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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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“Aaaaagh!!”
“M-My arm…!”
An arm was ripped from its socket, a head severed from its shoulders.
“F-Fire! Someone, use fire…!”
“It’s no use! It won’t catch!”
“Use other magic, then! Where are the mages?!”
“I-It’s no use…! The magic isn’t working!”
“Damn it…! What the hell are these flowers?!”
Their spells dissipated before they even reached the flowers, as if repelled by an invisible force.
“C-Captain…! I think I can cut it—Aaargh!”
“Damn it! All knights, draw your weapons! Protect the wounded!”
“V-Vines… they’re blocking our escape…!”
Tendrils sprouted from the flowers’ stems, ensnaring their ankles.
The screams continued, a symphony of terror, blood painting the forest floor crimson.
“Dieeee!!!”
“You always looked down on me, didn’t you?! Huh?!”
“V-Vice-captain…? H-How… Gah!”
To make matters worse, the students who’d been driven mad earlier had broken free from their restraints, their rampage adding to the chaos.
The sight of their own comrades, their eyes filled with a crazed bloodlust, their blades turned against them, shattered the knights’ resolve.
But even amidst the carnage, someone was smiling.
“What’s so funny?!”
“How can I not laugh at this?”
The rainbow-colored assault continued.
Roots, sharp as spears, erupted from the ground behind her.
Ice crystals shot from her left hand.
A flaming sword, its tip dragging along the ground, blazed in her right.
Yellow sparks of electricity crackled around her, her eyes burning with an unprecedented killing intent.
Anyone with even a basic understanding of magic would have been stunned by the sight.
What Sylvia was doing was impossible.
She was wielding the power of multiple spirits, powerful spirits, without a contract.
But the one performing this incredible feat didn’t look pleased.
“Hahaha! Your expression is even better than before!”
“…”
Her power was immense. She knew that, objectively.
She wielded fire and ice, enhanced her speed with wind, her reflexes and perception heightened by lightning.
And if her initial attack failed, the roots would follow.
So why…?
Why couldn’t she reach him?
“You’re slowing down. Too much thinking?”
“Ugh…”
His voice was right behind her, then she felt a sharp pain in her back.
She collapsed, and something pierced her leg.
“Ah… ugh…!”
“You won’t be moving for a while.”
She looked up and saw his arm, plunged through her leg, a sickening, corrosive sound emanating from the wound.
But he wasn’t finished.
A red glint flashed in his black eyes, and he raised his other hand, aiming for her face.
To crush it.
To obliterate it.
“Ugh…!”
“Huh?”
But his attack missed.
She’d somehow pulled her leg free from his grasp.
He looked down and saw a deep hole in the ground where her leg had been.
“Aah~ you dug a hole and pulled your leg through. Clever.”
“…You’re perceptive.”
“Well, you still can’t move with that—”
He stopped, his eyes widening in surprise.
She was standing, her leg, though still bleeding, seemingly uninjured.
It was impossible. He hadn’t just pierced her leg; he’d infused it with his corrosive energy.
It should have been dissolving her flesh, her bone. She shouldn’t be able to stand.
“…How are you standing?”
“Your energy… it’s potent. It took me this long to neutralize it.”
She gestured towards her leg, and he finally saw it. A faint green light, like a miniature vacuole, pulsed around the wound, drawing out the dark, corrosive energy.
“Haha… the spirits really do love you, don’t they? That stuff isn’t easy to get rid of.”
“What, are you jealous? I can understand, considering no one seems to love you.”
“Shut your mouth!”
He lunged towards her, then stopped, his head snapping to the side.
“Huff… ugh…”
“What is it now…?”
“You… you killed my family!”
An arrow flew past him, and he turned to see a male elf, another arrow already nocked.
Before he could react, another attack came from a different direction.
He dodged, then looked up, annoyed.
“And who are you?”
“All knights! To me! The enemy is one!”
The knight with the white hair and beard, the one they’d called “captain.”
His sword, a blur of silver, hurtled towards the boy.
The boy, in response, manipulated the students he’d driven mad.
Human shields? A diversion?
His intentions were unclear, but it was a clever move.
But it didn’t work. The knights didn’t hesitate.
And the boy’s dark energy, which had been controlling them, was fading, returning to him.
“Haha! Did you kill them all? So many people…!”
“This isn’t murder. It’s a sacrifice. A sacrifice to kill you…!”
The old knight lunged, his blade aimed at the boy’s heart, his eyes filled with a grim determination, tears welling up in the corners. Tears for the comrades he’d been forced to kill.
The other knights followed, their expressions a mixture of grief and rage. Revenge for their fallen friends, their family.
All their hatred, their resentment, was focused on the boy.
But he seemed… unfazed.
He just stood there, frozen.
And Sylvia, who’d been watching, saw an opening.
‘I don’t know why, but… in the middle of a battle, you can’t afford to be distracted…!’
“…What a mess.”
But the boy moved, his body contorting violently, as if something was trying to burst out of him.
“This is what I hate. The weak, not knowing their place.”
“Wh-What…!”
“Shouldn’t the weak just accept their fate? Shouldn’t they just submit? Why do you… why do you refuse?!”
His body writhed, and then, something erupted from his shoulder, shimmering with an otherworldly, grotesque light.
“Ugh…!”
“Wh-What is that…?”
“Bleeegh!”
Everyone, regardless of race, recoiled in horror, some even vomiting at the sight.
It was a simple tendril, translucent, almost see-through. Compared to his other abilities, it seemed almost harmless.
But the reason for their reaction…
“H-How can a person…!”
“W-Wait, it’s moving…”
“Is it… alive?!”
…was what was inside it.
People.
Or rather, the remains of people. Their scalps were gone, their skulls exposed. Their faces were mangled, their eyes dangling from their sockets. Their shoulders were dislocated, their arms elongated, grotesque.
All of them, crammed together in a single, small tendril, forming a grotesque tower of flesh.
And it was moving.
The boy’s voice, now devoid of its earlier flippancy, was cold, detached.
“You’re weak, insignificant. You should have just submitted to me. You shouldn’t have hoped for a different outcome. That is the fate of the weak, the privilege of the strong. So, you can just die here.”
His aura intensified, a crushing pressure that made it difficult to breathe. Even the seasoned knights, the ones who prided themselves on their strength, fainted. Sylvia, with the help of her spirits, barely managed to stay on her feet.
His orange hair had turned black, his eyes a glowing, demonic red.
“…What a mess.”
“H-Hey! You can’t—”
“Get out of the way.”
A figure, a blur of silver, pushed past the knights.
A shadow, moving with a fluid grace, weaving through the armored figures, the moonlight glinting off its silver armor.
“…Honestly, I didn’t believe it when I heard your voice. I didn’t want to believe it.”
“…Jenison?”
“I never would have imagined it was you… I don’t know if I should be happy to see you or not.”
Even Sylvia’s voice couldn’t stop him.
“It’s been a long time, Number 8…!”
“Kikik, it really has been a while, Senior.”
A reunion, long overdue, that a mere long-lived species couldn’t possibly interrupt.
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