Chapter 56
Chapter 56
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 56
Chapter Title: The Evil Spirit Crumbles in the Abandoned Mine (2)
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*
-Ah, this damn body.
Feizashi forced his twitching fingers to curl, chuckling. The Demonica's blood boiled, relentlessly pushing Feizashi's soul out moment by moment. Fernandez gripped the blade piercing his abdomen. What needed to be done was clear.
-Kuduk.
"Urk..."
Pain exploded in his head like a blank flash, blood surging from his lips. His organs shattered from the impact, and with each pull of the blade, his hair stood on end as bits of flesh clung to it. But he didn't stop.
"Huh..."
-Kududuk.
Survival instinct, terror, agony, despair. Even with the horrific sensation of his soul tearing under Necropolis's blade. Even with one foot in Mumto's domain and its gaze fixed upon him. He never stopped. He had lived his entire life that way.
-Kududuk!!
"Kr... uh... ha!!"
Finally, the blade that had burrowed into his body and shredded his soul was fully withdrawn. Fernandez dropped to one knee, propping himself on the Necropolis blade against the ground as he gasped raggedly. Each breath tore at his ruptured organs, blood mixed with flesh refluxing up.
[You!! You bastard!! I am Necropolis High Priest, Shialancris! Reveal your name!]
As Fernandez extracted the blade from his body, Feizashi manipulated his trembling left arm to block the foe's movements. Black iron chains wrapped around its form. [Kasad's Black Shackles]. One of his master's signature techniques.
-Kwajijik!!
[You---filthyyy bastard!!!]
The wraith howled. The mana clash held in precarious balance for a moment before shattering. With just a handful of mana, using only one arm, unable to fully utilize his vocal cords for casting—even for Feizashi, this was his best effort.
-Buy time.
'What are you planning?'
-Fernandez. Your imagination is lacking.
Feizashi cackled. The sensation of laughter erupting in his mind felt strangely vivid. The wraith regained its freedom, a blue scythe slowly forming in its hand.
[Construct]. Feizashi raised his left arm, tracing a gentle arc in the air. Delicate, fluid. Beautiful enough that no one would guess it was formed by trembling fingers.
-It wasn't freed. I released it.
[I shall claim your neck and uncover your identity in my master's domain. Mortal!]
Fernandez panted heavily as he slowly rose. His weakened legs missed the ground several times. Staggering, he lifted the Necropolis sword from the floor. The blade tip wavered.
Amid the searing pain and exhaustion, he felt mana surging in his left arm. His heart pounded fiercely.
-Thump, thump, thump.
To expel the mana, his heart pumped, scattering Demonica blood throughout his body. He coughed up another handful of blood from his gut. Yet even then, his left arm continued forming seals without pause. [Spare Capacity].
"Necropolis's Lace Monk. Which pillar do you guard?"
[...Well-informed. Your identity intrigues me more by the moment. My master will be greatly pleased when I harvest your soul.]
-Hwooooong!!
-Kaduduk!!
The wraith swung its scythe in a wide arc. Fernandez's sword barely entangled it. Fortunately, the blade's inherent power was formidable, maintaining the clash of forces.
-Clang! Clang!
[Your death will not end your life, human! Your soul belongs eternally to Necropolis!]
-Kaduduk!!
Strength was draining from Fernandez's grip. He could barely parry the incoming scythe. Blood still poured from his torn abdomen. Gasping, he shouted.
'Not yet?'
-Now.
As Fernandez deflected the scythe and caught his breath, his left arm finished tracing arcs in the air. Three times, twice, once more. Then firmly, clenching the empty air—
-[Flesh]
Only then did Fernandez realize what Feizashi's spell targeted. It was absurd—he let out a short laugh. I lacked imagination. If my mana had returned, I might have tried this myself.
-Auxiliary incantation, Three Heads Six Arms.
Feizashi sensed ethereal arms rising behind his back. This brought him close to his prime magic.
*
Angela knelt under crushing pressure that stole her breath, watching the distant plaza. The wounded knight swinging his sword against the wraith.
-Clang! Clang!
The knight, Albert, facing it down felt miraculous. Despite his grievous wounds, protecting his fallen squire without retreating a single step. He wielded his blade like a hero from epic saga.
Powerful strikes, grand motions. Attacks calibrated for foes larger than himself? Precisely. Whatever organization or group Albert belonged to, it specialized in battling such entities.
-Kaduduk!!
Even from afar, the metallic clash of wraith and Albert rang clear. Enduring such mighty blows with mere human flesh, Albert did not fall.
"Ah..."
Angela trembled, hope blooming from the sight. Beneath skies heavy with death and terror, Albert alone sang of victory and hope.
Tears blurred her vision, warping time. Behind Albert's back, light flared like sprouting wings.
*
Like wings unfurling one by one, arms rose behind Fernandez's back. Faint ethereal forms slowly manifested. Withered, twisted old man's hands. They spread like wings in the air.
If arms for seals were lacking, mouths for incantations scarce. Yet with skill to manipulate multiple bodies simultaneously without erring in delicate mana control...
From such thinking, Feizashi devised a spell. In his prime, mana scarcity never plagued him. But breath, stamina, the body's limits failed his aged power.
The force that sealed Beitasser's four archangels in his prime. Six arms forming seals at once, three heads chanting simultaneously. Replicating that fully was impossible now.
Auxiliary incantation, Three Heads Six Arms.
Finally, three arms emerged from behind, embracing him as they reached forward. Translucent ethereals held form, each forming different seals.
Culminating in four distinct spells. A difficulty no caster dared attempt. Quad-casting meant harmonizing all while flawless across entirely separate mana flows—not a single error in a thousand!
[What... is that...?]
Necropolis priest. Mumto's servant knew magic well. The wraith forgot to attack, staring at the knight. With each motion of his left hand, three behind formed seals in sync!
-Mana Purification.
The first hand sealed, and the pressure from Mumto's domain greatly faded. Mana Purification. Refining alien mana to suit spellwork. Even scattering a great demon's mana to claim as his own!
[How... How can you do that!!]
-Ethereal Seizure.
The second hand sealed. The wraith trembled, feeling its existence fade rapidly. No resistance possible. Its link to Necropolis dimmed; another chain extended in its place.
-Chaarrulk!
[You... bastard!!!]
The wraith gazed at the knight with trembling eyes. Not the foe—no, whoever dwelt within. Not the young mortal flesh, but its essence! Its gaze reached the chain's end on its body.
Eyes of the archmage who opened an era, ended it with his name. At magic's pinnacle. Facing them, the wraith shrank smaller.
-Exile.
The third hand's final seal cleaved like rending the sky. Mumto's gaze enveloping the village vanished cleanly. Combined, these formed great magic. [Pertass's Seizure].
Forcibly transferring a summon's ownership. The arms behind Feizashi flickered faintly, dissolving. The wraith collapsed with a scream-moan.
[Exiled... a great demon...?]
-Chaarrurluk!
Fernandez's left hand yanked the iridescent green-glowing iron chain. The shrunken wraith dragged helplessly at his gesture. It crawled, gasping.
-Thud.
Fernandez stomped its head, laughing.
"Now it's your turn to answer."
[...Why Necropolis's seal broke...?]
"No. What you're scheming here."
[If I tell, you'll let me go?]
"I can make it painless."
Fernandez glanced at his clotting abdomen, smiling. Demonica flesh was beastly indeed. Even wounds from Necropolis blade healed moment by moment.
[Whose devil servant are you? Pest King? Seven Crowns? Serpent Empress?]
"War God."
[Ha... Beitasser.]
The wraith sobbed. How did such a devil spawn here? It eyed the chains on its chest, slowly kneeling.
[The Roundtable was so close...]
The wraith sighed bitterly.
[Those who freed our seals—you humans call them the 'Buried Cult.' They pulled my lord from his seal to this cursed eastern backwater.]
"Your lord? Mumto freed from seal?"
[No, my lord is that one's fifth bishop.]
"Conclave! Necropolis Conclave freed in this era?"
[...You know much, mortal.]
The wraith showed brief wariness. But with domination chains bound, it couldn't lie to Fernandez's questions.
-Don't trust blindly. It can dodge answers.
Feizashi, reverted to ethereal, whispered beside him. Fernandez smirked. As if I'd blindly trust a Necropolis wraith. He tugged the chain.
"Fine. Their offer was obvious. Free Necropolis's great seal?"
[...Yes. And the price...]
"Disband the Roundtable?"
[No.]
The wraith laughed eerily.
[The Founding King's revival.]
Hearing that, Fernandez froze mid-swing. Sword raised, he stiffened.
"What?"
Someone beat me to that role?
*
Kirhas lay gasping on the ground, watching Fernandez fight. Overwhelming pressure and presence pinned her immobile.
She gazed up at him in awe. Handling the massive wraith—too mighty to challenge—with such skill... Like legendary heroes from her tribe's tales!
Fernandez subdued it effortlessly, pausing to converse. Words exchanged, but she couldn't follow.
Soon, he swung, tearing the wraith apart.
-Kwajik.
[Y-You promised mercy!]
"How do you grant life to the undead?"
Fernandez quipped smilingly.
[You filth!! My lord will punish you!]
-Kwajijik!
Shredding the last fragments, Fernandez smirked. So clichéd a final word. Propping on his sword, he slumped.
"Benefactor!!"
Kirhas shook off the pressure, rushing to embrace him. Shocked—his body burned hot!
"F-Fever! What do we do? Benefactor! Stay with me! Oh no, what now??"
"Don't fuss, Kirhas. It's nothing."
Fernandez twisted dry lips replying, trying to muster strength. He'd already diagnosed himself. Excessive blood loss, ethereal drain, organ rupture, compound fractures, lacerations, contusions—Demonica flesh overworked beyond limits to heal.
Fever mere side effect. I won't collapse from this. Fernandez thought hazily through fevered mind. Kirhas's fingers were cool. Felt good. If only she'd press his forehead more.
-Dudududu...
Distant galloping reached his foggy mind. Fernandez sighed deeply. No rest. Never had been. Slowly tensing, he straightened.
"Uh, benefactor?! You need rest!!"
"Hush, Kirhas. Just support me."
"...Pardon??"
He knelt one knee, placing sword reverse-grip before battle traces. Clouds parted, dawn rays shining. Perfectly, light pillar-framed his seated head.
"How many survivors nearby?"
Eyes closed, he whispered softly. Kirhas stammered amid panic.
"Villagers about seven, mercenaries two, merchant one, and that strange woman."
"Good. Plenty of witnesses."
-Dududududu.
Hooves neared. Fernandez steadied. To meet the king, he needed knightly poise.