Episode 122: Nemesis (4)
“The Incinerator” and “Dazzling Pain” had chosen a nearby building to settle in.
Fortunately, most of the structures were intact, requiring only minor repairs to be usable again.
Damian stood in the hallway, gazing out the window. His face was a mask of calm, but inside, a storm raged.
“I got too worked up earlier.”
Whenever black magic was involved, he found it impossible to maintain his composure.
It was a relief that “The Incinerator” had backed down; otherwise, it could have escalated into a major conflict.
“Even after returning, I’m still entangled with those bastards.”
This was why he was so desperate to grow stronger. Only by killing Dorgo could Damian finally find peace.
“Sir Damian, there you are.”
A voice came from behind. Agnes approached, holding a steaming mug.
“I brought you something to warm you up. It’s a porridge made by boiling grain powder in water.”
Damian accepted the mug with gratitude and took a sip. The rich, nutty flavor filled his mouth.
Agnes stood beside him, sipping from her own mug.
“Are you feeling calmer now?”
As their mugs emptied, Agnes spoke to Damian.
“I’ve noticed for a while now that you seem to harbor a deep hatred for black magicians.”
“Who wouldn’t despise those filth in this world?” Damian replied with a hint of humor. But Agnes’s expression remained serious.
“True, but… you seem different, Sir Damian.”
“What do you mean by different?”
“Well…”
Agnes trailed off, searching for the right words.
At that moment, something caught Damian’s attention. He stared intently out the window.
“Agnes.”
“Yes?”
“We’re under attack. Go wake the paladins.”
Damian flung open the window and leaped outside.
In an instant, a barrage of black projectiles rained down from the front.
Damian drew his sword, Dawn, and infused it with his power.
A blue aura enveloped Dawn in a flash, and Damian couldn’t help but marvel at its speed.
His previous sword, a lower-grade holy sword, had excellent power transmission, but compared to Dawn, it was like a tortoise.
Damian swung Dawn, scattering the aura and erasing the projectiles.
“Impressive,” he muttered, looking down at Dawn. The sword seemed to vibrate in response.
A low hum resonated, as if protesting, “You just realized?”
He wanted to praise Dawn more, but there was no time.
Damian focused ahead. A robed figure was watching him.
He couldn’t discern its identity, but the black energy coiled around its exposed hand was proof enough.
A black magician.
“We’re under attack! Wake up, everyone!”
“What? An attack?”
“Where’s my weapon? I need my weapon!”
The building erupted in chaos. Soon, two figures landed beside Damian.
“What on earth is happening?”
“It’s a black magician. They seem quite high-ranking.”
It was Paramon and Servo.
“Are they the ones who attacked the headquarters?”
“There aren’t many black magicians bold enough to ambush paladins. It’s likely them.”
“I heard there were two of them. But I only see one.”
The beasts that attacked the branch were a pair.
Yet only the black magician was visible; the dark knight was nowhere to be seen.
“They’re probably hiding, waiting for the right moment.”
“That’s possible. Using a magician as a decoy to lower our guard is a known tactic.”
Typically, magicians or black magicians stayed in the rear.
But sometimes, reversing such conventions could exploit an opening.
“Foolish. Using such a strategy against two first-class paladins?”
Such tactics should be employed with caution, considering the opponent.
“Let’s eliminate that one first to prevent any tricks.”
“Agreed.”
Paramon and Servo summoned their holy power, more ferocious than when they faced Nadine.
Against Nadine, they had to control their strength and emotions, but against an enemy, there was no need.
The two charged at the black magician, moving with blinding speed.
Paramon aimed a punch at the head, while Servo swung his mace at the same target.
In that instant, a pair of hands emerged from the robe, each gripping a sword.
“What?”
“Huh?”
The sudden turn of events left the two unable to react.
Even if they tried, it was too late. The distance was too close.
The hands wielding the swords moved, and a dark aura coated the blades.
The black slashes cut through the air, aiming for the two.
Just before that, Damian yanked the two back by their collars.
Their bodies jerked backward, narrowly avoiding the blades that grazed their stomachs.
Cold sweat trickled down their backs. Without Damian, they would have surely perished.
But instead of relief, their minds were filled with questions.
How could a person have an extra pair of arms?
“Darn, we almost had them.”
“Honey, it’s because of that guy. He snatched the paladins away, and we missed our chance.”
Two voices came from the black magician, one male and one female.
When the black magician threw off the robe, a grotesque figure was revealed.
Two pairs of arms sprouted from the shoulders.
Surgical scars covered the body, and a fist-sized black stone was embedded in the chest.
The most shocking part was the head. A man’s and a woman’s face were fused back-to-back.
Paramon and Servo stared in horror at the Hangar couple.
Damian, however, remained unfazed. He already knew.
The Hangar couple were no longer human.
To be precise, they had once been human but were transformed into experimental subjects by Dorgo.
Originally, the Hangar couple were not two but four. They were twin couples.
The twin brothers were dark knights, and the twin sisters were top-tier black magicians. Together, they were infamous.
Dorgo had taken an interest in them. He was conducting an experiment at the time and used the four as test subjects.
The result was the monstrous creature before them.
“Oh, I bet ‘Brother’ on who would finish first. Are we going to lose?”
“I boasted to ‘Sister,’ too. If we’re late… I dread how much she’ll tease me!”
From their conversation, it seemed the Hangar couple here were the “younger siblings.”
“I hate losing bets, so let’s give it our all.”
“Let’s finish them off quickly and head back!”
Paramon and Servo were incredulous at their casual banter.
“They’re underestimating us.”
“Two heads, but not much intelligence.”
Paramon and Servo ignited their hostility.
They had been caught off guard earlier, but now they were ready.
And they weren’t alone.
The remaining paladins poured out of the building. Paladins from both orders surrounded the Hangar couple.
Two first-class paladins and six second-class paladins. Plus, there was Damian Haxen, a middle-class fighter.
The Hangar couple was clearly outnumbered. Yet their demeanor remained relaxed.
“Looks like everyone’s here.”
“Shall we activate it?”
Suddenly, the black stone in the Hangar couple’s chest began to glow.
Black lines spread from the stone, quickly covering their entire skin.
“Stop them!”
Paramon shouted urgently. His experience as a paladin warned him of the danger.
But it was too late.
The Hangar couple opened their mouths wide, releasing a purple smoke.
The smoke spread rapidly, leaving the paladins no time to escape.
The paladins collapsed as soon as they came into contact with the purple smoke. Holding their breath was futile; mere contact induced unconsciousness.
Among those who fainted was Damian Haxen.
When he regained consciousness, he found himself in a dreamlike state.
It was a place filled with darkness. He couldn’t tell how high the ceiling was or if there were walls. Nothing was discernible.
“What a nuisance. To think they can trigger such magic instantly.”
Dorgo’s experiment with the Hangar couple involved turning their bodies into magical tools.
The Hangar couple’s entire body was essentially a magical device for casting Nightmare Death, a black magic spell.
This allowed them to activate Nightmare Death without any casting time.
Of course, with Damian’s knowledge and skill, he could dispel Nightmare Death as soon as it was cast.
But doing so would reveal to the paladins that Damian could use black magic.
So, for now, Damian had no choice but to succumb to Nightmare Death.
“In a way, this is convenient. No one’s watching now.”
Nightmare Death was a black magic spell that even first-class paladins couldn’t avoid. It was created by none other than Archlich Dorgo.
However, it couldn’t kill a first-class paladin. It couldn’t inflict mental damage either. The duration of the nightmare was relatively short.
The same applied to second-class paladins. They would suffer more mental damage than first-class paladins, but it wasn’t life-threatening.
While the holy knights were trapped in their nightmares, Demian planned to subdue the Hanger couple and interrogate them about Dorgo. He intended to finish his revenge.
Then it happened.
A sudden whoosh of arrows filled the air. Hundreds of them flew from afar, piercing Demian’s body, turning him into a human pincushion.
Yet, Demian felt no pain.
“This is my domain.”
Though nightmares could conjure horrific visions, the dreamer was ultimately in control. As long as he kept his wits about him, nothing could harm him.
Flames erupted from the ground, followed by a chilling wind. But none of it could touch Demian.
“There’s nothing more to see here.”
Just as Demian was about to dispel the nightmare, the scene shifted.
The darkness vanished, replaced by a field. Once lush with green grass, it was now soaked in dark red blood, littered with bodies.
Demian froze.
He recognized it instantly. He knew where he was and what was about to happen.
“Demian!”
A familiar voice called out. Slowly, Demian lifted his head.
His father stood before him, looking much older than he remembered.
“Demian! Why are you with the Akrich? What is that armor you’re wearing?”
Demian glanced down. He was clad in black armor, towering over his father.
His father approached him slowly.
Demian tried to shout for him to stop, but no words came out. His mouth was sealed shut.
“What happened to you…?” his father began, but then stopped abruptly. A great sword had pierced his father’s abdomen, protruding from his back.
Demian’s eyes followed the blade to its hilt, where his own hand gripped it.
“De…mian…”
His father’s head drooped, life fading from his eyes.
“Ah…”
No sound escaped Demian’s lips.
“Ahh…”
He couldn’t even open his mouth. He couldn’t express his anguish.
This body wasn’t his own. He was trapped, forced to watch helplessly.
“Ahhh…!”
A silent scream filled his mind, turning everything white.
The holy knights, having inhaled the purple smoke, lay sprawled on the ground.
The Hanger couple looked down at them, chuckling softly.
“Foolish, pathetic creatures.”
The dark magic bestowed by their master was truly magnificent. No one had ever withstood it.
The couple shivered with reverence at the thought of their master.
“Shall we start stringing them up, one by one?”
They pulled out a length of rope from their belts, long enough to hang all the knights.
“Let’s start with that annoying man who got in our way.”
“An excellent idea. He deserves special treatment.”
As they approached Demian Haxen, they grabbed his neck, preparing to hang him.
At that moment, Demian’s eyes slowly opened, startling the couple.
“What, how is he awake already…?”
“I had a rather unpleasant dream,” Demian said, his voice surprisingly calm for someone in his predicament.
“A dream where I killed my father with my own hands. It’s a sight I never wish to see again.”
Demian looked at the Hanger couple with disdain.
“This is why I despise you. You’re like vermin. Disgusting when seen, spreading filth and disease when not.”
The couple scowled at his words.
“What nonsense is this fool spouting?”
“Darling, let’s just break his jaw.”
They grabbed Demian’s jaw, ready to twist it.
In that instant, Demian seized their wrists, channeling his power into them.
Their forearm muscles twisted, blood and dark magic boiling within.
Pop.
With a small sound, the muscles burst, spraying blood and flesh everywhere.
“Argh!”
“Aaah!”
The couple screamed, releasing Demian’s neck, clutching their now skeletal arms.
Demian drew his sword, its blade enveloped in a fierce blue aura.
“Do me a favor and hold out for a while.”
His face twisted into a grimace, his dilated pupils brimming with murderous intent.
The forest fell silent, every creature holding its breath. Not even the insects dared to make a sound.
“If you die too easily, I won’t be able to rid myself of this filthy feeling.”