30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 75

"Retreat."

The command was immediate, and the subordinate priest began gathering his magic at once.

Whoosh!

A surge of murky, polluted magic swelled around him, reminiscent of muddy water. He began to cast a spell, intending to complete his incantation... but—

"Where do you think you're going?"

Slice!

Shhhh...!

The magic was cut off—or rather, "devoured."

"Dare to cast magic in my presence? How laughable."

It was the power of absorption. Not merely consuming mana, but absorbing all life force within range and making it his own. This was the second mystery of Lancelot, known as the "Mystery of Absorption," following its "Mystery of Flame."

Throughout history, these "mysteries" defied logic, bestowed upon those fated to walk the paths of kings and heroes. Miracles, gifts from the gods, were held in awe, and wielding just one of them was often seen as the mark of a chosen one.

And thus, the demon sword was beyond the realm of reason.

The demon sword held a total of five mysteries.

Aside from flame and absorption, there were three other mysteries, each potentially more powerful than the last. It was no wonder ancient scholars claimed the demon sword could bring nations to ruin.

Flare!

Flames roared to life around the priests, threatening to engulf and incinerate them.

Their life force drained, weakening them with every breath. Anyone with even a slight vulnerability would have succumbed instantly in that place.

The demon sword, and by extension, the Duke who wielded its mysteries freely, was indeed a monster. For while the weapon was formidable, it would consume its user if they were even slightly unworthy, as had happened to past wielders, who all met tragic ends.

"Hmm, it seems fleeing won’t be so easy. Time to get serious."

"We’ve already started, hahaha."

A lesser mage would have been terrified in such a situation. After all, the pride and power of a mage come from their magic, and here their magic was sealed. But the priestly mage didn’t show fear; he laughed instead.

He seemed thrilled to test his abilities in this deadly situation.

"[Arise, creature who feeds on death, and bestow despair upon those who stand before me.]"

The priest’s incantation wasn’t an ordinary one.

It sounded less like a spell and more like a request—a "wish."

And as his wish concluded—

Crunch! Crack!

Something horrid broke through the walls of the building.

"A summoning spell?!"

"How could he... with the Lord present...!"

Even if summoning magic was unconventional, the idea of a summoned creature appearing within the domain of the demon sword’s influence was unimaginable.

However, the Duke didn’t waver. He scrutinized the emerging figure, his eyes widening as he realized its true nature.

"Who... who have you made a pact with?"

"Haha, so it seems this power cannot be absorbed by your demon sword? Good. I've learned something valuable."

The priest continued to laugh, even as spiderweb-like burns began spreading across his face, even as he endured excruciating pain. His only satisfaction came from discovering a method to threaten the Duke.

"You...."

For the first time, the Duke recognized them as a true threat.

These weren’t merely power-hungry aristocrats or conspirators aiming to destabilize the kingdom. They were something far more sinister.

They had made a pact with something "infernal."

"They’ve surrendered even their souls for power... utterly mad."

The Duke acknowledged their deep-seated hatred.

Did they resent the kingdom? Or perhaps the world itself? He didn’t know.

'They must be stopped.'

He couldn’t allow such a dangerous existence to roam free.

The Duke decided not to bother understanding their grudges or motivations. Sorting out who was righteous and who was guilty would lead nowhere.

"Forget capturing them. Kill them."

Fwoosh!

At the Duke’s command, the shadows leaped forward without hesitation.

And, in response—

"[Devour them, my ghasts.]"

The summoned ghasts, chimeras crafted from monsters and human "components," clashed with the shadows.

By the time the kingdom’s soldiers arrived, they were greeted by a scene of utter devastation. A section of the city had been partially destroyed.

Drip, drip...

".........."

Though miraculously there were no casualties, no one considered it a relief. The sight had left everyone pale with fear.

And for good reason.

"Unfortunately, one escaped. As for the damages, Galahad will bear the cost of all repairs."

Seventeen buildings and an entire grove had been reduced to ashes. That all of this had been wrought by a single duke and fifty knights was astonishing.

Yet, the Duke, who had orchestrated this havoc, still looked unsatisfied.

"Are there any casualties, Lac?"

"My apologies."

"I asked if there were casualties, so why are you apologizing first?"

"......."

The shadows lowered their heads in shame.

They couldn’t bear to meet the gaze of their master, who cared so much for them.

"A shell, huh? They’re playing quite the game."

"......."

The captured mage’s body was left hollow, his heart still beating, but his eyes vacant of any spark of life.

They had captured the flesh, but the soul was absent.

"Foul creatures."

Drip, drip.

Rumble!