< 121. Three Out of Five >
*
Necropolis Conclave. During the Ivory Seat era, Mumto resurrected five chosen servants from the numerous emperors who left their mark in history.
Conqueror of Ptaha, Tutankhamun Gartep. Lady of Memhipa, Lavirata. The living god of Miturna, Apotazar. The Sorcerer King of Mahras, Altarak. High Priest Paftept.
The rulers of the Undercatacombs and arrogant emperors. Their egos were so strong that Mumto had to seal their rationality and use them as puppets.
Even after losing most of their original abilities and becoming puppets, they still possessed capabilities far beyond other wraiths.
The Necropolis is not a group of wraiths loyal to Mumto. It is a collection of marionettes subjugated by Mumto’s immense power and authority.
But now, in this era, with Mumto’s influence and power greatly diminished, the resurrected Conclave moves for their own purposes and ambitions, freely wielding most of their former powers.
‘However.’
Fernandez smiled, feeling the scar on his wrist. Even when all five Conclave members attacked him simultaneously, they couldn’t match him.
Fernandez was not the Grand Magician Faijashi of the past. Yet.
‘In this operation, only time is my enemy.’
Only time. Fernandez’s blue eyes flickered. Tutankhamun Gartep stood arrogantly, looking down on him. The weight of his gaze pressed down heavily.
Even Fernandez had to admire. Nearly two thousand years. Considering the long time he had spent as a minion of the Necropolis, it was astonishing that he still retained such rationality and ego.
Especially when even King Dane, considered one of the greatest heroes in history, was driven to madness by the curse of the wraiths over fifteen hundred years. The rationality of the pharaohs was remarkable.
‘Other wraiths endured that time losing their rationality…’
The Conclave endured Mumto’s curse with their rationality intact, serving as minions for that long.
-No. Is that really rationality?
‘What?’
-Arrogance. Ambition. Greed. Or perhaps fragments of madness.
Their egos were so high that they denied their own madness. Fernandez recalled the words of the Great Warrior.
*
How many in this twisted world truly possess sound rationality? Everyone just hides their madness with courtesy.
*
‘Indeed.’
Not courtesy, but arrogance hiding their madness… Yet, Fernandez still paid respect to those strong souls.
‘Do your best.’
So. He draws the Beastman. Using the last remnants of Hellish Magic. The best spell he could muster in this situation.
*
A black halo ignited behind the intruder’s head. If Tutankhamun Gartep had skin left, he would have frowned. He was highly negative about dark magic and sorcery.
[Foolish tricks.]
-Swish.
Tutankhamun Gartep is not skilled in magic. He had basic knowledge from his imperial studies, but he never delved deeply into it.
But a king must be cautious. To protect the divine lineage and royal blood from evil mages, shamans, and priests who seek to steal the throne, much preparation is needed.
Thus, the pharaohs of the Ivory Seat adorned their bodies with numerous protective charms. Each piece of jewelry was of the highest grade.
Magic is about preparation and refinement. How can one contain any mystery in such straightforwardly cast spells? How can one dismantle a mystery honed over two thousand years?
-Thud.
A pharaoh does not rush. No matter how tight the time, no matter how dire the situation. Tutankhamun Gartep never rushed. He drew his curved sword and took a step forward.
-Whoosh!
Fernandez’s left hand twisted strangely. A simple mantra, a simple spell.
“Decay.”
-Crack!
Simultaneously, one of the pharaoh’s protective charms was torn off. Remarkable, but that alone couldn’t stop him.
[Useless effort, mage.]
-Sizzle.
Fernandez’s left hand instantly changed shape. Black lightning surged from the newly formed mantra, striking the pharaoh directly.
“Confusion.”
[Is this the extent of your futile efforts, Great Warrior?]
The pharaoh didn’t even notice the protective charms being stripped away. He was willing to endure such curses all day.
But Fernandez’s hand didn’t stop, casting the next spell.
“Banishment.”
-Crack.
The protective charm was stripped. The pharaoh’s steps didn’t halt. Neither did Fernandez’s mantra.
“Magic Theft.”
-Crack.
“Disarm.”
-Crack.
“Weakening.”
-Crack.
“Evil Gaze.”
“Fragment of Apostasy.”
“Corruption.”
“Life Drain.”
“Pain.”
-Crack!
The protective charms were stripped. Faster and stronger. Each step of the pharaoh left traces of scattered jewelry, as if shedding skin.
But it wasn’t enough. Fernandez’s curses couldn’t completely neutralize the pharaoh’s protections.
Now, only five steps remained. Until his sword reached Fernandez!
“Binding.”
“Rage.”
Two steps. The pharaoh was confident. If the dark mage wielding the greatsword had the combat prowess of a Great Warrior, this attack would neutralize him.
I will show the might of the Divine King. Arrogance gleamed in the pharaoh’s eyes. In life, perhaps not, but now. Among the wraiths, where the soul’s rank determines power, none surpassed him.
Thus. His struggle was futile. The pharaoh’s sword rose high.
[Mage. If you cannot serve the Divine King in life, serve him in death.]
-Crack.
With the protective charms gone, his body felt lighter. The pharaoh’s eyes flickered.
A slash that couldn’t have been unleashed in life writhed beneath his wrist.
And at that moment.
-Pshhhh.
[Stop messing around!]
Black fog erupted from Fernandez’s body. His figure was completely obscured by the fog. The fog, imbued with hellish magic, was clearly a threatening curse just by touching it. But this much was not enough—
“Accelerate.”
-Swish!
A hand pierced through the fog. A pale, twisted right hand. The Pharaoh, about to bring down his sword, paused for a moment.
‘Wasn’t his beastman’s hand the left one?’
-Swish!
Again, a hand emerged from the fog. One, two, three. A total of six!
[What are you doing…?]
A brief moment of confusion. A momentary hesitation halted the Pharaoh’s attack.
The six white hands that emerged from the fog each took on different mantras, and behind them, a black halo rose.
-Swish!
And then, a scarred left hand reached out from within the fog and lightly tapped the Pharaoh’s chest.
“Faijashi’s Ring of Malice.”
[…You bastard.]
In an instant, Fernandez’s glowing blue eyes within the fog met the Pharaoh’s gaze—
-Crackle!!
All the protective charms wrapped around the Pharaoh’s body shattered.
*
Within the black fog created by hellish magic, Fernandez gathered his three heads and six arms, catching his breath. The magic fueled by hellish magic could only be used once. Diemonica’s body continuously rejected it, making it feel as if his entire bloodstream was surging backward.
But he did his best. Fernandez closed his eyes for a moment, watching the Pharaoh slowly crumble. The protective charms the Pharaoh possessed were not something that could be stripped away with a single spell, even back in the day.
[Ring of Malice]. A spell that stacks layers of weak curses, continuously triggering them within the target’s body. If a single strong attack couldn’t break through, then multiple small curses would be the best way to neutralize it.
The fog cleared. Fernandez slowly stood up. The Pharaoh, emitting a fierce light from his eyes, collapsed to the ground with a clatter. His body scattered protective charms and artifacts as if wings were spreading from him.
-Crunch.
Stepping on the fragments, Fernandez approached the Pharaoh. Watching his movements, Tutankhamun Gartep’s eyes burned fiercely.
[Magician. Yes. Impressive. But you will not succeed. Your plan to usurp the throne of the God King will never succeed.]
The Pharaoh raised a trembling hand. Hundreds of curses exploding across his body made even that effort difficult. But he pointed his hand far away, toward the edge of the Audience Hall.
The terrace of the Audience Hall. Beyond it, the clear sky was visible. The sun shone over the ruined city. The magic cannons on the city walls were gradually turning their barrels toward the outside.
Above them, the Pharaoh’s military flag fluttered. His legion, stationed outside the city, had finally taken the walls. Even if he died, they would never stop seeking revenge.
[The God King’s legion has arrived. You are too late. Your little rebellion, your little magic!]
“Will you pray?”
Fernandez did not answer the Pharaoh’s words but knelt beside him on one knee. Crunch, the shattered protective charms crumbled and scattered on his knee.
“I will gladly pay my respects to your soul. So, O King. I will give you the chance to maintain your dignity. Will you pray?”
[What…?]
Confusion settled in the Pharaoh’s eyes. Was this man’s goal not the throne of the God King?
“I will grant you and your people freedom. I will sever the chain that binds you to Mumto’s Soul Realm. Your ambition to return to the days when you lived and breathed… is impossible. But I can set you free, send you to your god’s hall.”
[Are you saying you are stronger than that necromancer?]
“No. I’m saying he has become too weak.”
It means even maintaining the Soul Realm is a struggle. Fernandez looked at the Pharaoh with cold, sunken eyes. The Pharaoh stared at him for a moment, then closed his jaw with a snap.
[Tutankhamun Gartep does not ask for favors.]
“Haha…”
[But… Tutankhamun Gartep is the descendant of the great Sun God. In the afterlife, I will be by his side…]
“Yes. I understand.”
Fernandez smiled and placed his hand on the Pharaoh’s forehead. This was a kind of mutual aid. He could have taken his soul and absorbed its power in one go, but Fernandez chose not to.
-Pointless.
‘The result is the same anyway.’
The power of Mumto within the Pharaoh’s body. The conclusion was the same: to absorb a fragment of it. Faijashi would have taken it in a simpler, more efficient way.
But Fernandez was content with just neutralizing the Pharaoh. He closed his eyes, keeping his hand on Tutankhamun Gartep’s forehead.
“Temple of the Gods, grant your blessing. Here, your servant heads to your hall.”
[Tutankhamun Gartep does not submit…]
“Shh. Disciple.”
Fernandez chuckled and tapped his forehead. Soon, the light in the Pharaoh’s eyes slowly faded. To find peace. True peace this time. Fernandez quietly prayed and then stood up.
Kaharefer, who had been watching, approached him.
[Did the God King pass peacefully?]
“As you can see.”
[But what about them? No matter how formidable your power is, how will you face the legion?]
The Pharaoh’s legion, having taken the city walls, was advancing toward the royal castle, mopping up the remaining remnants. Shaksisi… would have found a way to escape. They are skilled at assessing the situation and fleeing.
So. This city now had to go where it was meant to go.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
Fernandez whispered as he examined his soul. A fragment of Faijashi. A fragment of King Dane. And the soul of Paphtet mixed in from the Dane Kingdom.
He could also feel the soul of Altarak absorbed in Mosat City. And the power of Mumto that Tutankhamun Gartep had just regained peace with.
“I’ve absorbed three out of the five conclaves.”
-You could say you’ve secured a majority in the Underkatacomb Council.
Faijashi cackled. Yes. Fernandez smiled and headed toward the terrace.
“I will open the entrance to the Necropolis.”
The boundary between the Soul Realm and the Material World had become extremely thin due to the magic bullets raining down on the royal palace. Fernandez could see the shimmering heat haze countless times ahead.
The veil of the Soul Realm. Overlaid on the Material World. The traces of Mumto. That chain extended deep underground.
Now was the time to sever that chain. The time to slay the Great Demon.
-Something I couldn’t achieve in my lifetime…
‘Honestly, it was lucky that he weakened.’
-So, you see. I was never lucky in my lifetime.
‘What are you talking about?’
Fernandez chuckled. He had always been on the lucky side. Surviving. Gaining lifelong bonds, having children.
Even in this moment, where he had the chance to undo his last regret. He would still count himself among the very lucky.
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