Episode 189: Death Knight (1)
An invisible force pressed down on the entire field.
The surface was shattered, and the ground had sunk. It looked as if a giant hammer had struck, leaving a massive dent across the landscape.
It was hard to believe that such a vast and eerie scene was the result of a single dark magic spell.
Yet, despite the dramatic appearance, the actual damage was minimal.
“Wow.”
A whistle cut through the silence.
Standing amidst the crushed field was Wingstone, who looked around with an expression of admiration.
“Incredible. You’re not just any dark sorcerer, are you?”
Wingstone hadn’t dodged or blocked the attack. He simply stood his ground, enduring the pressure that had flattened the entire field with his bare body.
And yet, he remained unscathed, standing there as if nothing had happened.
‘As expected, he’s no pushover.’
Damian wasn’t particularly surprised.
He knew well what kind of monsters Master Class sorcerers were.
A mere spell like that wouldn’t be enough to kill a Master Class sorcerer.
There was a reason why even the greatest dark sorcerers sought ways to surpass the Master Class.
“Sucre, my delicate little cat. Are you alright?”
Wingstone turned his gaze. There, a large ball of fire was slowly dissipating, revealing the form of a spirit. And then, Sucre appeared.
“Gasp, gasp… That bastard…”
Sucre was on her knees, panting heavily.
“That piece of trash… dared to… ugh…”
She coughed up blood, bits of her insides mixed in.
‘She’s suffered internal injuries.’
Sucre had used a spirit to block the attack.
But she hadn’t been able to fully withstand the pressure, resulting in internal damage.
“Glemi…!”
Sucre called out weakly, and the fire spirit placed a hand on her back.
A gentle flame enveloped Sucre, and her expression quickly relaxed.
‘This is why spirits are such a nuisance.’
Damian clicked his tongue inwardly.
Spirits could attack, defend, and even heal.
They were the ultimate allies, capable of anything. For those facing them, they were an infuriating presence.
“I thought you had completed your vision with that spirit, but… it doesn’t seem like it.”
A dark sorcerer who completes their vision gains combat power comparable to a Master Class.
But unlike Wingstone, Sucre hadn’t been able to fully block the attack.
She had even suffered internal injuries severe enough to crush her organs. It meant she hadn’t reached a very high level as a dark sorcerer.
If she hadn’t completed her vision, she couldn’t have subdued a spirit. This meant the fire spirit Sucre possessed had been given to her by someone else.
“Who gave you that spirit? Was it the Lord of Flames?”
The Lord of Flames.
One of the great evils of Pandemonium.
A dark sorcerer of the School of Destruction, who had subdued countless fire spirits.
In a past life, he had even succeeded in subduing the King of Fire Spirits.
“Infuriating… I’m going crazy… How dare you… you trash…”
But Sucre wasn’t in a state to answer Damian’s question.
“My delicate little kitten. Shall I help you?”
“Get lost! Try stepping in, and I’ll kill you too!”
Sucre rejected Wingstone’s offer of help once more.
Her rage had reached its peak, blinding her to everything else.
“Glemi!”
Sucre shouted, and Glemi transformed into a blue flame, enveloping her.
‘She’s planning to merge with the spirit to maximize the power of her dark magic.’
If Sucre was indeed connected to the Lord of Flames, there was only one school she could belong to.
The School of Destruction.
She likely specialized in dark magic that manipulated flames.
The School of Destruction was known for wielding the most destructive dark magic.
What would happen if a dark sorcerer from the School of Destruction merged with a mid-level spirit?
It was hard to imagine how much the power of her dark magic would be amplified.
“Prepare yourself. I won’t let you die easily.”
Sucre pointed her finger at Damian. She didn’t release any dark energy or draw a magic circle.
Yet, at that moment, an explosion erupted beneath Damian’s feet.
With a deafening roar, crimson flames burst forth, engulfing the spot where Damian stood.
“Die! Just die already!”
Sucre screamed, waving her hands wildly.
Each time she moved her hands, a new explosion followed. The blasts continued in rapid succession.
The ground where Damian had stood was completely obliterated. A massive blaze engulfed the world, flames shooting up to pierce the sky.
”…”
Despite her relentless assault, Sucre’s expression didn’t brighten.
She simply watched the flames with wary eyes.
And as expected, when the flames subsided, Damian emerged unscathed.
A shadow had risen from beneath his feet, forming a protective barrier around him.
“Tch.”
Sucre clicked her tongue. She hadn’t expected him to withstand her dark magic so easily.
“How can you block my dark magic so effortlessly?”
Her voice trembled with frustration, her pride deeply wounded.
“Let’s see if you can withstand this.”
The flames surrounding Damian gathered into one spot.
The fireball took the shape of a giant. It was Glemi, the mid-level spirit Sucre had summoned.
“Glemi! Finish it!”
The fire spirit swung its massive fist at Damian, the fiery mass crashing down on him.
At that moment, the shadow beneath Damian Haxen’s feet began to stir.
Something emerged from within, a massive maw opening wide to swallow Glemi’s upper body.
“Glemi!”
Sucre cried out in panic.
With its upper body torn away, Glemi staggered before reverting to flames and returning to Sucre’s side.
“Glemi! Are you alright?”
Glemi returned to its original form, seemingly unharmed despite the damage.
Spirits, lacking a physical form, couldn’t be killed so easily.
But Sucre could feel it. Glemi’s power had significantly diminished.
When the wolf had torn into it, it had drained a substantial amount of its strength.
Sucre looked up at Damian again.
Beside him stood a giant wolf, as if carved from darkness itself.
With each breath, the wolf exuded a palpable sense of dread.
“You…”
Sucre asked, her face full of caution.
“Where did you find such a monster…?”
Even just looking at it, she could feel it.
The immense dark energy radiating from the wolf.
“Good job, Munch.”
Damian reached out to pat the wolf’s leg. Munch panted happily, tongue lolling.
“Let’s borrow a bit more of your strength. It’s time to finish this.”
The wolf melted back into the shadows. Immediately, darkness spread across the entire field.
The darkness began to ripple, like waves on a stormy sea.
The overwhelming sight sent shivers down Sucre’s spine.
Her instincts screamed a warning. Staying here would be dangerous.
”…Ugh!”
Sucre immediately summoned all her dark energy.
The released energy transformed into flames, rising behind her like a towering wall.
“Glemi! Devour it!”
At Sucre’s command, the fire spirit opened its mouth. All the flames she had conjured were sucked inside.
The spirit’s size grew rapidly.
It surpassed the size of a house, becoming as large as a fortress wall.
The now-giant Glemi brought its hands together in front of its chest. Between its palms, flames began to compress.
The compressed fire emitted a blinding light. The dark world was suddenly as bright as day, like staring at the sun.
“Burn it all!”
Sucre shouted.
The fire giant lifted the sun above its head, ready to hurl it at Damian.
But at that moment, Sucre failed to notice something.
The shadow beneath her feet hadn’t disappeared.
From within the shadow, the wolf emerged.
It was several times larger than before, swallowing the giant Glemi in one swift motion.
Even the sun Glemi had created was swallowed into the wolf’s maw.
The world, which had been as bright as midday, returned to darkness.
“What…?”
Sucre looked up at the sky in disbelief.
The sun Glemi had created was the most powerful dark magic Sucre could wield.
If properly unleashed, it could turn the entire region into a sea of fire.
And yet… it had been devoured so easily?
“That’s impossible…”
As Sucre denied reality, the wolf lowered its head.
And it swallowed Sucre and the ground she stood on whole.
“That won’t do.”
Suddenly, the black wolf exploded, vanishing without a trace.
Standing before Sukle was a man with a clenched fist—none other than Wingstone.
“Ha… ha…”
Sukle collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.
“Are you alright, my little kitten?”
Wingstone’s question hung in the air, but Sukle couldn’t muster a response. He just sat there, trembling, his face a mask of fear.
“I didn’t expect anyone to push our cute little cat this far,” Wingstone remarked, glancing over at Demian. By his side, another black wolf had appeared, but it was noticeably smaller and looked exhausted, a stark contrast to when it had attacked Sukle. Wingstone’s single punch had clearly taken its toll.
“Victor, was it? You’ve committed a grave sin by tormenting our little kitten,” Wingstone said, slowly drawing his sword. “I think it’s time you learned a lesson.”
From the moment Wingstone appeared, the entire area was suffused with a menacing aura. It felt as if the air had turned to sand, each breath scraping harshly against the throat and lungs.
‘Incredible,’ Demian thought, struggling to withstand the oppressive presence of a master-class warrior. The gap between master-class and high-class was stark.
‘Where is the Order?’ he wondered, extending his senses as far as they would go, but detecting nothing. They hadn’t even arrived nearby.
‘This is bad,’ he realized. As a high-class swordsman, he couldn’t hope to match a master-class opponent. Even with dark magic, he needed extensive preparation to face such a foe.
“No choice, then,” Demian muttered, drawing Wingstone’s attention.
“What do you mean, no choice?” Wingstone asked, but Demian didn’t answer. Instead, he suppressed the magic coursing through him and began to absorb the dark energy swirling in the air.
As his magic receded, the void was filled with dark energy.
“Victor, our troublesome friend?” Wingstone quickly noticed the change in Demian. “Why is a dark mage pretending to be a dark knight?”
Wingstone was right. Demian wasn’t using dark magic in the usual way. He was channeling dark energy like a dark knight would.
Magic and dark energy were fundamentally different forces, and the sensations they produced were equally distinct. Magic was like clear water, generally unobtrusive unless it surged violently. Dark energy, however, was the opposite. It felt like thousands of insects crawling inside, creeping up through his organs. It wasn’t just unpleasant; it was revolting and grotesque.
‘This is why I avoid using this method,’ Demian thought. Unlike dark magic, which didn’t require absorbing dark energy, a dark knight had to absorb and channel it.
“I have no idea what kind of nonsense you’re up to,” Wingstone said, tilting his head in confusion. It was a reasonable reaction; after all, a dark mage suddenly acting like a dark knight was unheard of.
But Demian was different. He had a past as a dark knight, a time when he had reached the pinnacle as a death knight.
He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the discomfort, but it lingered stubbornly. “This is a pain,” he muttered, unleashing the dark energy he had absorbed.
In that instant, an overwhelming aura erupted from Demian.