Chapter 77. You Sure Follow Orders Well, Huh?
Across an endless tree sea (樹海)—a sea of trees—dark clouds hung low overhead, and light flashed.
Flash……!
It was an ominous lightning.
No—rather than ominous, it was unjust (不正).
Because it was a magic that corrupted everything, the kind that deserved to be forbidden.
Sluuurch—
In truth, the leaves struck by the light twisted grotesquely and melted down into filth.
What it contained was vicious malice (惡意).
A mire that gathered up every vile emotion—something killing intent alone could never describe.
And yet—why?
“……?”
One black mage watched the magic’s point of origin closely.
The spell definitely succeeded.
Thirteen black mages.
Seekers who had thrown away their lives to learn forbidden magic—an atrocious magic they unfolded.
Even he, in the backlash, felt so suffocated he could barely breathe, and his vision swam—
‘……How?’
From the source of the light, a blue flame flickered.
A horribly blue and icy flame.
No—was it truly flame?
As that thought crossed his mind—
“……!”
A hand suddenly burst out of the torrential rain!
“……Ghk!”
It seized his throat and hoisted him high.
And behind that, what the black mage saw was dense undergrowth and the sky glimpsed between it.
Why?
Before he could even form the question, his chest tightened—
and only then did the black mage realize he’d been slammed into the ground.
And that realization……
“……Kk.”
Was his last thought.
“Kkeuaaaaaaagh—!”
Sssshaaaaa—
Over the rain filling the Hamelin Great Forest, an echo of pain stretched long.
A horrific burning pain that started at the nape of his captured neck flooded his mind.
The black mage was truly burning.
It was a bizarre sight.
In a downpour pouring from the heavens, a ferocious fire blazed!
Sssshaaaa……
Driving rain.
Burning flames.
Within a harmony that could never belong together, the black mages prepared the next spell, without anyone needing to say so first.
The Enlightened One.
They were people who would gladly offer even their lives for the command of the one they ought to follow, but of course—they couldn’t welcome death.
The first spell was their yearning for that.
Life (生).
And it was resentment.
Those who received the attention of that august Enlightened One—envy and jealousy toward them, and a vicious hatred, and a pure evil heart.
And there were……
Thirteen such spells.
Ssssss—
When the second spell activated, the entire world was swallowed by black fog.
If the first decayed the flesh, this was a vicious mental-type that twisted the mind.
But—
“……Guh, ugh.”
Again, one black mage closed his eyes.
Whoosh.
Flames surged, but no ripping scream followed like before.
Only a lump of flesh with its breath stopped burned.
Once again, the third spell activated.
Once again, one black mage closed his eyes. No—he could not close them.
He simply stared with open eyes.
“……Uh.”
And his upper body burst apart and died to some unknown magic.
‘A red…… bead.’
It was so small he couldn’t be sure, but he felt like he’d seen something like that, briefly.
Again, a spell manifested. Again, a spell manifested. Again—
One black mage didn’t even realize he was dying.
He only—
‘……Blue.’
Filled his retina with the blue light.
One black mage prepared for death. Instead, he honed a vicious malice.
That malice was so sharp that……
Curse of the Spirit (靈)
He burned his own soul away to leave a curse.
As one fallen soul faded, a vicious curse latched onto its target.
But—
Again, one black mage closed his eyes.
His death was quite varied.
Thirteen black mages. With no one to call their names, they were only called “one black mage,” yet their deaths were all different.
Crunch.
A neck snapped.
“Gk, ugh.”
A heart burst.
There were peaceful deaths, and there were unpeaceful deaths.
Each time one of the thirteen spells prepared by the thirteen black mages activated, one black mage lay down upon the earth.
In the process, a couple of soul-burning curses.
And lesser than those, but still forbidden spells packed with vicious malice, unfolded again and again.
And within the darkness—
“…….”
There was one forbidden mage.
He had learned forbidden magic, shedding one layer of the yoke assigned to mankind—an ascended one, an awakened one revered by the many black mages who came after.
A pure evil that held more malice than all the malice of the thirteen black mages combined—something dreadful.
And yet.
‘…….’
The smile revealed beneath his robe was impossibly kind.
And also hideous.
If not for that gloomy robe, he had an appearance anyone might be tempted by—so how could he wear such a grotesque smile?
Anyway.
He could recognize the message sent to him by someone as hideous as himself.
‘Come yourself.’
A kind of demonstration.
Granting thirteen different endings with such trouble was a kind of summons.
A provocation.
‘Heh, hehheh…… heh.’
The forbidden mage suppressed his laughter.
For a while, nothing moved in the space except the falling rain—
and when the forbidden mage fully crushed down that laughter, the arrangement he’d prepared unfolded.
Grrr, grrrrk—
It began with the corpses the thirteen black mages left behind.
Kkiaaaaaaak—
Through great sorcery, dozens of souls that had clung to the thirteen poured out, screaming.
…….
At that wailing, the rain fell silent.
The Sins of Thirteen
A magic whose very existence was unjust—unfolded by using thirteen lives as the medium.
A curse found in ancient ruins, taboo even in ancient times for its ugliness.
‘The one who killed the thirteen sinners. You will bear all their sins.’
This was less like magic that moved by theory, and closer to sorcery that handled abstract concepts.
Thus, it was not the realm of magic.
A warped power that could not be blocked by nature’s laws and principles, by mana, or by the rules of magic power.
‘Ten thousand diseases and ten thousand nightmares shall cover that body at once, and this shall be proportional to the weight of the sins the thirteen possessed.’
Most recently, a certain forbidden mage who carried out this spell left a record like this.
According to that record:
- “Grrk, grrk.”
An Imperial-certified Rank 3 mage instantly aged into an old man and died.
- “…….”
A certain Archmage was not devoured by the curse, but withdrew into seclusion from its aftereffects.
The spell had only been carried out twice, yet its effect was utterly satisfying.
And indeed—
“…….”
In Belloc’s sight, a staggering figure appeared.
He looked down at his own hands as if panicked, then clutched his left chest and reeled.
Clear proof that the Sins of Thirteen had activated.
But Belloc didn’t stop there.
“Open your eyes, faithful servant.”
A low voice murmured toward a black bracelet.
If he made sound like this, the masked mage could pinpoint his position—but it didn’t matter anymore.
The opponent was already in a state where he couldn’t even move, thanks to the Sins of Thirteen.
Anyway, after a brief moment—
Ssssss—
Black smoke seeped out from the bracelet.
The smoke gathered together, pulsing as it swelled and shrank, and took on a certain shape—right then.
How much time passed like that?
Tzzzz.
The black smoke stopped changing.
The final form the smoke assumed was a knight in black armor, its whole body armed.
Inside the empty armor, black smoke flickered.
And within the helmet, only a single ghostfire (鬼火) glowed faintly, devouring light.
Death Knight.
A knight of death.
But this was on a completely different level from the trash bodies molded by half-baked black mages.
The material was a Master Knight—melted down from a pinnacle knight.
And what it contained did not stop at flesh.
A soul.
A masterpiece created by forbidden mage Solion, a necromancer who had ascended to the ranks of the shed.
Though it could not unleash all of its living power, the Death Knight had no death.
No pain, either.
Fear, joy and sorrow, anger and pleasure, the seven emotions, every feeling—erased.
Solion himself had judged that, in terms of how difficult it was to handle, it might in some ways rival a Master Knight, or even surpass one.
[Com. mand. me.]
A broken, clipped voice rang against the helmet and echoed into Belloc’s ear.
The forbidden mage raised a finger.
“Kill him. No—bring him back with just enough breath attached.”
There was no answer.
Clank, clank.
A low metallic sound rang through the great forest.
Before anyone knew it, the rain had stopped.
Drip, drip. Drip-drip.
The ink-black clouds remained, but the only droplets falling were those gathered on leaves.
“Kk, hehheh. Hehhehheh. Hahahahahaha!”
Belloc leaned back in delight and laughed as if the whole world were leaving.
At a glance, it might seem empty.
But Belloc was utterly satisfied.
It meant the plan he’d set had landed perfectly.
Still, what bothered him was……
‘Somehow, it feels a bit hollow.’
If the mage who single-handedly crushed the ancient species—the Lord of the Swamp—then Belloc thought he would at least endure the Sins of Thirteen to some extent.
Even if it was a curse that ran on a track different from magic, what one’s realm granted wasn’t only magical force.
Yes—for example, mental strength.
But this hollowly?
‘……Well, whatever.’
What did it matter.
This moment was nothing but enjoyable.
And then—
Boom—!
The Death Knight, closing distance, kicked off the ground and drove its sword down.
And then.
Boom!
A tremendous blast and shards of earth flying—something you couldn’t believe came from a sword.
“Y-you—! You tin can piece of—! I said don’t kill him……!”
Belloc, laughter stopped cold, exploded in rage.
Was it that complex commands were too much for an undead bastard who was already dead?
“……Nngh!”
Belloc forced down a groaning moan.
‘This rotten…….’
He’d secretly figured out how to unseal it and used it, so it wasn’t like he could complain to Solion.
But it wasn’t time to just swallow his anger.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
As if it meant to leave not even a trace, the Death Knight kept swinging its sword.
It was hidden by the dust, but it wasn’t being swung with ordinary power.
“You bastard! You can’t stop right now?! Stop! Stop, you bastard!”
He hadn’t even confirmed the face hidden beneath that mask yet.
Of course, with the Sins of Thirteen, even if the corpse were intact, it was questionable whether he’d be able to recognize the face at all……
But still—wouldn’t he at least be able to see a face twisted in pain!
With that urgency, Belloc shouted and tried to rush forward when—
“Got you, you little bastard.”
A voice came out of nowhere.
Right then, a streak of human shadow charged through the hazy dust.
Belloc flinched, about to shout—
Grab.
“What—… ugh!”
Belloc screamed at the rough hand that seized his jaw.
No—he tried to scream.
“……!”
If not for the hand that pried into his gaping mouth and clamped down hard on his tongue.
‘Ah, n—’
Before the thought even finished—
……!
A searing pain.
“U-uh, uh, uh, uheoo……! Uheooeooo!”
Belloc finally let out a scream that felt like he was tearing apart.
And there was a pair of eyes looking down at him.
‘H-how……?’
It was the masked mage—who should have been ground meat beneath the Death Knight.
The masked mage looked down at Belloc and whispered low into his ear.
“Your Death Knight’s pretty sick. You sure follow orders well, huh?”
“…….”
“If I hadn’t told it to stop, it might’ve been kind of rough. Thanks to you, this is easy, man.”
The voice was absurdly light—too casual to fit the situation at all, and yet……
Sssaaa—
When Belloc met those eyes, an inexplicable chill crawled down his spine.