Ch.149Subjugation (1)

Spatial Transfer.

In truth, while the type of spatial transfer I used was unusual, it wasn’t that similar abilities didn’t exist at all in Grim Darker’s world.

The crack inflicted upon the sky could be considered an example of spatial jumping.

Not every school possessed it, but most prestigious schools did.

It was a type of magic that folded, broke, or somehow manipulated space to move through it.

This magic had certain characteristics.

One was that it could pass through barriers, and two was that crossing barriers incorrectly meant certain death.

Without considerable courage, it couldn’t be accomplished, so most users were black mages.

They would use sacrifices to increase the precision of their jumps or throw them in like lab rats to determine if a jump was safe based on their survival.

So I thought.

That a black mage was attacking. How lamentable that I had to face this on my birthday.

But immediately after, I realized that wasn’t the case. What was falling from the split space was…

“…A soldier?”

An Imperial soldier at that. An elite carrying a sword and shield, wearing Imperial brigandine armor.

Fear was deeply etched on his face, his hands and legs trembling.

But he gritted his teeth, making a clear ringing sound. The fear disappeared. He approached. I could see the soldier charging toward me.

There were no footsteps, and he wasn’t easily visible due to the black dye applied to prevent reflection in the moonlight.

Even so, this didn’t constitute a successful ambush.

Ambushes don’t work on me.

No matter what kind of ambush it might be. I placed Melody behind the flower bed where the light was gradually fading and extended my arm.

Black armor suddenly enveloping my arm, appropriate for combat.

The soldier flinched at the sudden appearance of the armor but still thrust his sword. Blocking it required no effort.

Clang!

The fast, heavy sword was blocked by my casually extended fist. As the sword was pushed back, my body moved reflexively.

I had many questions. Though my counterattack went out automatically with the deflection technique, I aimed to subdue with one blow without killing.

After all, I needed to hear why an Imperial soldier was here and what he was after.

But.

The moment my extended leg crushed the soldier’s sword hand.

Something rang out before the crunch of breaking bones.

Followed by a surge of magical power. It filled the space densely, boiling like flames. I could sense it because I was wrapped in anti-magic power.

Magic.

My eyes turned toward the soldier, who smiled despite his terror.

Something colorful rushing through the soldier’s body. A sight like his entire bloodstream igniting.

And then.

BOOM!

My body was thrown into the air. What pattered countless times against my armor were bone fragments and blood. Blood as hot as lava melted my flesh, and bone fragments burrowed into my body, making me cough blood.

The impact was tremendous. I was suddenly reminded of war movies. Like stepping on a landmine.

I rolled on the ground and regained consciousness hearing Melody’s voice.

“Luwellin…?!”

I tried to speak. To tell her to run away, to gather people. That the Empire had attacked.

But Melody was immediately checking on my condition. I could feel her whistling. Magic gathered. Condensed.

No, don’t. This isn’t the time.

Melody didn’t notice what I had realized. But I couldn’t speak.

My throat was damaged. Even using divine power, regeneration couldn’t keep pace. I gritted my teeth and got up to run forward, but.

“The Dueling School has two weaknesses.”

The melody that had begun to emerge from Melody’s lips was interrupted with a whistle. A basic magic that instantly shrouded the space—Silence.

Sufficient to block any magic casting method based on sound, be it whistling, singing, or speech.

Melody opened her eyes wide and hurriedly tried to form hand signs, but.

“One, due to the casting method, high proficiency is required to prepare and complete spells.”

The hand signs of the person now revealing himself were much faster.

Much more simplified, much simpler hand signs. The magical power he formed became magic that made the space tremble. What was completed before Melody’s spell-canceling hand signs was…

“Two, because it borrows the method of performance, casting takes time.”

A magic that had already manifested once. The magic that had exploded the soldier.

Simultaneously, soldiers stepped forward. Six in number. Not far away.

And right behind me was Melody.

I could take a hit, but if Melody took even one blast, it would be over.

I gritted my teeth and rushed forward.

Belatedly, I noticed something.

The armor the soldiers wore wasn’t ordinary Imperial armor.

Now I could see that their armor was covered with thin, scale-like metal plates.

As if they had been designed for this purpose from the beginning.

What I felt was black malice. I spread both arms and blocked all the swords striking my body with my armor while pushing the soldiers away with my arms.

“A wise decision.”

A brief voice. Then a bright radiance burning from outside my field of vision.

Ah, fuck.

If I’d known this would happen, I should have danced in the middle of the banquet hall.

Though it was too late for regrets.

I—

BOOM!

*

Luwellin’s consciousness returned not long after.

Partly because the divine power flowing through his body wouldn’t allow otherwise, but also because the power of fate now flowing through Luwellin’s body wouldn’t permit such an unjust death.

But he had blacked out momentarily. When he regained consciousness, Luwellin was vomiting blood in the middle of a newly formed crater.

‘My body feels heavy. I don’t feel good. No fragments lodged in my neck. Regenerative ability intact.’

Which meant the damage was so massive that even Luwellin’s regenerative abilities couldn’t fully heal it. Luwellin gasped for breath and rolled his eyes.

‘Melody, where’s Melody?’

Turning his head, he saw Melody at a distance.

She hadn’t escaped unscathed. Blood was flowing. From her head.

She was breathing. Not dead. But.

“F-fuck…”

There was no guarantee she would remain okay.

Luwellin gasped for breath and tried to stand up, only to collapse each time.

His sense of balance was damaged. It would take time to stand.

By the time he realized this, a voice was heard.

“Remarkably sturdy. I didn’t expect you to withstand a direct hit.”

One doesn’t die unless the neck is targeted. Despite knowing this fact, the kind of being that tests it anyway is a mage.

In that sense, the man was an excellent mage.

When he became a duelist, he chose betrayal easily upon realizing his path was wrong.

The man was befitting of a mage.

A mindset that would stop at nothing to achieve his goals and a nature that regarded morality as a minor hindrance.

The man was a perfect mage. Had his path deviated slightly, he would have become a black mage.

So Luwellin didn’t respond to the man’s words. He already knew him well.

He focused only on himself and Melody.

Luwellin had survived thanks to the holy blood he had unconsciously wrapped around his neck at the last moment and the divine power he had concentrated.

Flying fragments had grazed his neck.

Luwellin had barely survived.

He moved the divine power nestled in his heart to dispel the shock that had penetrated his body.

“Meanwhile, the young lady… in such a state from mere shock waves.”

The mage said.

Young lady, he called her.

Not surprising. Luwellin, gritting his teeth and struggling to stand, looked at the man standing outside the crater.

“I told you to abandon old customs.”

“…Azdan.”

The new headmaster of the War School and betrayer of the Dueling School, Azdan.

A genius who had learned all the War School’s magic in just one year and created new spells.

The Empire’s greatest mage.

As if reading Luwellin’s thoughts, he smiled modestly.

Then he cleared his throat and spoke. A pleasant tenor voice befitting a former member of the Dueling School.

“Though it was a glancing blow, you were hit, so you probably won’t get up, but I was told to be thorough this time. I think I’ll use my full power.”

He continued the conversation as he pleased. That was his nature. Luwellin tried desperately to stand, but his legs wouldn’t move.

He concentrated divine power. But he realized it was too late. A magic circle was already spreading throughout the crater.

He didn’t recognize the formula. But he guessed from the anti-magic power he felt in his armor.

Spatial jump. Change came faster than Luwellin could widen his eyes.

Crunch, WHOOSH!

Suddenly, Luwellin was outside the Divine Temple’s domain, in some mountain range.

A flat area below a snow-covered peak.

From there, Luwellin looked down at the Divine Temple.

The Divine Temple, where death was filling every direction. A massive army was sweeping through it.

His face drained of blood and turned pale. Luwellin’s gaze trembled violently.

“The Empire sends its regards.”

Azdan said, casting a powerful defensive barrier around his entire body.

—CRASH!

The defensive barrier shook violently. A fist embedded in the barrier, crushing the magical power like glass shards as it penetrated.

Azdan, who had somehow gotten up, smiled as he looked at Luwellin who had thrown a punch at him.

“Well then, shall we dance?”

While magic and anti-magic power collided and repelled each other on the snow-covered mountain.

Fires were also breaking out throughout the Divine Temple.

At the center of those fires were people, and among them was a woman.

A being known to be able to face an army alone, but unable to use her full power when allies were present.

Once the Empire’s finest.

The Guardian General, Lucilla.

People were fleeing, and into the spaces they vacated, troops poured in.

A quantity that even the most exceptional individual couldn’t hold back alone. With people still present, she couldn’t use the “Death of Stars.” She was being overwhelmed.

But that didn’t mean she could give up. Yoon Se-ah instantly became Lucilla and glared at the enemy with her mystic eyes.

One with a severed neck, another who had died with eyes wide open after having his heart stolen moments ago.

And twelve more of similar caliber.

Lucilla sensed something like an intentional flow.

The fighter holding off Eshatherna in the distance felt it, as did the knight charging at Lorian who was leading refugees.

Deliberate division, divide and conquer, buying time.

Similar things would be happening to Valterok, who wasn’t present.

The general who read Lucilla’s gaze spoke.

“It’s been a while, Guardian General.”

“General Milean.”

“By the Empire’s will, I pronounce your death sentence. I advise you to surrender quietly… though I doubt you’ll listen.”

Lucilla pointed the longsword she had taken, and the general smiled. It was the smile of someone who knew he was no match but couldn’t retreat.

“Your assumption is correct. We are the sacrificial pawns. The plan is to tie you down, deal with the rest, then concentrate our forces to kill you.”

The general’s longsword also pointed at Lucilla. People screaming, soldiers chasing them, and others struggling desperately to stop those soldiers.

In the midst of chaos and despair, as Lucilla’s eyes flashed with anger, the general concluded brightly.

“For the Empire.”

And two longswords flew toward each other.