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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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The Fallen Elf. The Spatial Mage of Darkness. And one of the Demon King’s Four Heavenly Kings, Zalmunt.
Today, he was in high spirits.
For days, he had been confined within the fog, bound by the Demon King’s orders, his time spent in monotonous repetition.
Magical research and the tormenting of lesser demons were his only distractions, a tedious routine that offered little solace. Then, a new command from the Demon King arrived.
The order: eliminate the newly formed Hero’s party that had infiltrated the fog.
It filled him not just with joy, but with a thrill he hadn’t experienced in ages. Finally, opponents worthy of his attention, unlike the insignificant demons he usually toyed with.
A true battle, a clash for survival, for their worlds, where everything was on the line. A confrontation between light and darkness.
He knew the Hero’s party wasn’t guaranteed to be strong. The last Hero and their companions he had dispatched long ago had been weak, disappointingly so.
This new group might be the same. Still, he clung to a sliver of hope. They were, after all, chosen by the rules of this world. They had to be at least stronger than his usual playthings.
That much would suffice. Stronger would be even better. He prayed they would meet his expectations, alleviate his profound boredom.
With this hope, Zalmunt used his signature Spatial Magic, teleporting himself closer to the Hero’s party, ahead of the other Heavenly Kings.
The first member he found was a woman in worn, faded armor, a magnificent golden sword at her hip, radiating an ominous aura.
The sharp glint in her eyes spoke of years of martial training.
A Paladin, he surmised.
‘A Paladin!’
It had been a long time. Despite her being his enemy, a strange sense of nostalgia washed over him.
The Paladin class was a relic of a bygone era, a vestige of the world before the Demon King’s fall, a world he himself, and even his master, had once belonged to.
In ancient times, under the protection and guidance of the gods, everything had been prosperous and radiant.
But for reasons unknown, the world had shattered, scattered across dimensions, and that past glory had vanished.
The Paladin class was a relic of that forgotten era, a power of the vanished Holy Kingdom, a blade that exclusively hunted demons and devils, eradicating evil without question.
Now, that blade was pointed at him. He, who had once protected the world alongside them, was now their enemy.
A bittersweet feeling, one he thought he had long buried, surfaced.
It quickly dissipated. Dwelling on the past was futile, even pathetic.
He was no longer a descendant of the World Tree, but one of the Demon King’s Four Heavenly Kings, a servant of “that one.” He was a traitor who had embraced Death Qi, forsaken the light, and chosen darkness.
This was his doing. The consequence of his choices. He had no right to regret. He simply had to accept the outcome, whether it was progress, or his demise.
Zalmunt observed the Paladin from the shadows, assessing her strength. He suppressed the urge to extinguish her light.
He was a mage, tainted by Death Qi perhaps, but a mage nonetheless. Unlike his brutish companions, he was a mage of intellect and knowledge, a master of ranged combat.
Controlling his desires was a simple matter. He manipulated the fog, the very essence of Death Qi, to provoke the lesser demons outside the barrier surrounding the Paladin.
He leaked the pure, potent scent of mana, unique to humans outside the fog, to lure them to attack. As they swarmed towards the barrier, he watched.
What level of power did this Paladin possess? He was curious, but didn’t expect much.
This Paladin was a class bestowed by the rules of this world, a pale imitation of the true Paladins of the Holy Kingdom, whose power stemmed from divine blessings and unwavering faith.
This one possessed only a minuscule amount of holy power.
To Zalmunt, who had witnessed and fought alongside the true Paladins, she was a mere imposter, a soup with only the scent of meat, a common knight with more mana than holy power.
That perception shattered the moment she drew her sword. A brilliant, golden light erupted from the blade. The demons caught in its radiance vanished without a trace.
And at the same time, a scream ripped through the air.
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Zalmunt, hiding in the boundary between the fog and the outside world, cried out as searing pain engulfed him. His body felt like it was burning.
‘How…? How is she reaching me through the barrier? What is that light? Could that golden sword be… a holy sword? If so, is she not a Paladin, but… the Hero?’
No, that couldn’t be.
The reports stated the holy sword was white, not gold. And the Hero was a seven-year-old girl. This woman was at least twenty.
Questions swirled in his mind, a chaotic vortex of confusion. But the chaos was short-lived.
‘I have to get out of here.’
The pain intensified, his body felt like it was dissolving into ash, purified by holy power.
‘I’ll leave this… Paladin… to the other Heavenly Kings.’
He would teleport away. This was not an opponent he could face. Not that he couldn’t defeat her, but… He was a mage.
A scholar of truth and knowledge, specializing in ranged combat. Paladins were warriors of faith and divinity, masters of close combat.
Their fighting styles were simply incompatible. Battles were most exhilarating when both sides shared a similar philosophy.
He gritted his teeth. It was a flimsy excuse, a self-deception.
What did fighting styles matter in a battle for survival?
Ashamed of his pathetic rationalization, he began chanting the incantation for his Spatial Magic.
He watched the Paladin, radiating golden light, obliterating demons with every step.
‘How could I possibly face that?’
She was emanating holy power rivaling, or even surpassing, the Pope of the Holy Kingdom, and she was doing it within the Death Fog, a place saturated with Death Qi.
This called for the Demon King himself, not him. But the Demon King was bound to the World Tree, unable to leave without a direct command from “that one.”
He had no choice but to flee.
‘I’ll leave behind… that one I dislike.’
The Death Knight King, who always mocked him for being a magic-slinging weakling.
He would teleport him right in front of this monstrous Paladin. The battle-crazed fool wouldn’t complain about the sudden relocation.
No, would he even have the chance to? He would surely die.
Zalmunt chuckled, and as the incantation neared completion, he activated his Spatial Magic.
He teleported himself to another location, hopefully to another member of the Hero’s party.
“What in the—”
The Death Knight King’s bewildered voice echoed as he materialized before the Paladin.
‘A perfect plan.’
Zalmunt, feeling a rare sense of amusement, escaped the Paladin’s presence.
But his relief was short-lived. As the saying went, there was no paradise where he fled.
The despair he felt from the Paladin, the monster masquerading as a holy warrior, continued.
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He was once again speechless, witnessing the power displayed by a black-haired woman, the Sword Saint’s disciple, from the boundary between the fog and the outside.
A sharp storm of sword strikes raged, pulverizing demons caught in its path.
She wore light clothing, offering no protection, and wielded a crimson sword that radiated an ominous aura, not unlike the Death Fog itself.
She seemed far more fragile than the Paladin in her worn armor, yet… Her breathing remained even, despite the blinding speed of her swordsmanship. And she used mana freely, despite the Death Fog preventing its regeneration.
This woman, too, was a monster, no different from the Paladin.
‘Is this entire Hero’s party comprised of monsters?’
No, that couldn’t be. There had to be a weak link somewhere.
He activated his Spatial Magic once more.
This time, he teleported the Slime Queen, a Heavenly King with low offensive power but extreme defense and regeneration, right in front of the Sword Saint’s disciple.
“Suddenly, wh—AAAAAAAH!”
A scream echoed as the scenery shifted.
It seemed the Sword Saint’s disciple had caught the Slime Queen in her storm of blades. Still, she would be fine.
Unlike him, or the Death Knight King with his soul-bound armor, the Slime Queen’s body was liquid. She should be able to withstand the Sword Saint’s disciple’s attacks, at least for a while.
Surely, someone so resistant to physical attacks wouldn’t be defeated so easily.
As that thought crossed his mind, the scenery shifted once more.
‘Quickly, on to the next!’
He didn’t even pause to observe. He immediately activated his Spatial Magic again.
This time, the member of the Hero’s party he encountered was…
“Immanuel. All evil shall perish.”
…the Saint, the one he had been warned to be wary of, second only to the Hero. And he was wielding an overwhelming amount of holy power, as if a god had descended.
Zalmunt fled before he could be consumed by the holy light.
This time, he didn’t teleport another Heavenly King.
‘There’s no one who can face him. ’
Even they, the Four Heavenly Kings, would be purified, obliterated, by such concentrated holy power. Only the Demon King, or “that one,” could stand against him.
He would leave the Saint be.
The darkness barrier restricted visibility, limiting his movement. He would let the lesser demons drain his power. A strategic retreat, a glorified escape.
The next member of the Hero’s party he encountered was a man clad in an unfamiliar type of armor.
‘Is this one… not a monster?’
Unlike the three he had encountered before, this one radiated little power. And aside from the armor, there was nothing particularly remarkable about him.
‘What is his class, I wonder?’
A rogue? A hunter?
The reports he had received mentioned something about being the last descendant of a fallen house. But that couldn’t be a class, could it?
He recalled the reports sent by his spies in the human world.
He wore strange, form-fitting armor.
Rumble, Crash!
He wielded a strange weapon that crackled with lightning. And he used holy power, albeit far weaker than the Paladin or the Saint.
Everything about this member of the Hero’s party was strange.
‘What are you?’
As that thought crossed his mind, the man’s head snapped up.
Even though the face was hidden behind a helmet, Zalmunt felt his gaze lock onto him.
…How?
‘How did he pinpoint my location?’
His concealment had gone unnoticed even by the Paladin, the Sword Saint’s disciple, and the Saint.
He immediately began chanting the incantation for his Spatial Magic.
‘This one is a monster too!’
He had assumed him to be the weakest, since he radiated less power than the other three. But now, he seemed to be the most dangerous.
‘I’d rather face the Hero.’
Damn those rules.
Was this their way of balancing the scales, by making the Hero young and weak? No, this wasn’t balance, it was utter chaos.
He cursed the remnants of the vanished gods, the rules that governed this world, and finished the incantation.
Just as he was about to activate his Spatial Magic…
Flash!
A blinding white light engulfed him.
Thud!
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“Oh, now that’s an interesting approach.”
I admired the spear embedded in the elf’s abdomen, the “Spear that Sings of Courage.”
“Impale the mage with a holy spear to prevent them from using magic, huh?”
A truly effective tactic.
Disrupt the enemy’s power by introducing an opposing force. A devastatingly effective method against mages, or anyone who required focus to utilize their abilities.
Of course, it wouldn’t work if both forces were the same, like mana against mana, or holy power against holy power. But in this case, it was incredibly effective.
The elf, a user of Death Qi, had been impaled with a holy weapon. Unless the spear was removed, using magic would be impossible.
The elf seemed to realize this, frantically trying to pull the spear out. But each attempt only resulted in their hands being scorched by the holy power.
‘Of course.’
It wasn’t just any spear. It was a Rank S item, a holy spear said to have been wielded by an angel.
How could a mere Heavenly King, not even the Demon King, hope to remove it?
I chuckled, amused by the elf’s futile struggle. But my amusement was short-lived.
“Sigh.”
I let out a weary sigh, a headache throbbing behind my eyes.
“This is driving me crazy.”
I stood up, rubbing my temples.
“Am I stuck here forever?”
I muttered, glancing around.
A world of darkness.
I was in a place where the sky and earth were indistinguishable. And within this space, I was watching ‘myself’ from a third-person perspective, like watching TV.
More precisely, I was watching ‘myself’ consumed by rage and bloodlust, a side effect of the Demon Slayer talent.
“This is… my mindscape, I presume?”
It was a guess, but I instinctively knew it to be true. There was no other explanation for this detached, third-person view.
“So my mindscape is this dark, huh? Guess my soul is pretty grim. That’s a bit of a shock.”
Despite my words, I wasn’t truly shocked. It was just a self-deprecating joke to alleviate the boredom.
“Anyway…”
What was that?
I looked ahead.
A massive white iron gate stood before me, adorned with five golden stars and three red stars. On either side were smaller gates, still quite large, one on each side.
“I think I have a general idea.”
Eight stars on the iron gate.
“And I have eight cheats.”
A perfect match.
This massive gate was likely the source of my cheats, a seal containing the power of the Outer God.
“No doubt about it.”
I approached the gate, reaching out to touch it.
Nothing happened.
“Guess I need to unlock all the cheats first.”
I stepped back, turning my attention to the two smaller gates on either side.
The left gate was rather unsettling.
“A gate covered in the tormented faces of demons, huh?”
I had a pretty good idea what this one represented.
“That’s the Demon Slayer gate.”
If there was a gate for cheats, there would naturally be gates for talents as well.
“And the one on the right, swirling with clouds, must be Indomitable Will.”
Gates representing my cheats and talents.
“Interesting.”
It felt like looking at an achievement screen in a game.
I chuckled, amused, and approached the Indomitable Will gate.
Clank!
As I drew closer, thick chains wrapped around the gate rattled, as if warning me not to proceed. I tried to pull on the chains, but they were immovable, stuck fast to the gate.
“What about the Demon Slayer gate?”
Unlike the Indomitable Will gate, this one wasn’t bound by chains.
Click, creak…
As if waiting for me, the gate opened on its own.
“……”
The interior was filled with an ominous red light, nothing else visible.
“Don’t really feel like going in there.”
I would have preferred darkness, or even bright light. A space filled with red light was… unsettling.
I sighed, steeling my resolve, and took a step forward.
Grab!
A thick hand, clad in a gauntlet similar to the one on my Atlas Armor, shot out from the gate, seizing me by the collar.
Without a moment’s hesitation, it pulled me into the red light.
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