Chapter 18
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Demon-Thing
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‘…That bastard is here?!’
The crow gnashed his teeth.
He knew the man was tenacious, but—
‘He followed me all the way to the northern front?!’
It was unbelievable. How could someone who operated in the central region chase him all the way to the northern front lines?
Magic had a peculiar nature; once you touched it, you began to crave its invisible end. A mage was someone who would dedicate their entire life to that pursuit.
The Black Magic Society was the perfect fit for such an instinct. They revered ascension and stopped at nothing to achieve it.
Their creed was to indulge in magic and contract with demons if it meant possessing greater mana.
Thanks to this, the Black Magic Society grew quickly and quietly.
Until they met him.
[They say the Karntel Castle branch was destroyed.]
It started as a minor piece of news.
It was baffling that a branch had been suddenly destroyed, but he thought it was possible. Even the Black Magic Society couldn't have an unbroken streak of success.
But then, those "possible" incidents kept happening.
[The Hermenian city branch—]
[The Barma branch—]
It had to be the Intelligence Bureau.
The Bureau’s security was so tight that its very existence would have been unknown if not for the unsubstantiated rumors that they were behind every major event on the continent.
In response, the Black Magic Society devised countermeasures. They were not an organization that would be taken down so defenselessly, even by the Intelligence Bureau. They consolidated their branches and increased security.
The result of their efforts was—
[I hear the Hermenian branch chief killed the mayor of Karlton?]
[But didn't the Hermenian branch disappear ages ago?]
[I know, right? It's so strange, isn't it?]
The Intelligence Bureau, as if to mock them, began using their name to eliminate their own thorns in the side.
Faced with such tactics, the Black Magic Society was helpless. Members grew fearful and fled, and their power dwindled day by day.
Still, he thought they would maintain some restraint. After all, they had found the Black Magic Society's name quite useful.
Then he ran into the man himself.
[Hm, and you call this magic? I had high hopes since you call yourselves black mages, but you're just trash with large mana pools.]
He had never felt so powerless in his life.
The man, who had infiltrated the branch alone, dismantled each of their spells, pointing out their flaws and growing angry.
He raged at them for daring to call such garbage magic.
Only then did the crow realize.
It wasn't the Intelligence Bureau that had been tormenting the Black Magic Society. It was him.
The crow had prostrated himself on the ground.
He had survived purely because he had a loose tongue.
And so, his ill-fated relationship with the man began.
[Is this all? You're quite useless. Was my persuasion lacking?]
The crow had never worked so hard in his life.
Then, he saw an opportunity and fled to the north.
But for the man to chase him all the way here—
‘Persistent bastard! Son of a bitch!’
The crow seethed with rage.
How much had he abandoned to shake the man off! He had cut off his own arm, figuratively speaking, and yet the man had doggedly pursued him! What more was there to take from him!
What had he done so wrong! He had worked hard! He gave him everything! Go after the bastards who took over the empty seats in the Black Magic Society! What a fucking asshole!
A silent fury boiled within him.
“Well… I’ve managed to wake it up.”
A voice from behind made the crow grimace.
‘No. This time is different. I have a demon.’
And what was a demon? The natural enemy of mages, a predator that devoured them. No matter how skilled the man was, he was still just a mage.
This demon lacked intellect, having been fed an entire mana stone quarry, but its raw power was real.
It was the demon they had prepared to bring down the castle walls.
‘And I have mana stones, too.’
Right now, the crow had a trove of freshly mined, high-purity mana stones.
There was no way he could lose.
He had only been afraid because he’d seen the man’s face.
‘I’m not the same person I was back then.’
He could no longer live in the man's shadow.
The crow straightened his hunched back.
Steeling his resolve, the crow took out all the mana stones and unleashed them.
These were no ordinary stones. They were of the highest quality, at the very least.
That wasn't all. The crow spread his cloak, revealing a surface densely covered in magic circles.
The Black Magic Society revered only ascension.
They placed no limits on the process. That was how they grew strong at a rate incomparable to other mages.
The crow was not the crow of the past.
A thumping sound came from behind him. The ground trembled with each footstep as if an earthquake had struck.
The crow tossed the mana stones forward and subtly shifted back.
That demon was so starved it would even devour its own kind.
‘It will probably try to eat the mage first.’
The crow smiled slyly.
****
‘So there were two mages.’
Galahad scratched his cheek.
Just then, he felt a dense surge of mana from within the cave. The earth trembled as if in terror.
‘This isn’t good.’
Galahad pulled a flask from his coat. When he shook it, the slightly congealed blood sloshed within.
“Sir Gilberton.”
“…He won’t be an ordinary one.”
Gilberton readjusted his grip on his sword. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He was not in good shape.
And Gilberton was in the best condition of them all. Damian had collapsed in a heap the moment they arrived, Gwen’s cheeks were sunken and pale, and Tom, though still on his feet, was swaying unsteadily.
“Looks like it’s up to us. Think of it as a duel of champions.”
“…That will be enough.”
Gilberton’s lips curled into a smile, but his eyes remained fixed on the source of the vibrations beyond.
“Right. If you get tired from catching a few mole-rats, are you even a knight? More like a stablehand.”
“Mole-rats can be quite tricky beasts, you know.”
“Were they?”
“Never mind.”
“Are you sulking?”
Instead of answering, Gilberton spun his sword. *He’s sulking.* Galahad clicked his tongue softly.
The enemy consisted of one demon and two mages.
Their side had one exhausted, foolish knight and one genius mage.
*Manageable.*
“I’ll handle the two mages. You keep the demon busy. I’ll finish them off as fast as I can and come help you.”
“Is it possible for you to face two mages alone?”
“More than enough.”
“Then I will handle the demon.”
“Are you confident?”
“When it comes to demons—it’s my area of expertise.”
Galahad laughed out loud. The veins on the hand gripping his sword bulged.
“Alright, shall we make a bet on who finishes first?”
“Done. The loser buys drinks.”
“You’d better be careful. I heard Damian say he was hungry earlier.”
Gilberton’s expression turned grim.
Just then—
*CRRAAAAASH!* With a violent roar, the cave wall shattered.
A massive, naked man-like figure burst forth. It was half again as large as the Grand Duke. The thick muscles on its limbs writhed as if breathing.
The surrounding mana seemed to shrink and expand, wary of the creature.
‘This won’t be easy.’
It was too large to be a demon, yet too small to be a monster.
To put it simply—
“I’d say it’s something of a demon-thing. Now that I say it out loud, it sounds a bit off.”
Seeing Gilberton’s face subtly stiffen, Galahad’s lips curled upwards.
“Why the long face? Having regrets?”
“Strictly speaking, that is not a demon.”
The creature began to pound the ground indiscriminately as if venting its rage. Each time its massive fists struck, a deafening boom echoed, and the earth cratered.
If the last demon he’d seen had projected an intangible aura, this one seemed to channel it purely through physical strength.
“A creature of that level is a high-class demon. Normally, I could handle it with ease, but—”
“So you’re not confident?”
“…I’m just stating the facts.”
“If you need help, just shout, ‘Captain, help me!’ You’re my one and only second-in-command, after all.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Gilberton’s face crumpled as if he’d chewed on something foul.
“Burn! Shatter! Crush!”
With the incantation, massive fireballs materialized at the far end of the cavern. There were quite a few of them.
It was a number an ordinary mage could never produce.
“Mana stones. High-quality ones, at that.”
Mana stones and mages were an excellent combination. It wasn’t for nothing that mages in the capital carried around expensive mana stone-studded staves.
Magic was the act of using the mana within one’s body to gather mana from the atmosphere and formulate it into a miracle.
Mana stones handled the process of gathering atmospheric mana for you.
In other words, a mage with a mana stone only needed to perform the formulation to cast a spell.
In a world where some mages practiced speaking faster just to shorten their incantations, mana stones were a deadly advantage in a battle between mages.
Demon blood and mana stones had slightly different properties. Demon blood was a substance containing highly concentrated mana. To use it, one needed a high level of mana control.
In contrast, mana stones were simple lumps of mana with ordinary concentration. Literally a quiet Gwen. Any decent mage could handle them.
Still, to cast that many spells, this was no amateur who had used a mana stone once or twice. You could call him a mana stone expert.
“Getting cold feet?”
“No, this is even better. It would be too boring otherwise.”
Gilberton clicked his tongue softly, apparently thinking he was joking.
The demon’s head turned toward them. Its eyes were disproportionately large for its face. The red, fly-like eyes blinked.
Galahad felt a strange sense of unease. The source of that unease was—
“I think that demon-thing is staring at me. Is it just my imagination?”
“…You must be quite popular with demons, sir.”
The demon kicked off the ground. The distance between them closed in an instant. It was unbelievably fast for its size.
Gilberton angled his sword to block.
*CRASH!* A loud roar erupted as fist met sword. Gilberton’s blue aura wavered violently. He took a step back.
‘Not good.’
Galahad clicked his tongue as the red eyes remained fixed on him.
The demon reached for Galahad. Gilberton swung his sword to block it, but the arm was so thick that it was difficult to stop.
“Sorry, but I don’t like people touching my body.”
Galahad clicked his tongue and flicked his hand. The demon’s thick fingers bent upward. An ice spear was embedded beneath them.
He had gathered a fair amount of mana, but its depth was pathetic.
‘This is not good—’
Galahad clicked his tongue softly.
*Guwoooaar!* The demon let out a cry. Gilberton followed up with another swing of his sword, but the creature’s gaze remained locked on Galahad.
“Damian, I’m in danger! Are you going to fail me again?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s right. Then take Tom, go up, and capture those mages. Don’t kill the one wearing the crow mask.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Understood!”
The two were in bad shape, but the magic was focused here anyway. As was the demon’s attention.
“I really am popular.”
“…Is this really the time for jokes?”
“Humor is the oil of life. It helps even difficult situations go smoothly.”
Instead of answering, Gilberton spat. It was mixed with red blood.
The damage he’d accumulated on the way here had left him in poor condition. Galahad was in a similar state.
But it wasn’t as if they could take a nap and come back to fight. That’s just how the world worked.
Galahad opened his flask. The disgusting smell of blood filled the air. He gave it a slight shake, and the coagulated blood sloshed readily, likely due to the mana within.
“You protect me. I’ll figure something out.”
“Figure something out… isn’t that a bit irresponsible?”
Just then, the demon’s fist flew toward Galahad again.
Without looking, Galahad brought the flask to his lips. It tasted even worse than last time.
His head spun. The mana that flowed down his throat spread instantly. His body felt like it was on fire, blazing past the point of just being hot. His mana channels expanded. A groan escaped his lips from the intense pain.
*CRASH!* Another explosion erupted. Gilberton twisted his shoulders, blocking the fist with his sword. A pained grunt escaped his lips.
Protecting someone in battle was twice as hard as simply fighting.
It was even harder when your opponent disregarded injury and the person you were protecting stood still.
But Gilberton didn't complain and readjusted his grip.
The fireballs were now directly overhead. They seemed to whisper to him, telling him he would die the moment he made a mistake.
The thrill of being on the edge of death tickled Galahad’s neck.
*Yes, this is it.*
Galahad didn’t stop the corner of his mouth from rising.
With a flick of his finger, a mana arrow appeared around his index finger. Galahad used it as a baseline to check the concentration.
It wasn't a calculation, but a domain of honed instinct. The time it took was a mere instant.
When he flicked his next finger, a spark flew. As he moved his fingers as if playing a piano, a chain reaction of sparks occurred.
The best way to put out a fire is—
‘Lightning.’
Sparks crackled between his fingers. Each one was charged with dense mana.
As the numerous fireballs rained down on Galahad, it felt as if the entire world had turned into a sea of fire.
‘A battle of quality versus quantity.’
He waved his spark-wreathed hand, and the sparks shot out instantly.
Compared to the massive fireballs, each spark was tiny, like a small arrow.
At a glance, it seemed the sparks would be easily extinguished, but—
Magic was about quality over quantity.
Even if his opponents were spamming spells with mana stones, their fundamental skill couldn't raise the quality.
The sparks lightly tapped the fireballs. The fireballs yielded their centers as if they were mere illusions. The sparks vanished as they pierced through.
*Pop.* A small sound was all that was heard. The fireballs were shredded as if they had been put through a blender. They disintegrated, breaking into tiny pieces.
Fragments of the fireballs peppered Galahad.
The situation was not good.
He had to block the incoming magic while dealing with the monster.
He had sent Damian, but the distance was far.
*CRRAAAAASH!* The wind from the clash between Gilberton and the monster whipped through Galahad’s hair.
The ice spear, infused with a good deal of mana, had only managed to pierce its skin. To damage that demon with magic, he would have to drink more demon blood and compress the mana even further.
But the demon was targeting him. And magic was raining down.
Gilberton would be hard-pressed just to hold back the rampaging demon.
If he failed to handle either one, it would be fatal.
Unless he had two heads, casting two spells at once was—
‘Can’t I?’
A question suddenly occurred to Galahad.
Dual casting wasn't an unheard-of concept.
However, it was usually something a novice mage would use for a talent show.
It was akin to drawing a triangle with one hand and a circle with the other. With simple spells, it was somewhat manageable.
But when using high-level magic, the difficulty skyrocketed.
It was harder than simultaneously painting a portrait with your left hand and a landscape with your right.
However—
‘I just have to draw them, right?’
If he used a spell with his left hand that required no thought, while compressing mana with his right—
‘I think it could work.’
A deep sense of interest welled up inside him.
Dual casting was an exceptionally delicate process.
Magic always carried risks, but if a dual cast failed, the internal collision would undoubtedly obliterate him without a trace.
So—
‘I just have to not make any mistakes.’
Galahad nodded at the simple conclusion.
What he needed was a higher mana concentration. So high that the spell he fired without thinking would be vastly superior in concentration to theirs.
“I have a good idea. Sir Gilberton, just hold on a little longer.”
“…Yes, understood.”
Despite his words, Gilberton’s complexion was pale.
He looked precarious, but there was no other choice.
This was the option with the highest chance of victory.
Galahad drained the remaining blood from the flask.
His throat felt like it was burning. It felt like he had swallowed fire. A dancing, joyful fire.
The already overflowing mana began to run wild, as if it had nowhere to go. Galahad forcibly suppressed it.
The backlash made his heart feel like it would explode. It was like he had swallowed a bomb. The slightest mistake felt like it would cause his body to disintegrate.
It was exhilarating.
*CRRAAAAASH!* Something exploded in front of him. Hot blood splattered across his face. Galahad kept his eyes closed and focused.
Then, he heard an incantation from afar. Galahad peeked his eyes open slightly. He didn't think. All his focus was on the mana compressing in his right hand.
A spark flew from his left hand.
It was similar to how a skilled knight might counterattack without conscious thought. It was the manifestation of magic that Galahad had repeated for so long it was ingrained in his subconscious.
‘It works.’
Galahad closed his eyes again without checking the result.
There was no way he would miss.
*CRRAAAAASH!* An impact sounded from a distance. A rain of stone fragments pelted Galahad.
He heard Gilberton’s pained groan. Something hard scraped his nose. The demon’s fist must have come right in front of him.
Galahad remained focused. He compressed the mana, again and again. A cracking sound came from his body, a sign of overload.
His body warned him. Any more and it would explode. He ignored it and compressed further.
He couldn't breathe. His excellent lung capacity would see him through.
He heard an incantation from afar. He opened his eyes. His vision was entirely red. It was fine. He could still see. He closed his eyes and focused again.
He compressed the mana more. Just a little more.
Just a little—
“Captain!”
Just then, he heard Gilberton’s voice.
*It feels like I just need a little more time.*
Gilberton’s groan faded into the distance. It seemed he had been pushed back.
Only then did he feel the raw, primal enmity.
Galahad opened his eyes.
Through his red-tinted vision, he saw the demon swinging its massive fist.
Dodging would be difficult, and even if he did, if the spell unraveled, he would die in the explosion all the same.
In that moment, on the brink of death, what Galahad felt was—
Deep regret.
‘If I just had a little more time…’
It was then.
“Liiiiight!”
A brilliant light erupted from behind him. It was so bright it was blinding, even against the backlight. It had to be Gwen.
The demon’s movements paused for a fleeting moment.
And that was the tiny, minuscule opening Galahad had been waiting for.
“Hellfire.”
Galahad’s right hand twisted, as if pulling something out.
In an instant, the space around him began to melt. From between the melted space, a tiny flame shot out.
It was far smaller than a fireball. Yet, everything in its path melted away. From the stone to the air, even the mana itself.
Everything bowed before the hellfire.
The demon, which had been steadily advancing, twisted its body for the first time. It seemed to have sensed the danger.
It tried to dodge, but—
“Where do you think you’re going!”
Gilberton, battered and bruised, blocked its path with his sword.
The hellfire struck the demon squarely in the chest.
The small flame instantly erupted. It devoured the demon as if it were dry kindling, growing in size in an instant.
Mana flows from areas of lower concentration to higher concentration.
That meant if the flame's concentration was higher than the demon's, the creature itself would become fuel.
*Guwooooooaaaaar!*
The demon’s agonized scream filled the cavern.
“That was a close one.”
As he said this, Galahad’s lips were curled into a wide grin.
Just then, the fireballs from above vanished. It seemed the mages had been dealt with as well.
Gilberton, who had been expressionless until now, stared at Galahad, his face a mask of utter shock. He seemed to have many questions.
To which Galahad—
“Didn’t I tell you I was a brilliant mage?”
He said with a smile, brushing back his disheveled hair.
Oh, and he added one more thing.
“As for our bet, you lost.”
Gilberton’s face crumpled completely.