Ch.4949. Iron-Clad Conviction

“It’s truly fortunate that this battle wasn’t carelessly shown to the citizens.”

Orpheus expresses his honest feelings as he watches the battle between Necromancer Deus Verdi and Mage Inquisitor Tyrn Ol Velocus.

Had the common people witnessed this, it would have only intensified their fear of Black Magic.

Lightning and storms rage together, while hellfire and frost coexist. He had believed that necromancers simply imbued mana with grudges to use destructive magic.

But the scene before his eyes was no different from a natural disaster.

The Grand Mage and his disciples had already jumped to their feet, analyzing the numerous spells being unleashed.

“It seems the main components are Prophet Benton’s signature hellfire waves and Silent Grahan’s blade storm surge.”

“They’re all signature spells of past criminals. Is this spectacle truly created by a single person?”

“M-Master.”

“……”

Seeing firsthand how many had died in this place evoked truly complex emotions.

The powerful figures who had faded into history were now manifesting as unique and magnificent spells, overwhelming Tyrn the Mage Inquisitor.

This was a spectacle that even Grand Mages couldn’t come close to replicating.

Tyrn, who was still enduring while curled up in the midst of it all, was certainly an impressive man.

However.

If it came down to a battle of attrition, he would lose.

Simply enduring wouldn’t bring victory. Countless people had died in this execution ground.

No matter how long Tyrn held out, defeat would only loom larger.

And because he knew this too…

Thud!

Even amidst the barrage of violent spells, he takes one heavy step forward.

* * *

For vengeful spirits to use their mana, they need a strong emotion.

Usually, it was grudges.

Only with grudges deep enough to substitute for a physical body could spirits continue to use their mana after death.

For example, the woman with half her face scarred by burns who was now with Illuania was like that.

Without such grudges, spirits were no different from ambient mana floating in the air, just a bit more concentrated.

That’s why I was surprised.

Unexpectedly, many of the dead at the execution ground had passed on without lingering attachments, falling into peaceful rest.

I realized they had each closed their eyes with their own understanding.

Some closed their eyes entrusting their lingering attachments to future generations despite the sadness.

Some who had lived opportunistic lives simply laughed, saying they’d had a good time.

Others welcomed their own death, saying they could finally return to God’s embrace.

Without the Lemegeton, known as the necromancy stone, I would have failed to awaken these spirits.

[My head feels like it’s going to explode!]

“You won’t die.”

The Dark Spiritmaster possessing me was helping convert the mana of countless souls into magic.

I wasn’t fighting.

I simply awakened the spirits and transformed those without grudges—mere mana clusters—into magic, and they would charge into battle on their own.

Chieftain Katolerer became fierce lightning striking down on Tyrn.

Pirate King Owlman transformed himself into a pistol bullet and shot forward.

Prophet Benton became a massive wave of flames sweeping across the ground.

Strategist Poltman became an ice spear, thrusting at Tyrn’s blind spot.

Silent Grahan became a blade-like storm, preventing Tyrn from stepping forward carelessly.

[This is truly… remarkable.]

“……”

Having gained some respite, the Dark Spiritmaster gaped at the spectacle before us.

[You seem to have far transcended the standards of a necromancer.]

“It’s because of the Lemegeton, and the location gives me a significant advantage.”

Being honest and cold in my self-assessment, the Dark Spiritmaster pressed her lips together and didn’t deny it.

In the end, the advantage of this execution ground location brought about these results. The other side chose this place to maintain the form of an execution despite knowing my advantage.

They were paying dearly for that decision.

[Did it feel good when you cut off my head!]

[Inquisitor! Raise your head once more! Why does your staff remain silent!]

[Kekeke! Idiot! You’re exceptionally good at taking a beating!]

Tyrn, curled up tightly, remained motionless. The massive mana that had been slicing through the sky was now eerily quiet.

Tyrn’s magical armor had already begun to warp. His armor, which no one thought could be penetrated, was already covered with scratches and scorch marks spreading in all directions.

Curled up like a hedgehog, Tyrn slightly raised his head.

Though numerous spells obscured the view, as if by chance and fate, our eyes met.

I stretched out my hand.

“Here he comes.”

Thud!

A giant’s footstep heavily strikes the ground.

From that point, a vast wind of mana begins to carve a path.

Condensed mana spreads roughly, creating a passage like a transparent tunnel.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Declaring this the decisive moment, Tyrn straightens his back and begins charging forward.

[Stop him! Stop that bastard!]

[Where do you think you’re going!]

[Tyrn! Look into my eyes!]

Countless evil spirits begin rushing toward Tyrn again.

The mana tunnel Tyrn had condensed certainly played a major role. Had he remained still, he might have been buried and died right there.

At least it allowed him to break out of the encirclement.

But it couldn’t do more than that.

The passage created by the mana storm begins to collapse under the relentless onslaught.

Before taking even a few steps, magical bombardments rain down again.

“Mere… trifles!”

Enduring everything with his broad back, Tyrn refuses to fall.

Though his thick legs trembled, they showed no signs of stopping.

“Do you think you can stop an execution with this!”

Boom!

His steps were so charged with mana that the ground cratered beneath him, pushing away incoming spells.

It was no longer simple mana.

It was something mixed with perseverance and conviction, reeking of sweat.

In his eyes burned a will that transcended reality, something usually seen only in the dead.

“Is this all! Is this the weight of death I’ve been carrying!”

Boom!

As his staff strikes forward, Tyrn exerts force and pulls himself forward.

“Is this all! Is this the karma for taking countless lives to protect the kingdom!”

The protective magic guarding his armor was already in tatters, failing to serve its purpose.

The edges of his cloak were burning, his shoulder armor was cracked with debris falling to the ground.

“How light!”

He had no strength left to wipe the blood flowing from his forehead. His vision seemed to be stained dark red, making it difficult to see ahead.

“Endlessly! Just endlessly light!”

The Mage Inquisitor’s steps continued steadily forward.

His footsteps, laden with conviction, approached me without hesitation.

To protect the Griffin Kingdom, to enforce the justice he believed in.

Tyrn Ol Velocus was a man who upheld righteousness so rigidly it seemed almost stiff.

“I received the grudges of hundreds to save thousands! Spirits! How dare you block my path!”

[Where do you think you’re going!]

[I will kill you! I will stop you!]

[Your karma has not yet been settled!]

The mana of the vengeful spirits is not infinite.

As their firepower gradually weakens, the spirits stop unleashing brute magical attacks and begin clinging directly to Tyrn.

They grab his feet, hang from his shoulders, wrap around his waist, and choke his neck.

It looked as if countless evil spirits were trying to drag him to hell, but Tyrn was resisting.

As an Inquisitor, he had carried out numerous executions.

There might have been innocent people, and there were those who deserved death.

Not just criminals who violated kingdom laws, but also generals from other countries or tribal chiefs of different ethnicities who had clashed with their beliefs and lost.

Each surely had their own story.

But I wasn’t doing this to resolve the grudges of these vengeful spirits.

I was simply exerting all my abilities as a necromancer to defeat the man called Tyrn.

“Impressive.”

That’s why I couldn’t help but sincerely admire him.

To protect the Griffin Kingdom, the sight of him receiving the grudges of countless dead with his body…

It reminded me of Atlas, the giant god who supported the heavens in mythology.

Boom.

At last.

His footsteps reached the distant end.

Standing blankly before me, his appearance was utterly miserable.

His armor and staff were completely shattered, and the mana he had focused on defense was already depleted.

His body, stained with sweat and blood and scorched, could only be described as tattered.

“For the… kingdom.”

His trembling thick fist touches my chest with a soft thud.

With a hoarse voice like dust had settled in his throat, he struggles to utter one phrase.

“Execute… the sentence…”

Blood seeps into my clothes, leaving a stain.

Thump.

That was the end.

After just one touch.

Just one touch to me, and he falls to his knees, head bowed low.

Only faint breathing indicated he was still alive.

His limp body showed he had lost consciousness.

A quiet stillness descends.

The Mage Judges, subordinates of the Inquisitor who had been watching the execution, rush out.

Their faces showed reverence and respect, with some even shedding tears.

They seemed quite moved seeing their captain who hadn’t retreated an inch even against a powerful Black Mage called the kingdom’s evil.

Snap.

As one person begins to salute the Inquisitor.

Snap, snap, snap.

Others follow, offering salutes filled with reverence.

Even in a crisis, he hadn’t forgotten his position. His unwavering adherence to his beliefs and justice was certainly worthy of being called noble.

I too place my hand on my chest in respect.

“I have witnessed your conviction well.”