Chapter 169
Chapter 169
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 169
Chapter Title: The Serpent King (4)
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*
Lightning raced across the heavens. Without a single thunderhead that might have carried it, just beneath the pale, ashen sky. It was a starkly surreal sight, but magic was fundamentally a manipulation that twisted the gap between the unreal and the real. Fernandez approached Ksharlax, burning incantation runes one stroke at a time, one stroke at a time.
-Boom! Kwarang! Boom!
Currents so dense they took on physical form slammed down onto the massive demon's head. A shock that would have charred any ordinary life-form to cinders. Yet demons—and especially those of Sadarkelia's lineage—possessed high resistance to magic.
-Kwaaaang!
[Grooooar...!!]
Thick blood oozed from between the demon's molars. It clawed at the ground, slowly rising to its feet. A king-level demon worthy of its high magical resistance, indeed.
"Not bad."
[You... mortal. This rotting flesh of yours... dares, dares to...]
Its yellow eyes gleamed with rage and madness. Fernandez clicked his tongue as he glanced at his left arm, from which all sensation had vanished.
'It'll take some time to recover.'
-We have plenty of data. A success. It held up through seventeen casts without issue.
'Not enough to take down a great demon. Even landing every shot on that dragon-spawned bastard didn't neutralize him.'
-You can't fill your belly on the first drink.
Sadarkelia and her offspring had extreme resistance to magic. However, Runeglyphs—especially ancient runes—did not rely solely on magical power, as was typical of prehistoric magic.
The magic from the era when gods walked the earth was none other than the gods' spells, their blessings. This ancient incantation system, originating from King Botan of the Northern Pantheon, stood half in magic and half in miracles.
Thus, it had inflicted at least half the intended damage. Fernandez smiled as he eyed the demon's muscles twitching from the electric aftershocks.
[I'll kill you, kill you! I'll devour your flesh, chew your soul, and for eternity in that abyss, tear you to shreds in my spare time. You, mortal. I am your death!!]
-Kwaaaang!
The demon unleashed its ferocity and rose. A sticky hot wind whipped over its dark red scales. Hell's mana swept through the air in extreme density. The mana took on physical form, dispersing as a flame-like mist in all directions.
-Sizzle...
The divinity within his body—and the key-sword on his back—trembled at the onslaught. His heart pounded, and the demon's madness licked at every corner of his brainstem like a clinging shadow, until suddenly laughter burst forth.
Yes, that's it. Fernandez stood tall, meeting the gaze of the demon looming over him. The demon had unleashed its mana with impressive vigor, but Fernandez knew it was merely its death throes.
The desperate flailing of a cornered rat. Not the behavior of a so-called demon king.
"So, what now? If you're coming, come at me right this instant."
[You... puny... puppet!!]
-Grrrruk.
Froth sprayed from its maw as the demon's thick arm plunged down like lightning. But Fernandez had already spun his blade, slicing into its forearm. He hadn't severed it completely, but he felt the solid impact.
A mighty demon was magic incarnate, meaning the durability of its manifested flesh was its power—and as that power waned, so did its body's resilience. Indeed, scales shattered away under his blade.
'Time for the final test. Care to assist?'
-Music to my ears. What shall we prepare?'
'Something short and strong.'
Fernandez dodged the demon's frenzied swings and chops as it lashed out wildly in its madness, his mind racing.
First test: Could his divinity-forged body stand against an archdemon?
A. Yes, but at great cost.
Second test: Did the Malern school's Runeglyphs hold up in battle?
B. Yes, but with clear limits on reserves and backlash, making repeated use impractical.
All these experiments were steps toward forging a single dagger aimed at the great demon—and now, the final test remained.
-Jingle.
The Bronze Throne on his right wrist chimed crisply amid the frantic motion. Its mana circuits allowed a maximum of three uses per day. The first for mist, the second for the Vision of Truth. And the third...
-Skreeeeek!
Fernandez ducked under the demon's arm and drove his greatsword between its ribs. The demon's body jerked to a halt. Not a fatal blow, but it bought him a moment's respite. Now for the finale.
He released the greatsword and circled behind it. Given the demon's size, it was like stabbing a dagger into an adult man's side. That fleeting instant was all he needed—
-Click, click, click.
Construct, inscribe, distort. Three seals woven fluidly with one hand. At the end of that elegant single-cast, the Bronze Throne responded, unraveling its mana—
'So dense it's manifesting physically...'
Using mana that bypassed his heart and circuits required extreme precision in spell attunement, but Fernandez's technique had long surpassed mere precision.
-Rumble...
The mana radiating from the demon's body shifted flow in an instant. In this moment, when its mind drowned in madness and rage, losing control of its mana—that was the perfect timing.
Following Fernandez's seals, the Bronze Throne's circuits drew in the hell mana permeating the air, expelled it anew, and shaped a spell.
His left arm, limp from severed nerves, twitched.
'Success.'
-Good.
The demon, regaining its wits, whipped its tail savagely, sweeping the ground where Fernandez stood. He leaped onto the tail like mounting a rope, bounding up its back.
[You wretch!!]
"Your vocabulary's taken a nosedive. Your Grace."
And at last he reached the top—its head. Standing atop the massive skull that could easily crunch and swallow an adult man's torso, he locked eyes with the demon's yellow gaze.
Smiling, Fernandez raised his left arm.
"Tell your mother, demon."
[You... filthy cur...!!]
"To pray."
The spell conjured by the Bronze Throne was telekinesis. Even a body devoid of sensation could be lifted and manipulated by physical force—a single arm was child's play.
With each twitch of his right hand, mana extended like threads, twisting in the air, animating his limp left arm.
He felt nothing from the left arm, as if it were severed clean, but its movement meant he could form seals.
-The nerves aren't burned out.
A different kind of divinity—antithetical magic forcibly activated—had temporarily drained Beitasser's divinity from his left arm. Now, it was no more than a normal man's. And that meant—
'Temporarily, I can cast magic with my left arm.'
Forcibly jamming ambient hell mana into his flesh to carve circuits, flowing mana through them, while simultaneously forming seals.
With sensation intact, no sane person could endure such a brutal procedure—and even a Demonica agent would have blacked out dozens of times from the agony.
'But my left arm has no sensation.'
And flesh was expendable. With certainty of recovery, Fernandez would not be stopped by pain.
-Kwadudud...!!
His left hand formed a single seal. Overlap. Gathering the scattered mana everywhere, layering it, enveloping it... Sharpening it, hardening it, like the edge of a thousand-forged steel!
[Barakbar's Spear...!! You're Tyban's...?]
"Shh."
That's a secret. Fernandez's lips curled. In that instant, the demon felt an inexpressible terror—an unfamiliar sensation in its long life.
This human... unfathomable.
Was he even human? The last image on the demon's retinas was a crimson spear-tip plunging toward its skull.
-Kwaaaaang!!
*
"O... oh..."
Orion knelt, hot tears streaming down his face. The mightiest demon he could summon—the abyss lord mentioned only fleetingly even in ancient grimoires—was being crushed, utterly powerless.
-Kwaaaaang!
Spells erupted endlessly from the young man's hand, incomprehensible even to sight and mana sense alike. Mana manipulation of a precision and refinement beyond Orion's wildest imagination.
Matching the demon with raw power, surpassing him with magic. And the figure before him was merely a youth.
-Kuuuung...
The headless demon corpse thudded limply to the ground, twitching. Sticky blood and brains oozed from the exploded skull's cross-section, soaking the floor.
-Thud.
Through tear-blurred eyes, Orion strained to look up at the youth's face. The hell-mana fog lifted, and with the demon's death and the summoning's collapse, the surroundings gradually brightened.
The hazy air parted, early morning sunlight piercing through. Backlit by it, the youth's face was shadowed. Only his eyes gleamed—rational madness shining within.
"Are you... a god...?"
A cold northern wind blew, scattering the remnants of hell. Yet Orion smelled embers amid it. Acrid, scorching, fierce.
"Who knows? We'll see."
"I... I..."
With trembling hands, Orion clutched Fernandez's garment. Not fear of death, but awe for this inscrutable man overwhelmed him.
Laughter and sobs threatened to burst forth simultaneously. A demon-worshiper who had defiled gods and sacrificed a clan to evil, this fallen warlock now quaked in reverence for an indescribable being.
"Hm. So, Orion Weavingrat. Feeling repentant?"
"I will pray."
"...Oh?"
"To you. I will pray to you. Take me in. I... I have many uses."
Gazing at Fernandez's backlit, shadowed face, Orion slowly dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
"May I know your name?"
"Fernandez Cerned."
Orion bowed deeply, pressing his lips to Fernandez's bloodied boot. The black mage who had chased power his whole life, bending knee to demons, now submitted to the mightiest being he had ever encountered.
Had a clan hero achieved such a feat, Orion might have retreated to fight another day. But no. The magic this youth wielded was blatantly of the fallen ones, yet the sword he swung was a relic of the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods.
What to call such a being? Closing his trembling eyes, Orion spoke gravely.
"I pledge my loyalty, Lord Cerned."
Gazing down at his bowed head, Fernandez cast a long shadow and burst into laughter. He'd acquired a fine tool.
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