Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: The Gargoyle King's Trial
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“Urgh!”
A scream erupted. It was because the immense pressure from the Stone Scales bore down on his entire body.
It was on a whole different level from being crushed by a heavy object. It felt like the air around him had grown heavier.
Unlike regular magic, black magic demanded considerable physical strength. Among them, Stone Scales placed the greatest burden on the body.
The pressure applied to the body was proportional to the Stone Scales generated. That was why Damian in his past life had failed the gargoyle’s trial.
Before his regression, Damian had acquired a total of three Books of Hell, including ה(He). He had passed out from the pressure during two of the trials.
The last one had been a stroke of luck—the summoned gargoyle was not only weak but unusually favorable toward humans.
Damian had taken just one step, and that bizarre gargoyle had agreed to a contract on the spot.
But in the end, he hadn’t been able to overcome the pressure when using it, so he couldn’t properly utilize the black magic—Stone Scales.
Moreover, this trial was that of the largest gargoyle, Hagenty, the gatekeeper of hell.
Naturally, the pressure was incomparable. If it had been his pre-regression self, he wouldn’t just have fainted—his bones would have shattered.
[Ho.]
Crack! A heavy footfall echoed through the basement. Hagenty’s eyebrow twitched slightly.
“This is nothing.”
What had changed since his regression wasn’t just the trial. Damian’s mental strength and physical prowess had also grown beyond comparison to his past self.
Thud! Thud! Thud! The heavy footsteps continued to resound. But a distance still remained between Damian and Hagenty.
It wasn’t that far, truthfully. A sprint would close the gap, but Damian, enveloped in Stone Scales, could only manage half-steps at a time.
Yet he didn’t stop. Even as his joints screamed and blood trickled from his clenched lips, he kept pressing forward.
‘One step. One step. One step….’
He didn’t count beyond two. It was always the first step. That way, his mind and body could endure.
Tap. He had no choice but to halt as something blocked his path. Looking up, he saw Hagenty grinning grotesquely.
[A fine body. You’re the first to pass my trial so perfectly.]
The indifference he’d shown until moments ago was gone. It seemed Damian’s body had greatly pleased him.
[Black magic is power derived from the soul. But in the end, a soul has no meaning without the flesh to contain it. Strengthening the soul comes from strengthening the body.]
That seemed to be why gargoyles, Hagenty included, were indifferent to contracts with black magicians.
Records of black magicians were scarce, but none described them as having knight-like sturdy physiques.
Even knowing physical strength mattered, they compromised at the bare minimum. After all, their power stemmed from the contracts housed in their souls. Mastering black magic and discovering new Books of Hell was deemed more important.
But Damian didn’t need to compromise. He had the experience and knowledge from his regression. That was why he had devoted two years solely to his body.
That was what had satisfied Hagenty. There had likely never been a black magician with such a resilient physique in history.
[Very well. The contract. Receive the power of Hagenty, king of the gargoyles, guardian of hell’s gateway.]
Whoooosh. The third contract settled into Damian’s soul.
[A human contracted with three lords of hell. I wonder how much chaos you’ll stir.]
Unlike when he had been summoned, Hagenty vanished with a satisfied glint in his eyes.
* * *
The southern continent was a region of strong independence. With no prestigious noble houses of long standing, skirmishes between mid- and small-sized nobles were fierce. As such, they reacted extremely sensitively to any movement from the imperial family.
That was why he couldn’t move until the fake identity Anya had prepared for him was ready.
There was still time. He would use warp gates to travel south.
In the meantime, Damian organized the tasks he needed to handle in the south while continuing his training with black magic—Stone Scales.
He had to conceal his identity, so he couldn’t use Hellfire recklessly. It was already known to the world as Damian’s magic with its unique color.
Thus, he would have to resolve most issues with black magic—Stone Scales.
Kaboom!! A massive explosion rang out from the open field near the annex palace. It was the sound of the bizarre rock formations Damian had generated with Stone Scales.
They resembled enormous siege rams tilted at an angle. Servants watching from afar let out occasional screams.
In form, they weren’t much different from standard earth magic.
A close inspection would reveal they were made of tiny scales, but once the mana was released, they crumbled into dust and vanished.
In other words, unlike Hellfire, there was no risk of them being identified as his.
‘Still not enough.’
The problem was that he still couldn’t wield black magic—Stone Scales skillfully.
It was unrealistic to reach the proficiency of Hellfire, which he had mainly used before his regression, but he needed to master it as much as possible.
Not a single day had passed idly since his regression. Now, he was even conducting experiments outside of combat.
“Hmm… Another failure?”
In one of the annex palace’s rooms. A long table was lined with various mana stones and small vials.
Damian tilted his head at a shattered glass vial among them. The floor was messy with broken vials and spilled liquids.
Damian picked up a new mana stone.
He cast Absorption on the glowing mana stone, drawing the mana latent within into his body. Rather than absorbing it right away, he materialized it.
Then, he cast reverse Absorption on the liquid in a vial. The solvent bubbled furiously. But it soon burst with a pop.
It was research into creating potions in a new way using black magic—Absorption. If successful, it would be a groundbreaking method capable of upending the market.
Potions were made by extracting mana from mana stones. But the yield was low.
A mana stone with 100 units of mana would yield only about half in a potion. Much was lost in the refining process.
But with black magic—Absorption, he could transfer every bit of mana from the stone into the potion. The issue was finding a medium stable enough to hold the materialized mana.
The liquid in the glass vial wasn’t ordinary. It was a special solution crafted via alchemy.
He had succeeded in applying reverse Absorption to inorganic materials. But the medium became too unstable and failed to hold its form.
It wasn’t simply a matter of mana quantity. The results were the same whether with low-grade or high-grade stones.
‘I’ll have to experiment with those later.’
Alchemy was magic aimed at creating new substances. Yet it had seen no remarkable progress in nearly 50 years.
Soon, that stagnant alchemy would undergo a dramatic change—by Rubia de Clarent, who would later become an archmage and Damian’s mortal enemy.
He had no qualms about using his enemy’s achievements. If it aided his revenge, he would use anything.
His ultimate goal was to create potions using otherworldly mana extracted from Mikaela’s Subspace Pouch. Those, he wouldn’t sell—they would be for his exclusive use.
Having finished his experiments, Damian returned to his room, where Felix handed him a letter.
“I received it addressed to you, young master, and kept it… but there’s no name, so I was a bit worried.”
The letter’s contents were irregular as well. A string of seemingly meaningless characters. Felix had suggested reporting it to the surveillance bureau, but Damian stopped him.
It was a cipher. And it was easy to tell who had sent it.
‘Anya Hilton.’
The text indicated the positions where pieces had moved on the Anytic board. Each position corresponded to a letter, allowing interpretation of the message.
‘Today. Afternoon. 3 PM. West. Fountain.’
He arrived at the meeting spot on time, spotting a carriage half-hidden behind some bushes. But it was overwhelmingly larger than any ordinary carriage.
“Long time no see.”
As he approached, the elderly gentleman Edwick spotted Damian and bowed. Confirming no prying eyes, he opened the carriage door.
Inside, there was even a chair, table, and bed.
“Thank you for accepting my invitation, Damian.”
“Did you have to use a cipher in the letter?”
“It’s just a little game between us.”
Anya beamed and guided Damian to a seat. She then handed him an envelope containing the fake identity he had requested.
Eric Hilton.
He was to pose as her distant relative.
‘Hilton….’
It didn’t match the status of an imperial illegitimate child, but the Hilton family commanded more prestige than most nobles. No one would dare pick a fight over his background.
“Should I see this as a sort of investment?”
Anya smiled brightly at Damian’s question. Not the smile of a doll-like girl, but that of a seasoned merchant.
Just as Damian had seen potential in Anya, she had seen it in him.
“And this is a small token of my sincerity.”
Anya offered a mask so thin it was nearly transparent. He could tell at a glance it was no ordinary mask—it was a magic tool.
“Try it on.”
It adhered with a click, and the sensation of wearing a mask vanished completely.
Looking into the hand mirror Anya held out, he saw the face of Eric Hilton from the fake ID.
A merchant through and through. Providing exactly what the customer needed in advance.
“Thanks.”
Damian removed the mask and spoke. Anya’s mouth fell slightly open, a flush rising to her cheeks for a moment.
“Do you have a fever?”
“Oh, no. Seeing you like this up close again, I just realized how remarkably talented your face is. The talk of you being the empire’s greatest beauty isn’t just rumor. If we were to price Damian’s face, what would be fair?”
It wasn’t a new reaction. What was surprising was that she hadn’t paid special attention to it until now.
Few women treated Damian’s appearance ordinarily. Aside from Anna, who had raised him since infancy, and Agnes, whose mind was wholly devoted to the sword, there were hardly any.
“By the way, do you have any plans for today?”
Anya tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow as she asked. She placed the Anytic board on the table.
“This is the finished product, improved including the advice Damian gave last time.”
She added that it would officially launch next week. Compared to before his regression, that was about two years ahead of schedule.
He had no special plans that afternoon. As long as he returned before dinner, there’d be no issue.
Damian leaned back comfortably in his chair. Anya giggled and unfolded the Anytic board.
He couldn’t exploit weaknesses like last time. The match was evenly matched. Damian had memories from before his regression, but Anya was the game’s creator.
As the game progressed.
“What changes do you think there’d be if we could extract all the mana from mana stones to make potions?”
Damian rolled the dice and casually asked Anya. She had been pondering her next move but fell into deep thought at his words.
“Assuming mass production, it’d be enough to buy an independent nation within the empire, wouldn’t it?”
He would have to handle production alone, so he couldn’t make vast quantities. Still, as Anya assessed, it would shake the empire’s economy. It would suffice as funds for his revenge.
Hmm. Anya made her next move and let out a groan. She had thought it her best play, but looking back, she had neatly fallen into Damian’s trap.
“…You were joking earlier, right?”
For now. Damian swallowed the afterthought and finished the game.
Sunset light filtered through the window. As he rose to leave, Anya grabbed his sleeve.
“Th-this game doesn’t count. Your question threw off my concentration. Just one more game, please, just one more.”
It seemed like the shy act of a young girl at first glance, but Damian saw the spark in her eyes.
Competitive spirit.
Her talents weren’t limited to merchant senses.
Before his regression, various misfortunes had prevented her from blooming, but this time, Damian would ensure she flourished.
If his potion research using Absorption succeeded, he planned to entrust sales to the Hilton Merchant Guild.
To strengthen Anya and keep the Forest and Marriott guilds in check. Moreover, he intended to delegate future ancient ruin excavations to them as well.
The next game ended. This time, Anya won.
“A fine match, Damian. Until next time…”
“One more game.”
This time, Damian couldn’t accept defeat. He was just as serious about the game as Anya.
They kept refusing to accept loss and demanding another round. Crimson hues in the background had given way to purple.
The quick-witted Edwick had sent word to the annex palace in advance, averting any major fuss. But Damian still got an earful from Anna.