Violet Death
Violet Death
"...What the hell is that bastard Purple doing right now?"
Blue of Defense furrowed his brow as he stared at Purple.
Because, despite having arrogantly volunteered to lead the charge, the Demon King hadn't even been grazed, yet Purple stood there with fingers rendered useless.
"Well, obviously... he's trying to get the Demon King to reveal his hand."
Green, who had momentarily halted the barrier's restoration, replied. After all, none of them here knew the Demon King's abilities in detail. There was a difference between 'inferring' from Purple's research and actually witnessing it unfold before their eyes.
It was akin to a reconstruction drawing of an extinct creature.
A reconstruction based on bones alone sometimes differs from the original animal. Even if one traced the core principles upward, no one knew if that was truly the fundamental ability.
Purple, the one with the highest probability, had stepped forward.
Because their types were as similar as possible, he was the one who could at least force the Demon King to show his hand.
Purple's aim from the beginning was not the subjugation of the Demon King.
Because that role had been given to White and Red.
"If that's the case, he should have been more aggressive."
"In that case... Blue could just go out there now, couldn't he?"
Green was essentially pulling a 'if you're jealous, you do it' routine.
Blue didn't reply to those words and remained silent.
"...Who do you think is maintaining the defensive magic?"
"But... as a Tower Master, can't you do both at the same time?"
The preface was muddled, but those words became a hidden dagger.
But Blue couldn't deny Green's words.
Because Blue was in a situation where he couldn't step forward right now.
'...What the hell is that black mist made of?'
The Fog of Decay that corroded everything the moment it touched.
He was concentrating all his nerves on protecting the castle walls from it, and that focus didn't stop at the walls. It extended to every soldier who had yet to return.
He couldn't step forward until the stage was set.
And the same went for Green. He was taking a brief rest to replenish the mana drained from restoring the barrier, but he was still in a daze, using his surplus mana intermittently to heal those who hadn't managed to evade the decay in time.
The rear lines were just as fierce as the front.
And then the focus returned to the front lines.
Red and White launched a ceaseless combined assault.
This was their first time coordinating, but they were Tower Masters who had already reached a state of enlightenment. Even without deliberate practice, they could easily intertwine their magic seamlessly.
So that Purple wouldn't be bitten to death, White endlessly fired flaming arrows, incinerating the undead that rushed at Purple.
But their numbers were endless. Enough to be considered a legion, perhaps even more. The accumulated grudges of every era of humanity that had fallen upon the land of the Ottoman Empire began to take form and move.
It was merely troublesome.
Because no matter how much a Tower Master they were, their mana wasn't infinite.
The concern was that if they used up all their mana on long-range support, there might be none left for the actual subjugation.
'...He's probably thinking the same thing, right?'
The one in the most difficult position was Purple, standing before the Demon King.
Even if their abilities were of a similar type, their very nature was different. The one feeling the greatest handicap in the current situation, unable to sever even a single thread of the fate that had been tied, was himself.
But he couldn't afford to retreat.
'The stage has been roughly set.'
As soon as he perceived that there were no living beings nearby, he manifested his unique magic on the spot.
Regrettably, even that was similar to the Demon King's.
Purple's mist bloomed from within the black mist.
Unique Magic, Purple Poison Defeat Death (紫毒敗死).
An incurable poison that killed indiscriminately, friend or foe.
A deadly poison to which only the Purple Tower Master himself was immune spread out. A single drop was enough to melt and kill even a building-sized monster.
The Demon King before his eyes didn't even flinch at that poison.
He had expected it.
But he had hoped it would at least make him cough.
The Demon King reached out a hand as if nothing had happened—a command, because it was too much trouble to seize him with his own hands.
"It wasn't only aimed at you, Master."
But even if it didn't reach the Demon King, it definitely reached the undead around him and those being created, for it was a deadly poison potent enough to kill even the already dead.
As long as Purple didn't die—or even if he did—that infectious, deadly poison would continue to spread, perfectly halting the Demon King's endlessly resurrecting army.
The only problem was that it didn't work on the Demon King.
"...You're making me use my own hands."
He could feel this land being contaminated. He could feel the worst deadly poison melting even the remains of those sleeping deep within the earth.
So, for now, he decided to unfurl about two more wings.
The Demon King revealed a second wing to the world—the same wing he had used to kill the Sultan. Magnanimously, the Demon King deemed the being before him worthy of that level.
In reality, that was not the case at all.
'...Seriously, I bet he's got a third one, too.'
He wondered where the limit was. The unclean number in the scriptures was six—did that mean he had six wings? If so, did this abyssal power represent about thirty percent of his full strength?
Subjugation seemed utterly impossible.
Still, a mage was a being who challenged the impossible. A being who explored truths that were out of reach and approached them. For the sake of his past self, who had once felt ecstasy upon witnessing the being that had achieved that paradoxical state before his eyes, he could not retreat.
That thought process took roughly 0.25 seconds.
By the time Purple, having composed his heart in that fleeting moment, finished his flashback and returned to reality, a brutish grasp formed by the Demon King's shadow, carrying decay, approached to crush Purple's existence.
Purple instinctively sensed the danger.
He quickly began to cast a spell.
He created purple hands similar to his own.
But slightly differently, white chains rose up around them. White's mana, imitating holiness, moved in a pre-arranged combination. It was the white chains and Purple's hands that seized the Demon King's arm.
He had no intention of fighting one-on-one in the first place. When you have no teeth, you use your gums. Without a Saint, he planned to buy time by borrowing the power of White, the Tower Master who was a fake saint playing the role.
"...Do not insult Solomon."
The moment the Demon King uttered those words, Purple's chest was crushed. Simultaneously, black thorns burst forth from his body as if exploding, piercing holes through Purple's form and rotting him.
"A mere thief dares to imitate a king?"
A cold fury filled the space. As Purple coughed up blood and gradually lost consciousness, he raised his middle finger at the death approaching him, blaspheming against it.
How long did you spend striking a pose just to die?
"The imitation was not done by me, Master."
So sneering, Purple, having overcome death, raised his body. Actually, he had never truly died, but he wanted to look cool, so he brainwashed himself into thinking, 'I just overcame death.'
Thanks to a technique mimicking a lich's life vessel, his body could move even without a heart. As long as the heart hidden in the secret space of his Magic Tower wasn't crushed, Purple would not die easily.
"The one imitating the Saint was White."
He conjured mana of a different color from before. Of course, it didn't hold much real meaning. It was just a performance to make it look like he had as many tricks as possible. He figured that might prompt the Demon King to try something.
When trying to exploit the over-interpretation that arose between an elephant and an ant due to the sheer power gap.
"You followed after me. That is also displeasing."
The Demon King, his brow slightly furrowed, genuinely loathed Purple. He poured power into killing that clown, and it was just as Purple's wild instincts were about to read and react to it.
Unfortunately, it was the type of magic where reading it after activation was too late.
Two Hands of Illusion seized Purple's head. The Hands of Illusion, which grasped the essence of the soul in that location, had caught Purple's very spirit.
Even if he tried to flee, it was already too late.
"...Heheh, I'm screwed."
Purple laughed self-deprecatingly.
At the same time, the two hands twisted Purple's neck. The gruesome sound of neck bones and muscles being crushed echoed out.
A flustered Red and White, who had coordinated beforehand, rushed to aid him. But Purple's head had already bid farewell to his body.
Still, his body continued to writhe.
Just as it was trying to form a seal and complete a technique, something pressed down on Purple's body.
With a heavy, squelching sound, Purple's body began to be crushed. His corpse twisted grotesquely under the existential weight and pressure of the illusory being. Unfiltered, as if displaying the sight of a person being pressed to death, his skin, bones, and muscles were pulverized, and Purple's blood and internal organs began to burst out from the holes they created.
Eventually, having reached the limit of its elasticity, Purple's corpse stopped writhing and was hideously contorted, taking on the appearance of dried jerky.
It was a life that was not perfect.
Nevertheless, it was not without its harvest.
Because they were Tower Masters possessing both talent and experience.
Through that short yet overwhelming exchange of offense and defense, they had gleaned some information.
First, magic did not work on the Demon King.
Except for White's magic, no other magic could deal a direct blow. They had finished their calculations that the best course was to combine and jointly attack, using White's magic as the core.
Second, the Demon King could launch invisible attacks.
Though they didn't know where they came from, the Demon King could control illusory beings with mass. Those beings could touch not only the physical body but the essence beyond it.
Third, the Demon King's magic could not be dispelled or destroyed.
Even Purple, the Tower Master who had considerable expertise in Heaven-defying (逆天) magic, could not annul the contract of the undead created by the Demon King. For magic already formed and in effect, evasion was the best course.
Besides that, there was decay, the amplification of desire, and the freedom of magic's manifestation point.
They had roughly identified six characteristics.
But knowing them didn't mean they could win. No matter how much he thought about it, that being possessed abilities far beyond those. Even the tip of the iceberg was immense; merely gauging the size of the iceberg submerged beneath the sea was terrifying.
It was then that Blue spoke up.
"I'm next."
He felt the Demon King approaching.
There was no time to dilly-dally.
Blue swiftly launched his body forward, approaching the Demon King.
Without even a moment to mourn Purple's death, Blue was thrown into the battlefield.
Of course, it wasn't an emotional choice.
Rather, it was a rational choice, the calculations having been finished.
There were four Tower Masters with the will to confront the Demon King.
White and Red, Purple and Blue.
But Purple was currently out.
Red and White needed to conserve their strength for the crucial moment. If so, the only one who could engage in a war of attrition with the Demon King right now was himself. And he had already reached a prior agreement with Green.
The Magic Country's strongest shield—a synthesis of enhancement and defense—threw himself into the fray to fill the vacancy.
*
"Puhwaaah!"
Purple opened his eyes inside a resurrection coffin that mimicked a life vessel.
He had submerged himself in a chemical solution prepared to partially preserve him, keeping his secondary body from decay. The moment he opened his eyes, the sensation of liquid filling his nose made him exhale roughly, spewing out the chemicals that had filled his body.
"...This is insane."
He prayed the scene from moments ago was a hallucination. Other Towers might not know, but he, Purple, who had studied the essence of magic, had clearly realized the power of that Demon King.
'......The oral tradition was true.'
He makes obsessions into reality.
That phrase was extremely vague.
So initially, everyone just thought, 'He must have many abilities.'
Did they think that because the abilities were so diverse?
They thought that and pondered the diversity of magic.
But it wasn't that.
What that being used wasn't magic.
There was no magic circle, no mana, nor any of the other processes.
It was divine power.
Similar to magic, but a higher-dimensional ability above it.
If a Saint's miracle took in darkness, that was exactly the Demon King's divine authority.
He makes what he wishes into reality.
It was an ability of that realization type. To put it simply, it was like drawing a picture.
A 3-dimensional being, a human, draws a 2-dimensional picture on paper. That picture certainly has a form, a name, and a role.
If you draw an apple, its name is an apple. It will taste like one if eaten, and an apple tree will grow if you plant its seed.
Because that is the concept of an apple defined in this world.
But because it is a 2-dimensional existence.
It is merely an imitation of the concept of a 3-dimensional existence. Because the 2-dimensional world of paper is not reality, but a world that depicts ideals.
But the Demon King draws pictures onto the 3-dimensional world.
In the 3rd dimension, the dimension of beings that exist in reality, a being beyond uses the pencil of divine power to draw its ideals onto the paper of the world, and then makes it real.
"...There's no way we can win, against something like that."
It was luck.
The fact that he was Purple of Blasphemy.
Wasn't it precisely because he had realized its essence, thanks to his long period of research, that he could at least flee and enjoy life?
He didn't have to dream that bullshit dream of opposing a higher-dimensional being. He could realize that he was a character in a book, and not attempt that moronic stunt of standing against the being that reads the book from beyond, draws lines in it, and illustrates it.
The Demon King's current actions were also likely just a game. He could just create an eraser and wipe away all the drawings, but couldn't it be that he was inserting his own drawings and playing along, hoping his drawings would defeat the characters in the book?
He simply wasn't erasing the story for the sake of his own amusement. It wasn't respect, nor a realm of impossibility.
Simply, because it was amusing.
Like a child scribbling on a book.
The Demon King was scribbling on that battlefield.
The only being that could oppose such an entity was, naturally, an equal being.
Only a Saint, the sole being that could similarly draw their faith upon the world, would be able to kill that Demon King.
Aside from that, perhaps the Hero who stood on the dimensional boundary, holding a Holy Sword, a tool that could reach the child scribbling.
From the outset, subjugating that being was impossible without the Holy Kingdom. Purple was the only one who realized that fact at this moment.
Because White's current magic was merely an imitation of that.
In the end, even a fake saint was just a 2-dimensional picture. An existence like a drawing that could be erased if the being decided to use the eraser.
Realizing that, Purple felt goosebumps rise all over his body. He then submerged himself back into the chemical bath, muttering inwardly.
'...It was a good thing I went out first.'
Applause to his past self, for making him finish that foolishness quickly. And a prize to his earliest self, for applying the magic of Desecration!
Thus commending himself, Purple made a lonely toast to the empty air. While holding an imaginary 2-dimensional wine in his mind.
It was a cheap wine that smelled of chemicals.