Chapter 420: That (5) [Bonus Image]

What was Balzac hiding? The man's enigmatic behavior had been suspicious from the start. He had vanished into thin air without saying a word to anyone as if he had been swallowed by the desert.

No one knew what Balzac had been up to for the past year, why he was in the desert, and why he had been cleaning up the mess left by Melkith.

"Look," Melkith started after a brief period of contemplation. Hesitantly, she began to speak with utmost caution, "Sometimes... the fact that you love someone... can hurt them."

"What?" Balzac responded, clearly puzzled.

"I'm saying that... No matter what you do, I... I cannot reciprocate your feelings. You're not lacking in abilities or looks, so you should find someone else that's better.... No, that's practically impossible. There can't be anyone better suited than me in this world."

"What are you talking about?" asked Balzac.

For once, Balzac's usual thin smile was replaced by genuine confusion.

"Are you feigning ignorance because you're embarrassed? There's no point. I've already noticed your feelings," continued Melkith.

"I asked what you meant," repeated Balzac.

"When you think about it logically and rationally, the conclusion is crystal clear... You like, no, love me. What matters is since when," answered Melkith.

"Stop it," said Balzac.

"It must be since Samar Forest. The first time I displayed the might of Infinity Force, even I had to admit that I was pretty damn impressive. You must have fallen for me right then," continued Melkith.

"I asked you to stop," repeated Balzac.

"First love. You must have been unaccustomed to such devastating emotions. You ran away because you couldn't face me in Aroth. You decided to hide yourself in this desert to try and forget me, but oh, such cruel fate! You happened to run into me in the desert by chance!" concluded Melkith.

"..." The ridiculous argument made Balzac unsure of what to say.

"Let me be clear: this is not fate, so don't get the wrong idea. Nonetheless, you couldn't leave me alone. Out of love and worry, you followed me like a creepy stalker—" Melkith continued fabricating her story.

"That's not true," Balzac interrupted, his cheek twitching as if spasming. "I swear on my being, I've never harbored such feelings for you."

"There's no need to be ashamed," consoled Melkith.

"Neither in the past, present, nor future will there be such a thing," Balzac asserted.

"Do you really not like me?" asked Melkith.

"Yes," Balzac declared in finality.

The response was sharp, but Melkith still looked skeptical. However, instead of pressing further, she flicked her finger towards a wall.

Crack!

A bolt of lightning shot from her fingertip and sliced through the wall entirely.

With a growl, a black wizard tumbled to the floor. He had been hiding his presence against the wall using magic until Melkith electrocuted him. Having shot the lightning, Melkith blew on her finger and scanned the surroundings.

She had found herself in a dungeon after falling into an antlion trap. The first thing she encountered were fourteen black wizards. They had come out to capture any victims who fell through the trap but were thrown into disarray when Melkith landed unharmed.

Melkith was quicker than any of them. Moreover, one of her contracted spirits, Levin, the Lightning Spirit King, was unmatched in speed even by any other spirit king. That made it impossible for the black wizards to block Levin's lightning with their Fifth Circle defensive magic.

In the blink of an eye, the situation was completely under Melkith's control. She had probed Balzac while requesting Yhanos to scout the dungeon's exact layout. However, she was still unable to shake her suspicions. She continued to cast sidelong glances at Balzac.

"White Tower Head," Balzac called out. It was clear that he had noticed the meaning behind her gaze. His face was still devoid of any smile as he met Melkith's eyes and said, "I, too, possess eyes to see and a mind to think."

"If they function properly, you'd have no choice but to fall for me," countered Melkith.

"It's because they function so well that I absolutely do not harbor such feelings for you," retorted Balzac. He was once again drawing clear boundaries.

Balzac felt somewhat aggrieved. This was not the first time such a misunderstanding had occurred. Balzac had previously been misinterpreted for showing kindness. He still couldn't forget being asked by Eugene if he was gay....

[Melkith,] a voice rang out in her head.

The earth trembled.

[I have prioritized segregating the hostages on the other floors,] informed the voice.

"What about the workshop?" asked Melkith.

[There's no need for you to check it personally.] Yhanos's voice was level, and Melkith's eyes grew cold upon hearing his response. It was clear from his response that Yhanos was being considerate of Melkith. There would be no need for Melkith to check personally.

"Bring it down," commanded Melkith.

[Understood,] answered Yhanos.

Rumbleee!

The dungeon began to shake violently. The massive underground workshop started to collapse. Black wizards cried out in terror in the midst of their experiments as they tried to resist the collapse. However, the wrath of the Earth Spirit King had completely filled the dungeon. It wasn't something a mere few dozen black wizards could withstand.

"Where's the dungeon master?" asked Melkith.

[In the deepest part of the dungeon. I can feel a strong presence there,] answered Yhanos.

"Stronger than me?" questioned Melkith.

[...Umm... about twenty-five percent of your strength... perhaps even weaker than that...] came the response.

The question was clearly loaded. It was aimed at boosting Melkith's own ego. Yhanos didn't particularly want to indulge her grandiosity, but he had to consider that the atmosphere had turned frosty with the victims of the workshop in mind. His insane contractor, while a maniac, was a good person at heart.

[Hmph! A spirit wizard contracted with me, Ifrit, couldn't possibly be weaker than mere black wizards!] Ifrith joined in on the conversation.

Fwoosh!

Melkith's surroundings suddenly swirled with flames. As soon as Ifrit's flames appeared around her, Melkith quickly clasped her hands together and rubbed them in a sycophantic manner.

"Oh my, absolutely. Oh great Ifrit! Someone contracted with you could never be weaker than black wizards who haven't even reached the Eighth Circle!" said Melkith.

[Contractor! Wield my flames for judgment here! I, Ifrit, shall never forgive those vile black wizards who worship the Demon King!] declared Ifrit.

"Yes, I understand!" responded Melkith.

[The wicked deeds of black wizards are unceasing, even in this era of peace! They are flawed from their very existence! Is it tolerable for humans to sacrifice their own kind and defile their dignity as they transform their kind into monsters?] shouted Ifrit.

"Indeed, oh great Ifrit! All black wizards are bastards! They are mere dogs who have forsaken their path! Grant me the power to incinerate those bastards!" Melkith said passionately.

Melkith was well aware of Ifrit's fiery temperament and his hatred for black wizards. He had refused to form a contract with Melkith even after much pleading but had readily agreed when she had promised to kill Edmund in exchange.

"Not all black wizards are like that," said Balzac from the side.

"Oh no~. Right~ so you say~ you are a good black wizard~. Right~." Melkith drawled in a mocking tone.

Anyone would clench their fists upon hearing such taunts, but surprisingly, Balzac looked at Melkith with a pitying gaze as he asked, "Why do you carry on like this...?"

"Why? Because you're suspicious, that's why. So, why were you in the desert?" countered Melkith.

"I was simply training as a wizard, nothing more," answered Balzac.

"Why here of all places!" Melkith demanded an answer while raising her fist.

Fwoosh!

A crimson flame wrapped around her hand. "If you don't give a proper answer, it'll be fire punch time!"

Her punch was hastily thrown and clumsy, but the flame that surged forth showcased a terrifying force. Defensive magic raised by the black wizards at the front, as well as other various offensive spells, were completely annihilated by Ifrit's flame.

"One, two!" Melkith unleashed a combination of punches in succession. They caused a thunderous roar as the flame of the left punch engulfed the black wizards. They screamed and resisted against the expanse of flame in front of them, but Ifrit's fire consumed them completely and turned them into ashes.

"Do you want to feel the burning sensation of my fire punch?" asked Melkith.

"Is this... a threat?" Balzac asked tentatively.

"Black Tower Master, depending on what you do, I can be either an angel or a demon. In other words, I am both an angel and a demon," Melkith stated.

"Ah, yes," Balzac answered with a reluctant face as he looked ahead.

Until moments ago, the corridor before them had been lined with dozens of black wizards. The fiery punches unleashed by Melkith had turned everything to cinder. Despite the name Fire Punch and her awkward stance, the power was indeed formidable.

'...She is the strongest wizard among us, except for the Wise Sienna,' Balzac thought.

He had no choice but to admit it. She was a master of spirit magic and an Archwizard. She was contracted simultaneously with three Spirit Kings. Melkith El-Hayah was indeed a contender for the title of the strongest wizard of the current age.

"I cannot divulge what I have been doing in this desert, White Tower Master. It is a secret. As a fellow wizard, I trust you would not pry further into matters that are meant to be kept secret," said Balzac.

"Fine, I can respect research. But why here, of all places? You have your own study in the Black Tower, don't you?" asked Melkith.

"I find myself under the watchful gaze of many," Balzac responded. He adjusted his glasses as he spoke.

Surveillance, was it? Melkith eyed him with suspicion as she walked forward. Even now, Balzac was cloaked in powerful stealth magic. He was clearly conscious of the black wizards and their contracted demons.

"Especially Amelia Mervin. She has been overtly surveilling and targeting me," continued Balzac.

"Thanks to the letter you wrote, Eugene could escape from Amelia Mervin's clutches, right? Aren't you two on friendly terms?" asked Melkith.

"Not at all. I once provided her with copies of texts from the Black Tower and Akron because of her interest in them," answered Balzac.

Balzac's calm demeanor didn't waver as he spoke, while Melkith's eyes widened in shock.

"In return, Amelia Merwin agreed to honor two of my requests. The letter I gave to Sir Eugene was one of those," explained Balzac.

"The tower! And you leaked Akron's archives?!" shouted Melkith angrily.

"It's a secret," responded Balzac.

"Execution by hanging!" roared Melkith.

"White Tower Master, I didn't take you for someone who'd be so meticulous about such things," commented Balzac.

"Even I have principles that I uphold!" shouted Melkith furiously.

"I understand I have done wrong. But had I not done so, I wouldn't have been able to transfer my request to Sir Eugene. Without it, he would have never escaped unscathed from Merwin's grasp at that time," countered Balzac.

"Uh... well... Right." Melkith nodded reluctantly while biting her lips.

"Amelia Merwin is a formidable foe, especially after becoming the new Staff of Incarceration. She knows of my involvement in Edmund's demise and would want to capture me to extract various pieces of information. And it's not just her. All black wizards of the Black Tower are eyes for other demons," declared Balzac.

"That makes sense. Black wizards contract with demons, after all," responded Melkith.

"Yes. And so, I find myself in a rather precarious position. While being contracted with the Demon King of Incarceration, I am on amicable terms with the Hero...," said Balzac.

"I don't think Eugene would agree," Melkith countered immediately.

"At least I am not antagonistic with the Hero," Balzac said after a pause. "So far, I've managed well under surveillance, but as the political climate shifts, I know that the scrutiny will become more blatant. I will have to expect direct interference. Moreover, the Wise Sienna has returned to Aroth. Isn't her return reason enough for me to leave? She is not fond of black wizards, after all," he finished explaining.

"I don't like them either," Melkith added.

"Yes.... And that's why I have settled here in the Nahama desert," concluded Balzac.

"Settling in the desert while being wary of Amelia Merwin is suspicious," Melkith pointed out.

"It is darkest under the lamp. Besides, Amelia Merwin has left the desert, hasn't she?" countered Balzac. He paused before lightly tapping Melkith's shoulder. "The dark power of Harpeuron is growing. It seemed the dungeon master here realized he couldn't handle the enemy and had formed a new contract."

"Really?" Melkith asked.

"Yes. He must have already pledged his soul and added other conditions to his contract. This escalation means he's now a threat. Retreating might be—" Balzac was cut short.

"No. I have business with that Harpeuron," Melkith said with a stubborn look on her face.

"White Tower Master. You didn't even know who Harpeuron was until—" Balzac began with an exasperated expression, only to be interrupted yet again.

"Didn't I? I knew," came Melkith's confident reply.

"..." Balzac's jaw muscles twitched. He said nothing more. Instead, he quietly adjusted his glasses and stepped back.

Truth be told, of course, Melkith didn't know who Harpeuron was. How could she know the name of a demon of such an ambiguous rank? Fifty-seventh? But it was true she had business with Harpeuron.

'I want to get this over with quickly,' Melkith thought.

She knew Eugene's goal: destroying the dungeon to weaken Amelia's forces. He sought to provoke Nahama and, in doing so, to draw out the demons of Helmuth.

But destroying all the dungeons in this vast desert was too much trouble for Melkith. Moreover, even if Melkith stirred up Nahama, the Sultan would not dare take drastic action.

Then, the only sure way was to draw out the demons.

If the demons of Helmuth crossed over to Nahama, the Sultan could no longer maintain an ambiguous stance. Should things progress that way, Melkith could return to Aroth without further suffering in the desert.

"...Since you've pried so much into my affairs, may I ask you a few things in return?" asked Balzac.

"You said that Harpeuron's dark power is growing. Why are you trying to ask me a question in such a dangerous and tense situation?" countered Melkith.

"You're not even tense," Balzac pointed out.

"Because he's weaker than me! But anyone else would be nervous. So don't ask any questions," declared Melkith.

"....." Balzac just stared at her silently with an evidently irritated expression.

"It's a joke. Go ahead and ask away, Black Tower Master. You can make such a face? I never knew. I'm seeing it for the first time. Oh my, when you glare like that, it's quite fierce. Ah, but if it's about how you feel about me, that's a bit—" said Melkith.

"Sir Eugene," Balzac interrupted. His jaw muscle twitched once more as he asked after a brief pause, "Is he well?"

"Probably? I don't really know what he's up to," responded Melkith.

It was a lie. Melkith was well aware that Eugene was currently undertaking training in Lehainjar. But she had no intention of disclosing that to Balzac. She still did not trust him.

"I hear Lady Sienna is in Aroth. However, there are no rumors about Eugene," Balzac probed.

"He's probably doing something in his mansion," responded Melkith.

"Can't you tell me honestly?" asked Balzac in exasperation.

"I said I don't know, didn't I? But you, you're very suspicious. Even if I knew something, what would you do with that information, huh? Tell the Demon King so he can kill Eugene?" accused Melkith.

"I was just curious," said Balzac. "If this is going to cause a misunderstanding, I won't ask further—"

He was interrupted by a sinister wind surging from the staircase. The steps leading down undulated as if they were alive. Balzac stopped speaking and swiftly retreated.

"Hehe... Kehehe...!" A chilling laughter echoed through the space.

It was the master of this dungeon and the head of the Luos school. He was a black-robed wizard with a turban and a long beard. The black wizard levitated off the ground and ascended the stairs.

"I've heard rumors... of Aroth's White Tower Master, Melkith El-Hayah. As of late, you've been recklessly attacking dungeons without cause," stated the black wizard.

"So you've heard of me!" said Melkith.

"Indeed. Arrogant wizard of Aroth! Your power may be commendable, but your human legacy ends here today, Melkith El-Hayah! You have chosen the wrong dungeon to invade," stated the black wizard.

The black wizard lifted his arms, and a dark magical force began to converge around him, forming a massive circle. Reveling in the omnipotence granted by the power he had obtained at the sacrifice of his disciples, he exclaimed, "I've always wanted to confront a Tower Master of Aroth...! Never did I dream that today would be the day I fulfill that wish. Fear not! I shall not kill you. I shall inflict upon you a fate worse than death. From today onwards—"

"You talk too much!" Melkit snapped. She thrust her fist forward, mixing Ifrit's firepower with Levin's lightning. "Fire Punch!"

A resounding boom pierced through the supposedly invincible barrier of dark power. The black wizard coughed up blood after becoming overwhelmed by the force.

"Wh-what is this...!" the black wizard gasped.

"I am Melkith El-Hayah!"

The staircase ceased its writhing. Yhanos had taken control of the land.

The Earth Spirit King provided a stable footing as Melkith wished. She stepped onto the platform and leaped to hover above the black wizard's head. Her kick was meticulously positioned.

Melkith's body was enveloped in lightning and crackled with energy. The flame on her toes drew a scarlet line.

"Thunderbolt! Kick!"

Her kick exploded through the sorcerer's form and shattered him completely, leaving not a shred of flesh as his form was consumed utterly by fire. Melkith stood at a distance and shook the ash off her clothes before spinning around.

"Come and meet your death, aaaargh!" Melkith had intended to deliver a dramatic line, but instead, she yelped in shock and leaped backward. The ashes that had burned away did not scatter and disappear. Instead, they swirled together and coalesced into the face of some monster.

[Calm down, Contractor. That is the demon's spirit.]

[Take a deep breath, Melkith.]

[You dare! A demon dares to raise its head in front of Ifrit!?]

The three Spirit Kings each showed their distinct reactions. Their reactions cast a definite influence on the area surrounding Melkith. The earth quaked, lightning crackled, and flames danced.

In their midst stood Melkith. She may not have intended it, but her figure was the very embodiment of a grand master of spirit magic. The sight was awe-inspiring and formidable.

"...Oh...."

Harpeuron was ranked fifty-seventh among the demons. Though it was a rank updated after half of the demons in the top hundred had been slaughtered the previous year, the fifty-seventh rank was still acknowledged as a high-ranking demon even in Helmuth. Even though Harpeuron had descended only as a spirit, he felt awe at the sight of the grand master of spirit magic.

"Remarkable.... A master of spirit magic contracted with multiple Spirit Kings.... I thought you wielded only a fraction of their power, yet you draw forth the full might of the Spirit Kings," Harpeuron said.

The demon chuckled to himself. One of his dungeons had been completely destroyed. It meant that he was now without one source of regular offerings. As its master, he naturally felt anger, but at the same time, Melkith's power was undeniably impressive.

So he addressed the Archwizard in front of him. "I am Count Harpeuron, ranked fifty-seventh of the demons. Melkith El-Hayah... you have destroyed my—"

"Idiot!" Melkith didn't let him finish, raising her middle fingers defiantly. "You got beaten by a human, you fucking idiot!"

"....."

"Boasting about being ranked fifty-seven, you pathetic fool! Vermin! Stupid! What's there to boast about when you have fifty-six above you!?" Melkith taunted.

The ashes forming Harpeuron's visage quivered and shook.

"You're so ugly! Even the scorpions of the desert are better looking than you, you filthy mongrel! Get that hideous face out of my sight! It's disgusting just to look at!" Melkith's jibes were scathing.

"...Melkith El-Hayah...," Harpeuron snarled. The ash began to crumble. They couldn't contain his fury. "I will kill you...."

"Go ahead, try it, idiot!" Melkith challenged.

"I will come... to kill you," Harpeuron growled.

"Woooo!"

In response to Harpeuron's parting threat, Melkith screamed in triumph.