༺ Steel Conviction ༻
“It’s truly a relief that this isn’t being shown to the civilians.”
Orpheus, who was watching the battle between the Necromancer, Deus Verdi, and the Mage Tribunal Judge, Tyren Ol Velocus, shared his feelings.
If the masses had witnessed this, their fear of black magic would only have intensified.
Lightning storms, terror, and ice… Necromancers were generally known for merely imbuing their mana with malice to cast destructive spells.
But what lay before his eyes seemed nothing short of a natural catastrophe.
The Archmage and his apprentices had already sprung up from their seats, analyzing the multitude of spells raining down.
“It appears that the main spells being used are Prophet Benton’s unique magic, Wave of Terror, and the Blade Storm Deluge that Grahan of Silence used to employ.”
“All these spells are from past criminals. Can this truly be a spectacle produced by a single individual?”
“M-Master.”
“…”
Witnessing firsthand how many have been executed here, the Archmage couldn’t help but feel a complex swirl of emotions.
Long lost spells of powerful figures, those that are now lost in history, had manifested once more, assaulting Mage Tribunal Judge Tyren.
Replicating this spectacle as an Archmage would be impossible.
Hunched within that storm, Tyren stood like a steel statue, facing everything head-on.
But…
This battle was a race against time.
Resistance wouldn’t bring Tyren victory, especially in this execution ground where countless have already perished.
He knew that if he remained passive, his defeat would only become inevitable.
Thus…
Bang!
Amidst the ferocious bombardment of magic, he took a heavy step forward.
* * *
A strong will was required for a spirit to use its own mana.
And usually, that very same will was rooted in resentment.
Hence, only when a deep grudge capable of substituting for a physical body was present could it use its own mana, even in its state as a vengeful spirit.
For example, such a case was the burned woman who was currently accompanying Illuania.
Otherwise, she would be no different from mana drifting in the atmosphere—merely just more concentrated.
That was why it was surprising.
Many of the departed souls in the execution ground had, surprisingly, gone to rest without any lingering regrets, and found their peace.
It seemed they had closed their eyes in their own individual moments of realization.
Perhaps some had achieved that by entrusting their lingering concerns to the future generations, despite their sorrow.
Maybe others, specifically those who lived a carefree life, closed their eyes laughing, thinking, “I’ve had my fun, it’s time to go.”
There are also those who welcomed their own death, saying they could finally return to the embrace of God.
If it wasn’t for Lemegeton, awakening these spirits would have been a failure.
[It feels like my head is going to explode!]
“You will not die.”
The Dark Spiritualist, who was possessing me, aided in the conversion of numerous souls’ mana into magic.
I wasn’t the one fighting.
After awakening the spirits and transforming those souls who lacked resentment into clumps of mana, they happened to fight of their own accord.
Chieftain Katoler became a violent bolt of lightning, striking down upon Tyren.
Pirate King Oulman transformed himself into a pistol bullet, launching forward.
Prophet Benton became a massive wave of fire, sweeping across the execution grounds.
Strategist Foltman turned into a spear of ice, trying to stab Tyren from a blind spot.
Grahan of Silence became a blade-like storm, preventing Tyren from stepping forward recklessly.
[This is incredible.]
“…”
Finding a moment’s respite, the Dark Spiritualist muttered at the spectacle before us.
[You’ve far surpassed the standards of a Necromancer.]
“It is because of Lemegeton; the location’s advantage also played a significant role.”
Even when I gave a cold assessment of myself, the Dark Spiritualist didn’t disagree.
Choosing this execution ground as the location for the duel had led to this result. The Mage Tribunal Judges knew about this advantage as well, but they still chose it to maintain the formality of an execution.
Though, they were now paying a steep price for it.
[Did you enjoy beheading me?!]
[O, Mage Tribunal Judge! Raise your head! Why is that staff silent?!]
[Kekeke! Idiot! You’re impressively good at taking hits!]
Tyren, who was hunched over, remained utterly still. The storm of mana tearing through the sky had now become eerily calm.
Scratches and scorch marks spread from all directions on Tyren’s armor, which everyone had thought was impenetrable.
Then, Tyren, who was coiled up like a hedgehog, slightly lifted his head.
Although countless spells floated in the air, obstructing my vision, by mere coincidence, our eyes met.
I reached out my hand.
“Come.”
Boom!
Heavy footsteps, seemingly of a giant, pounded against the ground as he advanced. From that point, a gust of mana began to clear a path.
The concentrated mana expanded violently, forming a transparent tunnel and carving out a singular passage.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
Tyren straightened his back and began to step forward.
[Stop him! Stop that bastard!]
[Where do you think you’re going!]
[Tyren! Look into my eyes!]
Countless evil spirits began to rush towards Tyren once more.
The transparent tunnel played a significant role for Tyren. Had they continued attacking while he was defending in a single spot, he might have perished and been buried right there and then.
Doing this had at least allowed him to escape the encirclement.
But it couldn’t offer more than that.
The tunnel created by the torrent of mana began to crumble under the heavy onslaught.
Just a few steps, and once again, he was subjected to a bombardment of magic spells.
“Weak!”
Even as he shouldered it all, Tyren did not falter.
His sturdy legs, despite trembling, showed no signs of stopping.
“You think this is enough to stop your execution?!”
Boom!
With each step, the ground beneath him caved. His mana was so potent that it pushed away the incoming spells.
No… it was no longer just mana. It was something else, one laden with determination and belief.
Transcendent will, something you’d only see in the departed, was fiercely present in Tyren’s eyes.
“Is this all! Was this the weight of death I have been carrying!”
Boom!
Lodging his staff in the ground, Tyren pulled himself, advancing forward.
“Is this all! Is this the karma for the countless lives I have taken to protect the kingdom!”
The magical armor which had been shielding him had now broken, failing to perform its role.
The edge of his cloak frayed and his shoulder armor cracked, the broken pieces falling to the ground.
“How truly light it is!”
He didn’t have the energy to wipe the blood streaming from his forehead.
His vision tinged with blood, making it hard to see ahead.
“Light! It is infinitely light!”
Tyren’s legs never stopped moving forward.
His heavy, conviction-filled steps never hesitated as they approached me.
To protect this kingdom called Griffin. And to uphold the justice he believed in.
Tyren Ol Velocus was a man who embodied righteousness.
“I have carried the grudges of hundreds, and in turn, saved more than a thousand souls! You, the dead! How dare you obstruct my path?!”
[Where do you think you’re going?!]
[I will kill you! I will stop you!]
[Your debts still remain with us!]
However, the mana of the resentful spirits wasn’t infinite.
As their spells gradually weakened, the spirits stopped pouring mana and began clinging directly to Tyren.
They grabbed at his feet, hung onto his shoulders, wrapped their hands around his waist, and strangled his neck.
It was as if countless evil spirits were trying to drag him to hell. And Tyren, through sheer will, resisted them.
As a Mage Tribunal Judge, he had executed many.
There were those who may have been wrongly accused, but there were also those who rightly deserved death.
Not only were there criminals who had violated the kingdom’s laws, but there were also generals from rival nations, as well as those from immigrant tribes who had lost in wars and battles.
Undoubtedly, each of these spirits had their own story.
But I was not here to alleviate their resentments.
I was here to present my abilities as a Necromancer, to defeat this man named Tyren.
“Remarkable.”
Thus, I couldn’t help but genuinely admire the sight of him bearing the hatred of countless deceased souls to protect Griffin Kingdom.
It reminded me of a myth; the legendary titan, Atlas, who held up the heavens for eternity.
Boom.
Finally…
His steps had reached his destination.
Standing before me, his armor and staff was shattered. His mana was completely drained, and his appearance was utterly wretched.
His own sweat and blood stained him, and calling him ragged would be an understatement for his scorched body.
“For the sake…of the kingdom…”
He lifted his trembling hand, and his fist gently touched my chest.
He struggled to let out a few words, his voice hoarse, as if his throat was filled with dust.
“The execution…must com…me-”
My clothes were now stained, soaked with his blood.
Thud.
And that was it.
In the end, just once…
After touching me just once, he finally fell to his knees.
A faint breath was the only indication that he was still alive.
However, his limp body signaled that he had passed out.
An eerie silence enveloped the surroundings.
The Mage Tribunal Judges who had been observing the execution rushed forward.
Their faces were filled with awe and respect, and some were even shedding tears.
Their emotions overwhelmingly stirred when they saw that their leader didn’t retreat even an inch when facing a formidable Dark Mage.
Swish.
As one person saluted Tyren.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
Others followed, directing their salutes toward Tyren. This action was filled with reverence.
Even in dire circumstances, his unwavering determination to follow his beliefs was undoubtedly noble and worthy of praise.
Thus, I too placed my hand on my chest and bowed.
“Your steel conviction. I have witnessed it well.”
