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Chapter 84: Poxxon (5)
Whooooosh!
The sound of the fan's wind roared incessantly in his ears.
Even the powerful gusts failed to dispel the stench and humidity, and Fran swallowed hard.
"O-Oscar. That thing... doesn’t it look a bit... off?"
"Not just a bit."
What stood before them was an abomination, a human body exuding demonic energy.
There was no doubt in Oscar’s mind—he had never encountered such a being in his past life.
‘Now that I think about it…’
He recalled a passing remark from Nebula Gri during a conversation at the imperial palace.
Simply put, they’re humans transford into sothing akin to demons. They call it a blessing and cooperate with demons to achieve that state. We call them ‘Demonic-humans.’ However, it’s mostly rumors for now—no concrete cases have ever surfaced.
Perhaps this was what the demon worshippers had so fervently desired—the existence of a demonic human.
‘Back then, I thought it was just so absurd, fantastical story.’
Now, with it standing right before his eyes, denial was no longer an option.
Oscar’s gaze deepened, grappling with a dilemma—how to perceive this being.
‘Should I treat it as a human... or as a demon?’
The question brought an imdiate chill, causing Fran to shiver uncontrollably.
"I-Is it the water making cold? Suddenly I feel a chill."
"......"
Oscar failed to suppress his killing intent for a brief mont.
He glanced at Fran’s hand—bruised blue, trembling, seemingly too weak to hold a whip.
The explosive power of Dance of Steel had taken its toll.
‘He probably can’t use the whip anymore.’
Fran was no longer a viable ally in this fight.
Without taking his eyes off the demonic human, Oscar muttered,
"Fran, go back to the surface."
"What? Why?"
"Because you’ll get in the way."
The blunt yet scathing remark left Fran speechless.
It was essentially saying he couldn’t handle protecting Fran and fighting simultaneously.
"...Alright."
Clenching his lips, Fran nodded without protest.
He understood Oscar’s position, even if the words stung.
‘If only I were stronger, we could fight together until the end.’
As a Level 4 mage, he was now being protected by a Level 3 mage.
Despite recently perfecting a trump card, he could only use it three tis in battle.
‘...Damn it.’
The euphoria of defeating Veronica dissipated as quickly as it had co.
He thought he had beco a better mage, and it wasn’t entirely false—he had bested soone he thought far superior.
‘Next ti, I won’t leave so pathetically.’
He made a firm resolve, stepping back slowly as he offered one final word of encouragent.
"Win."
"I will."
Fran turned and sprinted down one of the eight passageways.
Only when Oscar confird he was gone did he feel a sense of relief.
Now, he could bear whatever was to co on his own.
"Hey."
He called out to Moira Main.
If even a shred of humanity remained within him, they could communicate.
"Are you still alive?"
"......"
Oscar waited.
If Moira was still human, she would answer.
If she was a demon…
"...Kill."
He answered.
Oscar narrowed his eyes and asked again,
"What did you say?"
"Kill... them all."
For a mont, Moira’s dead, fish-like eyes gained a spark of life.
"Kill all mages."
"...!"
In an instant, the demonic energy she emitted surged like a torrential river on a rainy day.
At the sa ti, thirteen tentacles shot out from the puddles around him.
‘Thirteen?’
This was the sa being who could barely control four earlier.
Even among Blue Tower Level 5 mages, none could wield so many tentacles at once.
"...What the hell have you consud?"
Frowning deeply, Oscar raised one hand above his head and began preparing a spell.
‘I’ll use the wind the fan generates to conserve mana as much as possible.’
The mana saved this way would be used to push the spell's power and range to the limit.
Whooooooosh!
The fan’s roar, which had been filling the purification zone, suddenly ceased.
The fan hadn’t stopped—it spun faster than ever, generating more wind to compensate for the decreased purification efficiency.
All that wind was now being sucked into Oscar’s spell.
‘Phew, done.’
Above his head, near the ceiling, a small orb of compressed wind took form.
In terms of raw mana, it would take his entire reserve to create sothing of this magnitude.
Yet the environnt allowed him to achieve it—though it was still a minor imitation of what he’d once wielded as a high-level mage in his past life.
‘But for now, this will suffice.’
As Oscar exhaled in relief, Moira’s lips moved.
"Kill all mages."
Moira now looked as if decades had passed in re monts, her gaunt face twisted grotesquely.
Even so, her blood-red eyes fixed sharply on Oscar.
"Kill them all."
Swoosh!
Thirteen tentacles flew toward him at a speed incomparable to before.
But instead of dodging, Oscar gracefully lowered the hand he was holding.
"Unleash it."
The wind orb, "Core of the Storm," fell slowly and touched the filthy sewer floor.
The mont it made contact, it shattered like a broken glass bead and unleashed a massive storm.
BOOOOOM!
The fierce winds tore through the tentacles, shredding them to pieces.
"Every... mage..."
The storm then surged toward Moira Main, slamming her against the opposite wall.
Thud!
"Argh!"
Moira let out a brief scream as she hit the hard ground.
At the sa ti, the demonic energy piercing his skin vanished as if it had been a lie.
"Gah... Damn it... What... is this..."
Moira, her limbs shattered, twisted her face in pain as even breathing seed agonizing.
Oscar approached her, crouching down, and spoke.
"Your ribs are broken and puncturing your lungs. Breathe as slowly as possible and don't try anything foolish."
"Pl-please... spare ..."
Oscar took a potion from his pouch and spoke.
"Answer my questions, and I'll spare you. The drug you took—who gave it to you? Where are they from?"
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"Drug? What... are you talking about?"
"...You don’t rember?"
Had they prepared for this, even erasing short-term mory as a safeguard?
If so, keeping her alive was the top priority.
Later, they could figure out how to recover those mories by any ans necessary.
"Drink this for now. You must survive."
The mont Oscar poured the potion into Moira's mouth—
"Gah! Gaaahk!"
Moira suddenly coughed up black blood and began convulsing.
Her breathing, which had beco ragged in an instant, soon quieted like a dying ember before ceasing altogether.
"......"
Oscar examined the inside of Moira's mouth for a mont before clicking his tongue.
‘Pinero powder.’
The sa powder Moira had used to turn the White Tower's potions into poison.
It seed to have been an ingredient in the strange drug she'd consud.
‘Thorough. Utterly ruthless.’
The drug had been designed so that anyone who took it would inevitably die, no matter what asures were taken.
Such a vicious thod gave Oscar a sense of who might be behind it.
‘It really does seem connected to those demon bastards...’
However, the so-called "Demonic Humans" weren't particularly threatening.
Although Moira Main's magic had grown stronger after releasing demonic energy, that was all.
‘They didn’t have the high regenerative ability of true demons or any special powers.’
What, then, was the ultimate purpose behind the demons creating these "Demonic Humans"?
Narrowing his eyes, Oscar glanced at Moira and gently closed her lifeless eyes.
* * *
[Shocking! The Hidden Power Struggle Behind the Mosque Tragedy—Is the Blue Tower the Villain?]
[Citizens Caught in the Crossfire of Magic Towers—Can This Go On?]
[(Photo) Citizens Gather in Front of the Blue Tower in Rafs—Criticism and Pointing Fingers Abound.]
[Potion Market Overcompetition—Should the Imperial Family Step In?]
After it was revealed that a Blue Tower mage had been involved in the rcenaries' deaths, public opinion turned sharply.
The startled Blue Tower rushed to declare that Moira Main had acted alone and that they were unaware, but the flas of outrage were not easily quelled.
"If they knew, they're accomplices; if they didn’t, they're incompetent."
In the end, the Blue Tower's deputy master had to step forward to offer a public apology.
Normally, Oscar would have mocked them, but he had no ti to concern himself with their predicant.
"...You sensed sothing strange?"
"Yes. It wasn’t quite magic, but sothing different—tingling, almost electric."
Upon returning to the White Tower, Oscar imdiately reported the incident to the deputy master.
The reason was simple.
‘This will go into the Special Task Unit's activity report anyway, but reporting it directly will get it to the Imperial Family faster.’
He was well aware of his limitations.
Attempting to investigate NewTech, track demons, or chase the Black Fingers on his own would be inefficient.
He simply wasn’t strong enough to do it all alone.
‘I need to take the more efficient and faster route.’
That ant leveraging the Imperial Family.
Even now, the ntion of the Demonic Human had caused Deputy Master Hal's expression to grow grim.
"Did you happen to notice the opponent’s eyes at the ti?"
"Oh, right. They turned red. They were originally brown."
"Hmm..."
Hal let out a heavy sigh and nodded.
"Include detailed information about this incident in your activity report."
"Understood."
"You weren’t injured, were you?"
"Fortunately, no."
Technically, Fran had been injured.
When Oscar ntioned this, the deputy master tilted his head.
"Really? Before you arrived, Fran ca to see ."
"What? Why?"
"He submitted a request for closed-door training."
Fran had voluntarily requested seclusion for training?
Him?
Hearing this unexpected news, Oscar smirked.
‘...It must have really bothered him that he couldn’t fight alongside until the end.’
But it was a good sign.
True strength lies in acknowledging and confronting one’s shortcomings.
‘You have to face it. Only then can you overco it.’
Fran had recognized his shortcomings and chosen to seclude himself to address them.
Oscar speculated that Fran would likely erge having improved his basic physical condition and further refined his "Steel Dance."
‘I’m looking forward to it.’
How much would the reinterpreted and advanced Steel Dance differ from what he knew?
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