Chapter 83
Chapter 83
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: Confrontation and Declaration (1)
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*
Cracks began to spiderweb across the solemn night sky bathed in moonlight. At first, just fine fissures, but soon like a shattered pane of glass laid over a painting, refracting the moonlight into twin beams descending to earth.
-Hwooooong...
Winds whipped into a frenzy. The citizens of the city noticed the anomaly the moment the streets and skies everywhere lit up bright. The light bent and scattered in wild reflections, igniting the white blaze of a midnight sun.
-Krummmble...
Knowing this was no ordinary occurrence, people gathered in small clusters on the streets, staring up at the sky. The heavens twisted and smeared like a child smearing paint across a canvas.
“Waaahhh...”
-Arf! Woof!
The city's folk whispered in hushed tones, eyes fixed skyward. Cries from startled children and the keening wails of small animals—far more attuned to their instincts than humans—swept through the streets.
Everyone felt it instinctively now. Something, some thing was coming. Like the warm, humid scent of rain before a typhoon's onslaught. Something akin to a natural disaster was descending upon the city.
*
Fernandez fell silent for a moment, glaring at the skeletal remains that radiated deathly mana. Even the dark green mana stones dimmed in the face of its overwhelming power.
The skeleton maintained its seated posture, simply gazing down at Fernandez. Blue soulfire flickered in its sockets.
[I sense a familiar aura. No, a complex one. Petitioner, do you know the Fifth Pillar?]
“Papftet is dead.”
-Shing.
Fernandez raised his greatsword, pointing it at the skeleton.
[The dead cannot be killed again. Papftet, that foolish young wraith, must have vanished as uselessly as ever.]
The skeleton's eye sockets turned toward Fernandez's blade. It shifted its posture and slowly descended to stand on the floor. Towering a full head taller than Fernandez.
[And beyond that fool, I sense much more. Intriguing.]
Combat was inevitable. Until he gauged its abilities, he needed to get Kirhas and Abel out of harm's way. Fernandez whispered to Sadia.
“Sadia. My companions should be at the pyramid entrance right now...”
Before he could finish, Fernandez's head snapped up. Beyond the deep underground mana stone veins and the powerful presence of the Conclave wraith. Faint traces of writhing magic stirred from high above in the distant sky.
Fernandez's eyes gleamed deep blue. Amid the maelstrom of mana swirling through the pyramid's interior, he sensed an alien energy.
If he could feel it down here, then the surface by now... Fernandez let out a low chuckle. The inorganic mana aftertaste unique to the Imperial School of Destruction Magic. Its presence now meant one thing.
Pieces clicked together in his mind, stacking neatly into clarity.
‘It was a trap.’
-Ironside's goal wasn't just breaking the Necropolis seal.
‘Unseal the Necropolis and sow chaos in the rear lines... A solid ploy. Letting those legions rampage behind the front lines would be devastating.’
-Assuming they didn't overlook any variables.
Feizashi gazed at the sky with a twisted grin. Fernandez mirrored it with a smirk of his own.
‘Right. Excluding the variable of us, it's a solid ploy.’
If the Necropolis legions appeared behind the front lines, Kirzart would face a two-front war in an instant. Strike during that opening, and the Empire's offensive couldn't be stopped.
Ironside's scheme was to set the stage for the unleashed Necropolis to run wild—a clean borrow-a-knife-to-kill ploy.
Excluding the part where Fernandez was the sacrificial pawn. An excellent scheme otherwise.
“Sadia, take my companions and fall back now.”
“...Understood.”
Sadia swallowed hard, watching Fernandez read the mana flows. She couldn't sense anything beyond that undead pharaoh's power, but Fernandez's gaze pierced far beyond.
Under the strange pressure, she answered without thinking and bolted away. Once she vanished, Fernandez turned to the undead waiting patiently before him.
[Done with your antics?]
“I propose a truce. Conclave.”
[Ho?]
The undead shrugged with evident interest. The grave goods orbiting it swayed with the motion.
[To propose to me... Bold. I like it. But impossible.]
The grave goods drifting near the undead traced bizarre shapes in the air. The skeleton cackled, its soulfire blazing blue. Its bony fingers twisted, carving mudras into the void.
[I am Altarak, King of Mahras. Who dares propose to me? Who dares ignore my decree? Mortal, petitioner. Are you worthy to parley with me?]
-Hwooooong!!
Immense pressure bound Fernandez's limbs. Mana that stirred primal terror of death and instinctive yearning for life. Fernandez stood frozen, sword still aimed, and sighed. A peaceful truce was off the table.
“Worthy, you say.”
Conclave, Conclave... Fine. Even if it took a detour. Amid the numbing pressure, Fernandez twisted his blade tip. Mana torrents surged along the edge, coiling up his forearm. His left hand, behind his back, slowly formed mudras.
The two mages' gazes locked. Their eras long faded. But as powerhouses who once walked this world. If purposes remained as in those days. Then seize victory by force alone!
“Let us parley, then.”
With those words, Fernandez and Altarak's mudras slashed the air in unison.
*
-Kabooom!!
Moments after Sadia fled the chamber like her life depended on it, vibrations erupted from within, shaking the pyramid. She fought the urge to look back and sprinted down the corridor.
Why run? The Necropolis Conclave—five priests from legends forgotten since Upper Asit times. To face such powerhouses, shouldn't they join forces instead?
‘Or does he see me as a burden...?’
She wasn't frontline combat material. Backroom ops, assassinations, sabotage, intel gathering, opinion shaping... Administrative work for the dirty jobs the Sultan couldn't touch. But, but.
As a trained mage and long-serving Shaxisi agent. That stung her pride. She bit her lip.
-Kabooom!!!
“Kyaa!!”
A fierce shockwave slammed into her from behind, sending her tumbling. Her knees scraped bloody. Ankle sprained, probably. Grimacing, she clutched the throbbing joint.
‘Am I really that useless?’
Never once belittled herself since joining Shaxisi. No flashy feats like the Immortal Battalion, but she was the Sultan's blade. The Sultan's blade! As she rose shakily, a shadow fell right before her eyes.
“You alright?”
A clear voice rang out. Looking up, she met stunning turquoise eyes. The young beastkin squire that knight dragged around.
“...Your master sent a message.”
“Speak it.”
A voice like song drifted from behind the beastkin. Strange, archaic diction. Soon, lustrous golden locks filled Sadia's vision. Pale white fingers appeared before her.
“Stand first.”
Cool, delicate fingers grasped Sadia's hand. Sturdy strength pulled her up. Dizzy with shock, she stared at her rescuer.
Eyes gleaming blue, porcelain jaw, soft golden hair spilling like sunset wheat fields... A serene, classic beauty straight out of a child's picture book.
“Come now, child. Deliver the message.”
“Are you Albert's comrade?”
“Comrade? Hm. Not quite yet. Just comrades for now.”
The woman smiled with a subtle expression.
“Call me Abel.”
“I'm Sadia Amal... Ah, this isn't the time. We need to leave now!”
Abel glanced down the long corridor toward the chamber where Fernandez waited. Vibrations shaking the pyramid, viscous mana churning the air. Murderous intent.
Abel soon shook her head with a gentle smile.
“How could I do that again?”
“...?”
“Isn't that right, Kirhas?”
“Yes, Abel. Can't let it happen twice.”
Even the beastkin girl Sadia had pegged as naive nodded with a grin. They brushed past her, advancing into the corridor.
Straight into the deathly aura radiating from the Conclave. Into the place Sadia had fled like a charmed fool. As if death held no terror for them.
‘Do they not know what dying means?’
Impossible. Only those who survived death's brink could even step into this ruin's entrance. Dazed, Sadia watched them stride toward the corridor booming with explosions.
*
‘Feizashi, tell me the bronze throne's remaining uses.’
-Do I look like your assistant?
Feizashi grumbled but dutifully held up three fingers. Fernandez sidelong-glanced them while weaving his incantation.
Black mana swirled around Altarak's form, linking. Upper Asit incantations—unknown to him, surely—
All paths converge to one. Ten thousand flows return to source? No, better: convergent evolution. And as a mage standing at that convergence's end, Fernandez traced the spell's pulse with seasoned precision.
Altarak's first mudra: destruction, aggregation, binding. Forming three almost simultaneously, manipulating that mana without losing finesse—impressive. A master mage.
So, match his caliber. Fernandez's lips curled upward. How he'd craved a duel at this level.
This omnipotence.
‘Ah, perfect.’
Counter to destruction: creation. Aggregation becomes distortion, and binding... yes. Binding's inverse is still binding. Fernandez's mudras snapped into place, then unraveled.
Like a surgeon's scalpel. Zero margin for error, zero hesitation.
Perfectly timed, never losing the rhythm.
[Keeping pace with me...?]
“Now it's your turn to keep up.”
True swordmasters' duels lack flash. Showy swordplay is for amateurs. Masters read foes' moves, counter, prepare reprisals, and the next reprisals beyond.
Mages' battles mirror this. Spot mudras, predict spells, prepare counters. Like a swordsman's parry, track precise spell-counting visually, or sense via mana.
Thus, neither Fernandez nor Altarak manifested any magic. One prepped a spell, the other readied its antithesis. Their mana unraveled before knots could form.
Battles demanding reflexes, mana sense, and innate combat genius.
In that vague ‘sense,’ Fernandez—no, Feizashi of old—had never once lost.
[...This bastard!]
Altarak groaned. Fernandez, who'd only checked his spells till now, began an unfamiliar mudra. First strike stolen!
-Two left. Fernandez.
‘Enough.’
To counter Altarak's spell, he'd used one of the bronze throne's three permitted chances. Fernandez whispered without pausing his hands.