LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 108.2
“No, no! Not that wall—our Extreme Northern Great Wall!”
“?!”
It seemed that mocking or exploiting others’ misfortunes wasn’t without consequence.
Perhaps it was karmic retribution.
It felt like my house was about to burn down just as spectacularly as that other house down below.
***
The joint project between the Empire, the Church, and Devil’s Den—the Plague Operation of Haran—had ended in failure. A spectacular failure at that.
The northern network that Sigma had just begun rebuilding was completely uprooted.
Even Devil’s Den, the continent’s sole remaining group of dark sorcerer hiding deep in the cursed zones, had been annihilated.
“How did it come to this?”
A foggy mind but crystal-clear memories.
Isaac, the leader of Devil’s Den and a black mage, opened his eyes.
“Grrrrrr…”
The vivid green glow in his eyes had long faded.
The sounds coming from his mouth were no longer articulate words of a sentient being but the pitiful groans of a beast.
“When did it all start to go wrong?”
Isaac now found himself inside some kind of creature.
The White Serpent, with its massive size, possessed four hearts—once much more in ancient times.
As a half-lich, Isaac had hidden his life vessel inside the serpent’s fourth heart.
Thump. Thump. Thump-thump. Thump.
The giant heart’s rhythmic beating reverberated through the space.
Inside, his life vessel and soul were compressed and tangled like kneaded dough.
–Kuoohhhhh–
At that moment, the thoughts of Jormungandr, the White Serpent, swept over Isaac.
The messages were incomprehensible in human language.
“Yes, you must hate Renslet too.”
But now merged with the serpent, Isaac could discern Jormungandr’s will.
–Everyone here despises Renslet.–
Jormungandr responded to Isaac’s thoughts.
Simultaneously, the serpent’s expansive vision unfolded in Isaac’s mind.
–The barbarian druids curse their former kin who abandoned nature’s grace and call them traitors.–
To the left of this shared vision, druids transformed into beasts of the harsh winter ran wild.
–The extreme northern orcs loathe Renslet for exiling them beyond the far north.–
On the right, orcs clad in weaponry supplied by the Empire moved with ferocity.
Various monsters of the frozen wastelands surrounded the White Serpent, mingling chaotically.
This place was now a reflection of the abyss of a cursed zone.
–I could have been a dragon if Rune Renslet hadn’t destroyed four of my seven hearts. By now, I’d be singing glacial songs in the Dragon Continent in the tongue of dragons.–
There was a reason Jormungandr had willingly given its damaged fourth heart to Isaac.
The White Serpent had nearly perished in battle against Rune Renslet, the founder of the Renslet lineage.
Three of its hearts had been completely destroyed, and one severely damaged.
As a result, Jormungandr had been forced to abandon its evolution into a white dragon.
“Me too! I’m the same!”
As if triggered by Jormungandr’s words, Isaac shouted in a fit of rage.
“Rune Renslet… no, if it weren’t for that woman Isabelle!”
A Turbulent Will, but Clear Memories
A panorama of resentment unfolded before me.
200 years ago, and even now.
We dark sorcerers were a persecuted group, as much as or even more than witches.
Even though we had formed the Devil’s Den long before the Witches’ Coven or the Magic Tower existed, we were relentlessly oppressed.
In hindsight, it made sense. The magic we practiced revolved around necromancy, poison, curses, human experimentation, and chimeras—things that instinctively repelled people.
Even the hardened humanity of the Savage Age could never view black magic in a positive light.
In fact, forming the Devil’s Den only worsened our plight.
People already feared dark sorcerers the most among magic practitioners, and when we tried to band together, they suspected us of plotting to summon a demon king, fueling even greater misunderstandings.
If anything, our existence might have been the greatest catalyst for the establishment of the Magic Tower.
Eventually, my comrades and I in the Devil’s Den had no choice but to flee northward, seeking refuge in a land still steeped in savagery.
A land that might even find use for the power of dark sorcerers.
“dark sorcerer, you say?”
“Yes, that’s us. And I am Isaac, the leader of this group.”
“So, you can use magic?”
“Of course. We’re more skilled than most ordinary mages. However…”
“However?”
“Our magic is… extreme and brutal.”
“You’re hired.”
“What?”
“I said you’re hired. Pleased to have you on board, dark sorcerers warriors.”
It was in this frozen land that I first met Rune Renslet, the hero.
“Use that brutal, extreme magic of yours freely. In this savage land, brutality and extremity are the keys to survival.”
“…!”
This frozen land was devoid of divine protection or even the slightest hint of sacred power.
And yet, for the first time, I felt like I had come home.
My fellow dark sorcerer must have felt the same.
Our favorable first impression of the North persisted.
Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang!
The sharp sound of a bell signaling battle marked the beginning.
“Damn it! Frost trolls incoming!”
“Snow goblins are scattered everywhere! Be careful of their poisoned daggers!”
We hadn’t even spent half a day with Rune Renslet’s forces before we were thrust into battle.
“We’ll handle this.”
“You lot? Sure, let’s see what you’ve got.”
It was the end of the Savage Age, yet traces of barbarism lingered across the continent.
Nowhere was this more apparent than in the North, where the savagery was so pervasive that battles were as frequent as breathing.
[Exhaust!]
[Succumb to the Curse of Frailty!]
Eager to prove ourselves, we fought ferociously in our first battle.
A torrent of grotesque and horrifying curses swept through the ranks of monsters.
Kieeeeeek!
Grrrrrrk!
The frost troll leading the assault rapidly decayed, collapsing in a heap.
Nearby snow goblins, letting out wheezing sounds, choked and died.
But our magic didn’t stop there.
[Rise.]
Necromancy was next.
The fallen snow goblins and frost trolls rose again as ghastly undead, turning on their former comrades without hesitation.
The battle ended in an instant.
When the undead had served their purpose, they collapsed into piles of corpses.
Thud, thud, thud!
Silence enveloped the battlefield.
“Uh-oh.”
After the fight, a sense of unease crept over us.
“We might have gone overboard showing off.”
It was a side effect of black magic—while usually cold and calculating, we could become dangerously exuberant when the mood struck.
“What if we’re shunned here as well…?”
The way the Northerners looked at us felt different.
But it wasn’t the familiar looks of fear, disgust, contempt, or wariness.
“Wooooahhhh!”
The mystery behind those gazes was soon revealed.
“Man, those mages are intense!”
“Cheers to Renslet and the dark sorcerer!”
“May our ancestors bless you all!”
The Northerners’ eyes shone with recognition and respect.
“!!”
Back then, my fellow dark sorcerer and I were so overwhelmed with emotion that we shed tears.
It finally felt like we had found a home to end our wandering.