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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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Chapter 33: Black Magic
After deciding to go along with Jeton’s plan, the Forsaken began moving to gather the materials needed for the ritual.
These weren’t cheap ingredients—rare magical items like pterosaur horns—and they had to burn through the rest of their wealth just to scrape it all together.
They were flat broke now. But they didn’t care.
If this ritual could really kill that bastard Lord Calyx, and if they could reclaim House Dreihart with the power they’d gain, then money could always be regained.
And so, once all the materials were prepared, they gathered in their hidden chamber under the full moon.
“Let’s begin the ritual.”
12 fallen nobles sat in a circle, nodding at Jeton’s command.
On the ground beneath them, a magic circle had been drawn with the blood of a basilisk.
Each of them took a seat at a corner of the circle, while Jeton stepped into the center.
“I hereby commence the ritual of Black Magic, the Summoning of a Vengeful Spirit.”
『Black Magic』
A forbidden art believed to have originated from the Bloodkins—a dark and perilous craft strictly outlawed by the Empire.
Any trace of its use triggers an emergency summons across all mage towers. It’s ‘that’ dangerous.
Needless to say, anyone caught using it faces immediate execution, no questions asked.
Among the many branches of black magic, one of the most infamous is this—the Summoning of a Vengeful Spirit.
Jeton had somehow obtained a scroll detailing the ritual, using his underground connections.
Even if Calyx could handle assassins—even three at once—no mere mortal could stand against a summoned wraith.
Jeton had made up his mind: he would kill Calyx Cron with this summoning.
“Now, offer your blood to the ritual…”
At Jeton’s signal, the twelve fallen nobles pricked their fingers with ceremonial daggers, letting droplets of blood fall onto the magic circle.
A crimson glow began to radiate from the lines drawn in blood, and Jeton began chanting the incantation.
"Umbrae, exaudi me. (O shadows, heed my call.)”
[ "Umbrae, exaudi me. (O shadows, heed my call.)” ]
All of them repeated Jeton’s words in unison.
With each repetition, the magic circle began to pulse—like a heartbeat, slow and steady.
“Vocatus daemonium. (You who are summoned, vengeful spirit.)”
[ “Ex tenebris venite. (Come forth from the darkness.)” ]
As the chanting went on, the pulsing quickened, more intense, more alive.
They didn’t know much about magic—not really—but they ‘could’ feel something.
Something was coming to life in that room.
Something was about to be born.
Then, from outside the chamber—
BANG—! BANG—!!
“What… what is that noise?”
It sounded like something—something solid—pounding against the wall.
They didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“We know you’re in there, you fallen bastards!”
“Don’t try anything stupid. Sit still, and maybe you’ll live!”
It was the Dreihart city guards—the very troops tasked with hunting them down.
They hadn’t expected to be found.
Not here.
Not this fast.
“It’s them!”
“Calyx’s goddamn dogs!!”
As panic rippled through the group, Jeton alone remained calm. He yelled at them.
“Hurry! We must complete the ritual—no matter what!”
Though shaken for a moment, the fallen nobles nodded and quickly resumed the ceremony.
If they got caught now, they’d die like dogs.
But if they completed the ritual, at the very least, they’d take Calyx’s head with them.
Jeton chanted the incantation.
"Animae, surgite nunc. (Spirits, rise now.)”
[ "Animae, surgite nunc. (Spirits, rise now.)” ]
The blood within the magic circle began to boil.
The ritual was nearing its final stage, and the clamor outside grew louder.
Just before the door was about to be breached, Jeton spoke the final incantation.
"Atra vis, revela te. (Dark power, reveal yourself.)”
[ "Atra vis, revela te. (Dark power, reveal yourself.)” ]
As the last words left his lips, black smoke erupted from the magic circle, spiraling upward to form above Jeton’s head.
“Oh…”
“So that… that’s the vengeful spirit of black magic…”
The fallen nobles, seeing the form take shape, believed they had won.
Look at that malevolent aura taking form—they thought it would avenge them.
But they never once asked themselves—
Why is it called Black Magic?
Was it really just because it was created by the Bloodkins and reeked of dark energy, that the Mage Towers and the Imperial Family banned its use?
Of course not.
What made black magic forbidden above all else was this—
Unlike other forms of magic that merely consumed mana, black magic could demand a life—a human life—as its price.
“Wh…What’s happening?”
“Jeton—hey—something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
The ritual had been completed… but something felt off.
Blood began to drain from their bodies—slowly at first, then all at once, as though being sucked in by the wraith.
No matter how they tried to resist, blood poured from their eyes, their noses, their mouths, their ears—even their sweat glands.
It wasn’t until then that they realized something had gone terribly wrong.
“Jeton!!! You bastard!!!”
“You tricked us!!!”
Only Jeton, standing in the center, remained untouched.
As the strength drained from their bodies, the fallen nobles screamed at him.
Jeton, smiling like a rat that had just found cheese, spoke.
“I never lied to you.”
“What!?”
The nobles were stunned by his shameless response.
He grinned and added—
“I said I would take back what was mine. I never once said I’d help you reclaim ‘yours.’”
“Y-You son of a—!!”
Yes, Jeton had said he would ‘reclaim what was his’—but never promised to help them get theirs back.
Only now did they realize they’d been used.
But it was far too late.
“Farewell, my friends. If we meet again in your dreams, I’ll gladly bear the weight of your rage then.”
“You filthy trash—!”
“Guh…!”
With that, their lives were snuffed out.
12 corpses—sacrificed.
And thus, the vengeful spirit born from black magic descended upon the world.
Like a reaper from a nightmare, the dark entity stood still, waiting for its summoner’s command.
Jeton gave it—
“Go. No matter what, kill Calyx Cron.”
The spirit nodded silently and vanished, passing through the wall like smoke.
Just then, the door burst open, and Dreihart’s city guards stormed into the secret chamber. Among them were Zarha and Nova.
Boom—!
“Gah—!!”
It had taken Zarha several minutes of brute force to bust through the magically reinforced door.
Whoever built this room clearly had dark intentions—12 dead bodies and an ominous circle proved that much.
His instincts flaring, Zarha, enraged, grabbed the only survivor—Jeton—and slammed him against the wall.
“You rat bastard! What the hell did you do?! What the hell ‘happened’ here?!”
Jeton just let out a rasping chuckle.
“Too late, slaves. That thing’s on its way—to kill your so-called king of liberation! It’s already gone! There’s no saving him now! Hahahahaha!!”
Jeton believed the ritual was a success.
He thought Calyx would die, and then, with no one left to rule Dreihart, he’d reclaim everything using the wraith’s power.
He couldn't even hide his glee.
That’s when Nova quietly looked him over and spoke, like someone genuinely baffled.
“Hmm… You’re quite the funny one.”
“…Funny? Me?”
“Oh yes. Even I—someone who stands above your heads—cannot see the limits of Lord Calyx.”
Nova smiled as she spoke.
But her smile carried no emotion whatsoever—making it all the more devastating to Jeton.
“And yet you truly believed you could kill ‘him’ with just a bit of black magic? How delightfully foolish.”
With a wave of her hand, the guards began binding Jeton.
Her movements conveyed utter contempt—like he wasn’t even worth killing.
Jeton’s face slowly fell into a grim, tight-lipped frown.
“Look forward to it.”
Nova said, her voice calm and sincere.
“You’ll soon understand what kind of man Lord Calyx truly is.”
Even as she spoke, the vengeful spirit kept moving toward Calyx Cron.
＊ ＊ ＊
At that hour, the entire castle of Cron was fast asleep.
By some twist of fate, Lana and Azelle found themselves unable to sleep, and so they stood watch together outside Calyx’s bedchamber.
Looking at Azelle—the green-haired, strikingly beautiful knight who stood tall and unwavering—Lana seemed lost in thought, then suddenly blurted out—
“Do you… like the Lord?”
“Wh-What kind of question is that, all of a sudden!?”
“Shhh, you’re being too loud.”
At Lana’s comment, all of Azelle’s earlier poise vanished like smoke in the wind.
Lana looked at her, completely unfazed, and said calmly—
“For the record, I do.”
“But… aren’t you the princess’s maid?”
Azelle had heard bits and pieces about Lana—that she, like Azelle herself, came from the inner circles of the Imperial family.
If Azelle was once a knight of the Crown Prince’s guard, then surely Lana was of the Crown Princess’s retinue?
Lana responded.
“I haven’t forgotten the grace Her Highness showed me. But that’s that, and this is this.”
Even Lana was a little surprised by her own words. The old Lana would never have said something like that.
Living here had changed her, she realized.
She stared at Azelle for a moment, then spoke again.
“I thought you might feel the same as me. Guess I was wrong.”
“I-I do! I do like him!”
Azelle fell right into Lana’s trap of a question and blurted out her feelings before she could stop herself.
Lana smiled faintly, knowingly.
“I figured as much. Mind if I ask why?”
“At first… it was admiration. For his sense of justice.”
“And after that?”
Azelle had first heard of Calyx when word spread that he had freed the slaves.
She’d been curious—who was this noble acting with such righteous conviction? The more she learned of his deeds, the more she admired him.
And when she came here, the Lord Calyx she met was someone who, for the first time in her life, truly took her ideals seriously.
“He was the first person to ever talk to me like that.”
Azelle thought back to the time of the farming dispute. At the same time, bitter memories from her past crept in.
“I know I’m… different. People have always told me I’m strange for how obsessed I am with justice. Some punished me for it. Others tried to force their own version of justice on me.”
“But he didn’t do either. He listened. He ‘respected’ it.”
In the Order of the Golden Knights, Azelle’s uncompromising beliefs had always made her an outlier.
But Calyx… he was the first to look at her ideals and treat them with sincerity.
“That’s the kind of man I… like.”
“I see… Me too.”
Lana nodded in quiet agreement. She could relate. She’d felt something similar.
Maybe, with all this off their chests, they could keep talking through the night. Maybe sneak into the kitchen and steal some midnight snacks?
That’s when they both suddenly froze.
Ssshhhrrk—
“That presence just now…”
“Yeah. Something’s coming.”
Something was headed their way—and whatever it was…
It chilled them to the core.
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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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