Chapter 232 — 아자젤
Chapter 232
Azazel
“Haa… haa…!”
Elric was gasping for breath.
He felt the strength drain right out of his body.
It was a miracle he was still conscious.
“Thought I was a goner.”
When he kept hammering Azazel with the Thunderwall Form—truthfully, he’d nearly passed out several times.
Even if he held the laws of the Unconscious World in his hands, manifesting the Thunderwall Form was a different matter entirely.
It took every ounce of mental strength just to barely shape a single one.
And he’d strung those spells together….
What kept him going was the conviction that he absolutely could not show weakness before Azazel.
Do that, and the bastard would surely start scheming a counterattack.
“Heh, heh-heh.”
Luckily, it seemed Azazel had utterly collapsed.
The last territory of the Unconscious World he’d dominated was rapidly transferring to Elric.
He could see the grain of domains that had been invisible before—that was proof enough.
On top of that—
‘There’s magi.’
Pure magi left behind by Azazel was drifting in the air.
“Di-did we… beat it…?”
Mia let herself sag down beside him with a thump, relief washing over her.
She’d been pretending to be fine, but cold sweat beaded her brow all the same.
“Stoooop! Take that back, now!”
Elric barked at Mia.
She turned to him, startled.
A face asking why.
“What…?”
“Take back what you just said!”
“What line? ‘Did we beat it?’ That one?”
“Yes! That one!”
“Why…?”
“That’s the cliché where the guy you think is dead comes back stronger!”
“…”
Mia’s face went blank for a second.
She wavered over how to respond when—
“He’ll come back regardless.”
Mephisto abruptly appeared beside her and dropped down.
Mia sprang back, setting herself to guard.
They’d fought side by side against Azazel, but to her Mephisto was no different from Azazel to begin with—an enemy. The stance was only natural.
Mephisto, however, only folded his arms, unbothered.
Whether from the battle or not, a savage edge he didn’t normally exude still roiled off him.
“Come back? What do you mean?”
Elric, meanwhile, looked at Mephisto with a ‘there he goes posturing again’ in the back of his mind.
“Exactly what I said. Do you think ‘death’ means anything to a Demon King?”
Only then did Elric catch his meaning.
“…As long as the Grigori exist, he can resurrect anytime, right?”
“Right. How long it takes is the only question.”
Elric scratched the back of his head, face saying, Do I really have to deal with that monster again?
But on reflection, Mephisto was right about everything.
Azazel’s resurrection—thought impossible after a thousand years—had happened because of the Grigori in the first place.
‘The only one who showed no signs of coming back was sealed Mephisto….’
Elric let out a deep sigh, grumbling.
“In the end, there are only two ways to truly finish Azazel.”
He raised a finger.
“Either seal him so completely that even future generations can’t recognize him, or…”
His deepened eyes slid to Mephisto.
Mephisto’s lip curled.
“Hand it all to Mephi. Right?”
“Only a Demon King can devour a Demon King.”
“Hm.”
Mephisto’s smile widened.
“So hurry up and hand that to me. If I take it, even if Azazel resurrects, he’ll have no choice but to return with his total power cut by that much.”
A flash of rapture lit Mephisto’s eyes as he pointed at the magi drifting in the air.
“He’ll take it as humiliation and try to get back at us no matter what. But if I hold Azazel’s power, I’ll have a way to break him…!”
“Nonsense.”
Mia slowly rose to her feet, cutting him off.
Mephisto’s expression hardened as he snapped his head toward her.
She didn’t care.
Mia continued calmly.
“Don’t listen, Elric. He’s muddying the core of the issue.”
“Do you not see that I am speaking with your lord right now? Is it because you’re slave-born—one cannot find a scrap of manners in you, Mia Valentine.”
Slave-born.
Sparks flashed in Mia’s eyes for an instant, but she clenched her teeth and pressed on.
“It’s true only a Demon King can devour a Demon King. But a Demon King who grows that much stronger won’t be easy to stop anymore. He edges closer to a Demon God…!”
“I told you—I am speaking to your lord.”
Gooooo—
The pressure pouring off Mephisto swept the area.
Mia turned pale.
A crushing weight that could flatten her at any moment blanketed the Unconscious World.
In the deepening dark, Mephisto’s eyes glinted like ghostly will-o’-the-wisps.
“Even when I was crossing blades with Merbinger, Otto Han observed courtesy before me in private. Yet retainers who couldn’t even share a table back then dare to meddle with my words?”
Mia hurried to weave spell formulae to divert Mephisto’s pressure, but every time a magic circle formed in the air, it was torn apart.
That was how overwhelming Mephisto’s pressure was.
“Want a round two?”
“Can we not, here?”
“I thought I’d get a breather. Looks like more trouble.”
Deciding they could no longer leave Mephisto unchecked, Nahatram, Tepes, and Damir took their places beside Mia.
A good portion of Mephisto’s magi now slid away from them—
Which only deepened his sneer.
“No Hargan, no Shawn, and you think just you lot can stop me?”
The two he’d named were said to vie for the top even among the Winter Six.
Back when Otto Han was head of house, they’d been practically his right and left arms.
They had acknowledged Elric, but held a few private doubts; they had yet to show themselves because of it.
Naturally, without them, the four of them alone could not face Mephisto.
They’d only been able to take on Azazel because Mephisto was there at all.
However—
“So what?”
The four didn’t care in the least.
If they had to fight again, they would.
If pressure like this could make them kneel, they wouldn’t be called Merbinger’s retainers.
Mephisto’s face twisted hideously, and black flames surged over his open palm.
Fwoooosh!
It was a heat you could feel from here, as if he’d hauled up the sulfurous flames said to flow through hell.
“If you’re hell-bent on inviting punishment, I won’t overlook it any longer.”
With a clash about to erupt—
“Mia, Nahatram, Damir, Tepes.”
Elric, who had been lost in thought all this time, finally spoke.
His four retainers turned to him.
His playful look had vanished.
He was serious—no less than Otto Han came to mind.
“Stand down.”
“But…!”
“I said stand down.”
“…”
“…”
They couldn’t say a word.
“This time, Mephi is right. This is a negotiation between me and Mephi. I’ve given none of you the right to speak.”
Their eyes wavered.
“If you insist, like last time, that you still don’t trust me—that you refuse to acknowledge me as Merbinger’s head—then I will dismiss you from here. And I promise you this: I will never call on you again.”
Elric was forcing the issue.
Either recognize him as the new head of house, or don’t.
If they did, they were to stand down; if not, he would no longer treat them as old retainers.
And the four knew very well that Elric’s words were no bluff.
As with Otto Han, Merbinger’s heads always kept their word, no matter what.
Otherwise, after finally feeling the air of the outside world for the first time in a thousand years, wouldn’t it all come to nothing?
Besides, each of them had a wish.
To find successors to whom they could pass down their arts.
In life, they’d been consumed with building their house, leaving them no chance to properly raise heirs.
Even when they did, few traces remained.
Anyway—
Digging in now would only trample Elric’s pride.
Having fully reproduced the Progenitor Magic, he was all but the Progenitor’s heir; they couldn’t refuse to acknowledge him.
In the end, the four stepped back one by one.
Mia alone looked like she had a lot more to say, but swallowed it.
“Now you can put that away too, Mephi.”
“Hmph.”
At Elric’s words, Mephisto flicked his hand.
His magi vanished as if it had been a lie.
“So, are you giving it to me or not?”
“A promise is a promise—I’ll give it to you.”
“Heh. I didn’t expect you to be this reasonable…!”
“More importantly, how about you finally teach me something?”
“What?”
“The Mark of Original Sin. How to use it.”
Mephisto’s face scrunched up. Realizing Elric wasn’t joking, he sighed.
“If I knew that, don’t you think I would’ve already found a way to pry myself off you?”
“Of course I do.”
Mephisto scowled.
“So. Your conclusion?”
“It’s hard? Because the mana stone belongs to me?”
“Whoever laid it, the spell on the necklace you’re wearing is vicious—too damned vicious. Which means the method for you to use my Mark is bound up in that spell.”
Mephisto looked like he was sick to death of it.
“If you want to use it properly, hurry up and climb to my level.”
“…I should’ve known better than to ask.”
Elric still looked displeased, but his mind was spinning fast.
“No. Maybe there’s another way.”
This Azazel raid had convinced him.
Mephisto’s magic was in no way inferior to Progenitor Magic.
His greed for the Mark of Original Sin had only grown.
And he’d gotten an unexpected clue.
Maybe it wasn’t just his lack of skill; maybe the mana stone’s binding hadn’t loosened enough.
‘The stronger Mephi gets, the more functions the Mark of Original Sin regains. If so—’
Tzzzz—
“Come to me!”
In the distance, Mephisto had risen into the air and had begun drawing in Azazel’s magi.
‘Finding the trigger for the Mark might become much easier.’
The Mage Who Devoured Talent