Chapter 89
Chapter 89
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Grim Reaper
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A massive scythe forged from black metal.
This, too, was an artifact.
The organization known as Hashashin had been founded in the early days of the Empire, but its founder, the first Old Man of the Mountain, had lived in an era similar to Aumpasha's.
Yet, despite that, the Old Man of the Mountain had not reclaimed it. Nor had he sent anyone to retrieve it.
Was it because he had declared he would no longer tangle with Damian for a while?
Even so, it was hard to understand abandoning such an artifact.
-Try contacting it with primal mana later. But only in a place where no one else is around.
That was Aumpasha's advice.
But afterward, so many other matters had piled up that, much like Molech's bone fragment, he hadn't had the chance to pay it any mind.
'But why is it doing this now...'
A pulsing sensation emanated from the handle.
Yet it didn't feel like the scythe itself was alive.
That made it all the more eerie.
It was like a heart beating in a corpse.
Was it reacting to Ramsey's changes, to the power of the demon?
He hadn't taken the subspace pouch with him when he fought the cathedral knight, so he had no idea how the scythe would react.
'That guy wasn't favorable toward black magic either.'
It was paradoxical that Damian, a black mage, would wield an artifact from such a man, but right now, there were no other options.
Support wasn't something he could expect immediately anyway.
With Damian and Ramsey locked in fierce combat in the sewers, the Magic Tower was likely enduring its own share of the fallout.
Guardians like Dennis were busy each ensuring the tower's stability, and Ariella and Ezekiel had their own tasks.
Besides, this operation had been spearheaded by Damian alone. He had to bear the responsibility himself.
"What's with that scythe? It doesn't look practical."
Ramsey tilted his head as he clashed with the Death Knight.
There wasn't much change in his expression, but the leisure had certainly vanished from it.
The sword unification hadn't fully severed Ruth's aura, but it had inflicted significant damage on Ramsey.
Perhaps because of that, he no longer attempted to target Damian with magic.
'It might be worth a shot.'
Aumpasha wouldn't have lied to Damian.
He had been hostile toward black magic in the past, but now he was favorable toward Damian.
'Use it where no one can see.'
Was it out of concern for collateral damage, or because something unfit for others' eyes would occur?
"......"
The fortunate part was that Agnes was safely asleep. Ramsey paid her little mind and hadn't tried any tricks on her either.
He had said he wanted to test if she had the same potential as himself, so his goal was to take her away intact.
'Start with a small amount.'
Indigo mana flowed from the Tear of Eternity. It passed through Damian's hand and into the massive scythe.
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump!! The scythe's pulsing grew fiercer. Even Damian, gripping it by the handle, felt it trembling in his grasp.
"What is that?"
The sound reached Ramsey, who was still battling the Death Knight.
He had suspected it wasn't an ordinary scythe, but this pulsing felt far from ordinary.
Dangerous. That was what Ramsey's instincts screamed.
He didn't know what Damian planned to do with it, but he couldn't just leave it alone.
This was a first for him, this feeling. Even when Damian had used that bizarre swordsmanship, it hadn't been like this.
Spurt! And so, he paid no heed to the Death Knight's attack.
If sacrificing one arm allowed him to stop that thing, it wasn't a bad deal.
His regeneration was starting to falter a bit, but blocking this variable meant victory for Ramsey.
'Damn...'
The jagged greatsword closed in to point-blank range. But the massive scythe merely continued pulsing, showing no further change.
He had already channeled a considerable amount of primal mana. Damian's own mana was beginning to be tainted as well.
Drip. Blood trickled from both eyes. But with his internals already heavily damaged, he felt no pain.
'...Does it want more?'
Focusing harder, he sensed meaning in the pulsing.
Thirst. Like a withered tree craving water, the massive scythe demanded more primal mana.
A bit more. A bit more. A bit more. A bit more. A bit more.
Now the pulsing had turned into whispers.
Time slowed, just as it had during sword unification, leaving only Damian and the Old Man of the Mountain's scythe in an infinite space.
'Alright, let's take it all the way.'
Before his regression, he hadn't been able to use primal mana often.
He couldn't extract it alone like now, nor did he have a vessel to contain it.
A power that required borrowing Rubia's hand every time was just as irksome then as it was now.
But after receiving instruction from Aumpasha, he had gained his own sense for primal mana.
Naturally, it was precarious, like walking a tightrope. The slightest slip could lead to irreversible consequences.
That was all. Damian's life had been precarious ever since the moment he first delved into black magic.
No, it had to be even more so. To exact revenge, to fell both the Empire's Greatest Swordsman and the Archmage, he needed that resolve.
This battle was merely a process.
Even if the situation wasn't favorable, failing to handle a single traitorous bastard like this made talk of revenge meaningless.
Whoooosh. An amount of primal mana incomparable to before surged into the scythe.
"Grrrrooo."
"Kyaaaah."
"Gya gya gya gya."
The aftermath made the aberrant lifeforms, who had been silently watching Damian and Ramsey's battle, shriek in unison.
Some among them couldn't withstand the storm of primal mana and collapsed, their bodies disintegrating.
'Damn it...'
The shockwave halted Ramsey's movements as well.
Even his mutated body couldn't endure the storm created by the primal mana.
"Uwaaaaaah!!"
In this situation, Ramsey had to make a sacrifice too. Of course, he didn't scream.
The Magic Tower physician he had absorbed a few months ago. He converted all of that man's magic and life force into raw power.
As a result, Ramsey's body swelled to nearly twice its size.
It wasn't just the appearance that changed. His power had risen as well.
Gya gya gya kag! The greatsword pierced through the fierce storm, closing in.
But Damian, who had poured all his focus into the Old Man of the Mountain's scythe, didn't notice.
'Where is this?'
His mind was already in another world. It was similar to the space Aumpasha had created.
The difference was that while that place had been empty, this world created by the bizarre scythe was filled to the brim.
-Grroooooh.
-Shieeeek.
-Grroooooh.
Wails that were neither human nor beastly. If souls were crying out, it might feel like this.
Though not a single point of light pierced the pitch-black space, Damian could sense the presences swirling rapidly around him.
But he didn't know what exactly they were.
Were they those who had lost their lives to the massive scythe, or Hashashin sacrificed to summon the first Old Man of the Mountain?
It didn't matter much. He had fed it primal mana to its heart's content. Now it had to pay the price.
-Grroooooh.
-Shieeeek.
-Grroooooh.
Yet still, only the wails filled the space, with no particular change.
'Something needs to be done?'
In the pitch-black darkness, Damian extended his hand forward. Toward the objects swirling around him.
The moment his hand touched one.
"Ugh! Kaaaaah!"
A headache like his skull was splitting assaulted him. In an instant, one person's entire life flashed from start to finish in Damian's mind.
It was incomparable to reading memories with the black magic Absorption.
Absorption merely read memories, but now, Damian felt as if he had truly become that person.
'Are they really souls?'
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say the essence of a single human existence was condensed there.
Yet the time that passed felt far too long in an instant, leaving nothing in his mind. Only the pain from the shock remained.
'Still, something's there.'
Something had brushed his fingertips. Among the swirling objects, he had to pull that one out. His intuition told him so.
So he reached out again.
"Kaaaaah!"
Perhaps because this was a mental world, not reality—the gas mask was gone, and he vomited blood-mixed bile.
Yet he reached out once more.
'...Almost there.'
Not just his fingertips, but his palm fully grasped it. He lost it again this time, but its shape was becoming clearer.
'And I'm getting used to the pain.'
Damian wasn't one to endure all pain easily. Before his regression, his first use of Hellfire had left him half-unconscious.
But he adapted to pain quickly. That, too, was an important talent for a black mage.
'Got it!'
Snap-snap. Leather straps tore, and something was yanked from within the black object that had been circling him.
'A scythe?'
It resembled the Old Man of the Mountain's scythe that Damian had held until moments ago, yet it was slightly different.
No longer ordinary metal, its form was unstable.
It looked like a cocoon had burst, spilling its contents.
Still, the power he felt was familiar.
'Death.'
More akin to a concept than a human, it resembled the first Old Man of the Mountain.
[Is this breaking the promise, or have you not crossed the line yet?]
A withered voice echoed in his mind. It felt like the lords of Hell communicating through souls.
[From your perspective, it's been quite a while, hasn't it.]
It was the first Old Man of the Mountain.
[Why are you here?]
[Isn't this my possession? When a thief tries to use the owner's item freely, there's no reason to stay idle.]
There was a flaw in that logic. Hadn't he left it behind himself?
[Heh heh. Too much talent can become a curse, it seems.]
No hostility was felt. Ramsey hadn't been dealt with yet; he had no spare energy to face this old man too.
[An ordinary black mage wouldn't even glance at my item. They wouldn't know how to use it.]
It was possible only because Damian wielded primal mana and had met Aumpasha.
[Give it a swing. Even you, contracted with the lords of Hell, will be satisfied.]
[You're handing it over just like that?]
Puahaha. The Old Man of the Mountain's laughter lingered in Damian's mind at his question.
[Never in my life have I heard such words from a black mage. Do the demons you contract with hand over power so readily?]
If they could spark interest. Demons granted power to such individuals. But for greater power, a price or fulfilling their requests was required.
[Try using it. You'll come to rely on that power more and more. And at some point...]
Shaaa. A bizarre sound rang out. Like a venomous viper flicking its tongue.
[Your body will become mine.]
In a way, it resembled Ishtar's condition.
The difference was that the Old Man of the Mountain had no interest in Damian's soul.
Also, a single choice wouldn't decide everything.
[Do you think you can resist the temptation? No, you can't. Black mages crave infinite power. It sustains your strength, but also leads to your downfall.]
It wasn't wrong.
One couldn't unlearn black magic, but neither could they use it just once.
Damian knew only himself among black mages, but he could say this with certainty.
Even so, he had no options right now.
He couldn't defeat Ramsey without using the Old Man of the Mountain's power.
And.
[Don't get cocky. I have no intention of being taken so easily.]
He had withstood Ishtar's temptation. He had no mind to be toyed with by this snake of an old man.
There was still a chance. He just had to make this scythe fully his own.
A power different from sword unification or black magic. One effective against Hell and demons, no less.
It was exactly what he needed. To face the seekers now and Ishtar later, the Old Man of the Mountain's power would be effective.
[Puhuhuhu. I look forward to it, child beloved by Hell. Just how far will that confidence take you.]
The Old Man of the Mountain's voice faded. The time this space could be maintained was running out.
[Now call its name. That will grant you its power.]
He knew the name.
At some point, the scythe's name had been etched into Damian's mind.
It was similar to learning black magic through a contract.
Shaaa. The black space dispersed, and the sewer's scenery returned.
The dampness inside the gas mask was palpable.
Through the steam-hazed view, he saw Ramsey charging toward him.
But he paid it no mind. Whether that thing was Ramsey or not no longer mattered.
"Grim Reaper."
Damian called its name.
And the black, rippling scythe cleaved through Ramsey's body.