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[Translator - Kiteretsu]
[Proofreader - Kyros]
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Chapter 93
From the beginning, Black Magic had many types that dealt with the dead.
The most representative was necromancy.
Besides that, even the curse magic Chris often used included types of Black Magic that manipulated life.
“The problem is, none of those are usable right now. No—think. There has to be a type I can use.”
Chris rapidly recalled every type of Black Magic he was capable of using.
But there was nothing.
None of the Black Magic he could use was helpful in this situation.
Then suddenly, a voice surfaced in his mind.
—If he dies, I’ll revive him as a low-tier bloodspawn and send him to Idrinne as a plaything.
Something Simon had said, which had absolutely nothing to do with the current situation.
But Chris caught the clue.
“There is a way! I can use Bloodspawn Magic and turn Evan into my slave!”
Among Bloodspawn Magic was a type that turned the dead into one’s slave.
The “Inferior Blood Imprint” that Simon mentioned.
Slaves created that way were called low-tier bloodspawn, and they followed their master without any will of their own.
“Of course, I can’t turn Evan into a will-less slave, but that’s fine. I can modify the ritual.”
The reason a slave that became a bloodspawn could still move even after dying was because it received its master’s life force.
So Chris planned to extract only the parts of the ritual that “turn the subject into a slave” and “transfer life force.”
“Luckily, I’ve seen the Blood Imprint once before.”
Simon had demonstrated it to him as an example.
The “Blood Imprint” was one of the foundational spells of Bloodspawn Magic, so it was the first thing Simon taught him for background knowledge.
Of course, that just meant Chris had seen it once.
He had never properly practiced it.
No—Chris had only briefly studied Bloodspawn Magic on the way back from the underground garden.
Attempting not just to use the Blood Imprint, but to modify it, was absurd.
“It’s fine. I can do it.”
Whether it worked or not, he had to make it work.
Fwoosh!
Magi surged from Chris’s body.
Inside his mental world, the ritual Simon had shown him unfolded in full.
Chris’s mind rapidly dissected the structure of the spell.
He divided it, analyzed it, sliced it, and reassembled it.
Of course, it wasn’t easy.
A ritual was the sum of countless variables.
Extracting only the necessary parts meant fully analyzing all those variables and deriving a new sum.
An impossible task unless one was a master of the craft.
But Chris could do it.
Because he was Chris.
“If I need to calculate countless possibilities, the solution is simple. I’ll just calculate every single one of those infinite cases.”
In a single fleeting instant,
An uncountable number of calculations unfolded within his mind.
Thousands, tens of thousands—no, even more.
Countless possible combinations were calculated in his mind.
All in the blink of an eye.
The reason Chris could analyze a ritual on the spot, even if he wasn’t fully trained in the field.
“Got it!”
Chris quickly let the blood dripping from his hand fall into Evan’s mouth.
Gulp—Evan reflexively swallowed his blood.
At that moment, Chris activated the ritual.
“Inferior Blood Imprint.”
No.
This was a new form of Bloodspawn Magic that Chris had devised.
Fwoosh!
Right before death, an imprint that seized the target’s life and turned him into a slave was engraved into Evan’s heart.
Evan’s consent wasn’t necessary.
The “Inferior Blood Imprint” was never a ritual that required the subject’s agreement in the first place.
“The ritual activated properly.”
Chris let out a long breath, then transferred his life force through the imprint connected to Evan’s heart.
Vmmm—!
As Chris’s life force was transferred, Evan’s complexion stabilized drastically compared to earlier.
He had passed the critical point!
“Thank goodness. I ended up making Evan a slave somehow… but since my Bloodspawn Magic is weak, the imprint will naturally fade over time…”
Of course, he never intended to make Evan a true slave.
To begin with, Chris’s Bloodspawn Magic was so feeble that he couldn’t maintain an imprint for long.
So this was meant to be nothing more than a temporary contract.
“Hm? Wait a minute… What’s going on?”
Chris suddenly paused.
“…Why is the imprint so dense?”
He blinked in confusion.
Normally, it should have been faint—so faint it would be hard to see even upon close inspection.
That was the level of Chris’s Bloodspawn Magic.
But the imprint engraved in Evan’s heart wasn’t faint at all—it was overwhelmingly vivid.
As if it were a properly formed “permanent imprint.”
“Why? Don’t tell me…”
Chris’s eyes widened as he realized the reason.
First reason—his type of magi.
His magi was pure dark magi. 100% undiluted.
That made it even more suitable for Bloodspawn Magic than the blood-colored magi of vampires.
Even with a sloppy execution, the effect was far stronger than expected.
Second reason—far more important—was the level of his soul.
“I’m a Half-Demon. That means my power to dominate others works much more strongly.”
The reason vampires could make humans into subordinates was because their soul’s level was slightly higher than that of humans.
However, the level of Chris’s soul was that of a Half-Demon—far beyond comparison with mere vampires.
As a result, regardless of the ritual’s lack of finesse, a permanent imprint that fully subjugated the target was engraved.
‘…What do I do now?’
Chris swallowed hard.
He had turned a Hero into a slave.
It was an accident he hadn’t anticipated.
‘Ugh! What is with today?!’
He clutched his head for the first time in a while, but for now, there was no other way.
‘…I’ll worry about breaking the imprint later. First, I need to save this guy.’
He had barely managed to keep him breathing, but that was all—it wasn’t over yet.
Proper treatment was still needed. More importantly—
‘…I have to get this guy out of the Dark Demonic House territory alive. But how?’
An impossibly difficult task.
Evan belonged to the hidden branch of a swordsmanship noble house—if the Dark Magus devils saw him, they would never let him live.
Torture, followed by either hanging, beheading, or burning at the stake were the only likely outcomes.
‘And it’s not like I can just escape with him.’
No matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t find a way out.
A desperate situation where nothing worked.
Just then, the crystal orb at his waist sent out a signal.
It was a signal that Mysak was heading in Chris’s direction.
‘…Thanks to Evan, I’m in no state to fight Mysak right now.’
He had no choice but to postpone dealing with Mysak.
‘There will be plenty of chances to take care of Mysak anyway.’
But then, a brilliant idea flashed through Chris’s mind.
‘Wait. If I use that bastard Mysak, maybe I can get Evan out of here?’
There was one way.
A method to smuggle Evan outside.
By sacrificing Mysak’s life.
‘It won’t be easy… but I have to do it.’
Chris fired a signal flare into the air.
He had decided to return to the Dark Demonic House territory with Evan for now—to properly treat him before attempting escape.
There were limits to how much he could extend Evan’s life just by sharing his own life force.
‘The problem is, once I bring Evan into the Dark Demonic House territory, a horde of devils will try to torture him before we even get to treatment.’
The more he thought about it, the more tangled the situation became, and Chris, now boiling with frustration, glared at the unconscious Evan.
‘Why the hell did this bastard crawl into the Dark Demonic House territory of all places? When he wakes up, I’m going to give him a real punch.’
And just like that—
An unplanned mission to save the Hero had begun.
Chris returned to the Dark Demonic House territory without clashing with Mysak’s Dark Ghost Unit.
He carried Evan slung over his shoulder like a sack.
“This time too, Young Lord Christian has earned the merit.”
“Amazing. Even though the Dark Ghost Unit moved out, he beat them to it and earned the credit first.”
“But why did he bring back a shadow alive?”
“They probably brought him in for torture, didn’t they? If he’s a shadow from a swordsmanship noble house, he must know a lot of classified information.”
“Heh heh, this should be fun. It’s been a while since we got to watch one of those Alliance dogs get executed.”
Chris swallowed hard under the gazes of those devils.
Their eyes were like hyenas eyeing a wounded deer.
‘The Dark Magi already harbor deep resentment toward the swordsmanship houses.’
Among them, the most hostile was undoubtedly the Head of House, Nordian.
Nordian didn’t just dislike the swordsmanship houses—he hated them.
To the point that he once gave the order to kill every member of a swordsmanship house on sight.
There was absolutely no chance Evan would leave the Dark Magi alive.
‘I have to pull it off.’
There was only one way.
Thud.
Chris threw Evan into the main square of the family estate.
Roughly, and in plain view of everyone—
As if discarding a worthless insect.
Evan flinched in pain, but it couldn’t be helped.
‘This is all to save you, so bear with it.’
“I have a report to make. Send word to the Head of House.”
“Yes, but… Young Lord? Did you mean the Head of House himself, not Marquis Langham?”
“That’s right.”
Everyone looked puzzled.
The Head of House never involved himself in family affairs—why now?
“This one is a very important trophy. Something the Head of House will surely be pleased with.”
Chris curled his lips into a smirk.
“His name is Evan. Son of the former Head of the swordsmanship noble house—the Sword Emperor, the Alliance’s greatest swordsman.”
* * *
The Sword Emperor.
A 9-star transcendent, and once the strongest in the entire Alliance.
‘He died too early.’
He passed away before Evan could fully mature, and that was the beginning of Evan’s tragedy.
If Evan hadn’t been the legitimate successor to the family headship, things might’ve turned out differently.
But Evan had been personally designated by the former Head as the next in line, making him a thorn in the eyes of other family elites who sought the position.
In the end, thanks to the schemes of the family elders, Evan was framed with a grave crime and forced to become a shadow.
‘Thinking back, it’s absurd. The son of the giant who once held up the Alliance reduced to such a miserable state, all because of others’ lust for power.’
Chris gave a bitter laugh.
‘Well, I was also a victim of injustice in my past life. My mother and I were branded as devils’ lackeys without committing any crime—all because of that man who was my father.’
It revealed just how rotten the Alliance had become.
At any rate, the Sword Emperor had a connection to the Dark Magi.
To be precise, with the Head of House, Nordian.
In the past, Nordian was defeated by the Sword Emperor.
The real problem was that he suffered tremendous humiliation in the process.
The Sword Emperor was not someone who treated devils as human, and he reportedly subjected the defeated Nordian to extreme disgrace.
‘Thanks to that, the Head of House Nordian grinds his teeth at the very mention of the swordsmanship houses.’
And now, Chris had brought back the Sword Emperor’s son as a war trophy—how would Nordian react?
Would he show respect to the son of his old nemesis?
Absolutely not.
Nordian spoke coldly.
“Cut off his head immediately. Then sever his limbs and send them to the swordsmanship house. Let them bury him beside the Sword Emperor’s grave. If the son returns dismembered, I’m sure that bastard Sword Emperor will be smiling down from the heavens.”
“……”
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[Translator - Kiteretsu]
[Proofreader - Kyros]
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