Chapter 238 - The Very Last Moment

The king of Heinkel had died seated on his throne. It appeared they had driven the Order's sacred relics into him and purified him with their holy power.

Ferda knew that holy power was meaningless. He had already seen Ureas return to life even after a sacred relic's power had touched him. If the king had died like that, the soldiers should have survived along with their kings.

But not one of them had survived. When Ferda arrived, four kings remained, killing one another. At last, only one was left.

"Ha, haha... Everyone... is dead."

Madness shone in his eyes. Blood poured from him and sweat drenched him like rain, yet a smile lingered on his lips. His joy was short-lived. The instant he spotted Ferda, his expression twisted.

"Y-you!!"

He stared at Ferda with hatred and raised his dagger again. The madness began anew.

"Don't you covet what's mine!!"

He lunged at Ferda, trying to drive the dagger into his heart, but he had no hope of reaching him. Ferda was a mage. Without their crowns, these kings were merely humans, no different from their subjects.

And Ferda already knew what happened when someone worked himself into a frenzy while bleeding. Before the man could reach him, exhaustion took him. He staggered and fell. Even as his eyes lost focus, the words he uttered were absurd.

"Mine... It's all... mine..."

And so the last remaining king breathed his last. Ferda quietly looked down at him. He could read the emotion in those eyes. It was so unmistakable that even the blind could have seen it.

'Greed.'

What had controlled them was the greed welling up in their own hearts. It had been so ungovernable that it had rendered their final moments meaningless. What had made them this way?

Ferda looked away. Something caught his eye, and he knew instinctively.

'That's what caused it.'

That black book. The instant he looked at it, an image thrust itself into his mind, much like a Trauma's magic. He saw Valdrova. She looked happy as she reached out her hand. It might have seemed like the smallest thing, but not to Ferda.

Ferda understood what the kings had seen. If they merely wished it, silken garments would fill their wardrobes, delicacies would pile high, heroes would bow their heads, and beauties would fill their bedchambers.

That book. If they could only hold that book, everything would come true. And only one person could possess it. That was why, in their final moments, they had failed to overcome their greed and killed one another.

Even now, Valdrova's image tempted Ferda. But he was no fool. The dark ring within him was spinning rapidly, telling him that he would regret using that magic.

At that moment, the pounding that seemed to squeeze his heart gradually subsided. Valdrova's image faded, leaving the book lying on the floor once more.

He would retrieve it. Once he did, everything would be over. Just as Ferda made that decision, a voice spoke.

"So this sort of temptation doesn't work on you."

Someone calmly walked over and picked up the book. It was the king of Heinkel, who had been lying dead with sacred relics embedded in him. At some point, he had risen from his seat and retrieved the book.

'Just as I thought...'

Ferda readied himself. Despite the deaths of so many humans, the king's mana still surpassed his own. He spoke to buy time.

"Your citizens have died. And even now, they're dying."

"I know. Even now... I can feel it."

"Was your revenge worth that price?"

The king considered the question briefly before answering.

"I don't know yet. King Heodret still remains, doesn't he?"

Come to think of it, Heodret was nowhere to be seen. Ferda had expected him to rush here before anyone else and snatch up the book.

"He is a meticulous man. Even now, he is killing the humans inside the castle to whittle away more of my power."

"And you're simply standing by and watching them die."

"I have no choice. I made a promise."

"What promise?"

The king of Heinkel turned his eyes toward Ferda. Ferda did not know what color they had once been. Surely not the ominous green they were now.

"I was asked to make certain that you, at least, died. Even if my revenge was left incomplete..."

"Was it... Gokma who asked you?"

"Yes."

Ferda had thought the Demon had come with ambitions of ruling the world. Was this the sole reason he had helped the king of Heinkel? Why go to such trouble to kill a single human?

'Demon King.'

The words kept flashing through his mind, as though telling him his ominous premonition was no longer an unfounded fear. Avoiding this fight was his best course.

"You won't be able to escape."

The king of Heinkel had seen through his thoughts. He had already resolved to kill Ferda, and that resolve had led to thorough preparations. The black book in his hand opened on its own, emitting an ominous light that gathered in his hand.

"Rise."

At his words, the dead knights rose with a rattle. There were more than a hundred corpses, all once elite soldiers, knights, or mages. The abilities of the undead reflected those of their living selves.

"Grant the Regent death."

At his command, the knights and mages charged Ferda. He now had to fight the same force the king of Heinkel had faced.

'I haven't felt this in a long time.'

It had been like this when Ferda was branded a public enemy and an army was dispatched to kill him. He had been at the 5th Circle then, too, but he had been a novice, less skilled than he was now and less attuned to malice. The pressure and despair of being cornered back then returned to him.

Yet he did not despair. He was no longer the Ferda he had been then.

'And he's the one pressed for time, not me.'

The remnants in the outer city should have been largely dealt with, and the numbers inside the inner castle were steadily dwindling as well. King Heodret had armed his knights for mass slaughter from the outset. If he was scouring the castle, the citizens who supplied the king of Heinkel's power would soon dwindle.

'I just have to hold out until then.'

And Ferda had another decisive move.

"Hhheeegh..."

A ghoul knight swung its sword, letting out a breathy rasp. As Ferda watched it, its entire body suddenly began to decay. That reaction required holy power. But there was no possibility of Ferda possessing holy power.

'But the knights have it.'

Some knights had equipped themselves to fight undead, and the mages carried holy water. Even after throwing everything they had at the king of Heinkel, some had kept sacred objects on their persons for prayer. Ferda manipulated those objects, bringing them into contact with their owners' bodies and restoring the natural order.

There was a way through, but the fight was far from favorable. Even a glancing blow could prove fatal to him.

"Shadows. Is that Barbatos's magic?"

After roughly thirty corpses had decayed into nothing, the king of Heinkel seemed to have unraveled the secret behind Ferda's fighting. That was quick for a battle between mages.

"Those shadows are troublesome... I shall prevent you from using them."

An undead mage took holy oil from a priest's body and poured it over itself. As its entire body decayed, it set itself alight.

"Hhheh-heh-heh...!"

The green flames turned golden in an instant and began to blaze.

'Damn it.'

The king had realized that flames from holy oil prevented the shadows from moving. The flames were fatal to the undead too, but they were a greater threat to Ferda.

"Hhheh-heh-heh!"

One rushed at him. His extended shadows shrank before it, and the flames threatened to spread to his body. If the holy-oil flames touched him, he was finished. That thought increasingly tangled Ferda's moves, and with every misstep, the ghoul knights drew closer.

But as Ferda's stamina waned, so did his opponents'. As time passed, the ghoul knights and mages that had resisted decay began deteriorating noticeably faster. It meant King Heodret's army was finding and eliminating more groups of humans.

"I cannot... let his wish go unfulfilled."

The king of Heinkel finally rose to join the battle himself, driving Ferda into a corner. One sought to stall; the other sought a swift kill. The result came soon enough.

A spear wielded by a ghoul knight pierced Ferda's body.

"Urgh...!"

He clenched his teeth, refusing to lose focus. With a shadow hand, he touched the sacred relic, and the knight—the last of them—crumbled away. That used the last of Ferda's mana.

"Truly remarkable."

The king of Heinkel was genuinely impressed. He knew how strong they were. Though he had feigned death, when he had borne the full brunt of their power, he had wondered whether they might actually kill him. Yet a mere 5th Circle mage had fought them at full strength and suffered only a single wound.

"You are a remarkable mage, Regent Ferda."

Ferda snorted.

"I have no desire for your recognition as a mage."

"Why is that?"

"Because you are no mage."

The king's eyebrow twitched. Ferda provoked him again.

"Surely you don't think you're a mage?"

"I am a mage."

"No. You don't know what a mage is."

Ferda spoke as though the king were laughable.

"A battle between mages isn't chess or tabula. It isn't about making the best of the pieces you can see. In that respect, you've already lost."

CRASH!

A glass bottle shattered as he spoke. While the king was distracted, Ferda had dropped holy oil at his feet.

"A mage keeps his means hidden until the very last moment."

He ignited it with a small spark. Golden flames engulfed the king of Heinkel in an instant. Yet his expression remained impassive.

"A cheap trick. However holy these flames may be, they cannot bring me down."

A barrier already protected the king. Even against flames made from holy oil, Heinkel was powerful within his own domain.

"Do you think I don't know that?" Ferda asked. "Have you ever studied the principles behind how your barrier works?"

"...?"

"Your barrier appears to be reactive to attacks. It responds appropriately to the situation, making it efficient and effective."

Ferda had fought many mages. Those who sought to kill him had always been several steps above him. That was why he had devoted himself to researching ways to counter them. And he had always found a way through.

"But reactive barriers have a limit. When something is continuously harrying the caster, they can't block a powerful attack."

Ferda brought out the object he had kept concealed in his hand. It was a round cylinder, used as a magazine for a magical engineering rifle and as a shell for a magical engineering shotgun.

He gripped it tightly. He already knew how it worked.

"That is why you are no mage, Heinkel."

A mage concealed his moves until the very last moment. Ferda activated the formula in the cylinder. The shotgun discharged instantly.

BOOM!

The king of Heinkel's face was blasted away along with his barrier.

* * *

The instant the mass of blue mana struck his face, the king of Heinkel's consciousness seemed to move elsewhere. He was seated at a table, a chessboard before him. Instead of the thirty-two pieces that should have been there, he saw four broken kings.

He knew instinctively that this was his death. Yet, surprisingly, his mind was empty. Neither joy nor sorrow touched him. He stared blankly down at the pieces.

Then something took shape across from him. At the sight, he spoke the word aloud.

"Father..."

As his consciousness faded, the first person he sought was the father with whom he had always been distant. His father was looking down at the chessboard, wearing the same sickly face Sigmund remembered from their last meeting. He looked so pitiful.

"Father..."

Hot tears fell from Sigmund Heinkel's eyes.

"I understood your words... far too late."

Sigmund had always thought his father behaved that way because he was belligerent. But his father had simply understood: to be a good king, one had to become a tyrant. To have peace, one had to prepare for war.

Sigmund had foolishly clung to dreams until the very end. And so this was the end he had met.

He wanted forgiveness. He wanted to hear his father say, "You were a son I was proud of." He wanted even that small measure of comfort.

But his father vanished without answering. The chessboard and table receded into the distance. His consciousness seemed to fall away, plunging into an abyss of emptiness.

"I..."

Only then did Sigmund feel something awaken.

"I don't want to die."

His lingering attachment flared to life.

"I don't want to die."

And his obsession. Though he knew he had fallen into an inescapable mire, he kept crying out.

And to a desperate human...

"What an entertaining thing you have done, Sigmund Heinkel."

...a devil would always come.

He was an enormous figure made of bones and skulls, draped in a dark-purple robe.

"My name is Gamigin. Ruler of the Third Hell, master of immortality and legions, and author of the dark grimoire you hold."

His bones rattled, making a strange sound like a percussion instrument.

"You used my grimoire without making a pact with me. Even condemning you to become undying bones would hardly suffice as punishment. However..."

Gamigin extended his forefinger toward him. Even the fingertip was far thicker than Sigmund's entire body.

"I shall grant you one chance to make amends."

* * *

The blast had left Ferda's ears ringing. His heavy eyelids threatened to send him somewhere far away, but he resisted to the end. Afraid he would pass out if he remained lying down, he forced himself upright.

He could not feel his right hand. An occasional soft breeze felt cool and stung at the same time. There was nothing where his right hand should have been.

Valdrova's face sprang to mind.

'If she finds out, she might actually faint...'

He did not even want to imagine it, and shook his head vigorously to dispel the thought.

'Can it be restored?'

A hefty donation to the Order of Altes might make it possible somehow, but that would expose him as a Dark Mage. If the Order learned that fact, they would try to kill him regardless of his reasons.

No, they would not be able to kill him. He was still the Crimson Dragon's Consort, after all. They would go after the far east's wealth, which they had already been eyeing.

This was no time for such idle worries.

"Grrh... Rrrgh..."

The king of Heinkel's body twitched. How tenacious. He had been shattered beyond recognition, yet still struggled, unable to let go.

Ferda approached him. He had to finish him before that thing could do anything.

"Be at peace now."

Prepared to suffer mana exhaustion, he squeezed out what mana remained and aimed at the king's head. At that moment, something seized his hand. The strength of its grip was too palpable to be a mere death throe.

'Could it be...?'

That was a devil's grimoire. As long as a human held one of their grimoires, its devil was watching him, waiting for the moment he was weakest.

Those twitching struggles were not mere death throes. The body was regaining life. Shattered bones gathered around the face, reassembling the skull. At the same time, all the charred flesh ran off like tar, exposing white bones.

Green flames flickered in the skull's eye sockets, and the stench of sulfur pierced Ferda's nose.

"Insolent wretch, setting foot in a king's domain without leave."

Ferda knew the instant he heard that voice. The powerful revealed their presence through their voices alone. This was not Heinkel. It was Gamigin, one of the seven Great Demons of Hell, the Demon of Immortality and Legions.

"What shall I do with you?"