Chapter 60

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Ace

Chapter: 60

Chapter Title: The Succubus in the Magic Circle

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Ian wasn't some kind of demon-hunting prodigy.

If he were, he would've rooted out and slaughtered every demon lurking in the human realm ages ago instead of sitting around twiddling his thumbs.

But Ian had a demon energy detector.

A top-tier one at that, powered by a holy spirit and the soul of a "Hidden Saintess."

And that detector was constantly scanning the target.

Lara chattered nonstop, but Ian didn't respond. He couldn't. Using message magic in front of a court mage would give away that he was having a secret conversation with someone.

Lara was the exception, though. Her fairy magic didn't follow standard magical hierarchies.

Thanks to that, he could hear her whispers even with a high-ranking mage right in front of him.

'If only I could use the Mind Link skill.'

The Mind Link skill wasn't one Ian currently possessed. It was a research reward from completing his ongoing "Collective Soul ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Network" project.

As the name implied, it connected minds directly. Unlike message magic, it used no mana, required no speaking—just pure thought—and was utterly convenient.

Plus, unlike message magic, there was no risk of eavesdropping. How perfect would that be?

'Once I catch this demon bastard, I need to wrap up that research.'

"Anyway, it's great to see you again. I'm thrilled we keep crossing paths like this. Heh heh heh."

"Yes, the feeling's mutual. Do you know how honored I am to work alongside a brilliant young talent like you, Ian?"

"You're too kind. The honor is all mine. To stand shoulder-to-shoulder with a pillar of the empire's magical academia—what greater glory could a mage ask for?"

"Pillar of academia? Oh, no. I'm only thirty-two."

"Really? I had no idea. I thought you were younger than me."

"Hoho, such a tease. You know that's not true."

They strolled through the garden, chatting idly. As the conversation warmed up, they moved to a nearby annex for tea and snacks, diving into deeper gossip.

The talk centered on magic: current research trends, popular spell schools, what imperial magic trainees were learning these days.

Ian wasn't particularly enjoying it. He was a mage, but not a passionate one.

He could've talked alchemy all day, even with a demon.

Oh well. He played along as best he could. Ian usually ignored ladies and such, but he was making an extra effort this time.

Over an hour in, and the mood was still cheerful—a testament to his work.

"I never knew you were so easy to talk to, Ian. I should've approached you sooner."

"Same here. I'd heard of Lady Siena's sharp insights, but not to this degree."

"What? Are you saying I seemed dumb before?"

"No, of course not. Your knowledge rivals a tower master's—that's why I'm impressed."

"Aw, you're flattering me. Oh, by the way, do you belong to any gatherings or clubs, Ian?"

"Clubs?"

"Yes, social ones."

Ian blinked in confusion.

What club?

"No, nothing like that. No connections."

"That's no good. A holder of the Imperial Radiant Medal and court mage needs networks. People will talk if you act all aloof."

"Is that so?"

"Absolutely. Perfect timing, then. Why not join my magic research society?"

"Pardon? Magic research society?"

"Yes. It's a social club for nobility interested in magic—I host it. Wouldn't it be wonderful if someone as esteemed as you graced us?"

The words hit Ian like a bolt.

'That's it.'

He got it.

'I feel it. The vibe.'

Multi-level marketing. Or cultish.

"Would it be okay for me to join?"

"Of course! I'd love to have you. Everyone will be thrilled. Great!"

Watching Siena beam, Ian thought:

'Magic research society, my ass. It's a black magic cult.'

Ian despised MLMs.

So he planned to dismantle this MLM peddler.

But only after securing solid proof.

Ian received an immediate invite to Siena's so-called magic research society and attended the very next day.

"You look so dashing in that. You've transformed into quite the striking figure."

"Thank you. I'm at a loss."

"Hehe. Come in. Everyone's waiting for you, Ian."

The venue was a noble club called the "Arcanum Circle."

A typical social spot, but with a twist: it housed a large magic lab.

They probably discussed magic there and partied next door.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Everyone, give a warm welcome to Court Mage Ian. No strangers here, right?"

From there, it was standard social fare.

Applause for the newcomer, Ian's introduction, seating, small talk to heat things up.

Nothing different from the gatherings he'd seen before.

The trouble started after drinks and food loosened everyone up.

"Alright, now that the mood's right, shall we get to the main event?"

"Yes!"

"Come on, Ian, join us over here. Don't just stand there gawking."

A noble pulled Ian toward the lab. Maybe the booze, but the grip was bold.

Once seated, Siena stepped forward like a lecturer. Ian frowned.

'Why debate magic after heavy drinking? Shouldn't it be the other way around?'

Half the room was sloshed. How do you discuss magic like that?

Even experts? Absurd. Something else was afoot.

'And they got drunk too fast. Doesn't add up. The drinks weren't that strong.'

Everything looked suspicious now. Ian's suspicions solidified. But he held back, watching.

Curious what they'd do after getting everyone boozed up.

"First, everyone, let's pray."

'Pray?'

Prayer? Out of nowhere?

They mimed it anyway.

Siena's low voice echoed, and Ian's spine chilled.

-Lara. Now.

-Got it!

A blinding holy light flooded the room.

"Eek? What... what's happening?!"

"What do you think? This."

Crash!

"Kyaaah!"

The dark red gem on Siena's pendant shattered, revealing her true form.

"Kyaaaaah! It hurts! Stop, what...!"

Siena convulsed. Ian flicked his fingers.

Two wind blades sliced clean through Siena's neck.

Thwack!

Her head flew, eyes wide, hit the floor, and rolled. A pathetic end, but Ian wasn't celebrating. He knew she wouldn't die that easily.

Sure enough, the severed head stared at him and spoke.

"How did you know?"

"How? You reeked of it."

"Impossible. No saint or saintess could break Master's veil... Wait, are you a saint?"

"Huh?"

"So that's it!"

"I'm not a saint."

'It was Lara's holy magic.'

Come to think of it, she hadn't seen Lara.

She was in his pocket.

"Grrgh!"

The head gnashed its teeth. Ian shook his head. Ghastly sight.

A talking severed head.

'Eww, creepy. Straight out of a horror flick.'

"How did you escape mental bondage?"

"Mental bondage? This?"

Ian spat something out. A tiny bug, smaller than a tenth of a fingernail.

He crushed it and clicked his tongue.

"No wonder it felt off. Everyone got drunk too quick for those drinks. This trick."

When must've it happened? Only one way.

'Parasite in the booze.'

Ian knew it: Belmos. A demon realm parasite that shrank itself.

Only one demon used parasites like powers.

'Beelzebub's minion.'

Now it all made sense.

"N-No way. That's Master's power. Not so easily..."

"No need to hear more. Die."

"W-Wait! Hear me out!"

"Nah. More tricks? Lara, finish it."

-Yes! Die, demon scum!

A massive hammer materialized in the air. A holy light hammer plummeted down.

Splat!

The demon's head exploded flat.

'Wow, clean kill.'

Lara had grown strong. One-shotting like that.

Even if not combat-oriented, impressive.

'Succubus, huh.'

Explains the all-male crowd.

"Good job, Lara."

-Hehehe.

"Our Lara's the best."

Ian rubbed his hands. The survivors blinked in confusion as the alcohol haze lifted, but he didn't care.

The dark red soulstone in his hand twitched like it wanted to flee.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Into the inventory it went.

The twitching stopped.

'Inventory: invincible security.'

He also picked up the shattered pendant.

Demon down, loot secured.

Felt like real work for once. Good mood.

'This is work-life balance.'

Work moderately, rest moderately. Perfect.

Beelzebub's face hardened. From sensing his minion's death?

No—from the soul not returning.

'Asmodeus was right? A minion's soul not recovering? Thought it was a lie.'

His expression grew grave. Minions were power. Losing one permanently was dire.

Losing power was death to a demon.

'What's happening in the human realm?'

Beelzebub rose from his throne.

'Time to investigate.'

His curiosity burned.