By Zephyria 
He was certainly not a seasoned battle mage. He was more like a Spirit Master who used spirits as a vanguard and watched from behind, or a Corpse Puppeteer who created zombies and manipulated the situation, telling them to fight amongst themselves.
The beasts crafted from Ebony Wood behaved according to their forms.
The four-legged ones lunged to tear me apart with their sharp teeth, and the winged ones attacked to rip me with their claws. Gold fragments glinted from their fangs and claws.
The Righteous Sword I had relearned and honed was a sword built by man, serving as a model for humanity.
I drew it twice, overlapping.
If something descends from above, something else must ascend from below.
After drawing from left to right, I immediately followed with a stroke from right to left.
The Swordplay Technique, a back-and-forth exchange, gained momentum.
It wasn’t about pushing away forcefully or pulling back with great effort; it was about reaping what you sow, the way of the world.
Not even the sound of willow leaves rustling could be heard. The Ebony Wood fragments, splitting into eight or nine pieces before my eyes, were hollow inside. From some of these pieces, gold coins poured out like entrails.
Milton, growing desperate, swung his staff sharply several times.
The fight between a knight and a mage is a battle of distance. If he doesn’t come close, I can approach. Three large strides, and then.
Thwack!
I was a little faster. Leaping high, I used the ceiling as my back, and the crystals hanging from the chandelier’s edge grazed my neck. The smoke that billowed up to my eyes tickled my nostrils with its acrid scent.
He had set up a Formation. A Formation where the floor would burst open if you didn’t step on the correct tiles.
But what then?
I ran in a straight line. Like a shot arrow, like a carved piece of sashimi, I cut down all those who stood in my way. I already had the confidence that I would be faster than his magic. Pow, pow, pow, the ground beneath my feet exploded repeatedly.
Suddenly, an ominous feeling arose. The main hall was too vast to not have reached the end at this speed; such a place couldn’t exist in the world. I knew this kind of battle. A mage’s combat method, where they claim the space itself as their domain.
I narrowed my eyes.
I slashed through the gap I saw amidst the acrid smoke.
Whoosh,
Through the opening in space, his deathly pale face was right before me. I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him to the floor. Gasp, the man who had gasped for air tried to push me away but stopped, fumbling to open his mouth.
“…Mi, Michael…?”
The God of Records’ memory distortion does not affect those who already know me, as I had learned.
Just as I recognized him, he recognized me.
“It’s been a while, Senior. It’s strange to see you here.”
“Eek, ack…!”
As he tried to do something, I touched his right shoulder and used Pressure Point Striking. Milton’s hand, which had been holding the staff, went limp and fell to the floor. The fact that Sierren did not widely publicize methods of using internal energy to incapacitate body parts meant that even a simple Pressure Point Striking made Hershey Milton greatly fearful.
The commotion behind me subsided.
While I charged straight at Hershey Milton, cutting down only the fragments blocking my path, a considerable number of the remaining pieces were still present. It seemed Hugh Benson had finished off the remaining beast fragments. No matter how much a tiger protects its cubs, it is still a tiger. There was no way he couldn’t defeat a few Familiar Spirits that attacked him.
Trusting him and acting on my own, I felt the flow of Contaminated Mana, which surged towards the platform, and sensed a hidden presence moving against it. I now realized Hugh Benson had used Sword energy to blast a hole through the left door during the fight, eliminating the need to open it.
Yes, my objective was to find the King of Bivan.
Leaving that matter aside, I looked down at Hershey Milton. His upper and lower teeth were chattering together in fear. As he tried to grab me with his remaining left arm, I incapacitated his left shoulder as well.
He opened his mouth pleadingly.
“P-please, spare me, Junior. I didn’t mean to…”
“I have a few questions.”
“W-what is it? I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you everything. Anything I know…”
With such courage, what had he plotted? A sigh escaped me.
“Where is the central base?”
“I, I only travel between Bivan and Sierren, so I don’t know. Most of us don’t, they don’t tell us everything… and we don’t need to know everything…”
“How many Black magicians are there in total?”
“A h-hundred…? We’ve never gathered all together, so I, I don’t know. But! But there are about five to ten in each kingdom, and there are more in Sierren and beyond the Yuil Mountains, so it’s around that… I think it’s around that much?”
“In Bivan.”
“I, I’m the last one. It feels like it’s about to explode here soon, so everyone is withdrawing…”
“Did you feel any remorse in harming people?”
At that, his eyes gleamed strangely. His fumbling words gradually found their pace.
“Still, we’ll… we’ll be reborn.”
“What?”
“I will, and you will too. They promised that everyone could have a new beginning in a more wonderful world, not this Sierran Empire. You might not know, but I met someone who came from another world! You’ll understand when you see them. They really exist, you know?”
Had he seen the Thousand-Faced Devil himself?
I had heard several times that those dissatisfied with their current lives often believed in the Ninth God.
“If we’re going to die and be reborn anyway, why are you doing this now?”
“To be born with more wealth in the new world.”
The moment he grinned foolishly,
I broke his neck without hesitation.
Simultaneously, a sword shot out from his chest. Blood gushed out, but not a single drop splashed onto me.
He had tried to take me down with him in his dying moments. I never imagined he would cast a spell without an incantation. Those who believe in an afterlife would not fear death. I steeled myself again.
Flipping over Hershey Milton’s corpse, I glimpsed a black hole the size of a thumbnail beneath him before it vanished. Would enemies have poured out from that hole if I had waited a little longer? Suppressing my curiosity, I followed Hugh Benson through the left door.
Eight knights lay sprawled along the wide, long corridor. Just in case, I checked their necks; all had a pulse. They were quite skilled. I chuckled as I confirmed the yellowish bruises visible next to each knight’s neck.
With a lighter heart, I entered through an open door from which muffled voices were emanating.
The large, spacious office was not much different from the one I had seen in the Second Prince’s Palace of Sierren. Dark wooden furniture, ornate tapestries, and tall bookshelves made the office look like a study. Brett stood with his back against the wall, and Queion, whom I had met before, sat in the office chair.
And Hugh Benson was holding his head with both hands.
“You’re here on time, Number Two.”
Crack.
Before the King could say anything more, Hugh Benson twisted his neck. I was quite surprised. I inadvertently glanced at Brett, but his expression was impossible to read. Hugh Benson shrugged as he pulled the limp corpse from the chair.
“There’s no point listening to a madman’s excuses. This is the cleanest way to kill without splattering blood.”
“…Ah.”
From a distance, the sound of hurried footsteps approached.
Hugh Benson gestured to Brett.
“What are you doing? We’ll handle the body, so deal with the ones coming.”
It was a test of sorts. A ploy to see if Brett Liberty could maintain his position even after we left.
Brett, who had been staring intently at Hugh Benson, standing stiffly to one side, walked towards Hugh. He took off the dead King’s outer robe, draped it over his shoulder, and sat in the large chair. The appearance of the dark figure on the elaborately decorated seat was grotesque.
But inside, wasn’t he just a newly adult child with no social experience?
Hugh gestured for me to join him, and we attached ourselves to the ceiling. Just as the foremost of the knights, who had arrived noisily, poked his head into the office.
“Are you okay…!”
Smack!
Brett threw an ink bottle from the office desk without hesitation.
Black ink covered one of the knight’s cheeks and soaked his upper garment. The ones following behind stopped dead. I saw the knight falter for a moment. Whether to call it loyalty or learned fear, I didn’t know, as he stopped after deliberately taking the ink bottle, even though he could have easily dodged it.
Brett shouted hysterically.
“Gloria! Bring Gloria here! Right now!”
“…Yes!”
Someone among the knights standing behind worried in a small voice.
“Still, the guard…”
“Now! Bring the Queen to me!”
“…”
The knights who had rushed in turned back with somewhat weary steps.
Like waves receding with the tide, Brett, who had dispersed the knights in an instant, stood up and personally closed the office door. Then he opened the side door, the one leading to the bedroom.
Thump. As we, who had been hidden, descended to the floor, he grinned.
Though his entire body seemed devoid of any white, his white teeth gleamed brightly from his dark mouth.
“Go. I hope to see you again, but even if not… thank you.”
“You’ll do well. Live well.”
At Hugh Benson’s blessing, Brett looked at me. He probably wanted me to say something as well.
After a moment’s thought about what to say, I said what I wanted to say to myself.
“Live as if this is your last life. Whatever you do.”