Chapter 23
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: The Sorcerer of the Crypt
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Due to the nature of the open-world genre that formed the foundation of this world, players could interact with any target.
In other words, attackable targets weren't limited to just monsters; killing any living creature could grant experience points.
Kill an opponent, gain experience.
This simple concept played a significant role in saving Luon from a common death trope.
For example, the line: "Did I get him?"
"I know you're not dead, so get up."
At Luon's words, the man who had gone still began to snicker, his cheekbones rising.
"Shit, what the hell is that?"
Kyle, who had let out a coarse curse without realizing it, reflexively drew the dagger from his belt.
Ignoring him, the man slowly rose, a bizarre sight with a dagger embedded in his forehead, and opened his mouth.
"How did a mere swordsman figure it out?"
"Would you even understand if I told you?"
The man's eyes narrowed at Luon's dry reply.
"You carry a sword that reeks of Tivela's stench. A holy knight, I see—Ugh-"
The man couldn't finish his sentence, collapsing to the ground once more.
An arrow was now lodged deep in his forehead.
"Still not dead?"
As Luon slung his bow over his back, Amella spoke.
"Luon, that's just a puppet."
"Seems so."
Meanwhile, the man shot back to his feet and began to charge madly toward the party.
Luon, about to draw his holy sword, instinctively stepped back as the approaching man's body began to swell grotesquely.
"Kyle!"
At Luon's shout, Kyle quickly ducked behind his shield, lowering his stance.
Meanwhile, Amella grabbed Luon by the waist and moved her lips.
Bang!
Carried by its momentum, the man's body exploded, sending chunks of flesh and bone fragments sweeping forward.
Watching the intestines slide down the translucent barrier, leaving a long trail of blood, Luon turned his head to the side.
"You alright?"
"I'm fine."
Slowly lowering his shield, Kyle nodded with a faint smile.
The results of his nightly training—done so he could protect himself in sudden situations like this, in case his shield's aura interfered with Amella's magic—were clearly on display.
"Well done."
With that brief praise, Luon drew his sword.
Looking at the lone leather shoe left in the middle of the blood that had splattered everywhere like spokes on a wheel, Amella gritted her teeth.
"Vile bastard."
Just then, a stooped old man in a black cloak walked up the stairs leading from the catacombs.
The old man, holding a blunt-ended wooden staff as if to advertise 'I'm a sorcerer,' grinned at the party and extended it forward.
Luon immediately kicked off the ground, intending to subdue him before he could do anything.
But extending the staff wasn't a preparatory motion but a concluding one; the old man's spell was completed a step faster than Luon, who was closing the distance with terrifying speed.
A black mist poured from the tip of the staff, enveloping the charging Luon.
Instantly, his entire body felt as if it were weighed down by lead. But he pushed through the pressure and advanced.
Though his speed had decreased slightly, Luon's momentum was unbroken. As he charged, shattering the flagstones beneath him, the old man retreated in surprise.
With movements too nimble to believe from a hunched man, he created distance and once again thrust his staff forward.
Unable to react quickly due to the clinging mist, Luon ducked and crossed his arms.
An invisible force struck him hard.
However, the sheer momentum of a body accustomed to moving under immense weight allowed him to power through the force assailing him from the front.
As Luon broke through the invisible force, he saw the mist clinging to him dissipate, thinned by a blue light that flew from behind.
He knew without looking that it was Amella's help. Amidst the artificial sense of liberation, he picked up speed and instantly closed the distance to his opponent.
The moment the old man hastily activated a barrier, Luon, already within arm's reach, slammed his elbow into it while simultaneously straightening his bent arm.
The holy sword penetrated the satisfyingly dented barrier and sliced through the old man's staff-wielding arm.
Black blood splattered in all directions, following the trajectory of the blade.
Looking down at the arm that tumbled to the floor with the staff, Luon raised his head.
"You're an expert at running away."
An old chandelier, studded with hundreds of candles, swayed precariously.
The old man, who had quickly chanted a spell to escape, was now perched on the chandelier, clutching the shoulder from which blood was gushing.
"...You, are you a monster?"
*What a thing to say.* Luon turned his head, deeming the stupid question unworthy of a response.
"Amella."
Understanding his meaning at once, she raised her arm and moved her lips.
A blue crescent of energy shot from her hand, defying gravity as it soared upward and cleanly severed the thick iron chain connecting the chandelier to the ceiling.
As the old man began to plummet with the chandelier, his forehead sizzled and melted.
Just before his body hit the floor, the old man's form vanished again with a whoosh.
By the time the chandelier shattered with a sharp crash, the old man had already teleported onto the altar.
Exuding a sinister aura from a symbol of three intricately entangled hands—one black, one red, and one yellow—the old man stretched his one remaining arm toward the sky.
"Die-!"
A dark red energy began to gather around the screaming old man, churning ominously before it erupted with a tremendous roar, sweeping across the surroundings in an explosive wave.
As Luon braced his legs for the impact, his eyes met Kyle's as he brushed past him.
-I'll take the lead.
The instant he read the mouthed words, Luon fell in right behind Kyle.
"Uwaaaaaaah!"
Kyle let out a battle cry and thrust his arm forward.
The moment the storm, which had been devastating everything in its path, collided with the shield, Luon did not miss the fleeting gap created by the clash of two disparate forces.
Simultaneously with Kyle being thrown backward, he kicked off the ground, leaped up, and swung his arm with all his might.
The holy sword cut through the force field and advanced without hesitation, grazing the opponent's face before emerging on the other side.
"Gah."
Having lost half his face, the old man let out a gurgle, choked on bloody foam, and fell backward.
*The effort was worth it.*
As befitting a servant of a demon, the old man's corpse gifted him a considerable amount of experience. Luon smiled in satisfaction.
Kyle, letting out a groan, staggered toward him.
"Shit... he's really dead this time, right? He's not gonna get up again with that stupid grin, is he?"
Despite his words, he was still anxious. Kyle plunged his dagger deep into the corpse's heart. After confirming it remained motionless, he let out a sigh of relief and collapsed to the ground.
Seeing Kyle's palm, where the skin had been torn away from how tightly he had gripped his shield to hold it against the destruction magic, Luon spoke.
"We'll need to get you some gloves."
"Yeah. Fuck, this stings like hell."
"Stop whining."
Just then, a faint light emanated from the pommel of the holy sword.
Kyle's eyes widened as he watched the light draw out a black smoke from the corpse's body, devour it, and then seep back into the pommel.
"Wh-what was that?"
"Is this that phenomenon you mentioned before?"
Amella, who had approached at some point, asked.
"A sword that devours demonic power... do you feel any changes?"
Luon, who had already been gripping the hilt to check for any new changes, nodded. He could feel the power roiling within the holy sword more clearly now.
"I'm not sure if this is the right word, but... I feel a closer bond with it now."
"I've heard of equipment that resonates with its user. Perhaps that sword is an ego sword?"
Luon shrugged.
"Who knows. We're not on speaking terms yet."
"I see."
Nodding, Amella turned to Kyle, took out a small, reddish glass vial from her robes, and said,
"Give me your hand."
"Huh?"
"Your hand."
At her firm tone, Kyle hesitantly held out his hand. Amella dripped some of the liquid from the vial onto his palm, where the raw flesh was exposed and bleeding freely.
"Oww, that stings. Oww."
"Don't be a baby."
"Aren't you two being a little harsh? A whole chunk of my skin is gone..."
Kyle, who had been grumbling, trailed off, his jaw dropping as the palm that had absorbed the red liquid began to heal noticeably.
Luon asked.
"A potion made from troll's blood, I take it."
"That's right. I condensed a whole bottle to get just this much."
Kyle's expression turned awkward at her words.
"Using something so precious on a scraped palm seems a bit..."
"A moment ago, you were dying of pain because a chunk of your skin was gone."
Amella retorted with a mischievous look, then stood up and pointed.
"I can feel an aura from below the stairs he came up. Let's go down."
As if to prove her words, a grotesque symbol was drawn on the floor of the catacombs.
Looking down at the symbol drawn with blood and bones, Amella uttered a short incantation, and the symbol was cleanly wiped away. She said,
"There. With the sorcerer who was the focus of the ritual dead, the villagers won't go berserk anymore."
Luon added.
"Even if the fragment's essence returns, we won't have to worry about being stabbed in the back for now."
The party left the church. The streets were still deserted. It was understandable that the villagers would be terrified, given the sudden, incessant explosions from the church.
Seeing the villagers still staring at them from behind their windows, Kyle spat on the ground.
"That's a bit disappointing. When you think about it, we're the ones who saved them."
Amella laughed silently at his words.
"Were you hoping for a hero's welcome?"
"No, not really, but isn't it a bit much for them to glare at us like that?"
Amella said.
"To them, right now, we're nothing more or less than an unknown terror. I don't know what the old gravedigger and the innkeeper will say, but if they speak well of us, the misunderstanding might be cleared up."
Luon followed up on her words.
"And what if it's not? We did what we came to do. That's enough."
Watching him flick the blood from his holy sword, Amella nodded.
"You're right. That is enough. Let's hurry. We're finally within reach of the Magic Tower."
The party moved on without a second thought. It seemed they wouldn't be spending the night in this village.