Chapter 74
Chapter 74
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: The Owner of the Memory
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Leaving the collapsed men behind, Damian followed Aumpasha down the corridor.
“Tsk tsk. They’re all so weak. Passing out from just that much impact.”
Even though he had attacked his own comrades, Aumpasha was the one expressing dissatisfaction toward them.
Damian still doubted whether this was truly the same old man he had seen in the Magic Tower.
“Why are you doing this?”
Using black magic with primordial mana had been a desperate gambit. Rather than any specific goal, it was meant to buy time.
In the process, he had planned to find the owner of the memory, but contrary to Damian’s expectations, Aumpasha had subdued the other mages.
“Black magicians are your enemies, aren’t they?”
“That’s right, enemies I loathe to no end. They don’t follow the natural order.”
He had even learned black magic himself to deal with them.
He hadn’t sensed it when they met in the Magic Tower, but now Aumpasha clearly showed hostility toward demons and black magicians.
“But that’s all the more reason to analyze and study them. Not just hating them like those fools. That’s how you exterminate them.”
Was not attacking Damian part of that as well? If so, he could turn into an enemy at any moment.
Defeating an ancient mage without going all out was next to impossible.
“Come this way.”
He led Damian into a small room. He offered him a seat and personally poured tea.
“Primordial mana and black magic on top of that. And that power. It doesn’t seem like a contract with an ordinary demon.”
Aumpasha’s eyes sharply scanned Damian.
“The master of the Infernals, Molech?”
Damian didn’t answer, but Aumpasha smiled. The silence was answer enough.
“It can’t just be seen as an error from an experiment. You… who exactly are you?”
Since he had used hellfire with primordial mana, fooling Aumpasha was impossible.
Thus, Damian told him the full truth.
‘Though I doubt he’ll believe it.’
Who would easily accept that he was merely a character from the world inside someone’s memory? Even Damian himself found it hard to believe.
“Hmm. So that’s how it is….”
But Aumpasha’s expression was unexpectedly calm.
“In other words, if there’s a problem with this world itself, your existence isn’t impossible.”
“You’re accepting it that easily?”
“There’s no other correct answer, is there? Even if your explanation isn’t the absolute truth, if all other hypotheses are wrong, then it must be the truth.”
Aumpasha chuckled dryly.
“And from what you’ve said, I have a rough idea of who the owner of the memory is.”
“Who the hell is it?”
Damian slammed the table as he asked. Aumpasha shrugged as if telling him to calm down.
“There was a guy who planned something similar a long time ago. Something about how nothing is denser than human memory.”
Aumpasha didn’t know exactly how the owner of the memory had constructed the world.
“In other words, the me talking to you here isn’t the real me, but the Aumpasha as remembered by the owner of the memory.”
“So who is this owner of the memory?”
“I don’t remember.”
“…Are you messing with me right now?”
The Tear of Eternity stirred once more. Damian was trying to draw out the primordial mana.
“Not so fast.”
But this time, Aumpasha stopped him. His skill in handling primordial mana was superior to Damian’s, or at least not inferior.
“The fact that I don’t remember is the key point. Do I need to explain it in detail? You didn’t seem that dense….”
“…In other words, while building the world based on his own memories, he deliberately erased information about himself.”
“Exactly. What a rotten sense of humor.”
In that case, there would be an anomaly somewhere in this world.
“Is there an ownerless room in the Ziggurat?”
“Oh, a good attitude, finding answers yourself. And conveniently, I know of one.”
The owner of the memory was likely there.
“Wait.”
As Damian tried to stand, Aumpasha stopped him.
“I have one question.”
“What?”
“You seem to know me. That intrigues me. I’ve researched countless spells, but I never pondered immortality.”
To answer Aumpasha’s question, Damian explained what had happened in the Magic Tower.
“What? I taught you black magic and even how to handle primordial mana?”
“You don’t believe it, huh.”
The Aumpasha from the Magic Tower and this one felt like completely different people despite the same face.
Even if this personality was created by the owner of the memory, it shouldn’t differ much from the real one.
What event had changed his personality? And why had he confined himself to the Magic Tower?
“…Well, not entirely unbelievable. I don’t enjoy teaching, but for talent like yours, a few pointers wouldn’t hurt.”
Aumpasha said that and stood up. It was to meet the owner of the memory.
“I have one question too.”
“What?”
“Why are you helping me?”
“Simple.”
Aumpasha dragged out his words with a sinister smile. It carried a madness rivaling Rubia’s.
“The bastard who made this world pisses me off, in all sorts of ways.”
* * *
Damian followed Aumpasha to the lowest level of the Ziggurat.
“No one noticed the ownerless room was strange. Not even I, until you told me.”
Aumpasha paused as he reached for the doorknob. He sensed something beyond.
“If we find the owner of the memory, we can escape?”
“As far as I know, yes. But….”
It didn’t seem that easy. An extraordinary power emanated from beyond the door.
“You can’t use mana right now?”
“Right. I can use primordial mana, but not my own mana.”
In this memory world, he was Slave No. 44, not Damian. Being able to use primordial mana at all was nearly miraculous.
“My future self must have explained the dangers of primordial mana.”
“Of course. Over-reliance can corrupt your own mana.”
This incident was, in a way, caused by primordial mana.
Rubia’s reckless attempt was the direct cause, but what completed it was the corruption from primordial mana.
“So stay back for now.”
Aumpasha thrust forward his massive staff. With a hum, light gathered at the tip and shot out, obliterating the door without a trace.
Gurgle. From within came a sound like boiling water, and multicolored sludge poured out.
“Not a friendly slime, I see.”
As Aumpasha said, the sludge immediately sharpened into spikes and shot toward them.
“Time for some cleaning.”
Thud. Aumpasha slammed his staff down. The sludge’s movement halted.
Slash! It wasn’t just stopped. Invisible slashes shredded it into pieces.
It was the same spell Aumpasha had used in the Magic Tower, but the power was on another level.
“Now, let’s go in.”
Beyond the door was pitch black, impossible to see even an inch ahead. It wasn’t mere absence of light—it was a magical trap.
Even when Aumpasha created light, it only illuminated their feet.
Enemies could emerge from the darkness at any moment. Yet Aumpasha’s steps were unflinching.
Slash. Slash. Slash. No obstacle mattered before him.
The unidentified sludge was met with a barrage of slashes the moment it entered range.
‘Seeing it like this, it’s even more absurd magic.’
In the Magic Tower, Damian had been on the receiving end, unable to analyze it properly.
But now, following behind, he could closely observe the ancient magic Aumpasha wielded.
‘Mana operation, mechanism of action. Even the practical result production. Vastly different from modern magic. Shame I can’t use Observer.’
It might not even qualify as ‘magic’ in the same category.
“Is this sludge the world’s resistance trying to maintain itself?”
“Not a bad way to think about it. Means we’re on the right path, at least.”
After walking for several minutes like that.
“Are you the master of this memory world?”
“….”
Through curtains of darkness. In a space of opposing light sat a single woman.
Thud. Aumpasha slammed his staff again. Invisible slashes poured out, but not a scratch on the woman.
“Hoh…. Well, someone capable of creating a world like this wouldn’t go down easily.”
Instead, the light shining on the woman intensified, mingling with the darkness.
Gurgle. From the mingled boundary, sludge dripped like rain.
Of course, it couldn’t maintain form before Aumpasha’s slashes, but more sludge filled the gaps faster than he could destroy it.
Slash. Gurgle. Slash. Gurgle. For several minutes, only the sounds of slashing and reforming echoed.
“Aumpasha. I didn’t expect the current you to make this choice.”
The memory owner spoke first.
The woman ignored Damian, fixing her gaze on Aumpasha.
Her face was filled with irritation and exhaustion.
“You know I can’t respond to that. Hurry and send that one outside. Since your future self chose him, he’ll do something meaningful.”
“You say that knowing your future self betrayed us, the great ones?”
Aumpasha’s expression hardened at her words.
‘Betrayed? What’s she talking about?’
When he had asked Aumpasha in the Magic Tower why he helped, he said it was to atone for past mistakes.
Was that related to this betrayal?
“Nonsense…. Are you nitpicking that I learned black magic? Don’t misunderstand. I’d sell my soul for His will.”
“Indeed. I didn’t expect you to follow the prince. And yet you helped him, the final black magician. How could I sit idly by?”
His? Prince? Words Damian couldn’t comprehend poured out.
The woman’s gaze turned to Damian. Endless fury burned in her half-lidded eyes.
Was it hatred for demons and black magic?
Frankly, he couldn’t understand. He had no connection to this woman, and if anyone should be angry, it was him, trapped here.
“Whatever grudge you two have or what happened in the past, we met the conditions, so let us out?”
“You believed that? Pathetic. My goal is to keep you trapped here forever.”
The woman sneered.
Suddenly changing her tune.
However, upon reflection, no one had said finding the memory owner would let them escape this world.
“Then no choice.”
Hum. The Tear of Eternity thrummed. Dark blue mana gathered in Damian’s hand.
“You, fall back for now….”
Aumpasha couldn’t finish. The black magic Damian used was Predation.
Not an ordinary predation demon, but the power of Hell’s lord, Balefor.
Crunch. Chomp. The demon’s maw bit at empty air. A thin membrane tore, and the surroundings shook violently.
“You bastard….”
Shock crossed the woman’s face. Aumpasha’s as well.
Step. A man walked through the torn membrane.
Clothes convenient for movement yet antique. Around his neck hung a Tear of Eternity, just like Aumpasha’s.
Shing. The man drew his sword. Green flames enveloped it.
He was no longer the slave No. 44 from the memory.
“I’ll force you to let us out.”
The final black magician, Damian Renekht.