Necromancer Of The Black Bible (48)

To Illinas, such a vow was pleasing.

Not only was the spectacle entertaining, but the tribute he would gain was valuable.

What demons crave is chaos.

The energy of chaos strong enough to shatter the world fuels them.

And that chaos comes from intense desire.

Nothing is sweeter than hatred so consuming one can’t control it. And the clashing emotions of a duel fought for revenge were like glittering jewels.

Illinas smacked his lips, watching the Mirror of Projection.

From the bandit Vladimir, standing with his back to the mirror, a sweet aura swelled.

The countless spirits of those he had slain clung all over his body,

and deep inside him surged endless hatred and madness.

The same hatred welled from Kaleon, the petitioner, as he glared at him.

Looking at them, several thoughts crossed Illinas’s mind.

Should he grant Kaleon overwhelming strength to win?

Or equal strength so they killed each other?

Or just enough to barely win and use Kaleon again?

The deliberation was brief.

He already knew the outcomes of each path.

Illinas chose the most favorable one.

Then he sensed a peculiar aura from Vladimir.

A very familiar one.

The aura of the lower realm—the hellish demon world.

It seemed his patron was a demon from hell.

In truth, Illinas didn’t care.

There wasn’t a single demon in hell who could threaten him.

In the long war for the upper realm, Illinas and Dikrea seized supremacy, and all demons who lost were cast into hell.

The situation now felt even more amusing.

To crush one backed by a hellish demon would be even more satisfying.

Having decided, Illinas spoke.

“Kaleon. I grant you power.”

From his throne, power seeped out.

It seeped into Kaleon’s heart, claiming part of his soul and infusing immense strength.

Thus Kaleon’s strength grew greatly.

With this, few on earth could best him.

Overjoyed, Kaleon fell to his knees.

“Thank you, My Lord! I will surely win this duel and offer you the tribute I promised!”

“I will watch.”

Illinas smirked, stroking his chin.

Kaleon’s empowered body began to change.

His muscles hardened and split with ferocity.

Arms, back, chest, belly, legs—all transformed into a body entirely new.

Dark red veins bulged, heat haze rising off his body.

His greatsword shimmered with a crimson aura.

Kaleon’s eyes glowed red, filled with one thought: vengeance on the foe who slaughtered his clan.

But Vladimir’s aura was just as fierce.

Taller by a head, larger and sturdier, radiating lethal energy.

Noticing the magic circle carved on his chest, Illinas grinned.

‘As expected, backed by a hell demon.’

Circles granted by demons varied—like unique signatures.

Illinas and Dikrea split the upper realm, but hell below still brimmed with demons.

The strange circle suggested Vladimir’s patron was some nameless hell demon.

‘Pathetic.’

Illinas laughed darkly, watching them.

They circled, seeking openings, but neither moved hastily.

Their power far exceeded ordinary warriors.

Kaleon struck first, roaring as he swung his greatsword at Vladimir.

CLAAAANG—

The sharp clash rang through Illinas’s hall.

So great was the force of their collision.

Once begun, they clashed like starving beasts.

CLANG, CLAAAANG, CLASH—

Kaleon’s strikes were fierce, but Vladimir’s defense was formidable.

Each parry made his muscles twitch.

Though the impact was great, a smile played on his face.

But to Illinas, it reeked of bravado.

Kaleon’s blows were not easily withstood.

Each parry shaved away Vladimir’s life.

While Kaleon grew stronger with each strike.

Thanks to Illinas’s bestowed power.

The “Power of Life Absorption.”

The power to drain life equal to the damage dealt.

No other demon had this—once divine, seized by Illinas.

Kaleon’s skill may lag behind, but steady draining would soon tip the scales.

Illinas’s prediction proved true.

After dozens of clashes, Vladimir spat blood.

Hack—!

Kaleon, by contrast, remained steady.

Heat still surged from his muscles, his eyes alive with resolve.

They burned with certainty—he would kill his foe, he would avenge his clan.

Wordless, Kaleon prepared the final strike.

He leveled his blade’s tip, stance ready to thrust.

Vladimir sneered.

“You think this is the end?!”

He thrust out his free right arm, pointing at Kaleon.

Then spoke again.

“You’re the first to push me this far, I admit. But it’s too soon to defeat me.”

At that instant, Vladimir’s outstretched arm exploded—and so did Kaleon’s.

Illinas clenched his fist.

It was a classic demon art: the “Power of Equivalent Exchange”—sacrificing part of oneself to destroy the same of the foe.

In truth, not a very useful power.

The harm it dealt mirrored the harm to oneself.

But Vladimir moved as if he had expected this all along.

He raised his sword with his left hand. From his stance, he was clearly left-handed.

Kaleon, however, was right-handed. Losing his sword and his dominant hand shocked him badly.

Vladimir seized the opening—it was clear how he’d survived the Dead Lands.

He lunged into Kaleon’s faltering guard and drove the greatsword through his heart.

SHLUCK—

The blade pierced his heart and jutted from his back.

Kaleon’s face twisted in pain, Vladimir grinned triumphantly.

Looking down at him, he sneered:

“What now? You begged a demon for power, and still—this?”

The words displeased Illinas, but his face did not change—his eyes gleamed brighter.

Meanwhile, Kaleon’s life ebbed swiftly.

The candle by his mirror began to gutter.

Though defeat loomed, his rage still burned.

His pierced heart beat harder, strength filling his remaining arm.

Kaleon shut his eyes tight, muttering:

“Great Demon King, grant me strength. Let me slay this foe.”

Illinas liked his steadfast heart. Vladimir’s insult had irked him already, and now his champion’s plea settled it.

“It shall be as your faith wills.”

At his words, Kaleon’s eyes flew open.

And Illinas gave him the decisive words:

“Use your left hand.”

No more needed be said.

Kaleon already knew what it meant.

A grim smile spread on his lips. He gathered power in his left hand and drove it into Vladimir’s heart.

THRUST—!

With a savage sound, his hand pierced Vladimir’s chest and seized his heart.

Then Illinas’s bestowed power—the Power of Life Absorption—activated.

Red aura flared from his hand as he drained life from the heart.

The response was swift, voracious.

Vladimir tried to shake free but could not. His lone arm couldn’t resist the pull.

Kaleon drained him relentlessly.

At the same time, change began in his ruined shoulder. Flesh healed, new tissue formed—into arm, elbow, fingers.

Moments later.

His right arm was reborn.

With it, he pulled the greatsword from his chest. Blood spurted briefly, then sealed.

His heart and chest wound healed fully.

Vladimir, however, was finished.

His once-massive frame shriveled, heartbeat faint.

His face hollowed, his legs gave, his arm only rested weakly on Kaleon’s chest.

Thus Vladimir withered away. When his heart stopped, he was a mummified husk.

Kaleon tore out the heart and held it up to Illinas.

“My Lord, accept this tribute.”

Illinas nodded. The heart slipped through the mirror into his grasp.

He noted the thin cord attached.

As expected, it led downward—

The Cord of Binding.

It bound the soul tied to the heart.

With a gesture, he severed it and seized the heart.

“At last, a worthy pawn in hand.”

Then his scribe approached.

“My Lord, shall we begin the rite at once?”

Illinas toyed with the heart, tilting his head.

“Perhaps wait. A guest approaches.”

Indeed.

Soon the front doors opened.

A demon with six horns.

With wings many times his body’s size, it strode in, face enraged.