Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: The Mountain Elder's Bargain
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“Getting cut by a black magician’s blade... I guess there really is a first time for everything.”
A form woven from darkness and green flames. The Mountain Elder gazed at the blade aimed at his throat and nodded slowly.
“Yes, I remember. There were people like you. Those who claimed they could reach the pinnacle through pure physical strength, without relying on mana.”
Over a thousand years ago, there had indeed been those who trained without using any mana at all.
Purer and more obsessive than even Derek or Agnes.
“Freaks like that, and black magicians too—they should’ve all vanished into the dustbin of history...”
Both of them were right there before his eyes. Contempt, mockery, and a hint of nostalgia colored the Mountain Elder’s expression as he spoke.
What he was nostalgic for, Damian didn’t know. Nor did he particularly care to find out. The old man’s mind was as twisted as any demon’s.
Creeeak. As Damian poured strength into both hands, the tip of his sword screamed. But it wouldn’t budge another inch from its spot.
The Mountain Elder’s darkness, Molech’s hellfire, and Damian’s sword strike had intertwined, forming a delicate balance. Neither side could move in this standoff.
“How about we make a deal?”
“A deal? What happened to Hashashin pride?”
“True pride comes from compromise. We should focus on what’s truly important, don’t you think?”
My existence is more vital to Hashashin than you realize. The Mountain Elder bared his yellowed teeth as he spoke.
“...Fine. Let’s hear it.”
“The ancient magic embedded in the traitor’s heart. Extract that, and we’re done.”
The curse left in her heart by Paruzan’s father. Born of the clan chief’s stubbornness after losing his tribe, it had bound her ever since that day.
To win Paruzan over, Damian had to resolve it somehow. And it would also serve as a foundation for Hashashin’s resurgence.
Here, at least, Damian and the Mountain Elder’s interests aligned.
“No need to worry. Her body will be fine, without a scratch. And afterward, I won’t lay a hand on the girl.”
As long as Paruzan didn’t pursue them. He’d attached one condition, but the Mountain Elder’s words didn’t ring false.
Thanks to his pathetic days as an illegitimate child before his regression, Damian had a knack for reading emotions.
Someone of the Mountain Elder’s caliber could hide his feelings if he wanted, but this time, he hadn’t bothered.
There was no distortion in the openly displayed emotions that suggested deceit.
“This is His will as well.”
Even in that grotesque form—his face alone visible amid the swirling darkness and flames—purity shone through as he spoke of “Him.”
Shing. Damian withdrew his sword first. The hellfire and darkness slowly unraveled.
“Phew. This form’s much better, anyway.”
Back in his original body, the Mountain Elder set his massive scythe on the ground. A gesture to reaffirm he had no intent to fight.
With a flick of his hand, a tattered cloak flew over, wrapping around Paruzan.
She remained in a deathlike sleep, unscathed amid the twisted surroundings—no scratches at all.
“------.”
The Mountain Elder knelt and placed his hand over Paruzan’s chest. Words neither human nor demonic spilled from the old man’s lips.
In response, white vapor rose from Paruzan’s body. The curse in her heart—the ancient magic.
The vapor flowed up the Mountain Elder’s slender arm, as if he were absorbing the curse into himself.
Damian observed the scene using black magic—Gaze.
He hoped to uncover information about an ancient relic that neutralized black magic.
‘No real gains, though.’
Separate from his talent for magic, Damian had a solid grasp of magical theory. He’d once believed theory could overcome a lack of talent.
Even with that knowledge, he couldn’t comprehend the magic being drawn from Paruzan’s heart.
Its mana flow was inscrutable, and it was unclear if it even functioned as a proper spell to begin with.
Black magic’s structure could be explained by general magical principles, despite its different foundations.
But the ancient magic in Paruzan’s heart was beyond the comprehension of modern humans. That was why Archmage Rubia had taken an interest.
“It’s done.”
As the Mountain Elder rose, Damian leaned down and placed his hand over Paruzan’s chest.
The curse he’d felt before was completely gone. Paruzan’s sleeping face looked more at peace, too.
“You did a perfect job, but for the effects to fully fade, she shouldn’t leave the desert for a while.”
The ancient magic was deeply tied to the land. So she needed to rest in her homeland, the desert, for the time being.
“She’s asleep because of my touch too. She’ll wake in a few hours.”
The Mountain Elder’s form began to fade. With his task complete, the ancient magic that had summoned him back to this land had run its course.
“I hope we never cross paths again, boy.”
Hashashin wouldn’t take commissions for a while anyway, he said. They had internal issues to sort out, not to mention forging new hashashin.
“Pursue your own destiny. We’ll pursue ours. It’s best if our paths never cross, black magician.”
With those final words, the Mountain Elder vanished completely. All that remained was the massive scythe he’d wielded.
‘Yeah, that’s not happening.’
He spoke of avoiding entanglement, but Damian felt both a desire for it and certainty it wouldn’t happen.
Damian picked up the scythe and stored it in his subspace pouch.
Most likely, it had served as the medium to summon the Mountain Elder, who existed as a concept.
Which meant it might be linked to ancient magic.
‘Should I really visit the Magic Tower?’
As the hub of magic, it no doubt held the richest information on ancient spells.
But the Tower wasn’t easy to enter without affiliation. Even legitimate heirs to the emperor had to follow procedures, let alone bastards.
As he sorted his thoughts, laughter echoed from his soul.
[Kekeke. Coming to you back then was truly the best choice.]
[I’m satisfied too, contractor. That sturdy body, that flash of a sword strike. The ultimate form humanity should aspire to.]
Not just Molech, but Haagenti’s voice rang out as well.
Decarabia was surely watching, and Gremory had likely taken interest too.
Summoning even a fragment of a lord of hell to this plane drew that much attention.
[Keke. That one’s worth burning.]
And the opponent was no ordinary foe either. Regardless of the displeasure, it merited notice.
Moreover, Damian’s final sword strike—an strike that cleaved conceptualized death, a step beyond his duel with Agnes— was more than enough to intrigue the lords of hell.
Thud. A black lump fell at Damian’s feet. It was the same material as Molech’s right arm, which had just vanished.
[A piece of me. I’m curious how you’ll make use of it.]
Not similar— it really was a bone from Molech. Demons sometimes bestowed hellish relics on contractors they favored.
The black magician’s corpse he’d found in the desert canyon had yielded Decarabia’s eye on the same principle.
They never explained how to use them. It was up to Damian to figure it out. Molech wanted to watch the process.
Rumble! As the demons’ voices faded, a massive vibration swept the area.
Some mechanism had activated, and the ground began sinking wholesale.
Damian hoisted Paruzan over his shoulder, formed a foothold with stone scales, and swiftly ascended to solid ground.
“Impressive.”
Not just the citadel—the entire city was sinking.
As the Mountain Elder had said, all of Meidiran was Hashashin’s hideout. With its master gone, the city had no further reason to exist.
The sun had already set. Damian found relatively safe ground and set up camp. After lighting a fire and preparing food, Paruzan stirred.
“What happened, Damian? I was clearly... Th-this!!”
Her half-closed eyes suddenly widened.
The curse that had tormented her endlessly since her tribe’s massacre—the ancient magic in her heart—was gone.
Damian explained what had happened after she passed out.
Meidiran’s secret, the monster from the past called the Mountain Elder, and the deal he’d struck.
Of course, he omitted anything about black magic or the lords of hell.
“No way...”
Paruzan felt not joy, but confusion. The curse in her heart had been both a shackle and a compass.
But now it was gone. Her path forward was hers to choose.
“What do you want to do from here?”
The curse was lifted, but her grudge against Hashashin remained. No matter the reason, they’d massacred her tribe.
Even without the curse, she still had reason to hunt them.
‘It won’t be easy right away.’
No matter how exceptional her aura, “Pursuit,” finding assassins who’d gone fully to ground was no simple task.
Damian and Hashashin were destined to clash.
‘Michael’s definitely involved somehow.’
Otherwise, there was no explaining why the Mountain Elder hadn’t appeared before his regression.
Some deal between them, perhaps.
“...”
Paruzan lay on the ground, her eyes reflecting the night sky.
No curse pressed down on her anymore. Amid the confusion, she conversed with her inner self.
Damian watched silently. The choice was hers. He’d respect whatever she decided.
“Damian.”
Paruzan turned her head. Damian entered her eyes, which had held the night sky.
“You have something you’re chasing too, right? A fate you must fulfill, staking everything on it.”
He nodded wordlessly.
He didn’t mention revenge. He couldn’t share that goal yet.
“My revenge is tied to that path of yours?”
Even without “Pursuit,” Paruzan’s senses were sharp. She’d inferred from Damian’s aura.
“...Probably. That old man will definitely see me as an enemy. We’ll cross blades again soon.”
“Then I can still pursue my grudge alongside you.”
Paruzan rose and sat properly. Seriousness settled on her young face.
“The desert does not forget grudges.”
Something she’d heard from her father and Dudek alike. They’d heard it from their parents.
“I have to see this through with them. And find out why my tribe met that end.”
It wasn’t forced by the curse. This was Paruzan’s own will.
“And I owe you something.”
The curse’s removal was all thanks to Damian. That had let her reach this decision.
So it was a debt. One she, as a daughter of the desert, had to repay.
“If you’re the bow, I’ll be the arrow. If I can settle my grudge, I’ll sharpen myself even further. Will you be my bow?”
Bathed in starlight and campfire glow, Paruzan spoke plainly.
“...”
Damian’s mouth fell slightly open.
Winning her over had been the goal, but he hadn’t expected her to say it herself like this.
Even before his regression, their bond had been strong. But nothing compared to now.
“Looking forward to working with you, hunter.”
At Damian’s words, the desert rose smiled like a star in the night sky.
* * *
“Drop me off here.”
Time to part ways.
Paruzan would rejoin Dudek’s tribe for now. Damian had another stop before returning to Byzantin.
It would take time for the curse’s influence to fully dissipate anyway.
“If you need to find me, head to the capital first. There...”
As he told her how to contact him, Damian’s words cut off.
“You...”
Paruzan drew close and nipped his nape lightly. The hunter grinned, hands behind her back, leaving teeth marks.
“Now I can find you anywhere.”
Whether a joke or the power of “Pursuit,” he didn’t know.
He’d take it as her sign of trust.
Just in case, he handed her a handkerchief emblazoned with the separate palace crest. The capital guards would guide her if she showed it.
“See you, Damian. Next time, I’ll prove my words.”
With her farewell, Damian turned the sand skiff’s prow around.
His journey through the south was nearing its end.