Chapter 843 - You Again?
Penadex was in a hurry.
The demon he had summoned using his body as a medium—no, a portion of the power the demon had provided—had been wounded the moment it appeared.
He immediately stretched out his human arm and grabbed the wrist of his lover and colleague standing next to him.
To be precise, he dug his nails in, creating a wound as he clawed at her.
"Penadex—! You dog-like…"
The snake-handling witch couldn't finish her words.
Her body quickly withered.
Her tongue rolled back into her mouth, and her eyeballs shriveled.
She tried to summon a few snakes in resistance, but the snakes, after poking their heads out into the air, crumbled and fell apart like rotted pieces of cloth.
Then, the blood dripping from her wrist flowed down Penadex's body.
Not all of the blood fell to the ground; it flowed in reverse, up along Penadex's hand.
The snake witch soon collapsed to the ground, leaving only a husk.
It was because all of her magic had been taken, and her life force had been sucked out.
So, she had died.
Penadex didn't even look back at the dead witch.
He had achieved his purpose.
So what if a few people had to die if it was necessary?
He had killed over a hundred in experiments, he had killed his own kind, and he had captured and imprisoned monsters and beasts.
Did he discriminate between children, women, and the elderly?
Of course not.
In Penadex's eyes, they were all just lumps of meat.
He was superior, and the rest were inferior beings.
Especially humans!
He was born of a noble bloodline and had even shown a talent for spells.
There was no being more superior than himself.
'I am a noble.'
To be born with a special talent even among magicians—if that wasn't nobility, what was?
He reviewed the moments from his birth until now.
Whatever he took an interest in, it just worked out.
In his childhood, when he knew nothing, the opposite sex would fall for him with just a glance, and sometimes even the same sex did.
And after he had dabbled in magic?
A heaven-sent talent, a genius.
That was him.
"Penadex, I hate you." Hatred gathers.
"Lord Penadex, my everything."
Adoration gathers as much as hatred.
One who has much looks to a higher place.
He wanted to stand beyond the heavens.
'Where can I reach with my innate talent?'
A farther place, the edge of knowledge that cannot even be imagined, a place where it would be fine to die in ecstasy and bliss the moment he reached it.
Even if no one understood, he would just move forward.
Penadex was a special being.
That's how he saw himself.
He believed that he would eventually swallow knowledge and become something new.
'But why.'
Why is my body trembling?
He had manifested the demon here through a contract.
A moment where an ordinary magician would have had their body taken over in an instant.
But not him.
He could maintain his ego and handle the demon.
'But why?'
The same question repeats.
Why does his heart ache, his fingertips and toes tingle, all the muscles in his body tighten and stiffen, and a cold sweat flow?
The moment he recalled the past felt long, but in reality, it was an instant.
It had only been a moment.
Penadex looked at his opponent through the demon's eyes.
The two deep blue eyes were like a clear lake.
Besides those two eyes, the rest was hidden in shadow and was not clearly visible.
However, there was only the blade that descended from above.
"KIIIAAAAK!"
Penadex's body was stiff, but the demon's was not.
It pulled its body back.
It struggled and dodged.
The demon's power had taken control of Penadex's physical body.
'Fear.'
Fear surged up and struck Penadex's brain.
Was this the first time he had felt this emotion in his life?
It was not.
But it was the first time it had been this intense.
"Oh—."
The one with the sword moves, letting out a light exclamation of admiration.
A thick meteor falls upon two thin, blue lines.
A deep blue meteor.
"KIIIIII!"
The demon was terrified, and Penadex was scared.
Skrrk.
This time, the sword slash cut off one of the demon's arms altogether.
The severed arm floats in the air.
As the black smoke scatters, the fallen forearm also scatters like ash.
The demon hastily used its own spell.
The medium was the life force of Penadex, who had summoned it.
Just before completing the spell using blood as a medium, the flow of magic was cut off.
Just as a campfire was about to catch fire, someone had poured water on it.
"Hello, demon," was the witch's whisper.
She had interfered.
The witch, who possessed a world of spells skilled enough to disrupt his, waved her hand without a trace of a smile.
"She is enjoying herself right now," the Dragonkin with the vertically slit pupils murmured.
"Should I sew your mouth shut?" the witch spat out a tirade at the Dragonkin.
The Dragonkin nodded as if he understood.
The demon thought for a moment.
It wondered where in the world it had been summoned.
'A swordsman, a Dragonkin, a witch.'
Where is this place?
The demon was filled with doubt.
"What of the demon realm? A minion of the demon realm? A gatekeeper? A janitor? I am curious about what comes next," Rem muttered.
He was genuinely curious about the rest of the demon's words, which had been cut off.
Enkrid saw that the picture he had drawn in his head a moment ago was not being drawn as it was.
The demon had dodged his slash.
The magician, synchronizing with the demon that had grown from his back, had his own body bent like a hunchback.
The demon extended its two legs and moved.
'It's a bit of a hideous sight.'
The man who was originally a magician dangled between the demon's legs.
The sight was reminiscent of something.
It was easy to imagine, even without a great imagination.
Enkrid ignored the appearance and replayed the moment the creature had dodged his sword.
His eyes scanned the demon's forearm.
He could see something shimmering on it.
It looked like black soot, and it also looked like something he had seen somewhere before.
'The Thornbriar Wall.'
Was it similar to that?
It looked so.
The creature had covered its forearm with something made of a malevolent spirit.
That had made his sword deviate from its path.
Of course, it was also because Enkrid had swung his sword as a test.
He hadn't used his full strength.
He had left some in reserve and had sized up his opponent.
In other words, it would be fair to say that he was overflowing with composure.
Enkrid swung his sword, preparing for any and all tricks his opponent might pull.
It was a fact that everyone watching knew.
It was to the extent that even the demon had partially realized it.
That swordsman was too relaxed.
The demon thought so.
"What are you?"
As a result, the demon gave up on its self-introduction.
It muttered and whipped its two eyeballs, which were attached to the lumpy head that had sprung from its back, from side to side.
The eyeballs move to the point of popping out of their sockets.
That abnormal movement was an act that made one recognize it as a being of the demon realm.
To an ordinary person, it was a grotesque sight that would make their mouth go dry.
"Well, that's a hideous sight."
But where was an ordinary person here?
Rem says it as if it were nothing.
There was no one here whose spirit would be shaken just by 'intuiting' a being of the demon realm.
Everyone present was a Beelrog Slayer.
"It makes me want to beat it up," Ragna says.
The magician, who had been dangling pathetically between its legs, lifts his head.
His bent back rises, and he looks around like a frightened rat.
"Penadex, is that the star you longed for?"
Esther said, her voice filled with contempt.
And the Dragonkin…
"Fear. Is it the fear of annihilation?" he said, recalling the disposition shown by the things that had often faced him.
"Kaaaak!"
The demon threw its head back and let out a monstrous shriek into the air, shaking off some of its fear.
"I am the master of ten thousand phan…"
He could not finish his words.
BOOM!
A projectile that had burst through the air struck him in the head.
Simultaneously with the roar, a part of his face distorted and was crushed.
Black blood splattered in all directions.
The demon covered its face with its remaining arm.
At the same time, it tried to chant another spell, but…
"Stop," the Dragonkin's Word of Command stopped it.
"I am the master of the legion that rules ten thousand phantoms," the demon muttered.
It had just been treated in a way that was unimaginable as it had been summoned via the contract.
"Demon, hurry up and fight," Penadex, defeated by fear, urged him on, lifting his head from between its legs.
The sight of him raising his head from between its legs was truly bizarre.
"Shut up," the demon snapped at the filthy magician.
In the end, wasn't it because this bastard had gotten involved where he shouldn't have that this mess had occurred?
A demon is a master of deals and contracts.
He sensed the annihilation of his existence and moved his mouth.
"Do you wish to face the master of a hundred thousand phantoms?"
To Enkrid, it was not a question that required deep thought.
It was also a title he had heard at some point.
There are things that are not forgotten even if one repeats today.
It was the same as the name of the demon that had appeared as Count Molsen was dying.
"I am the master of a hundred thousand phantoms," was the kind of thing that bastard had uttered.
A demon.
It must be one of the masters of the demon realm.
Was it one of the six that the minion had mentioned before?
It might be.
"It would be nice if you called him over," Enkrid said.
He had been asked if he wanted to face him, so he had said yes.
"…"
The demon was momentarily speechless.
"Hurry, fight," the magician raised his head again from between its legs.
"Shouldn't we start by cutting off that hideous thing?" Rem interjected.
"Shall we cut it?" the Dragonkin asks for his opinion.
"The two are already synchronized, so even if we cut it, nothing will change," Esther discussed the reality.
"Still, it's not a pleasant sight," Ragna said, slinging Sunrise over his shoulder.
Jaxen stood silently behind the demon.
He was contemplating whether he should neatly slice out the part between its legs.
"Hurry, hurry."
The magician, his reason paralyzed, flailed.
Watching him, Esther felt a new kind of sentiment.
Her heart was not swayed.
However, should it be said that she had not known they would break down so wretchedly?
Astrail was a group that had tormented her for decades and was the place that had killed her master.
They were the object of her resentment and the cause of her taking on the curse.
Because she was so tired of being chased by them, she had wanted to grow her power and overturn them all.
Come to think of it, Esther had also done something amazing.
Because she hated being chased, she had tried to construct a world of spells that would overwhelm them.
There had been a time when she had pushed forward with that resolve, regardless of whether it was possible or not.
She had not relied on relics or the power of others, but had done so by moving forward on her own.
Did she gain anything from that struggle?
She had gained a curse.
And through that, she had been connected to Enkrid.
If it wasn't the prank of a goddess of fortune or a goddess of fate, what would you call this?
In the end, Esther had only been able to newly construct her world of spells after meeting Enkrid in this land.
'What was needed was a heart.'
A heart that knows how to care for people, a vision that recognizes what is precious.
'What should I call this? A heart that knows how to love?'
She almost scoffed even as she thought it to herself.
The Struggling Witch, the explorer of the world of spells, discussing love?
Should it be called a word that made her hair stand on end just thinking about it?
But she acknowledged what she had to.
The heart that cares for people, for someone, had expanded her world of spells.
"Penadex, you fool," Esther rebuked her opponent.
Was the path he had walked after giving up on being human to entrust his ego to a being of the demon realm?
Was the being who had chased and tormented amounting to only this much?
That angered her.
And Rem had to mock her once again.
"It's her."
Esther resolved herself to curse that damn savage after this was all over.
"My contractor is a vampire. He is also called a noble of the demon realm. If you kill this one, you will incur a grudge with him."
The demon uttered a rational statement, and just as when he had faced One-Killer, Enkrid walked a path he knew to be irrational.
"That's what I want."
With a short and concise statement, he raises Dawnforged.
He recognized the armor of phantoms that clad the demon's body, and he knew that the creature had a skill to shake one's perception.
'The reason for the error in calculation.'
Experience is always right.
Enkrid, who had faced Beelrog, had glimpsed the individuality of demons.
They would all have different skills.
Beelrog was just specialized in fighting among them.
He steps forward and swings his sword.
The demon resisted for the last time.
It gathered a part of the phantoms under its command at its fingertips, made them sharp, and thrust.
Enkrid parried that sharp point with his descending sword.
TUNG—
The sword forged by will parries the opponent's attack and moves forward.
He does not care what lies at the end.
Because he has something he believes in, he protects that conviction.
He just fosters his will and builds his belief.
Pik, Pwak.
Enkrid moved his sword up and down as he parried.
Through the strength that far surpassed a human's, he connected two sword strikes: a strike to the crown of the head and an upward slash from below. With that, the demon was split, centered on its groin.
Black blood poured out as if from a flood.
The summoned demon scatters and dies.
From between the demon's body, which was becoming flimsy like dust, the face of a phantom appeared.
It was one of the masters of the demon realm, who had felt his subordinate die.
"I am the master of a hundred thousand phan… you again?" the appeared demon said.
He had not forgotten Enkrid.
The one who commands a hundred thousand phantoms originally had an excellent memory.
"We meet again," Enkrid also replied.
The master of a hundred thousand phantoms, just as before, also sensed the presence of the witch.
It was the same as when his other subordinate had died.
That subordinate had been Count Molsen.
At that time too, he had faced such a moment and had tried to cast a curse, but had failed.
"Because of you, two of my limbs have been cut off. Stop it."
In a situation where a curse would not work anyway, the master of a hundred thousand phantoms made a surprisingly realistic request or suggestion and disappeared.
No, he had left one more word just before he disappeared.
"You should just join my side. I'll treat you well."
An voice spat out from between the dust as he was burned by the sunlight and crumbled.
It did not echo, and it was a light sound, as if greeting an acquaintance whose eyes he had met.
At the surprisingly realistic conversation, even Rem shut his mouth with a hum.
The demon was gone, and the fight was over.
***
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