episode_0080

“I’ve been watching, and you’re truly insane, aren’t you?”

Look at Bibeka, rampaging without grasping the situation, even after I personally told her my noble name.

Ignorance is humanity’s greatest enemy, always leading oneself to a terrible death.

In my life before regression, and even here where I’ve returned, you are still ignorant and undignified.

So, this time too, your end is set.

“How dare a mere slave, with what audacity, use a title only permitted to His Majesty the King? Did you truly lose your mind from performing too many plays?”

Laufeyga…

It is a title allowed to only one person in this damned country of Kashmir: the King.

It means ‘Ruler of Magic’ in ancient Kashmiri, and thus it is a word permitted only to the King of Kashmir, the greatest mage under heaven.

By national law, no one can place this word in their name, and even casually pronouncing it is forbidden; it is a kind of taboo or sacred word.

The punishment for violating the taboo, if caught, is death.

From my perspective, having personally assassinated the King, sat on the throne, and taken the name Laufeyga with my own hands, this is utterly ridiculous.

Why do they make such a fuss over a mere five-letter word, that supposedly magnificent word?

“Laufeyga, Laufeyga, Laufeyga. How laughable, Bibeka, for a coward who trembles, unable to pronounce a mere five letters like these, to speak of slaves to me.”

Do you know how grotesquely the king of mages in this country, revered as an inviolable domain, has maintained his throne?

Even after knowing that, would you truly be able to call him ‘Your Majesty’?

Hmm… Actually, a lowlife dark mage like Bibeka might even be impressed, admiring it as ingenious and great upon hearing the story.

Anyway, Bibeka and her subordinates were momentarily dumbfounded by my provocation, then soon came to their senses and began laughing among themselves.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter whether you dare to utter that word or not. Rete, your limbs will be torn apart and thrown to the dogs today. We can always find another spirit mage for magic maintenance anyway, besides you.”

Bibeka, the dark mage of Nyxtania, the Black Widow Spider.

This woman uses theater performances at the ‘Zephira’ theater as bait to gather audiences.

Both the theater and the play are traps designed by Bibeka, and at the same time, they are the very dark magic she prides herself on.

Bibeka’s original magic. Sacrifice Play, Sacrificing Theatra.

Zephira Theater, from its entrance to the back of the stage, is all one massive dark magic formation.

Audience members sit in their seats, watch the play, applaud, and empathize, unknowingly paying for the play with their own inner strength instead of money.

Inner deep power such as mental strength, vitality and vigor represented by mana, and eventually even their very souls…

The victim, as a pleasurable price for watching the play, has these and those things sucked out of them until they eventually become a soulless puppet.

There are many dark arts and spells that rapidly absorb mana or vitality through acts like touch.

Drain, or the Star-Sucking Grand Art of the East, are prime examples.

However, there is no magic that easily steals mental strength, let alone souls.

Especially in the case of souls, they are far more delicate and complex than simple intangible forces like mana or vitality, and their defensive mechanisms are also much stronger.

Someone tries to forcibly steal a soul?

In such cases, souls usually have thick barriers to protect their place, to the point of choosing self-destruction rather than being subjugated to another.

That’s why Bibeka chose to create a trap that makes people willingly offer up their souls.

Dance, song, acting, and I, the most beautiful woman in the world.

Through these, the dark magic of the so-called “Sunshine Policy” makes the opponent’s soul spontaneously drop its ironclad defenses.

Especially since I am a spirit mage and specialize in coaxing souls, I play a quite important role in this magic.

If a victim watches the play a few times like this and becomes captivated by my beauty, they unknowingly offer themselves to the spider sitting in the web.

Of course, for ‘me’ right now, openly controlling the souls of the living rather than the souls of the dead is quite overwhelming, but Bibeka’s magic fills in the missing parts.

Bibeka probably disregards me and babbles about me being easily replaceable because she overestimates her own share in the magic.

But she’s wrong.

Regrettably, this dark magic that Bibeka ambitiously prepared does not function properly without me.

“First, I’m going to kill you, Bibeka. But before I kill you, I think I should correct the misconception you are currently under.”

Bibeka laughs breathlessly as she watches me speak calmly and quietly.

“Kill? You kill me? You, who only possess a pretty face, a figure that men would drool over, and a weak aptitude as a spirit mage? With that pathetic mana?”

Before my regression, I couldn’t use proper magic at this time.

Because of the trickery placed on my body, I couldn’t use my innate mana, nor could I accumulate new mana.

The only talent I had left was my aptitude as a spirit mage, which naturally seeped out no matter how much mana was blocked.

My detailed story is not appropriate to recount like a melodrama at a time like this, so I’ll save it for when the situation is better…

Simply put, my body was damaged by my father, the King of this country, Oberon Laufeyga Kashmir.

Furthermore, I hadn’t learned any notable magic, so as Bibeka said, during that time, I was merely a beautiful, insignificant spirit mage. (Of course, I wasn’t *ordinarily* beautiful.)

But now, things are different.

The Rete who served as a slave under Bibeka for a long time, turning countless audience members into soulless empty shells, a shadowy accomplice who couldn’t even reveal her own name, no longer exists.

And that place is now occupied by Semere Laufeyga Kashmir, who stood at the pinnacle of all witches and mages after countless battles and massacres.

Through a miraculous turn of events, regression, which can never be explained by reason or logic.

“Rather than explaining it in intricate detail with words, I’ll make you feel it with your body.”

Since Bibeka is not the type to listen to reason, I decided to make her feel what had happened directly.

The power of that vulgar woman standing before me with an impertinent smile is, in itself, stronger than mine.

The binds within my body, which I had just managed to break during my regression, have returned and bound me again, and the mana, which was vaster and deeper than any ocean, has completely evaporated.

Nevertheless, I am not confident that I will lose now.

Even if I’ve lost all my mana, the mental strength and deep understanding of magic I accumulated before my regression remain intact.

Especially, mages like Bibeka who use ridiculous traps or snares as their signature, plastered with activation times and conditions, are not well-suited against me.

In any case, it’s rather fortunate for me that Bibeka is my first opponent after regression.

If I think about it, as the Queen of Witches, simply killing the audacious traitor who enslaved me with a mundane spell would feel undignified.

Ras used to express this with the strange phrase, ‘My prestige is falling’ [a proverb about one’s image being diminished], and when I once asked for its meaning, he said it was a vulgar slang used by imperial teenagers.

Anyway… Ras, despite pretending to be mature, had a somewhat childish side, which was quite endearing.

Since I’m thinking of Ras, shall I revive the noble Semere’s prestige for a change?

I clapped my hands with a *clap*.

With a cheerful sound, the dark backstage had already become my stage once more, and Bibeka and her subordinates sat in their seats as the audience.

“Wh-what… is this…? When did…?”

Bibeka’s subordinates mumbled, looking around with bewildered expressions.

There was an insolent child trying to get up, so I snapped my fingers with a *click*, and they all froze as if rooted to the spot.

However, I let them move their mouths. That way, they could panic and shriek pleasant screams.

“My body won’t move.”

“I can’t even twitch a finger…!”

And Bibeka, who was the master of this dark magic…

“You… what is this? How did you…”

It seemed she realized that the magic I was currently casting was her own Sacrificing Theatra.

No, to be precise, the magic I am currently casting is a much more complete, improved version of hers.

More than a month has passed since I regressed.

At least four times a week, I was quietly exploited, mobilized for this tiresome dark magic.

While pretending to be exploited, I began analyzing every stroke and subtly dismantling Bibeka’s dark magic, which was well-structured but lacked in various finishing touches.

Bibeka might have thought that Zephira Theater was completely her domain and magic circle, but now this magic is mine.

The mana, vitality, vigor, mental strength, and subtle fragments of souls gathered from the audience through the dark magic became the power base that allowed me to cast spells.

So, just a moment ago, based on the last power I gained through the performance, I was able to consume all of Bibeka’s magic and claim it as my own.

“Bibeka, the slightly regrettable and clumsy magic you created, I’ve taken it from you. No matter how hard you try to do anything… this theater, your magic… they’ve all left your hands now, haven’t they?”

“Ugh…! Ugh…! Don’t make me laugh… I know a mere spirit mage is just trying to scare me with illusions or something. Damn it…!”

Enraged by the fact that her magic’s ownership was stolen, Bibeka thrashes, but it’s truly a meaningless waste of effort.

In this place, which I have thoroughly analyzed and successfully taken control of, from beginning to end, no one can cast even a ‘ma’ of magic except those who have my permission.

Regardless of whether Bibeka’s total mana is greater than mine, she is within ‘my domain,’ which I have seized and possess.

“Before I came, your paltry and lowly energy absorption magic never succeeded, did it?”

“…….That was just trial and error….”

“Impossible. The concept was an ingenious and good magic. However… the problem was that no one other than me could fulfill the most crucial trigger part of the magic, the ‘actor’ who brainwashes souls and induces them to collapse on their own…”

I already know that Sacrificing Theatra began to truly exert its power only after I was dragged to Zephira.

Even before me, several spirit mages were dragged to Bibeka and performed the role of ‘actor’ like slaves, but not a single one succeeded.

Instead, they were either consumed by the magic or bounced back by the rebellion of the targeted souls, barely clinging to life, only to be slaughtered by Bibeka for silence and offered as sacrifices to maintain her dark magic.

[Oh Queen, please punish that impious one. Avenge the spirit mages.]

[Absurdly, she used us as magic consumables, disproportionate to our worth.]

Look at those souls, still circling around me, imploring me to avenge them against Bibeka.

They are merely victims who were unjustly dragged here, suffered through harsh tasks far beyond their capabilities, and then died.

It is only natural, as no spirit mage other than me can perform such delicate soul training, capable of disarming the deepest, most fundamental parts of a human soul.

Because I am beautiful and charming enough to make such things possible.

Therefore, if I dedicate time and intent to train someone, anyone would inevitably offer their liver, gall, heart, or soul for me.

Everyone was like that, except for Ras Etgard, that child who was like a fierce wild dog.

“Now, therefore, please watch. A performance that will resonate with the very core of your souls. The play’s setting is ‘The End’. The lead actors are Semere Laufeyga Kashmir, and Ras Etgard.”

The memories of the last moments of my life, and of this world, are now performed before Bibeka and her subordinate spiders.

And so the curtain rises.

The world plunged into complete darkness.

Stars, sky, and night, all cleared away.

Even the last faint trickle that flowed beneath the frozen world had stopped, the heavens collapsed and the earth sank.

And you…

There stands a man like a wild dog, his soul unyielding and noble, even in the face of pitch-black darkness and surging apocalypse.

A strong and free man who could not be tamed by any magic.

Even at this moment, his body ruined and bloody, there is no wavering at the very bottom of his soul.

Despite feeling terror before an irresistible, incomprehensible force, his soul still did not yield.

Unlike my weak self, who lay collapsed, spitting out fragile coughs mixed with blood, and whose soul’s wick was flickering out.

Ah, seeing that, I feel… that not everything is over yet.

So, before this time passes and life extinguishes, I must speak to you.

“Cough…. Ra… Ras… Ras…”

What did you answer me that day, at the end of the world?

“I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m right here.”

Yes. You were ruthless on the battlefield, but you were a child with deep affection and who took care of his people.

So you were trying desperately to hide your teary voice, answering so calmly.

“Ras… I’m… I’m sorry… love… love…”

And I, a fool, couldn’t even finish my words or hear your answer, and closed my eyes first.

What answer did you give to my words?

You were probably a sullen child, so you must have pursed your lips stubbornly without saying a word.

And without running away, you would have charged towards that terrifying ‘End’.

Honoring your longtime comrade and master, you foolishly burned yourself out, continuing the last fight alone.

What outcome you met in that fight, even I cannot know.

You might have died miserably… or, being someone who had achieved countless miracles and ultimately triumphed, you might have gritted your teeth and secured victory.

However, it only matters that time has returned and I can go meet you again; the outcome of that battle no longer matters.

But since this is a play I’m staging, a manifestation of my desires, I want to watch the ending I wish for, just a little.

I closed my eyes and let the play flow freely.

The stage, where countless afterimages had swirled with mingled flames and darkness, became clean again. Now, the terrifying pitch-black darkness of the end had lifted, and only Ras and I remained on the pure white stage.

“I loved you very much. When we meet again, I’ll be the one to say it first then. So, sleep well. My beloved master.”

The play’s finale.

The Ras I last imprinted in my eyes said the words ‘I love you,’ which I had wanted to hear more than anything.

And so I, too, could smile peacefully.

Ras, the stage, and I all scattered and vanished like heat haze.

“Did you watch well? This is what happened in the last moments of this world.”

Bibeka and her subordinate spiders simply sat there with vacant expressions, as if their souls had departed.

It seemed these children were also satisfied to the very core of their souls by the performance I showed them.

Considering they offered their souls to me as if pulling coins from a pocket.

“I am going to hear Ras’s answer. I no longer have any lingering attachment to Kashmir. Therefore, from now on, you will erase every trace of me. And make all preparations for me to enter Sephiroth.”

“We will obey our master’s command.”

Bibeka, who was once a vulgar and rough back-alley dark mage, had now become my obedient and docile maid.

The complete subjugation of one’s soul and mana to another is akin to death, the loss of self, but at the same time, it means receiving a new life under Semere Laufeyga Kashmir.

For I am a benevolent queen, who always bestows new life alongside death.

Thus, Nyxtania’s theater, Zephira, where the Black Widow Spider resided, ceased its operations with the death of its owner, Bibeka.

From the next day, a sign hung on Zephira’s door.

[Our theater is out of business.]