Chapter 652

Seeing Vitor up close, Ian couldn’t help but wonder about his appearance.

“Is he an outsider?”

His facial features were strikingly different—not only from those around Bariel but also from the northern tribes. Sure, his pale skin and flowing hair looked unfamiliar, but the key point was that he didn’t seem like a Gaia native.

Then, he must be a mercenary hired by Luswena. Ian began to understand why this man had resorted to forbidden magic.

“He probably didn’t fully grasp what forbidden magic truly means.”

Among Gaia’s mages, once a child’s magical aptitude is revealed, no matter where they’re born, they form bonds and alliances with other mages.

For example, Bariel’s mages gather at the central imperial palace’s magic department.

Luswena’s mages are based here, in the Mage’s Forest.

Vargos and Klipofod had very few magic users, so they lacked formal exchanges, but if there were any, they’d surely revolve around the royal court.

“But a mage who’s wandered alone for most of their life, without those bonds, their knowledge and wisdom would inevitably be shallow.”

The accumulated heritage from ancient times alone helped mages develop.

How to rearrange formulas to create new magic circles, the crucial differences between low-grade and mid-grade mana crystals, the beliefs and taboos a mage must hold—especially the ruin that forbidden magic brings.

Because he hadn’t learned what he should have, forbidden magic might have been his last desperate trump card.

“The power you choose when cornered, ready to die.”

Ian furrowed his brow and unleashed his mana at the charging Vitor.

Boom!

“Has forbidden magic consumed your soul? How can you take human form and yet not speak?”

“Ugh…”

Vitor was slammed backward, tumbling across the ground. He looked so pitiful that Beric, who was about to step in and protect, hesitated, sword halfway drawn.

“Ian, is that guy really a mage?”

“He is. My sixth sense tells me so. And I’m certain he came to Hielo.”

“But how is he so pathetic? Nersarn and Kakan died because of him? That’s ridiculous. Damn it.”

Dark red droplets dripped from Vitor’s mouth. Whether it was saliva, blood, or some life-draining poison, Ian didn’t know. He drew his Idgal sword and took a step closer.

“Why are you still alive after using forbidden magic? I’m not giving you time to catch your breath. If you don’t answer, I’ll bury you underground forever.”

Swish.

Ian leveled his sword at Vitor’s throat, peering into his pupils, which were clouded with an unidentifiable energy. To his surprise, there was no emotion—just an empty shell.

“His soul is gone.”

It was clear Vitor was with the Luswena army; he had appeared right after the dragon’s fall.

But if he had no soul, how could he know what was happening here? Ian pondered deeply, then tilted his head slightly as realization dawned.

Shhhk!

Bang!

It was the same attack Ian had first seen at the Battle of Agiar—an invisible, sharp, and slender strike coming from nowhere. A puppeteer.

As soon as Ian realized this, he slashed at the mage’s eyes with his Idgal sword.

Shhhk!

“Argh!”

The puppeteer was watching the situation through Vitor’s body. Tolun had moved faster than expected—his puppeteer’s reach extending all the way here.

Vitor writhed in pain, but Ian pinned his head down with his foot and spoke as if commanding him to listen.

“Are you listening? Tolun’s puppeteer.”

Vitor twitched violently, then answered in a crushed, oddly sweet voice that didn’t match his deep tone.

“Hohoho, yes, loud and clear. Pleasure to meet you, Minister of Magic. Mrs. Darshi.”

“Ugh. What’s with that tone? Damn it!”

Beric, standing nearby, scratched his arm nervously and took a step back, goosebumps crawling up his neck.

“Was the attack on Hielo your will, or his?”

“Does it matter? There was no choice.”

Whether he died or we did, questioning whose will it was now was pointless.

“Right. It doesn’t matter. They’re already dead. But I swear this—I didn’t come here as the Minister of Magic, but as the lord of Hielo. I’ve lost everything. If Luswena wants to respond, they must lose everything too.”

Vitor’s head jerked strangely—was it agreement or mockery? He gasped for breath several times, then muttered softly.

“I don’t know about that, but Ian Hielo, you’re awfully close. Vitor’s a dangerous mage, you know.”

Boom!

An explosion erupted as a warning. Ian reflexively raised a protective shield, and Beric blocked the fiery blast with his sword.

Vitor staggered to his feet, mumbling.

“…‘Evil energy.’”

Whoosh!

A sticky darkness poured endlessly from his body. Grass touching it withered instantly, trees rotted, and the air filled with a foul stench.

Beric, sensitive to smells, couldn’t help but gag repeatedly. Ian frowned and took a step back.

Swish.

The darkness seemed alive, swirling into a circle before expanding to surround Ian and Beric, as if forbidding them to take a single step beyond.

When Ian tried to leap up, the darkness formed a wall, matching his height.

“Ugh, damn! This smell’s unbearable! Ian, don’t move. It’s spreading—ugh!”

Beric clutched his nose and mouth, unable to speak.

Ian clicked his tongue and cast a spell with his fingertips.

“Gale.”

The wind shifted sharply—from Beric toward Vitor. As the stench dispersed, Beric collapsed, relieved but dizzy and drained of fighting spirit.

Whoosh!

Seizing the moment, Ian created space with his shield and lunged at Vitor. He was nothing special. Though he’d used forbidden magic, he’d lost his will, and his limits were clear. His physical abilities were nearly useless. Ian planned to cut him down quickly and leave the Mage’s Forest to face the others.

Just as Ian swung his sword—

“…!”

Something changed. The puppet-like body straightened its posture and, with all its might, traced a magic circle with its fingertips.

“Late Arrival.”

A massive magic circle appeared, with a long clock hand drawn in the center. Ian recognized the attack and tried to dodge, but it was too close.

Vwoooom.

The light from the magic circle struck him directly. Click. As the clock hand moved right, Ian’s movements slowed.

“Ian!”

Click. Once more to the right. Now, even taking a single step took several seconds. The effect spread to the entire illuminated area—hair floating, grass swaying, sleeves fluttering—all slowed noticeably.

“Damn it!”

Beric charged forward, but Vitor coughed up black blood and spread the magic circle’s light wider. If Beric got closer, he’d be caught in the same trap.

Ian searched desperately for another way in, but there was none. Beric stopped, biting his lip, helplessly watching Ian, who could only move slowly.

He didn’t know what to do. He’d never seen magic like this before.

“Damn!”

The only thing Beric could do was stay as close as possible to shield Ian from the attack. He threw his sword at the clock-shaped magic circle, but it didn’t even scratch it.

“Ian!”

Click. Click. Click.

The clock kept ticking. Vitor judged that once the hand completed a full rotation to the right, the magic would end. There was no other chance.

He staggered, groping the ground blindly. His vision was gone from Ian’s slash, but he didn’t realize it.

Then—

“Ahh…”

Thunk.

Something long caught at his fingertips.

Feeling it, he recognized a shard of Idgal. Summoning all his strength, he moved toward Ian, who blinked slowly, expressionless like a doll trapped underwater.

“This ends here. If I don’t kill you, I’m dead.”

Vitor searched Ian’s neck for a vital spot. Thump, thump. He felt the slow pulse. Good, here it is.

“…”

“Don’t be too regretful… Hngh.”

Click.

The clock hand was almost done with its full rotation. As the hand moved, the weight of time pressed down on Vitor, growing heavier. Now, with this sword… the neck…

“No way, you bastard!”

Seeing that, Beric had no choice but to leap into the magic circle. At once, Vitor coughed up blood as if crushed by gravity and collapsed forward. The magic circle’s effect was now acting on two people instead of one.

Beric froze, reaching out toward Ian, while Vitor blindly groped along the ground, disoriented.

Click, click…

Silence engulfed the scene, broken only by the ticking sound. No one could tell who would grasp their sword first.

*    *    *

“Lady Darcy?”

“Quiet!”

Darcy, groaning with her eyes shut, suddenly snapped. Martin frowned in displeasure but said nothing—he knew full well she was using a mage to confront Ian Hiel.

“This is definitely tougher than I thought. Maybe because he’s a mage, not just an ordinary person. Ugh.”

She ordered the mage to subdue the opponent. But Vitor chose to cast a spell called “Defilement”—a foul-smelling, toxic magic meant to restrict the enemy’s movement. Against two opponents darting through the air, though, it was utterly ineffective.

“Ugh.”

Since she’d resorted to forbidden magic, there had to be something powerful enough to take the enemy down in one blow…

“Honestly, what a cruel person! How can you just cut out someone’s eye? Isn’t that right? This is why those Empire bastards are—tsk!”

Because Ian had sliced out Vitor’s eye, the mage’s vision was now useless. They had to rely on the puppet master’s senses, but the narrow, pinhole-like view made it inefficient.

Darcy clicked her tongue anxiously and then picked up the Vitor puppet herself.

“This won’t do.”

With that, she snapped one of the strings connected to him—the thread suppressing his will. Then, leaning close to the now blind puppet, she whispered:

“Vitor the mage, listen carefully. You’re facing Ian Hiel, Minister of Magic. Kill him by any means necessary, and I’ll remove the puppet controlling you. Oh, and I have some good news, too.”

Martin frowned. What was she playing at? Darcy waved a finger, signaling him to be quiet.

“I’ve even found a way to break the forbidden magic! Hoho. So hurry up and kill Ian Hiel and his subordinate. They’re right in front of you.”

With that, Darcy kissed the puppet. Surely, now that Vitor’s will was freed, he’d use some decent magic to handle the enemy. Though, without his sight, he’d still be at a disadvantage…

“Lady Darcy.”

“Yes?”

“You said you’d free him from the strings? And the forbidden magic…?”

Martin asked, puzzled. Darcy laughed, clearly amused.

“Oh, you’re so innocent! Of course, that was a lie! Don’t worry. Once Ian Hiel is dead, I’ll seal Vitor’s will away again! Hohoho.”