The black magician Bellud had been spending the best days of his life recently, ever since he began learning magic. As even his earliest memories were of learning magic, this meant he was currently living through the greatest days of his life.
Had there ever been a time when his realm rose so quickly? Had there ever been a time when his status rose so quickly?
Above all, had there ever been a time when he had harbored such expectations for the future?
Considering the sewer-like life he had lived until now, all of this was happening for the first time.
Born into a humble baron’s family buried in some remote corner of the countryside, falling for an old monster’s honeyed words about having talent, spending his days like a slave to a magician.
That time when he barely survived on a few loaves of bread, a few pieces of meat, and a bit of wine each day had been the worst period of Bellud’s life.
But after he began learning black magic, everything changed.
The first thing he did after learning black magic was murder his old master. As a result of mixing minute amounts of magic poison into the food and biding his time, his old master died within a month.
The expression that old monster had worn while Bellud stole the power dwelling in his fallen master’s soul still sent a thrill through him whenever he recalled it.
Although it had only been a portion, by stealing his master’s magic power and knowledge in that way, and as a result of sacrificing still more other people’s souls, he had ascended to a place far higher than the realm his master had reached.
Look at him now. That senile wretch had done nothing but spend his time scribbling formulas on paper inside a decrepit building, occasionally performing trivial chores to earn money.
Yet here he was, facing the lord of this massive city over a luxurious meal in its very center.
Bellud smelled the wine in the glass the servant had just poured and closed his eyes as if in admiration.
“Hmm, the fragrance is first-rate. It is like a field of flowers.”
He spoke as though he were knowledgeable about wine, but Bellud actually had no such knowledge. He had only said it because the wine came in a luxurious bottle decorated with flowers.
“Hahaha, it was quite difficult to acquire.”
“To receive such hospitality again, I scarcely know what to do with myself.”
Bellud put a piece of tough meat, served already cut in a bowl, into his mouth and chewed with effort.
‘…I always think this, but it is unbearably tough.’
The texture seemed impossible to swallow, and the scent of spices he could not get used to assaulted his nose, but since the Count was eating the same thing, he endured and ate it, telling himself that this was what a noble’s meal was.
Forcing the meat down, Bellud looked at the nobleman before him.
Count Baelrund. More precisely, the 26th Count Baelrund. A powerful noble with legitimate pedigree and capability, possessing hair that shimmered with blue light.
Originally, he was someone so high above that a person like Bellud could never have dared approach him, but that was no longer the case.
The opportunity had been the war five years ago. In the war Bellud had joined after seeing the notice recruiting magicians, he had caught the Count’s eye.
Since then, a continuing relationship had formed where he took on dirty work in the shadows and received money. Things such as secretly selling his own wife and daughter into slavery to take a new wife.
It was an executive ability impressive even to a black magician like himself. He had occasionally arranged contacts between the Count and that person to ask if the Count would like to try learning black magic.
And so, over the past year, the Count had rapidly taken to black magic, and Bellud had been able to rise to the position of business partner.
Following orders, it had taken a long time to quietly build his forces without revealing anything suspicious, but under the Count’s skillful protection and concealment, the system was now fully established.
By hypnotizing people in the inconspicuous slums with black magic, he gradually amplified the negative emotions within the city and continuously procured souls steeped in resentment.
And someday…
“By the way, how is ‘that person’ faring?”
“Of course. That person has great expectations for the Count.”
That person. Someone who could be called the teacher of all black magicians. Someone so exalted that uttering their very name would be a discourtesy.
It was also that person who had first taught Bellud black magic and pulled him up from that hellish abandoned building.
Bellud thought that if it were not for that person, he would never have been able to dine in such a place.
Time passed, and the meal ended—a meal that had been a bit difficult for Bellud, but one over which he had managed to convince himself it was satisfying.
Bellud rose from his seat, and the approaching servant helped him into the luxurious coat he had worn when he arrived.
“Well then, since that person said the time is drawing near, let us meet again around then…”
“Take care on your way.”
Exiting the Count’s castle, Bellud scattered black magic that blurred the perception of those around him.
His realm had not yet reached that person’s level, so he could not completely escape others’ notice, but he felt satisfaction in the fact that people paid him no heed whatsoever.
And he began walking toward the slum he had first come from. Along the coast, passing between intentionally emptied buildings.
He slightly furrowed his brow at the collapsed buildings and the faintly terrible smell, but even so, with hope for the future, Bellud could smile.
It was clear that before long, without having to hide in such a place, he would be able to enjoy a noble life somewhere even more splendid than the Count’s.
All of it had been promised by that person.
Bellud headed toward a small building in the most secluded spot, between abandoned warehouse structures.
Since the hideout had been dug underground anyway, it did not need a large entrance, and it was also to follow that person’s will to hide as much as possible and bide his time.
———‘If you run into “The Redeemer,” your small wish, and our grand and righteous plan as well, all of it may come to an end, so be extremely careful.’
Bellud had many questions about who The Redeemer was, why that person had spoken so gravely of them, and whether a being that could stop that person truly existed in this world.
But he followed without doubt. Because he had to.
However, what met the eyes of Bellud, returning after finishing his pleasant meal, was the entrance of the hideout made according to that person’s will—breached.
“…What?”
Only an extreme few knew the location of this hideout. The prospective sacrificial victims of the slums completely under his control, the slaves raised to accumulate emotions of resentment, and the eight apprentice black magicians sent by that person.
And finally, the Count.
‘Has the Count betrayed me…?’
The thought crossed his mind for a moment, but it was impossible. They might have become rivals within the organization, but once the Count had made contact with that person, it was impossible for him to betray a fellow black magician.
‘Then what on earth happened?’
Bellud urgently leaped into the hideout entrance, which had been cleanly blown away.
Running quickly down the spiral staircase leading below and entering the hideout’s corridor, Bellud was momentarily unable to comprehend what he was witnessing.
Beneath the dim light of the magic lamps, more than half of them shattered.
Eight corpses lay strewn across the corridor, killed in bizarre ways that targeted only their heads—necks snapped and twisted backward, foreheads pierced through, or heads missing entirely.
They were apprentices, yes, but each of them was capable of handling a single person on their own. Otherwise, that person would never have taken them in.
Bellud quickly began opening doors to find where the intruder was. Simultaneously, he ran calculations in his head for defensive magic and black magic as he readied himself.
And finally, when Bellud opened his own room, he was able to confront the intruder.
The intruder sat with legs crossed on the luxury sofa visible as soon as the door opened, reading documents that should have been placed deep inside a drawer.
Long white hair, and two locks that stuck up above her crown as if drawing rings, asserting themselves willfully. A golden hair ornament in the shape of a triple ring on the left side of her head…
A small-framed girl with a clearly incongruous appearance for this situation.
“You’re the last one?”
The girl spoke softly without giving Bellud so much as a glance. Though her voice was delicate, it battered his survival instincts wildly.
“What… are you?”
Her ears were human, but they were probably a disguise. Bellud thought she must be one of the long-lived races, like elves or spirits, that detested black magic to the core.
Readying himself to use magic at a moment’s notice, Bellud slowly approached in a combat stance.
The weakness of arrogant long-lived races was precisely the carelessness born of that confidence and arrogance. If he seized the momentum all at once, the battle would be over in an instant.
The apprentice black magicians had died, but that was because they had been weak from the start.
‘I can do it—if it’s me!’
Ignoring his instincts’ warning, Bellud closed the distance to a range where his magic would certainly hit. The girl still did not bat an eye, continuing to read the documents.
“Do you intend to give up black magic, by any chance?”
Bellud inwardly smiled at her appearance, still not turning her gaze. Immediately deploying defensive magic, he simultaneously activated black magic that assailed the mind.
“Die!!”
And that was the last word Bellud shouted.
“Then die.”
That was the last voice he heard.
By the time Bellud desperately clung back to his fading consciousness, his body had already collapsed on the floor and would not move.
Even that soon faded away.
◇
She had obtained some interesting information.
At first, she had assumed they had abandoned the hideout and fled since there were only small fry, but after reading the documents, it turned out he had crawled back in on his own.
By the way, that person.
It was not written what the name was, but she had a face she could more or less guess.
It seemed things had become troublesome.