Chapter 21
Chapter 21
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: The Indefinite Contractor Fights the Barbarian Elites (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dust and snow swirled like a storm around the collapsed buildings.
The impact of the massive wyverns crashing into the ground was terrifying.
City buildings shook, and icicles plummeted down.
People hiding underground screamed their lungs out.
With no idea what was happening, all sorts of grim imaginings filled their minds.
To forget their fears and cling to hope, the people offered prayers to the goddess.
"Goddess, protect Kazan."
"Please, safeguard my husband."
Had their prayers been answered?
The ground stopped shaking.
How much time passed with everyone holding their breath?
"Kuoohhh!!!"
"Eek!"
"Waaah! Mommy!!!"
A scream unlike any they'd ever heard rang out—a horrific, gut-wrenching wail that sent chills down spines and made them want to go deaf on the spot.
"Goddess!"
"Goddess!"
What fresh hell was unfolding on the surface?
To shake off the dreadful thoughts, the people prayed even more fervently.
Hoping the goddess would answer their pleas.
They had no idea.
That it wasn't the goddess who had responded to their prayers… but a devil.
"A-Are they dead?"
"Fallen from that height? No way they survived."
"I-I know that, but…"
The soldiers arriving at the wyvern pack's crash site kept their distance, eyes fixed on the building rubble.
The soldiers gulped nervously.
A three-story building had collapsed entirely.
Proof they'd fallen from a great height—and that kind of impact should have killed them by all logic.
But their enemies weren't creatures subject to common sense.
"Grrrrowl!"
"Damn it! Eating a hit from some debris trick like that!"
"Gasp!"
A shadow rose from the dust.
Artificial wind pressure blew the dust away, revealing an unscathed foe.
The wyvern crawled out from the wreckage, scales split and wings torn, yet radiating even greater menace.
The wyvern riders were no exception.
"Report!"
"Four minor injuries! Two serious! Combat-ready!"
"Do it!"
"Yes!"
The wounded wyvern riders pulled out leather pouches and bit into them.
Traditional potions from the tribe's shamans rapidly healed the injured warriors' bodies.
Wyverns and barbarian warriors alike were back in fighting shape.
The soldiers were stunned, but a knight's shout snapped them back.
"Get it together! They're just coming at us like they always do!"
"Fallen from that height! They must be seriously hurt! That's all bluff! Bluff!"
"Wyvern combat unit!"
"Hurry the ballistae transport!"
The knights clicked their tongues.
Unlike the soldiers, they knew the enemy intel cold.
Wyverns.
Monsters that even hunted ogres—top-tier beasts called mountain lords—in packs of two.
Records told of them tanking a club swing from ogre superhuman strength without dying in one hit.
A mere fall wouldn't inflict major damage.
Same for the riders.
To handle wyverns that saw anything weaker as prey, you had to earn their respect as the stronger one.
Thus, wyvern riders were at minimum great warriors skilled in mana control.
Mana beasts that devoured ogres, ridden by knight-level powerhouses swinging weapons.
Now they had to fight those monsters.
Hands gripping weapons grew slick with cold sweat.
"Fear not! We're Kazan's knights!"
"Slay the wyverns! Defend Kazan!"
The knights drew swords; soldiers raised shields and spears.
Not fully over their terror, but resolve hardened their eyes with courage.
"Charge! Fight! Win!"
"Waaah!!!"
"You filthy bugs dare! Kill them all!"
"Kuooh!"
Both sides roared battle cries and charged.
Completely unaware a black mage waiting for this moment lurked nearby.
"OK. They're hooked."
"Die."
"Huh?"
"Grrr?"
The black mage thrust his hand skyward.
Black light surged up.
A black star suddenly bloomed in the sky, captivating all eyes.
The black star reaped souls like the Grim Reaper swinging his scythe.
Daniel arrived near the wyvern pack's forced landing site and unhesitatingly blasted open the door of a nearby house with magic.
-Boom!
"Who's there!?"
"Not barbarians. It's me. Me."
"S-Sir Daniel?"
The soldiers inside gawked, crossbows in hand.
They'd likely been lying in ambush to snipe any approaching barbarians.
"Perfect timing. Lend me a hand."
"W-What do you mean, sir?"
"I'm going to blast the wyverns with a spell to kill them."
"…!"
"So I need to requisition a horse. Permission granted?"
"…"
The soldiers exchanged glances and nodded.
Any ordinary mage would've made them hesitate.
But this one was different.
Four weeks of nonstop night shifts, plus downing wyverns—those feats built trust and credit with the troops.
"I'll guide you. This way."
Daniel followed the soldier outside.
A warhorse stood tied at the nearby cavalry stable.
"Use this one."
"Perfect. Ideal sacrifice."
"Sacrifice?"
The soldier blinked in confusion.
He'd assumed Daniel wanted the horse to ride like a cavalryman while casting.
Wrong.
Daniel hadn't sought the soldiers' permission to use the horse.
To consume it.
"Forgot to mention."
Daniel extended his hand toward the horse.
"The easiest way to kill a monster? Turn yourself into one just as vicious. Life Drain."
"Hiihihihiing!!!!"
"Gasp!!!"
The soldier clapped a hand over his mouth.
Dozens of crimson streams erupted from the horse's body, sucked into Daniel's left hand.
In under ten seconds, the horse keeled over, breath gone.
Its desiccated corpse resembled a mummy.
"Report it requisitioned from above. Later."
Left hand glowing red, Daniel cast flight magic and vanished into the sky.
The soldier stared back and forth between the departed mage and the dead horse, then slumped to the ground.
"Did a ghost possess me?"
The soldier, enthralled by the black mage, blinked rapidly.
Why are black mages so powerful?
Ask a Magic Tower mage, and they'll all say the same:
"Because of black mana, which only black mages can wield."
People ask: What's black mana? Explain simply.
The mage replies:
"Think of spells as fire, mana as fuel. Black mana is fuel mixed with additives."
"How's that make black magic stronger?"
"Huge difference. Regular mana gives 10 firepower; black mana gives 20."
"Whoa, big gap. Why don't other mages use it?"
"Simple. Black mana is refined only via Life Drain, a spell exclusive to black mages contracted with devils. And even then, it's barely usable."
"Why?"
"Life Drain steals life force. The 'additive' for black mana? Life force from living beings."
"Gasp!"
"Magic powered by others' lives. That's why black magic's so strong. Why black mages are called vile spellcasters—cheating the proper path like us upright folk."
A nearby black mage overhearing would explode:
"What narrow-minded bullshit! Think black mana guarantees easy casting just 'cause of firepower? Controlling it ain't handed down by ancestors!"
Black mana's explosive power is real.
But controlling it is another beast.
Especially top-tier black magic fueled solely by black mana.
Bluntly: No top-tier black spell ranks below A-grade difficulty (aka otherworldly hell for mages).
One tiny mistake, and runaway black mana triggers a catastrophic explosion threatening the caster.
Thus, top-tier black magic demands exquisite precision and focus.
And here was a madman trying to cast one smack in the chaotic battlefield heart.
-Woooong!!!
"Tch. Still a bitch to handle."
On a rooftop near the collapsed building.
Daniel clicked his tongue and began refining black mana.
Life energy in his left hand fused with his body's mana, slowly turning black.
'Just the right amount of mana left.'
Dark Flame Rain demanded massive black mana.
For Daniel, about 70% of his total mana converted.
Before arriving, he'd burned 30% on Imp hordes, Lunatic Flame, and flight magic.
Normally, he'd lack the mana to cast.
But not now.
"Scamming that Half Dragon Heart was the best."
Mana spent on Imps wasn't his.
The artifact's.
-Flash!
All remaining mana squeezed into black mana, forming a massive magic circle on the rooftop per his incantation.
The circle pulsed ominously, devouring black mana.
'Read the flow, match the weave.'
Daniel focused.
Black mana rearing like a wild stallion; the circle gulping it greedily, on the verge of overload.
Dark Flame Rain required controlling both simultaneously.
Without godlike mana control and supreme focus, failure was guaranteed.
Failure meant mana explosion endangering the caster.
'I can do it. I know I can!'
Daniel didn't flinch.
He was certain.
I can master this perfectly.
Titania's training words flashed: 'Trust your instincts. When you feel mana instead of think it, that's when a mage becomes an archmage.'
Mana control honed through brutal training.
Confidence from four weeks of marshmallow bliss.
Battle-honed instincts from eight years in the Foreign Legion.
All converged, birthing black magic amid the battlefield.
"Done."
Daniel eyed the basketball-sized black orb in his left hand, then the field.
The wyvern pack looked fine, as expected.
No sign they'd spotted him, but he held fire.
Instinct whispered: Not yet.
He trusted it.
"Charge! Fight! Win!"
"Waaah!"
Opportunity struck in under five minutes.
The moment all barbarian attention locked on foes ahead!
Daniel unleashed his all-or-nothing strike.
-Boom!
Black flames scattered everywhere.
The black orb rocketed skyward and detonated like fireworks powder.
Splitting into dozens, hundreds of fiery clumps, they fluttered like snowflakes before raining down on the wyverns.
For the Steel Scale Tribe, always the sky predators, being ambushed from above was a first.
The enemy couldn't dodge.
-Sizzle!
"Kuoohhh!!!"
"Aaaargh!"
Screams tore at eardrums.
A veteran knight who'd fought Steel Scales for twenty years paled.
"Wyverns… can wyverns scream like that?"
Hellfire birthed inferno hell.
Wyvern scales that withstood knightly lance and sword melted away.
Flesh pulped, bones liquefied.
Wyverns writhed in agony, burned alive.
"Kraaak!"
"Aaaack! Someone! Get this fire off me! Fire! Fiiiire!!!!"
"Save me! Somebody saaaave meee!!!"
Wyvern riders screamed.
Black magic scorching even wyverns.
Human flesh stood no chance.
Great warriors perished one by one amid full-body inferno.
Even those dodging the flame barrage couldn't relax.
"Gaaargh!"
-Crunch!
A rider thrown by his thrashing mount got crushed under another flailing wyvern.
Barbarian great warriors—rivals even to sword-aura knights—met pathetic ends in droves.
"I-Impossible."
Kudan felt trapped in a nightmare.
His loyal subordinates, the tribe's pride wyverns, died pointlessly, futilely, gruesomely, disgracefully.
This wasn't the honorable battle he'd envisioned.
This was disaster.
A massacre by falling fire shower.
His body trembled.
Like this… he felt like the weak one?
"Don't make me laugh! I'm the strong one! Highland's mightiest warrior! To some puny mage…!"
-Crack!
"Huh?"
Kudan wore a dumb expression.
He'd planned to kill the mage behind this hell.
But… why was his axe-holding right arm gone?
"Kyaaa!!!"
"Kuwaaah!!!"
"Ah."
Flying wyvern heads surrounded him.
Kudan's vision blackened.
"Kyaaa!"
"Kiaaa!"
"What the hell!"
"Fuck! Stop it! Stop, you crazy bastards!"
"Kyaaoo!"
"Kraaak!!!"
-Crunch!
Wounded wyverns lost reason.
Thrashing, they attacked kin; enraged kin bared fangs with roars.
Here, barbarians died to wyverns—hell realm!
Here, wyverns devoured wyverns—slaughterhouse!
Blood, screams, flames tangled in kin-slaying chaos.
In the blood frenzy of mutual mauling, wyverns and warriors fell one by one.
"Grrrowl…"
"Keee…"
Flames died down.
No Steel Scale Tribe remained.
Only three wyverns clung to life, barely.
No one spoke, viewing a battlefield where anything breathing was as good as dead.
Knights, soldiers—even Rood, just arrived—gaped.
Someone muttered:
"Steel Scale Tribe… annihilated."
Unreal.
Dream or reality? Indistinguishable.
But the charred stench filling the air.
Wyvern corpses burned and bitten.
Great warriors shattered and pulped.
These screamed this absurd reality was true.
"Cough, cough! Ugh, gonna die. Mana exhaustion after forever. This."
The hero behind the miracle coughed into view.
Pale-faced under all eyes, but grinning triumphantly.
"You came, Sir Rood. Good. Is the Archduke safe?"
"Y-Yes. But this…"
"Does it need explaining?"
Daniel smirked, raising a victory fist.
"Just feel it. We won."
"…!!!"
Simple words thawed frozen minds.
Victory? Victory! VICTORY!!!
Cheers erupted.
Shouts to shake the northern eternal ice.
Victory's roar.
In the North, knights stake lives to block foes and defend cities—true powerhouses.
To earn knight status, prove your strength.
Shield arts, swordsmanship, horsemanship, command… or magic.
Daniel was no longer the jokingly dubbed Sir Daniel.
This moment, all acknowledged:
A new knight born in Kazan!