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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 0
Chapter Title: He Repents Just Before Death
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[Ashen Dawn Society]'s founding chairman.
[Kalmburg Magic Academy]'s chief arch-black mage.
One of the fifteen great evils who destroyed the world.
The nightmare of the southern jungles and wastelands.
One of the five great archdemons. The demon summoner who called forth Tyban.
The cursed minion of Myriad Demon Hall.
Feizashi Wildcast.
His name before receiving the Sabbat from the demons: Fernandez Cerned.
Age 87. He closed his eyes as he watched the world perish.
Age 16. In the very spot where he had fled his family and slept rough.
Now, he opened his eyes once more.
***
In an era where demons howled from every shadow and the pale sun scorched the verdigris sky, the last remaining "human" black mage lay dying.
Severe mana corruption, the decay of his flesh, and excessive spellcasting that had surpassed all limits. He had more than enough reasons to die as a black mage, while reasons to evade death were all but nonexistent.
In this age, he alone yearned for death of his own volition.
"Before this day drags on any longer, let me ask you one final time, Feizashi."
"Lord Tyban. I will not become a lich."
A being from legends even in the days when elves and dwarves roamed the continent. An ancient demon. Tyban looked down at the coughing man in bed. Tyban sneered at Feizashi with utter contempt.
Feizashi looked up at him and smiled back. From the moment he had first summoned him until now, they had been a pair in perfect sync.
"You have talent. Become a lich and serve me. Step beyond death and make it your servant. I don't want to lose someone of your caliber like this."
"Heh heh heh. By our contract, my soul will become a slave of the Sixth Realm anyway. How could I serve you more than that?"
"Then wouldn't it be better to live on as a lich? Rather than dying and becoming some lowly demon. Your magical talent, your experience, your temperament, your soul (hon) and po (vital soul), your spirit (yeong) and seong (nature). Will you let everything you've built over a lifetime melt away into nothing?"
"Undead. Undead... I don't want to become undead."
Tyban clicked his tongue. It was because of his son. The reason this tough, cunning black mage had suddenly come to despise the undead.
"Your son was pathetically weak compared to you. Feizashi Wildcast."
"You're right. So weak he couldn't endure a skeleton and rotting flesh. He wanted to remain human to the end. Isn't that just like father, like son?"
"So you'll die like this? Just like when I killed your resurrected son with my own hands?"
"What choice do I have? If that's what he wanted, then so be it."
Tyban chuckled with amusement.
"Did you cherish your son that much?"
"I only realized it after I killed him."
Feizashi smiled bitterly. A fit of violent coughing soon wracked his wrinkled throat. He could barely straighten up after arching his back in agony and groaning.
Throughout that long moment, Tyban watched him in silence. Feizashi slowly opened his mouth.
"Do you remember the day we first met, Lord Tyban?"
"You were a green boy."
"I was consumed by nothing but revenge and madness. Nothing else. Even when I summoned you and slaughtered the Asias High Council nobles one by one. From Dane to Fairn, from the southern jungles to the western badlands, burning it all."
"They were weaklings."
Tyban didn't want to see Feizashi—the man who had lived like a volcano in eternal eruption—whimpering weakly as he died.
Feizashi had been an entertaining fellow, a capable villain.
Decisive, bold, brimming with pride. But Tyban did not interrupt the final moments of this mortal he could almost call a friend.
He reminisced alongside Feizashi.
"When we sacrificed the Cerned Barony folk and broke the seal on Yekaset..."
"Ah, glorious days. In hell, in this mortal realm, and even in the heavenly Holy Pantheon of Good Gods! Our names rang out. The gates opened, the legions marched, and we scorched the skies. Feizashi."
"Do you remember Beitasser's four bitches?"
Tyban fell silent for a moment. Feizashi did not press him. They respected each other too much for that.
In the days when those who sang hope amid despair had driven the great lord of the abyss back to hell, destroying four of the five hellgates.
The vanguard of the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods, protectors of humanity.
"Beitasser's four bitches... Yes. Thanks to you, we captured and executed them all. I remember."
The four champions of the war god of sun and justice, Beitasser. Holy knights of the crusade, missionaries of the creed, near-divine saints. The greatest four angels.
Until Feizashi used himself as bait to lure them into a trap, gathering them in one place to plunge into hell together. The world had been steadily purifying.
With Feizashi's sacrifice, humanity took its final breath. The world perished that day. Now demons burned the world, and human souls became their playthings.
The life flashed before his eyes. Feizashi smiled bitterly.
"The world is already destroyed, the heavenly Holy Pantheon of Good Gods has sealed its gates, and Myriad Demon Hall will torment mortal souls forever."
"A great victory."
"A great and hollow victory, Lord Tyban."
If he followed him now, he could be hailed as a war hero, seize a throne as lord of hell, and live proudly.
Tyban would support him, and with his own power intact, no demon could stand above him.
But whenever such thoughts arose, like ants gnawing at the flab of his heart, he heard his son's screams.
-Kyaaaagh! Uwaaaagh! Father!!! Father!!!!
It was a horrific wail. The day he had resurrected his son's corpse, lost futilely in the war. Unable to accept that he had become undead, the boy descended into madness.
He tore at himself until he was a pile of flesh. As long as Feizashi's mana sustained him, the son could not end it himself.
So Feizashi had taken his son's second life with his own hands. That day, he lost his son twice.
***
Feizashi snapped out of his reverie, gasping raggedly. Pain like his soul being ripped out crushed him.
The memory from that time remained an ever-bleeding wound etched in his chest, never healing throughout his life. Feizashi forced his trembling lips to part.
"Lord Tyban. One final request."
"Speak."
"Lend me a little mana."
"For what?"
"To reflect on the fact that I was once a mage as I die."
Tyban sighed, gazing at Feizashi's shrunken, withered frame. Fine. That would be better.
It was like the sentiment of an old man dying while flipping through an old photo album. A great black mage who had once wielded mana stronger than any other.
He wanted to die with even a handful of mana in him.
Tyban flicked his finger, infusing mana into Feizashi's body. The labored breathing eased visibly.
"Thank you."
With that powerful mana, Feizashi felt his life extended for a moment. Sweet painkiller. But he could not indulge.
He had never lived complacently in his life.
-Zzzzap!!!
"What are you doing?!"
Feizashi's fingers knotted, and in an instant, a massive magic circle floated around his body. Complex runes intertwined and then dispersed. Green sparks faded, leaving mana afterimages.
In that instant, Feizashi had expended all the mana Tyban had given him.
"What have you done!!"
What else? Freed the archangels. Feizashi chuckled.
-Shunk!!!
A gleaming spear blade protruded from the center of Tyban's broad, sturdy chest. Tyban grabbed it immediately.
-CRACK!
But an axe buried in his left forearm. A blade in his right thigh. A hammer descending toward his head. They hindered him.
Through blurring vision, Tyban looked at Feizashi's small form.
"A fitting end for a betrayer of humanity, no? Betraying a demon."
"Feizashi!!!!"
"See you in hell."
"Wildcast, you bastaaaaard!!!!"
-Thud!
The four weapons embedded in him scattered, and Tyban's body shattered to pieces. Amid the spray of the archdemon's blood, Feizashi gazed at the four approaching angels.
"Ah, so radiant."
"Why have you freed us?"
"Does it need a reason?"
"It does. Was it mere whimsy?"
Feizashi sighed and closed his eyes. Motives, motives. He hated self-righteous types.
"I built hell's prison and used Tyban's mana. The same method undid the seal."
"That's the process."
"Yes. And the result is your freedom. No need for thanks. Now get lost. I want to die in peace."
"Your son."
Feizashi twitched his eyelids and glared up at them.
"Shut up and scram?"
"Your son. The root of your regret."
"Reading minds is a bad habit."
"Light pierces all shadows. In the end, you were just. Fernandez of Cerned. Repentance comes from regret."
"Damn it."
With those words, the four archangels vanished in an instant. Good riddance. What was left in this world now?
No humans to protect, no life at all. They'd abandon it too. Grumble about the messy mission and return to the heavenly Holy Pantheon of Good Gods.
In the end, a meaningless act. Like his life. Feizashi recalled his son's eyes. Muddy brown irises eroded by sorrow and madness.
"If I had one last chance."
He wanted to save his son. Show him a better world. Was there anything a father could do?
This old villain plummeted into hell amid irredeemable sins and regrets. A long, ugly, painful, terrifying descent.
"One last chance..."
From afar in his ears, Tyban's enraged roar echoed. Yes. Wait for me, old friend. I'll gladly endure your eternal torment.
Feizashi Wildcast.
His name before receiving the Sabbat from the demons: Fernandez Cerned. He was 87 years old.
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: He Returns to His Hometown
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*
Dense coniferous forest everywhere. Morning dew dropped with a plop onto Fernandez's nose. Fernandez jolted awake in shock and burrowed deep against the tree trunk.
Sharp leaves piled on the damp blanket, and the campfire before him had turned to ashes.
'Where am I?'
Fernandez clutched his head, steadying his mind. It wasn't easy. After all, it had been at least ten years since he last saw a tree untainted by hell mana.
To him, this place was... a different world of sorts.
'Breathing's fine, and the vegetation looks familiar.'
That was the problem. If he had fallen into some other world without protection, the immediate issues would be breathing difficulties and unfamiliar surroundings.
(1) No clue how it happened
(2) Woke up safely
(3) Able to live without issues
(4) Environment not hostile.
A miracle was needed for all four conditions.
'Miracles don't exist.'
Fernandez shook his head and looked down at the blanket. Absurdly, it was the woolen fabric from his homeland, now without a trace.
And the back of his hand gripping it was smooth without a single wrinkle, his muscles brimming with vitality.
No matter how well maintained, this wasn't the body of a black mage past eighty. Especially not one who hadn't taken good care of himself.
'Two possibilities. Either extreme mana corruption has driven me mad, or I've really gone back in time.'
Whichever it was, he couldn't verify it sitting here. Fernandez cautiously stood, then grimaced.
His body, stiff from a night exposed to cold dew, ached.
'Am I the eighty-year-old black mage Feizashi, or the boy Fernandez who couldn't even complete his coming-of-age rite?'
The most urgent question to resolve. Since mind binds to flesh, he ventured into the forest warily, his sharpening mind on guard.
*
After walking the forest for about an hour, Fernandez cautiously formed a hypothesis and returned to the dead campfire.
'The forest has no end.'
Lost, badly off course, or trapped in a forest-shaped hell. One of the three, but he hoped for the first.
A single dagger, no mana detectable in his body, but in compensation, condition so fresh he could fly. Everything felt familiar. Just like seventy years ago.
'Never thought I'd fail at something basic like navigation.'
He was somewhere in the northwestern Sailinghorn Mountains. If he had truly returned to the past.
Before the world was tainted by hell mana, before its destruction, the only memory of camping in conifers was that time.
How had he escaped this forest back then? Why had he gone so deep?
'Because of that damned Cerned regent.'
On his sixteenth birthday, he had to choose between running away or suicide, and judged dying as a wanderer better than offing himself.
Hiding deep in the forest to evade pursuers had worked, but foolishly, he got too deep and lost his way out.
Still, Fernandez wasn't in a bad mood. He had strength to move, and above all, the morning forest air was incredibly refreshing.
A scent he hadn't smelled in nearly thirty years. Ignoring the minor issue of no mana.
'The mana needed to summon a demon, or even call a spirit to ask directions—none left. All I can manage now is... lighting a fire with my finger instead of flint...'
If he couldn't ask the dead or otherworldly, he needed the living's help.
So deciding, Fernandez hunkered by the campfire again and chewed on thoroughly dried jerky.
Sixteen-year-old Fernandez wouldn't have known, but eighty-year-old Feizashi did. Leaving traces and a campfire meant pursuers would surely find him.
And from afar, startled birds fled with cries, accompanied by hoofbeats.
*
"Aigoo, young master, have you come to your senses?"
A man with a neatly trimmed mustache sneered down from his horse. Utterly rude for addressing nobility, but fitting for a bastard son.
"Yes, thank you for finding me. Your name...?"
At Fernandez's words, the man's face flushed red and purple. He thought Fernandez was mocking him.
The man menacingly toyed with his sword hilt and growled at Fernandez.
"Young master. Seems you haven't grasped the situation. You're about to go missing here. Why not run properly and actually disappear?"
"I'm a proactive man. Care to make me 'disappear' proactively?"
The man scowled fiercely, dismounted, and slowly drew his sword. Fernandez smirked. He extended his index finger toward the approaching man.
"I have exactly one spell available now."
"Spell? Heh heh. Have you lost your mind?"
"That's one of the hypotheses I'm testing."
As the man raised his sword high, ignoring Fernandez, a spark flashed from Fernandez's fingertip.
"Urk!"
The man curled up, clutching his eyes, and collapsed. Fernandez bent down, seized the fallen longsword, and stabbed the man's thigh.
-Shunk!
"Gaaargh!"
"Exactly flint spark. Even a tiny flame that doesn't scratch skin burns like hell in the eyes. Now, choose."
Blood poured from the thigh. The man gripped it, eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming as he screamed.
Fernandez tsked, stomped the man's head, and lightly nicked his Adam's apple with the sword.
"Proactively disappear, or get dragged back passively?"
"P-Please, spare me! I just followed orders, just orders! Would this lowly one dare harm young master?!"
"Of course you would. Yes. You want to live and set foot on home soil?"
"Y-Yes!! Please spare me!"
"Me too. Let's achieve our shared goal. Lead the way."
"Y-Yes...?"
The man blinked, forgetting pain for a moment. In truth, it was just a minor spark—stinging eyes, no vision loss.
The man glanced at the sword tip Fernandez held, trembling.
"To home soil. I have something to confirm."
The man was convinced Fernandez had gone mad.
*
Bound tightly by Fernandez, the man led the horse on foot. Fernandez sat astride silently, lost in thought.
The man found the sight ridiculous and his own plight pathetic.
"Y-Young master. Returning to the barony like this... the lord—no, the regent—won't let it slide... Ignore a wretch like me and just flee..."
"Sudden loyalty to me? Why?"
'Because if you go back, I'm dead too!'
The man's role was pursuit, assassination, evidence disposal. Even for a bastard, leaving sword marks in the barony was a grave disgrace.
Hence the pursuit. If the pursuer got captured and escorted back, the man was as good as dead.
Bastard assassinations weren't rare, but doing it openly wasn't done.
"Don't worry. You won't die."
"What bullshit... I mean, baseless crap..."
"As long as I'm alive, you won't die. And I don't plan on dying anytime soon."
Completely mad. Utterly unhinged. The man gave up talking and trudged on.
His stabbed leg throbbed insanely, but the sword tip occasionally prodding his back injected fresh vigor each time.
When had this fledgling gotten so ruthless?
All mysteries explained by madness, and the man was the second to agree.
But not the last.
Plenty more would nod at "Fernandez has gone mad"—anyone except Fernandez himself.