Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: As a Black Mage Scholar, You Stand Below Me
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The basics of hunting lie in stealth. Carlo Mano Pavilos was among the closest to the pinnacle of Fairn hunters, and at the same time, the closest to an assassin.
‘If you approach without a sound and kill your prey, isn’t that no different from an assassin?’
Fernandez Cerned watched Carlo’s movements in admiration. With the senses of the Religiosa Demonica and his own basic instincts, he could imitate it somewhat clumsily, but Carlo’s technique touched the essence of hunting prowess.
They reached the outskirts almost perfectly concealed from the Walkers’ sight.
“I told you, didn’t I? People don’t look up.”
“I didn’t expect Walkers to be the same.”
“Walkers aren’t people, are they?”
“···?”
Are Walkers even considered people···? Fernandez pondered for a moment. If a cure could be developed, they were just people with mental illness. But since a cure was impossible, shouldn’t they be treated as monsters from the moment they turned?
Regardless of Fernandez’s musings, Carlo’s point was spot on. They had arrived at the outskirts without drawing the attention of a single Walker pack.
‘Even if I’d brought the Sigard strike team, we couldn’t have been faster than this···’
Traveling with Carlo Mano Pavilos was a wise choice! Fernandez hid with Carlo behind the shrubs near the communal graveyard.
Robed figures were drawing something huge and bizarre on the ground with Walker corpses and blood. Carlo whispered softly.
“What are those bastards doing?”
“Let’s see··· [Awakening], [Descent], [Transmission]···? No, [Propagation]? [Fusion]?”
Fernandez narrowed his eyes and read the magic circle. The Asias secret script was so obscure that even a black magic polymath like Fernandez struggled to translate it directly without a dictionary.
Conversely, the only one who could draw Asias secret script from scratch without a dictionary or blueprint was Dale Pertus. A bronze bracelet gleamed on the man’s wrist.
‘Bronze Throne···!’
Fernandez drew a dagger from his shoulder bag and gripped it as he spoke.
“Professor Pavilos. How’s your marksmanship?”
“What standard are you using? I think I can hit a Merlin silver coin at that range.”
Hitting a coin at about 75 meters··· that was marksmanship bordering on divine.
If Fernandez sprinted at full speed, he could break through in two breaths. But he needed to keep Dale in check during that time.
And there were too many enemies around. Three figures who looked like mages at a glance, and seemingly obeying their orders, about fifty Walkers standing blankly. Half-dead corpses loitering in the graveyard.
‘By the way, what are they making?’
If they were performing a grand ritual like this without backup, they had to have a purpose. Fernandez couldn’t predict Dale’s goal.
As a black mage scholar, he was intensely curious about the man’s next scheme. About the objective of that magic circle right now.
“What are you doing? Shoot or not?”
“···No choice.”
Dale probably had at least one research tome··· He’d seize that. Might as well learn Asias secret script while he was at it.
“Blow off his right wrist in one shot.”
“Just give the signal.”
“The moment I charge!”
-Tat-tat!
Fernandez shouted that and leaped from the shrub pile, charging straight ahead. Nearby sentries—bewildered mages—aimed their staves at him in unison.
He read the flow of mana. The shaping of spells, the circuits’ activation, the mages’ mudras and stave trajectories all echoed in his mind in black magical language.
‘Secret vision··· it’s killer.’
One step before the spells formed, Fernandez read their structure and dodged just before activation. He was glad he hadn’t engaged Kian-Kel in a magic battle. It was the supreme artifact for spellcasting.
“W-Who are you!”
“Of the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods···”
Fernandez twisted his body to evade the incoming spells.
-Pew!
The twang of a crossbow string releasing a quarrel. The whir of the pulley, and the quarrel slicing through the air.
Carlo’s quarrel flew past Fernandez’s earlobe.
“It’s an arrow!”
-Pook!
The quarrel flew toward the man drawing the magic circle. In that instant, a pile of flesh suddenly appeared in midair, blocking the quarrel’s path before vanishing.
“Wha, Flesh Barrier?”
Fernandez hurriedly steadied his stance and thought. Something was off. How had this bastard prepared for a sneak attack?
Advanced Asias secret arts like Flesh Barrier couldn’t be activated without preparation!
The man, Dale Pertus, didn’t stop drawing the magic circle as he spoke.
“You’re persistent. Beitasser’s dog! You chased me all the way here···?”
Mid-sentence, Dale glanced at Fernandez and made a dumbfounded face.
“?? Who the hell are you?”
“I’m an··· Inquisitor, sure···?”
“Huh···?”
For a moment, Fernandez and Dale stared at each other and froze. The surrounding mages halted their attacks in the odd atmosphere, watching them.
“No way, someone else···”
As Fernandez said that, a sudden roar erupted.
“Your blasphemous heresy ends here, you heretics and apostates!!!!!”
Cannon fire boomed from beyond the sky···
“Repentttt!!!!”
-Kwaaaang!!!
Then, like a meteor, a mass of muscle crashed down before his eyes!
Dust blanketed the area, and the mages convulsed backward.
“M-Monster!”
“He chased us here!”
“My god! It’s an Inquisitorrrr!!!”
As the dust cleared, what appeared was···
A tattered black robe emblazoned with a stark white cross-sword emblem.
The seal of the Demonica and a longsword. And a massive kite shield.
A hulking man—Fabiano of the Demonica!
“Oh, brother! So your operational zone was around here!”
“···? How on earth are you here?”
“I’ve been tracking him from the adjacent zone!”
Close range, luckily! Fabiano bellowed cheerfully. Adjacent···? It was a mountainous region half a day’s march from Maboro. Checkpoint No. 6, Fabiano’s assigned operational area.
Fernandez had been here for two days. If Dale had been there··· it meant Dale Pertus had fled here all day to evade Fabiano.
“One or two, makes no difference! You lot! This is your grave!”
“Hmm! Most profane!”
Fabiano raised his sword hand high and charged straight at Dale. Dale sneered and intertwined his fingers.
“Brother! Dodge···”
“For the glory of Beitasser!”
Black flames erupted from Dale’s hand. Fabiano deflected the flames with his shield and charged without slowing.
“Too late, Inquisitor! Behold!”
-Kwajijik!!
The waiting mages slammed their staves into the ground in unison. Red lines shot from them like arcing electricity, connecting··· and reaching Dale’s feet.
The magic circle beneath Dale’s feet. Its exact nature was unknown, but the mages’ chants and the Bronze Throne on Dale’s wrist began emitting immense light.
The pattern looked familiar. In the sensation of time slowing, Fernandez rapidly scanned the mana shaping shown by his secret vision.
Reinforcement on the second central node.
Triple-variable law applied to the right side.
Advanced condensation circuit incorporating the mana conservation principle.
And Asias secret script. Its meaning: probably [Fusion], [Awakening], and [Descent]!
It was the summoning circle Fernandez had sketched on the Fairn map during the Inquisition Keep briefing—now unfolding before his eyes!
“Brother! We have to stop it!”
“Block it!”
Fabiano brutally smashed the Flesh Barrier blocking his path. Fernandez charged after him, but he was too far!
-Pewt!
“Urk!?”
Quarrels flew in, sniping the mages forming the circle one by one. Mages fell, but··· it barely affected the ritual’s formula!
“Behold, Inquisitors! This is the true power of the Sixth Circle!!”
-Doooong···.
A heavy heartbeat-like thrum swept the ground. Dust trembled, and for an instant, time seemed to stop. Red energy surged from the circle like it would burst···
“Spirit and soooul!!!!”
Fabiano was struck by something and hurled far into the shrubbery! His longsword clattered to the ground where he’d stood. Fernandez rolled quickly, grabbed the sword, and assumed a stance.
‘What came out? Doesn’t smell like a demon?’
-Necromancy. Dale Pertus··· a bit early for this era, wasn’t it?
Dale’s prime was fifty years from now. So his necromancy at this point shouldn’t amount to much.
Even borrowing the Bronze Throne’s power, Dale Pertus lacked the ‘Lion’s Secretary’ yet.
One of the fifteen archfoes who doomed civilization, High Priest of the Bronze Scales. Overlord of Necropolis Under Catacombs. Summoner of nightmares, Mumto. Dale Pertus.
Memories from his past life swirled in Fernandez’s mind. What could he even do at this stage? No matter how he thought, it wasn’t time for him to shine···
-Kwaaaang!!
Fernandez swung the blade, slashing a massive pink flesh lump flying at him, and dodged backward.
His organs twisted inside. Fernandez spat blood-mixed saliva and steadied himself.
-Grrooooaaaaarrrrr!!!!
“Damn it all!”
-Flash Splinter!
A soul-rending screech echoed across the graveyard. Something enormous was stretching. Fabiano, flung away and surrounded by Walkers, couldn’t come to his aid.
-Grroooo···
The red energy dispersed, revealing a giant woven from corpses. The bodies forming the giant screamed in unison, creating a horrific dissonance.
Mind-corroding noise!
“Flesh Splinter! It’s already made?!”
The great war’s strategic weapon, Flesh Splinter. A Mammon-grade siege engine, vanguard of demons that burned mortals’ minds just by existing. It shone in Dale’s prime—fifty years away!
“A demon?!”
Fabiano burst from the shrubs, battering Walkers. Luckily, no major physical damage, but his face was a bloody mess, probably from vomiting blood.
“It’s a demon’s creation!”
“We’ll burn it!!!!”
Fabiano roared and charged. That muscle-headed lunatic··· Fernandez panicked but matched his pace and ran alongside. Charging head-on offered no chance!
“For the glory of Beitasser!!!”
-Grrooooaaaaar!!!!
Drawing its attention fully, the giant swung at Fabiano. A siege ram-like fist hurtled at him. Fabiano raised his shield to block—then was sent flying.
“Brother!!!”
“Spirit and soooul!!!”
-Kwajijik!
Fabiano flew to a corner mausoleum, smashing through the roof. Walkers headed there, perhaps to devour the Inquisitor’s chunks.
“Uahaha! Inquisitors! Tremble before the pinnacle of my research!!!”
Dale bellowed triumphantly, his face utterly exhausted. Fernandez glared sharply at the Flesh Splinter. Indeed, it lacked the size and cohesion of prime specimens.
But did that mean victory? Could they overpower that colossus with brute force?
Then, another quarrel flew from behind.
-Kyaeeek!! Pew!
“Gaaah?! W-Who!!!”
“Doctor Carlo Mano Pavilos! Excellent!!”
Carlo’s quarrel pierced Dale’s wrist. Exhausted from forging the Flesh Splinter, Dale couldn’t raise a Flesh Barrier and took the hit.
His wrist impaled, the Bronze Throne’s clasp released!
-Clang!
Fernandez charged headlong. The giant’s fist whistled over his head. The wind alone shook him.
Fernandez rolled forward to evade, snatching the fallen Bronze Throne.
“I’ll take it!”
“Y-You bastard!!!!”
Fernandez quickly distanced from the giant and donned the Bronze Throne on his wrist. Due to the botched summoning, the giant’s lower body hadn’t fully emerged from the circle.
-Pajijijik.
Mana sparked from the Bronze Throne like electricity. A brief foreign sensation pierced from his wrist to his heart.
Soon, mana circuits connected to his spirit and flesh. Spiritual senses expanded from his mind.
This omnipotence! The flow of mana, the tickling fever under his skin! All perfect.
Far from prime mana capacity, with limited spells··· but it felt like decades since he’d last cast. The sensation was exhilarating.
“Hahaha! Perfect, splendid!”
“You fool, do you know what that is?! A wretch untouched by black magic wisdom dares! That power isn’t yours to control!!”
“What are you talking about, Dale Pertus. My old friend···”
Fernandez’s left hand intertwined in the air. Mana wove precisely, stitch by stitch.
Like an imperial physician performing surgery. With delicate, precise movements, Fernandez formed mudras.
At the same time, a black crown-shaped halo floated behind his head.
Proof the Bronze Throne functioned perfectly!
“This··· can’t be?”
“As a black mage scholar, you have never stood above me.”
Dale Pertus. Necromancy master, grand mage versed in a hundred Asias secrets. Yet as a black mage scholar, he never surpassed Feizashi at his peak.
“Awakening, fusion, descent··· hmm, crude.”
Secret arts maybe, but using ensorcery? Feizashi couldn’t dispel it.
No, he wouldn’t fail.
Seeing Fernandez’s mudras completing, Dale screamed.
“Counter-ritual?! How···?”
In swordsmanship, there’s parry or sword counting.
Reading the opponent’s blade path and countering with their own force.
Precisely stabbing the enemy’s throat along their blade.
In magic, it’s counter-ritual, spell wedge, or magic seal.
Completely inverting the foe’s spell and formula.
A precise spell counter requiring at least five moves ahead!
-Grroooo···..
Slowly, the giant’s body crumbled. Mana core neutralized, it groaned pitifully as it collapsed.
Corpses forming its body thudded to the ground one by one. Amid them, Dale Pertus stared blankly at Fernandez.
Fernandez approached the slumped Dale.
“You··· bastard···”
“Dale Pertus. Good to see you. You look good young.”
“Who are you.”
Fernandez raised his longsword, pricking Dale’s throat. Dale flinched and glared.
“Inquisitor of the Demonica, Fernandez Cerned.”
-Black Mage Feizashi Wildcast.
Materialized, Feizashi gazed down at the slumped Dale with conflicted eyes. Fernandez glanced at him, then thrust the blade.
“Kuhk!!”
“Farewell.”
-My old friend. For my son’s soul, your life was needed.
Anyone who aided the world’s doom··· had to be redeemed.
-Killed my master and friend in a day.
“But I’ll save the son in return.”
-Fair trade.
Feizashi smiled bitterly and faded slowly. Fernandez stroked the Bronze Throne and closed his eyes. He was tired.
Fernandez slowly opened his eyes and drew an incense burner.
Work remained, and he’d never shied from it.