Chapter 265
Chapter 265
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 265
Chapter Title: Paltenoia, The Empire's Demise (3)
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Marlene's face drained of color in an instant. If a powerful and unfamiliar mage suddenly showed up in this den of wandering mages—who were little more than vagrants—and declared he needed test subjects, it could only mean one thing.
"Live experiments...!"
Wandering mages weren't affiliated with any academy. That also meant they were fully exposed to external threats. Moreover, the bodies of mages with mana circuits embedded in their flesh were sometimes seen as highly efficient test subjects.
Marlene wasn't the only one. The thought flashed through every mage's mind in the room. The atmosphere, which had been cooling under the weight of overwhelming power, ignited in a flash.
"If that's what you desire..."
Marlene slowly clasped her hands together and spoke deferentially. This was to lure him into complacency. But woven into the cadence of her words—like a dialect's peculiar rhythm—mana seeped in secretly, composing a melody like notes on a score.
She couldn't use offensive spells. The gap in spellcasting skill was too vast. Instead, it would be a joint assault and ambush. Marlene's incantation was a warning. A warning pheromone directed at every mage in this inn, every mage belonging to it.
"We have no choice but to fight!!"
-Kwaduduk!
-Kwajik!
-Jiiing!
An ambush on the strong was basic training for wandering mages. The foundation of magical combat lay in neutralizing the opponent's spells. Wandering mages were, at their core, no different from well-honed assassins.
And now, Wildcasts—who had roamed aimlessly for as little as a few years or as long as a decade or two—chanted in unison. At least seven or eight offensive spells, four or five interference spells, and even physical dagger throws—all woven into a meticulously coordinated attack.
Yet Fernandez merely smirked beneath his robe.
-Cute.
'Cute.'
Under the billowing robe, Fernandez gripped his sword hilt. He'd anticipated resistance, but seeing it unfold as expected brought him pleasure.
A few years at shortest, a decade or two at longest. To an old mage who had borne the name Wildcast for forty years—half a lifetime of endless wandering—it was nothing more than an adorable prank.
-Kang!
First came the three daggers. Flying sharply from different directions, the nearest one struck the pommel of his sword hilt and ricocheted away.
Gloomy blue eyes gleamed beneath his hood. Next, the dagger aimed at his head—he dodged by turning aside, then extended his hand with the momentum, hooking a finger into the ring of the final dagger mid-flight!
"What?!"
Dodging a dagger? Of course possible. Deflecting one? Difficult, requiring luck, but possible. But snatching a flying dagger by its ring with a single finger in midair? Anyone capable of that belonged in a circus or knight order!
Amid the erupting shock, completed spells shot toward Fernandez's body. He ignored the broad interference spells first. They were simple spells designed to disrupt mana flow and hinder spell-weaving.
'Can't use magic anyway.'
With the Bronze Throne, it might not be impossible, but that would defeat the purpose of the experiment. Next came the offensive spells.
'Dispel this one, block that one.'
Fireballs or lightning—physical spells like those were useless. What his experiment required was far more precise and insidious: curse-type spells. Maintaining his stance from catching the dagger, he flicked his fingers to form a hand seal.
-Kwajik!
He'd have to dodge any spells already formed, but that lacked flair. A true overwhelming force revealed its dignity even in a single motion!
-Kwaaang!
"What the...! Don't interfere!"
"I didn't do it! That monster did!"
Screams erupted among the mages. The incoming fireball and lightning collided and canceled each other out. Their targeting had been perfect, yet their trajectories suddenly veered, smashing together!
"What about the interference spells?! How can he cast magic? Did he break through all those interference spells?!"
"No! He hasn't cast a single spell!"
Mana wedges weren't treated as completed spells. They weren't spells that invoked special effects through mana; they simply forced tiny mana fragments between spell components to disrupt them.
Interference formulas couldn't dismantle wedges that were mere clumps of mana. Countering that required far more complex, time-intensive high-level defensive spells.
Which meant this stranger was a spellcaster of such delicacy and sophistication that merely jamming mana wedges between spells could redirect completed ones!
"Damn it! I'll handle it!"
The old man by the hearth bellowed roughly and slammed his staff into the floor. A new spell took shape in an instant, hurtling toward the outsider amid the echoes of explosions.
The old man tore off a drop of blood from his thumb and sprinkled it on the floor. Tadak—the blood hit, and a red flash burst from the staff's tip, shooting through the black smoke.
"Got him! Success!"
"What spell was that?!"
"Zig's Marionette!"
"Yes!!"
Relief cheers rose among the mages. If a high incantation from the Jermed Faction—masters of illusion spells—had been cast perfectly, the intruder was now neutralized.
Sure enough, as the smoke cleared and his form emerged, the room's tension eased dramatically. His hood had fallen in the rough motion, revealing a young man clutching a greatsword.
"Young...?"
"The spell worked, right?"
"Of course. He hasn't moved an inch!"
The mages approached slowly, murmuring. The youth stood rigid like a statue, half-lidded blue eyes peering through graying hair. His hair suggested age, but his face looked barely twenty.
"Ask him why he came here alone. Hear his excuses, then decide his execution."
"What if there's fallout? He looks like nobility!"
"So what if he's noble? The empire's security is a mess anyway. Toss his corpse in the canal, and no one will care."
Corpses floating in the canals had become everyday sights. Guards investigated at first, but investigations yielded nothing.
As frequency rose, the city's criminals stopped hiding bodies. Just dump them in the canal, and guards would handle it.
Even if things went wrong and they investigated, no one would trace it back here. So...
"How did this guy even know about us?"
No leaks. Trusting wandering mages was foolish, but the academy had never accepted idiots who would sell out their only reliable hideout in the imperial capital.
"But why's he still holding that sword?"
"Didn't you see him move earlier? He could've slaughtered us all with just swordplay."
"He's a monster..."
One mage sighed and stepped closer. Neutralizing nearly every spell in the room with a few mana wedges, young age, knight-like reflexes.
"How does a guy like this show up? Isn't this like one of those human weapons? You know, the ones the palace or electors raise. The butchers."
"Look at him. Put him in armor, no one would guess mage. That's a knight, not a mage."
No sooner had the mage spoken than the old man by the hearth—who'd been channeling another spell—gagged with a "Kuhk!" and collapsed in a clatter.
Silence swept the room. Mages froze, staring at the old man, unable to react.
"Old man! What hap—"
"Neither mage nor knight."
A cold voice rang out. From behind. The mage who'd turned to the old man trembled at the lips and slowly pivoted.
The youth—Fernandez—cracked his neck, straightening up. With a click, he sheathed his sword, rummaged in his robes, and produced a necklace-like object.
A symbol on a thin chain... a rosary. Beitasser's.
"I'm an Inquisitor."
Fernandez smirked faintly.
* * *
Amid the black smoke, Fernandez sensed the spells flying toward him—
And let them hit.
-Puppet strings, huh.
'Impressively intricate?'
Feizashi chuckled inwardly. Impressively so. A few ranks below, perhaps. To a factionless old wanderer who'd honed magic solely through decades of real combat, it was child's play.
The spell infiltrated his body in a flash. The type that halted mana circuits and seized control of the flesh.
The problem? This body had no mana circuits.
And the magical resistance of a Religiosa Demonica's flesh couldn't be breached by spells of this caliber.
Finally...
'An incomplete spell merely draped over the body fragments with ease.'
-Ududuk.
A sound like bones crunching echoed from somewhere inside his flesh. Not real sound—an auditory hallucination on a sensory level. The spell formulas spread across his body shattered like sugar cubes—
-Kwajik!
Dissolving into powder, each fragment dropping to mere mana shards. Naturally, the spell's effects had long vanished. All that remained were the mana threads the caster used to maintain it.
-Ching!
He hijacked the mana thread. In an instant, the entire spell was his under his fingers' command. He locked onto the target, pinpointing the caster's location. Retract his hand and reshape the mana, and the fool's life was his.
But no need to kill. Neutralize him. Or better—reverse the spell. Far more dignified.
The experiment succeeded. New spells rarely worked on the first try, but this one clearly had.
Even with the condition of exposure to the enemy's curse, casting without artifacts using his own power was a monumental achievement. At last, he could wield magic directly with a Demonica's body with minimal damage!
Against other demons, he wouldn't bother with such hassle. But Urkasia, the Pest King's demons, were different. To counter their plague and curse spells, no spell was more fitting.
They swarmed in numbers. From his view, mana sources littered the field!
As the spell succeeded and the destruction's echoes faded, the inn's shape reemerged. Fernandez, eyes half-lidded, heard the crowding murmurs.
"That's no mage! He's a knight!"
That, he couldn't abide. Fernandez cracked his neck and spoke.
"Neither mage nor knight."
No mana circuits, no pursuit of mysteries—so no claim to mage. Merely a spellcaster.
No honor, no liege served with loyalty—just wielding a blade to kill—so no knight. Butcher, slayer, murderer.
With a touch of self-mockery, his station allowed no such titles. But to describe a sword-wielding spellcasting killer with dignity...
"Inquisitor."
That would do. Fernandez swept his gaze over the pale crowd and smiled. Many familiar faces. Useful.
Shadow Academy? Too trite.
Kalmburg Magic Academy? In hindsight, a symbol of failure.
Gather them, rename... A leader of black mages, wanderers, exiles as an Inquisitor...
'A fitting name exists.'
Fernandez dangled the rosary and declared solemnly.
"From now on, you will be known as Religiosa Maledica."