novelraw Chapter 80 : Chapter 80
Chapter 80 : Chapter 80
Chapter 80. Count’s Territory (10)
Hours earlier, Yohan had been seated by the Heavenly Womb, watching the Count.
The Count’s mind was gone.
He sat rigid like stone, empty eyes fixed on the void.
He was trapped in a nightmare.
Yohan could not discern its contents.
Only Ilea could approach the hallucination.
She commanded the dream-demon Belzarak as her familiar.
In her blue pupils, a tiny magic circle spun like gears.
She was manipulating the Count’s nightmare with Belzarak’s aid.
Yohan gave her a bored glance.
‘When will this end.’
Just as he was tiring of waiting, the circle in her eyes vanished. The blue mana receded.
She spoke.
“A satisfying performance. Well done.”
A lump of black sludge spewed from the Count’s mouth.
Belzarak.
The creature slithered straight toward Ilea.
Krrrrrkkk—!
Belzarak had no speech. Not even a defined shape.
It was nothing but condensed malice.
No one would ever think it a high demon by appearance.
It looked no different from a common low fiend.
Yohan said doubtfully,
“Did you handle it properly?”
Ilea nodded.
“Don’t worry. Belzarak is more capable than I expected.”
Belzarak was the nightmare itself, existing since ancient times.
It could be called the progenitor of all dream demons.
Though weakened now, in the past it had been among the great demons of the underworld.
Calling it merely “capable” was inadequate.
If it ever regained its true body, it would become a great asset to Yohan.
But that was a distant future.
For now, it was only a “fairly” powerful nightmare fiend.
Not entirely reliable.
Yohan said,
“Well, if you’ve confirmed it, then I’ll trust it has its uses.”
Ilea smiled softly.
“Trust me. The Count will have no choice but to take your hand.”
She had woven the nightmare with Belzarak, and having seen it all, she was confident in the Count’s defeat.
It was persuasive enough.
Yohan asked,
“Fine. Any other findings?”
Ilea approached the frozen Count.
“This pendant. It’s a dangerous piece.”
The Count’s necklace—triggered to summon the great demon Saehel.
She removed it and handed it to Yohan.
He said,
“A relic of disaster. Saehel’s key.”
Ilea murmured, impressed.
“You already knew.”
She had learned its function by sifting through the Count’s past, but Yohan had known from the start—he had read it in the original work.
“By now you should be used to that.”
“True. Hardly surprising anymore.”
“Besides the pendant, nothing else worth noting?”
There might be something the novel hadn’t described.
Ilea spoke.
“…Hmm. Do you know the hidden story of the Count and his wife? Cromwell and Eriyan?”
Yohan shook his head.
“Just another love story, isn’t it?”
Ilea shook hers.
“It was more passionate, more tragic than you’d think. I can tell you, if you want.”
Yohan considered, then said,
“If it’s not urgent, save it. I’ve no time to waste.”
They needed to leave before more people swarmed the Dead Shadow.
Ilea clapped lightly.
“Then later, when we rest. You promised we’d take a short break after this, remember?”
Indeed, they had made that promise.
Yohan replied,
“Fine. When there’s time. For now, let’s prepare to leave.”
His tone was evasive, and Ilea narrowed her eyes slightly, sighing.
“All right. Just this to pack, then?”
She pointed at the Heavenly Womb.
Eriyan’s remains were tightly wrapped in black cloth.
“Handle it carefully. Damaged, it will be trouble.”
“Don’t worry.”
The bundle floated gently, borne by magic.
Yohan set a letter in its place.
The Count would surely check for Eriyan first upon waking.
Instead, he would find Yohan’s invitation.
Then he would come straight to the Miyatro domain.
The bait was laid.
Now all Yohan needed was to use the Count well, and much could be achieved.
He said, pleased,
“Let’s return to the territory. Our work here is done.”
Both donned hoods and cowls.
And stepped out of the chamber.
Belzarak slithered after.
***
On the second floor of the Dead Shadow, a vast crowd had gathered.
Cultists of the Hyungshin Society, mages, fallen knights and priests, and even a few bizarre wanderers—all wary of Ilea and Yohan.
From the crowd, a man strode forward.
With a languid voice, he said,
“So, I was the one who let calamity in.”
The man was the Sword Demon, Hakain. One of the seven gatekeepers of the Dead Shadow. The very one who had let Ilea through.
This entire disaster could be blamed on Hakain.
Ilea, hooded, replied,
“You only followed the rules. I had an entry pass. As gatekeeper, you let me through. No one did wrong.”
Hakain laughed.
“Not wrong, no. But someone must bear the consequences. Since I let you in, it falls to me to put this right. I need to minimize what price I’ll pay.”
If the Count were harmed, Hakain would not survive.
Ilea asked,
“And how do you mean to resolve it?”
“First, a few questions. What of the Count?”
No one had dared enter the third floor yet.
Fear of Belzarak kept them out.
“He is safe. Safe enough you needn’t worry.”
Hakain stroked his jutting beard.
“Hard to trust. Could it be the one wrapped above you there?”
The large cloth bundle floated above Ilea. Inside, Eriyan’s remains.
She shook her head.
“The Count is still on the third floor. See for yourself.”
“Then let me see what’s inside the bundle.”
“Impossible.”
Hakain grimaced.
“Without your cooperation, I can’t just let you walk out.”
Ilea’s eyes narrowed in a smile.
“Think you can stop me?”
Hakain had seen her power firsthand.
At the entrance earlier, she had killed a mage instantly, casting high-tier magic with no incantation, no sign.
Most likely, she was an Archmage.
He had even spoken respectfully to her then.
Now, he reverted to plain speech.
Because she was a potential enemy.
Hakain said,
“Stopping you may be hard. But what if I use him instead?”
He gestured behind her.
A small figure in a hood stood there.
Yohan.
Ilea’s smile faded.
“Use him? How?”
“Target him instead of you. Even an Archmage can’t fight us all while protecting someone.”
From the start, she had kept Yohan at her back.
An instinct to shield something important.
And Yohan looked frail.
Hakain’s sharp eye caught all that.
Her smile vanished completely.
The air grew cold.
She spoke slowly.
“Act, and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. To the marrow of your bones.”
Frost spread through the air.
All breaths turned to mist.
Hakain gave a careful smile.
“Then let’s see how well you guard what’s dear to you.”
He lowered his stance, hand resting on his hilt.
His once-lazy eyes sharpened.
Ilea murmured, low,
“You cross the line.”
Circles bloomed in the air—countless equations.
Grotesque diagrams interlocked like gears.
The moisture in the air froze.
The space whitened.
Mages in the crowd panicked.
“H–human?”
“How is this possible…”
Unfathomable arrays appeared, multiple at once.
Anyone versed in magic could only be aghast.
She truly was an Archmage—or worse.
One mage stammered,
“S–Sir Hakain, stop this!”
Sweat trickled down Hakain’s brow.
But he didn’t ease his stance. His grip tightened on the hilt.
In his sharp eyes, a flicker of challenge remained.
He muttered tensely,
“Can I cut her down? At this range, it’s favorable.”
Yohan and Ilea were in his striking zone.
By common knowledge, within a swordsman’s reach, a mage could not prevail.
Would he trust convention—or his uneasy instinct?
His hand shook on the hilt.
Ilea’s voice was cold.
“You’ve threatened the most precious thing I have. A crime worthy of death. I don’t want to, but I’ll give you one last chance. Step aside. If you draw that sword, I’ll kill you—and everyone tied to you.”
Her blue eyes darkened to black.
The arrays whirred in unison.
The climate flipped every few seconds.
From bitter cold to scorching heat.
To the sensation of drowning underwater.
She was reshaping nature itself.
It was an unfathomable domain.
One by one, mages sank to their knees.
All will to fight gone—only awe remained.
Hakain realized it too.
His sword could never reach her.
He let go of the hilt, relaxing his stance.
With an awkward smile, he said,
“Better to face punishment from the Count. I’ve got much to protect, after all.”
At once, the magic arrays dissipated.
Ilea exhaled.
“Then step aside.”
Hakain gestured, mockingly polite.
“Go. And let’s never meet again.”
Yohan and Ilea began walking forward.
At that moment, a sharp voice cut through.
“Chatter, chatter. Pathetic fools.”
Yohan turned toward the sound.
A grotesque being scuttled forward—part man, part spider.
It leapt suddenly.
Black fangs bared.
Just before it reached Yohan, a flash split the air.
The spider-fiend was cleaved in half midair.
Dark ichor rained down above Yohan’s head.
Hakain stood with sword drawn, pride on his face.
Ilea’s voice was dry.
“You drew your sword after all.”