools. Form 2 ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Gui Xu reinterpreted the ocean's great circulation through black magic: absorption, unification, comprehension.

The expanding vortex sucked in and restructured all engulfed thoughts into my pure power.

Rooooar—

A storm-like vortex emanated from me, instantly dominating a dozen meters. It devoured and absorbed even Miya's amorphous darkness.

Rooooar—

It mingled. The darkness, stripped of intent, was swept into the vortex and unified with me.

「...!」

Whoosh—

Miya hastily withdrew her darkness upon sensing the anomaly, but part of it was already absorbed into me long ago.

All preparations were complete.

I was burning.

Blinding golden aura coiled around my body, black flames flickering amid it.

Now, I'd unlocked my potential via imperfect golden transmutation and absorbed a high-rank mage's mana, pushing my power to the max. A limit break, or overclock.

I had to end this in a flash before it faded.

I unveiled my trump card.

Flap—!

The Grimoire opened, revealing a glowing sentence.

Potential forcibly bloomed through golden transmutation. Mana absorbed via Gui Xu. All layered in this limit-break state, enabling the pinnacle of illusion magic.