It’s already confirmed that “Judgment Arrow” is the Black faction. Therefore, there’s no need to hide my face with a hockey mask anymore, and I can proudly don the “Tyrant’s Armor” as I head to the stronghold.
Passing through the barrier Sariel unlocked with the necklace key, Fiona and I walk along the forest path.
We parted ways with Sariel, our infiltration specialist, immediately after crossing the barrier. With her long silver hair and nun-like attire, she stood out quite a bit, but she vanished into the night jungle in an instant.
Now, once we pass through this concealment barrier, the path they’ve been using will be in plain sight. They’ve cleared the trees somewhat, solidifying the road enough for carriages to pass. Without this high-level concealment barrier, such a well-maintained path would be impossible to hide.
After walking along this obvious path for about five minutes, a box-shaped fortress-like structure comes into view in the distance.
“That’s it.”
“From the looks of it, it’s just an ordinary ancient ruin.”
Even in the dead of night, the brightly illuminated fortress stands out. Instead of roaring bonfires, white glowing panels attached to the fortress walls serve as the light source. No doubt, they’ve managed to restore some of the ancient ruin’s functions.
“They don’t seem to have noticed us yet.”
“Probably because we used the key.”
If the ancient ruin’s barrier had been forcibly breached, it should’ve reacted. But the fact that they didn’t station any guards or gatekeepers near the barrier—whether out of negligence or lack of manpower—is baffling.
“Well then, let’s make a flashy diversion.”
“I’m good at that sort of thing.”
“I know,” I reply while readying “The Greed” in its fully charged Thunder Cannon Form. Fiona raises “Walpurgis,” its tip only slightly open—what we call the “half-bloom” state—so she seems to be holding back.
“Charged Particle Cannon, fire!”
“Flame Burial!”
Lightning and fire tear through the night, swirling into a massive vortex.
For a moment, it’s as if midday has returned—thunderbolts and explosions unleash an overwhelming light—but, uh… is this okay?
“Hey, the fortress isn’t gonna collapse, right?”
“It should be fine… probably.”
Don’t say things that make me nervous.
We might’ve gone a bit overboard with the firepower. If the fortress crumbles, we’d wipe out the enemy in one go, but any captured beastmen inside would be caught in the crossfire. Lily could survive a collapse, but ordinary beastmen would be annihilated. That… that would be bad.
“Ah, good news, Chrono! The fortress is intact!”
“Oho, as expected of an ancient ruin—it’s unscathed.”
As the blinding light and smoke clear, the silhouette of the still-standing fortress comes into view, and I sigh in relief.
“Though, the reinforcement magic on the building seems to have worn off. One more hit might bring it down.”
Now that I look closely, pale blue sparks crackle sporadically across the structure. Ancient ruins are usually built tough—some are made from ultra-durable materials, while others rely on reinforcement magic.
The “Sky Battleship Shangri-La,” being a massive weapon, falls into the ultra-durable category. Even without its barrier function, its sheer resilience makes it impervious to human destruction.
This fortress, however, seems to rely solely on reinforcement magic. Even if it’s ancient magic, it shouldn’t be so easily broken—yet our combined attack nearly shattered it.
Ancient magic or not, the passage of time must’ve weakened its effects.
“Next time, let’s try not to hit the fortress directly.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Listening to her unreliable response, I wait to see how the enemy reacts to such an obvious assault. As the diversion team, we need to keep provoking them until they focus on us.
So, how will they respond after such a massive explosion?
“That’s what they call ‘stirring up a hornet’s nest,’ huh?”
“With that level of panic, their soldiers must not be very disciplined.”
Soon, armed soldiers—or adventurers—rush out in disarray. Shouts fill the air, and the fortress becomes a chaotic mess. No orderly defensive formations—just as Fiona said, they’re not much of a threat.
After a full 30 seconds, illumination flares finally light up the night sky. Flash orbs drift above, bathing the area around the fortress in light.
“Shall we move forward?”
“I’d rather not get too close if their turrets target us. But if they hole up inside, it’ll be even worse. Let’s see how they respond.”
Since the fortress hasn’t fired at us yet, we’re probably out of range of its defenses. The cult leader’s personal gun emplacement might reach us, though.
Either way, there’s no reason to march into enemy territory. It’d be best if their troops came to us—
“They’re coming out normally.”
Observing the fortress, it seems the enemy has chosen to engage.
We stand right in the middle of the path, making no effort to hide. With the illumination flares, even the blindest fool could spot us.
Once they confirm our presence, they begin advancing toward us.
Their formation—if you can call it that—is just a few groups moving straight ahead. No flanking maneuvers, no attempts to encircle us.
Shouldn’t you guys be a little more cautious?
“Maybe they think that earlier blast was our full-power Great Magic?”
“If they assume we’re exhausted, now’s their chance to close in for melee.”
That’s some wishful thinking. Why assume we’d stop at one shot? Rank 5 Monsters can casually demolish castle walls with consecutive breaths.
“That guy in the blue robe has a staff… and there’s one with a storm rifle.”
“The rest have standard equipment.”
At a glance, no one’s wielding unexpected ancient weaponry.
From Lionel’s intel, we knew there’d be a blue-robed mage using special reinforcement magic—likely an ancient spell utilizing ether.
And since they’re using an ancient ruin, we expected some infantry firearms like handguns or rifles. EA weapons are plenty powerful—even amateurs can wield firepower rivaling veteran mages just by pulling a trigger. If they’ve got them, they’ll use them. After all, Kathryn and her guards were using “Wind” rifles.
“Can’t afford to lose in a shootout.”
I finish switching “The Greed” to machine gun form and aim its six barrels at the approaching enemies.
“Chrono, can I take the first shot?”
“Sure, but why?”
“I want to test a new attack spell.”
Oh? Fiona’s developed a new spell? Now I’m curious.
“You remember the Fire Dragon from Adamantoria, right? I got the idea from that.”
“Don’t tell me you’re summoning a Fire Dragon?”
“Not like I can do that outside a volcano.”
Wait, could she if there *was* a volcano? Knowing Fiona… maybe?
“A real Fire Dragon is a monstrous entity with immense magical power—an uncontrollable supernatural force. But mimicking its structure is possible. Think of it as a… unique ‘Fire Spirit.'”
Apparently, witnessing and controlling a real Fire Dragon gave her deeper insight. I can’t tell the difference between a Fire Dragon and a Fire Spirit, but as a witch, Fiona’s the expert. She must’ve grasped some theory to develop a new spell.
“I create a miniature Fire Dragon and command it. Since it’s formed from my own magic, controlling it should be no issue.”
“I see… So, what’s the advantage? How’s it different from regular fire magic?”
“Even in this form, it’s a magical creature with a will of its own. I just summon it, and it burns the enemies on its own. Minimal firepower for precise strikes.”
“Whoa, seriously?! That’s amazing, Fiona!”
Fiona—*the* Fiona—talking about *minimal firepower* and *precision*? If true, this could redeem her reputation as the “runaway witch who turns everything to scorched earth.”
Until now, the Element Masters had clear strengths—Fiona with max firepower, Lily with precision. But Fiona mastering controlled attack magic is a huge leap. I’d take this over some half-baked blessing any day.
“So no more friendly fire to worry about?!”
“Of course. Witness my flawless control.”
Confidently, Fiona swings “Walpurgis.” With a mechanical click, its sealed armor petals open further—half-bloom, the same state she used to control the Fire Dragon in the Balrog Mountain Range.
**”Flames entwined with eightfold wisdom—”**
Her melodic incantation ignites a golden glow across the black staff. The radiant light burns so intensely it feels like it could sear my skin.
Just one verse, and I can sense an absurd amount of magic pouring in. Can she really control a spell of this magnitude? Well, if anyone can, it’s Fiona.
“Perfect distance for a test.”
As the explosive magic builds, I glance at the approaching enemies. While we’ve been chatting, they’ve closed the gap.
The five enemy units are all shrouded in faint blue barriers—likely the blue-robed mage’s ancient ether barrier, similar to Kathryn’s.
A mid-tier defensive spell, but sturdy enough for Fiona’s test. If we were unarmored, even a “Fire Arrow” would turn us to charcoal.
Finally, as riflemen take aim, Fiona’s new spell completes.
**”O serpent of flame, companion of life—’Fire Dragon Cannon’!”**
And so, the Fire Dragon appears.
A serpentine figure, its body molten magma. Though I never saw it directly in Balrog, I recognize it instantly.
From the tip of “Walpurgis,” the magma serpent emerges. “Miniature” was an understatement—it’s easily large enough to swallow a person whole. One bite, and you’re ashes.
The Fire Dragon locks onto its prey and—
**BOOOOM!**
“Whoaaa?!”
“Walpurgis” roars as a colossal flash erupts.
The Fire Dragon doesn’t pounce like a snake—it *surges* forward like a raging lava river. Wait, this is a *beam*.
Like the “Lava Gigantopede’s” molten beams, but thicker, denser, and radiating terrifying magic. No comparison to that centipede’s attacks.
**RUMBLE—KABOOM!!**
Predictably, a massive explosion—bigger than our earlier combo.
Fiona sweeps her staff horizontally, and the beam carves through the battlefield.
The outermost unit, shielded in pale blue, vanishes in the light. Probably disintegrated.
One by one, the five enemy units are erased.
A beat later, the beam’s path erupts like a volcano—billowing smoke and splattering orange magma. Is that leftover magma, or did the ground melt from the heat?
With a final tremor, the Fire Dragon fades.
“Fiona.”
“Yes?”
“That ‘flawless control’…”
“…Sorry.”
Against the backdrop of towering smoke, Fiona meekly admits her failure.
“Perhaps new spells shouldn’t be tested in live combat.”
“There’s a *slight* gap between theory and reality.”
“I didn’t expect the Fire Dragon to be this unruly.”
“Guess it takes after its master.”
“Then it should’ve been a well-behaved child!”
Sighing genuinely, Fiona must have some innate resistance to sarcasm.
While her dream of “perfectly controlled firepower” crumbled, we *did* eliminate the enemies. Maybe too flashy for a diversion, but it’ll definitely draw their attention.
Surely those charred troops weren’t their main force. They must have more in reserve.
I wonder if Sariel infiltrated the fortress successfully. No signals yet, and it hasn’t been long—better keep causing chaos here.
“—Well, well, well. Looks like some real troublemakers showed up.”
As I ponder our next move, a flippant voice cuts in.
A man approaches, stepping casually over the smoldering, molten ground—barefoot, no fire-resistant gear, no visible strain.
Dressed in a black bodysuit with a red sash, he carries no weapons.
Built like a wrestler, his sharp eyes and scarred face give him an orc-like ferocity. And most notably—his hair is black.
“Sinister-looking black-haired guy… So you’re Gashure.”
“Whew, first time I’ve seen a face scarier than mine!”
His confident entrance and taunting tone suggest he’s got skills.
(And no, his comment is *not* an objective observation. In a poll, 70 out of 100 people would definitely find *him* scarier. Please let that be true.)
“If you surrender now, I’ll hear you out.”
His appearance matches Lionel’s description of “Gashure the Crimson Fist,” a renowned mercenary hired by “Judgment Arrow.” Our similar looks apparently caused some misunderstandings.
Gashure is a well-known mercenary in these southern regions—not an adventurer, but a hired fighter. Wars, escorts—that’s his trade.
Rumor has it “Judgment Arrow” paid a fortune to recruit him.
“Man, talk about bad timing. I was just about to bail when you scary folks showed up.”
With exaggerated gestures, he raises his hands—but his expression is anything but defeated. His gaze is mocking, sizing us up.
“Already got my pay, and getting hurt now’d be stupid. You guys prefer easy jobs too, right? So how about we both just—”
*Snap.*
In the next instant, Gashure is in front of Fiona, fist raised.
“—Drop dead!”
His aura-clad fist swings down like a hammer—fast as an arrow.
Fiona stands frozen, clutching “Walpurgis,” her golden eyes fixed on the incoming strike.
“Didn’t peg you for the loyal type. Fighting for *them*?”
Since Fiona isn’t reacting, I intercept Gashure’s punch instead.
His movement seemed instant, but he’d actually been inching closer with subtle footwork. The sudden shift from relaxed taunts to a lightning strike—impressive tempo control.
For a wild-looking guy, he’s unexpectedly technical. Not my forte, but sparring with Sariel taught me how to handle feints and misdirection.
Either way, I catch his fist squarely in my palm.
*BAM!*
The impact echoes as Fiona watches, unblinking.
“Tch!”
Gashure retreats with just a click of his tongue.
“You… Rank 5 Adventurer?”
“‘Element Master.’”
“Never heard of it… but you’re the real deal.”
His cocky grin is gone. One exchange was enough for him to gauge my strength.
Next time, he’ll come at me seriously.
“Hah! Good! I was bored slaughtering beastmen. Finally, a real fight!”
“I’m not here for fun or glory, but if you’re eager, I’ll oblige.”
We square off, tension thick in the air.
(So thick that—Fiona, *please* step back.)
“Yawn~”
Utterly unfazed, Fiona leisurely retreats.
—
**September 21, 2018**
**The comic adaptation of *The Black Demon King* begins serialization on the 24th! Don’t miss it—check *Comic Walker* and *Nico Nico Seiga*!**