Chapter 72
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Nice to See You, Bastards
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"Nice to see you, you bastards."
As Luna and I plummeted down, the cultists in the midst of their ritual bulged their eyes in shock.
But they couldn't mount any proper response, frozen stiff like statues, their mouths merely flapping.
"Wha... what?! How did you get here?!"
"How? We followed the navigation, you idiots."
They could talk, but they couldn't move or cast spells.
In other words, these guys were nothing but living punching bags.
Of course, I couldn't afford to get complacent.
Right in the center of their ritual magic circle floated a leather-bound book that gave off an ominous vibe at first glance—one that screamed, "Oh boy, that's bad news..."—sprinkling a halo of purple light around it.
A book hovering in midair all by itself, as if alive. The Lion's Tome.
The ancient god's Necronomicon.
Did they know what it was and use it anyway?
If their mindset was just "Screw it, let the world end!", I could understand that. But as far as I knew, almost no one went rampaging around actually trying to destroy the world.
Looking around, the place was slathered in a slimy muck you'd expect to find in a kraken's lair.
Guess this really was the kraken's habitat.
"You're that young punk who was with the Sword Saint. Did he come too?"
They didn't recognize me?
Or maybe I just wasn't worth anything to them?
Either way, it was a good sign.
"The Sword Saint, sir? Nah, it's just the two of us."
The leader of the cultists, who had been staring at me without moving, let out a smirk at my calm reply.
"No need to get scared, then. Release the guardians. Get rid of these pests."
"You sure that's okay? Weren't you not supposed to be interrupted? And here I am, right in your face."
Thud.
"What if I poke around like this?"
I tapped the purple barrier enveloping them, and he grinned sinisterly.
"As if a punk like you could do anything. Besides, we don't have time to worry about trash like you right now."
As he spoke, grotesque lumps of flesh began crawling out from the darkness.
Too big and grotesquely muscled to pass for human bodies, with human-like mouths sprouting all over, clacking their teeth.
And on their faces, they wore bizarre masks like hockey masks.
"Visually speaking, it's like a horror flick. But first, one question."
I turned calmly and asked them.
"That all you got?"
"What?"
"I mean, is that everything?"
"Ha. The punk's got no fear."
At that, the monstrous brutes all drew massive butcher knives and charged at us in unison.
"I'm no use right now."
"You'll be useful soon enough, so hang tight."
I didn't even bother drawing my sword. Instead, I slammed my hand to the ground.
BOOOOM!!!
A heavy rumble echoed as a massive, thick wall erupted between us and the brutes, completely blocking their path.
"Now it's just us."
The necromancers' relaxed smirks vanished from their faces.
The leader of the cultists directing the ritual rolled his eyes around frantically, his face stiff with tension.
This was a disaster.
He hadn't expected anyone to find this place.
Normally, a mere punk like that wouldn't have been an issue at all.
But right now, he and all the other cultists couldn't twitch a finger, let alone fight.
If he could move, he would've shown them the full might of a 5th-circle necromancer.
But ever since the ritual began, their bodies were half-out of their control.
At first, they'd been terrified thinking the Sword Saint had shown up.
After all, he was the one figure the entire cult feared most.
Thankfully, it was just one punk and one shockingly beautiful girl.
Once the ritual started, they couldn't move for at least two or three days minimum.
If those two somehow survived, it'd be a huge problem.
But with the sturdy barrier protecting them and multiple chimera guardians set up, a couple of punks shouldn't be an issue.
Or so he'd thought...
Until that massive wall appeared out of nowhere between the chimeras and the punk, flipping everything upside down.
"Now it's just us."
The leader couldn't utter a word as the boy approached with a cheerful grin.
What the hell just happened? Spirit arts? No, not that. Magic? No mana flow either.
Then what the hell was that?
Bang!! Bang!!
The chimeras pounded relentlessly on the other side of the thick wall, but it held firm against the assault.
The leader snapped out of his panic with a hollow laugh.
"That's your big plan? Sorry, but don't think that lets you touch us. As long as the barrier holds, you can't lay a finger on—"
Shatter!!!
The moment the boy touched the barrier, their final defense crumbled to pieces.
In less than a second.
This couldn't be happening. It made no sense.
A torrent of thoughts raced through his mind, but the boy who'd just pulled off the impossible was casually bantering with the girl beside him.
"Barrier? There's a barrier?"
"Looks like bullshit to me."
"Right? So now we just beat 'em up?"
"Yep."
If the leader had known Leon possessed the skills of a 6th-circle necromancer, he wouldn't have been so smug.
Let alone that the necromantic mana he wielded had reached the pinnacle in the form of Death Lord's mana.
"W-Wait...!"
Leon approached the immobilized leader with a grin and lightly kicked his shin.
"Gah!!!"
His body lurched violently from the excruciating pain.
"Gaaargh!!"
He screamed in agony but still couldn't move.
The ritual didn't just prevent movement—it severed control over their bodies entirely.
"You try. See if he screams."
Luna closed her eyes, stared intently at the leader, then strode up and looked up at him.
This situation was going south fast!
He needed to stall for time until the chimeras broke through the wall.
His body had secondary defensive spells layered on, which could hold off ordinary attacks for a bit.
But.
Crunch!
When Luna unhesitatingly kicked his other shin.
A grotesque sound echoed from one leg.
Impossible destructive power from such a tiny frame.
Not just brute strength—the strike hit the perfect spot with pinpoint accuracy.
Pain so intense he couldn't even scream.
"Why doesn't he scream when I do it?"
"Maybe it's broken?"
These crazy brats!!
The leader's mind reeled from agony that drowned out even screams, yet he remained fixed in place, swallowing bloody tears.
The moment the blinding light faded.
Sword Saint Osberg Mielephon blankly surveyed his surroundings.
Perhaps because he'd sliced away the anomalous parts just like Leon had.
Most things remained intact without issue.
All except two people.
"Th... thiiiis..."
He ground his teeth.
Then he seized the collar of the mage who'd launched the attack.
"You bastard!!! What have you done!!!"
That's right. The two who vanished were Leon and Luna.
Leon had been nearest the light's center and got sucked in. Luna had shoved aside another mage who was about to get pulled in, taking his place.
"Th-That was...!"
"I told you not to attack!"
"P-Please spare me! It was an accident!"
Damn these magic tower idiots. This is why he said not to send green parachute nobles.
The offending mage was a noble's son parachuted in from the magic tower.
He shouldn't have been on this subjugation force at all—politics had forced him in.
The corpse golem had vanished without a trace, and so had the magic circle.
And at the same time.
"Milord!!! Dark clouds! Dark clouds rolling in! It's the kraken's prelude to attack!"
If you encounter sudden storms at sea, always suspect a kraken.
An old sailor’s adage.
They'd planned to head out to sea and deal with it directly since krakens didn't usually rampage like this, but now it was berserking beyond all expectations.
Whether they knew of Osberg's burning anxiety or not, Leon and Luna were fully focused on tormenting the cultists.
"Still no reaction?"
Thwack!!
"Your technique's off. At times like this, you hit like this."
Thud!!!
Luna's tiny, delicate hand precisely struck the cult leader's abdomen—right over his liver—and he spat out a pained gasp, breathing raggedly.
"You sure know how to find the sore spots, huh?"
"I punched good."
'Damn these kids!! We're not choosing not to move—we can't move, you little demons!!'
The ritual was more advanced than expected.
They had to hold out for a few more hours for it to complete.
But was that even possible?
Those two hellions could wipe everyone out in minutes.
He wanted to halt the ritual and slaughter them all, but at his level, controlling it was impossible.
If even one cultist died... the ritual would forcibly stop, and they'd be able to move...
"If one of them dies, they can move."
"Until then, they're just scarecrows."
"Pretty much."
How the hell did these crazy kids know that?
"W-Wait!! Stop! Let's negotiate!"
The leader shouted desperately, sensing the chill.
"You want something, right? We have no reason to be enemies."
"No reason to fight? That's rich."
"What the hell did we even do to you?!"
He even went as far as begging—something he'd never do under normal circumstances.
That confirmed it.
These cultists didn't know who Leon was yet.
How could intel be this siloed in their organization?
"Weird. How do you not know me?"
While Leon was in Mielephon, suspected cultists had infiltrated Cascadia and been caught.
As the thought struck him, Leon asked.
"Hey, do you guys have bad faction infighting?"
"What...?"
"Bingo. That's why you don't know me."
Seems their group was fractured into factions with tight info control.