VOLUME 14: CHAPTER 15

VOLUME 14: CHAPTER 15

After listening to the discussions in the throne room, Lark went to the sitting room to meet with the torturer he’d worked with before.

Normally, such a person wouldn’t be granted an audience with royalty, but this time was an exemption. They couldn’t just ignore him since he was their lead to the whereabouts of Black Midas’ remnants.

“His Majesty, King Lark Marcus, is entering! Show your respect!”

When the door opened, the sight of Magaras kneeling on the floor greeted Lark.

Lark walked the past torturer, sat on the chair near the window, then spoke, “You may rise.”

The torturer slowly rose to his feet.

“It’s been a while, Magaras,” said Lark.

“Indeed,” said Magaras in his usual deep voice voice. “It feels just like yesterday. You’ve become the king now. Although my greetings are late, I sincerely congratulate you on your ascension to the throne, Your Majesty.”

Your Majesty — Lark never expected such words to smoothly come out of the torturer’s mouth. This man normally never bothered with formalities, and before coming here, Lark already expected it to be the same this time.

But surprisingly, Magaras openly showed subservience to him, the holder of the crown.

Not only that. Upon taking a closer look, Lark noticed noticed several changes on the torturer: Magaras had removed the stitches on his mouth, and his hair — which he never bothered to fix before — was neatly combed to the back. The torturer was also wearing an appropriate formal attire for this meeting, his clothes hiding most of the tattoos on his body.

It was apparent how much effort Magaras had put into this meeting.

During the last time they met, Magaras looked like a deranged bandit leader who constantly bathed in the blood of his opponents. Now, he looked a lot tamer. Even his manner of speaking had changed. Currently, he could even probably pass off as a mercenary if he wore the right set of clothes.

“You’ve changed a lot,” said Lark. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Is that so? I’m glad if that’s the case, Your Majesty,” said Magaras. “I’ve been through a lot since the time we’ve last seen each other. You can say I have a purpose in life now.”

Magaras looked in the direction of the window. He smiled softly.

Lark patiently waited for the man to continue.

Magaras said, “Now, I have something to live for. Ah but do not be mistaken. I haven’t left my previous life behind. I still run my group, and my men are still working for me. Hmm… how should I say it? It’s just I’ve decided to run some things differently. In a business-like manner, like a merchant, yes, of course.”

“Like a merchant, huh?” said Lark.

He actually preferred things this way. From those words alone, he understood that Magaras wished something in exchange for information regarding the remnants of Black Midas. As expected, the torturer didn’t capture those criminals for free.

“I heard you’ve captured some of the remnants of Black Midas and that you have information where the rest of them are hiding,” said Lark. “Tell me, what do you want in exchange for all of these.”

Lark was prepared to give the torturer even a few hundred gold coins if it meant he would finally be able to completely eradicate the criminal organization. But to his surprise, an entirely different request came out of the torturer’s mouth.

“I do not wish for gold or any treasures,” said Magaras. “Your Majesty, I’ve told you before that I now have a purpose in life. It’s a woman. A seamstress in a village we’ve visited before. The most beautiful woman I’ve met in my life.”

Lark raised his brows. He didn’t expect the torturer to be the romantic type.

“This woman bears my child, Your Majesty,” said Magaras. “I will fully cooperate with the royal family and help you capture all of the remnants of Black Midas, but in exchange, I want you to give her a position within the castle. Even a menial job is fine, a courtyard sweeper, a kitchen assistant, anything. And when my child grows up, please guarantee they’ll be granted entry into the most prestigious academy in the entire kingdom.”

They were surprisingly simple requests that Lark could easily grant with his power as the monarch.

Still, although they may seem simple to someone of Lark’s status, such things probably felt unattainable for Magaras and his woman.

“That can be arranged,” said Lark after some thought. “Does she know how to read and write?”

Magaras said proudly, “Yes. She’s a commoner, but she’d learned how to read and write from passing merchants.”

For a moment, Lark was reminded of The Scholar of Blackstone City. He wondered how she was doing now.

Now that he’d thought of it, Lark hadn’t visited Blackstone City. He owed a lot to the people of that place. He should take the time to drop by once he had the chance in the future.

“Literate, huh? Perfect,” said Lark. “I’ll arrange to have her serve as the assistant scribe of the royal library. The job should be less taxing to her body, especially since she’s bearing a child. Moreover, once she proves her worth and becomes an official scribe of the royal family, she’ll gain access to some of the archives in the library. Naturally, she can bring your child with her there in the future.”

The eyes of Magaras glimmered when he heard this. As someone who was illiterate, the only jobs he could think of were courtyard sweepers, kitchen assistants, and the like. Being assigned to the royal library never once crossed his mind.

As expected, being literate really gave one a great advantage in this world. Magaras could already envision the future when their child would grow up intelligent and educated, unlike him, their father.

The only things Magaras knew about were torturing and killing. He wished for his child to grow differently, away from bloodshed.

“I… I will tell my wife about this! As promised, I will fully cooperate and help the royal family capture the remnants of Black Midas!”

Lark smiled at the torturer’s enthusiasm.

Life really was unpredictable, Lark thought. Who would have known that a day would come when Magaras would come to the castle dressed in formal attire, bargaining with the king for the future of his child.

The torturer even went as far as to remove the stitches in his mouth. It must have been painful, but he did it regardless to show his resolve to the crown.

***

After meeting with Magaras, Lark was about to go out and drink with Kel’ Vual when he received a report from the soldiers.

“Your Majesty, uhm… there seems to be a problem with the Young Masters,” said the soldier reluctantly.

“A problem?” said Lark.

The soldier nodded, “The Young Masters have been captured by Lord Farsight. I heard Young Masters George and Austen, along with Princess Esmeralda, were currently kneeling in front of the Alchemy Tower. They are being forced to stay in that position by Lord Farsight.”

Lark started getting a headache when he heard this.

Although more than a week had passed since he’d cast the Primordial Fire, he still hadn’t fully recovered after expending so much life force for that single spell. He really wanted to drink with Kel’ Vual and relax, but another commotion had already appeared because of the unruly brothers.

“What did they do this time?” said Lark.

Instead of being outright angry at Elias Farsight, Lark asked instead what his disciples did to anger the royal court magician.

Lark was aware of Elias’ personality. That man hardly mingled with people, and he tended to leave everyone alone. Unless provoked, that man would never move.

The soldier averted his gaze, “About that… based on reports, the Young Masters and the Princess entered the Alchemy Tower and accidentally toppled one of the cauldrons.”

“That shouldn’t be enough reason for Farsight to get angry,” said Lark.

The soldier continued, “The… cauldron was filled with boiling concoction, and when it collapsed, some of the boiling liquid accidentally splashed on Lady Ropianna’s legs, scalding her.”

Lark palmed his face. He sighed.

How old was Lady Ropianna again?

That woman was even older than King Alvis himself. Even the slightest bit of injury could become fatal for someone her age.

After hearing the story, he felt that Elias Farsight was already being lenient by simply making his disciples and the Princess kneel at the Alchemy Tower’s entrance.

If Anandra were the one to impose punishments, he would have probably literally hanged them upside down for an entire day, hitting them with a wooden stick every now and then.

“How’s Lady Ropianna?” said Lark.

“She’d already fully recovered, Your Majesty,” said the soldier. “Lord Farsight immediately used a low-grade healing potion to heal her injuries. She even brushed off the incident, saying everything was just an accident, that it’s normal for kids to play, but Lord Farsight didn’t want the Young Masters and the Princess to go unpunished.”

Lark felt relieved, hearing Lady Ropianna was alright. He also felt that what Elias Farsight did was reasonable.

What were those kids doing in the Alchemy Tower in the first place?

“I’m with Elias on this one,” said Lark. “Send a vial of middle-grade healing potion to Lady Ropianna, and tell the chief healer to check on her personally. As for my stupid disciples, tell Elias that he’s free to do whatever he wants to do with them. Assure him he’ll be free of any repercussions.”

“We shall relay your words personally to Lord Farsight, Your Majesty.”

***

After taking care of the pertinent matters today, Lark went straight to one of the castle towers’ basements.

He honestly wanted to just sit down and drink with Kel’ Vual, but his sense of responsibility wouldn’t allow him to forgo this one.

The Essence Animation Spell.

Out of everyone in the kingdom, Lark knew the most the repercussions if this spell was delayed by even a day or two. For each tick of the clock, the essence inside the corpses of the abyss lurkers they’d hunted were dissipating. Judging by how fresh the corpses were, Lark could still probably create living suits of armor from them even after a full week had passed by, but Lark didn’t want to risk it.

Lark entered the basement of the tower and strictly ordered the guards outside to never let anyone enter.

The doors shut tight.

The entire room was freezingly cold, and the light from the kalrane stones on the walls gave the illusion that the monsters encased in ice – scattered across the room – were simply slumbering, that they could break free any time.

“Should I create more Blackstone Commanders?”

Currently, there were four powerful living suits of armor under Lark’s command.

The Lord Knight, created using the essence of the Black Puppeteer, the Ruler of the Death Cavern.

And the three Knight Commanders, each created using four abyss lurker corpses.

All of these living suits of armor were capable of harnessing mana, and Lark was confident they could hold their ground even against High Demons if they worked together.

Lark pondered whether or not he should create more Knight Commanders. Including the monsters hunted by the dwarves, there was a total of one hundred and sixty-one abyss lurker corpses in this basement right now.

Should he attempt to create forty more Knight Commanders, or should he create weaker living suits of armor in greater numbers?

There was also the option of utilizing a dozen abyss lurker corpses and attempting to create something comparable to the Lord Knight.

“Numbers mean nothing once they face a formidable opponent,” muttered Lark.

In the end, he decided to create a few living suits of armor comparable to the Lord Knight. These powerful living suits of armor would become the guardians of the floating castle, protecting it against powerful demons that ordinary Blackstone Knights couldn’t handle.

“If I’m going to create ordinary living suits of armor, it’ll be better to use the corpses of weaker monsters. It’ll be a waste to use the corpses of abyss lurkers for them.”

Lark drew the same magic circle as before, but this time, he placed not four but fifteen abyss lurker corpses at the magic circle’s periphery. He judged that this much was needed in order to create something closer to the current Lord Knight of the Blackstone Legion.

Thankfully, there were a couple of armor sets prepared by Big Mona for such occasions. There were five of them in total, and each resembled the current Lord Knight.

Lark breathed in deeply, closed his eyes, and exhaled. Upon opening his eyes, he started the spell.

The magic formation was activated, and it started consuming the corpses and sucking in the mana from the Sword of Morpheus.

As expected, the amount of mana consumed by just the first ritual alone was astronomical. Without the aid of the Sword of Morpheus, Lark probably wouldn’t be able to perform this spell consecutively.

“Ah. I should have told Kel to stand by just in case this thing rampages and tries to go outside.”

Regretting not asking his friend for help like last time, Lark cast several barrier spells around the place, making sure the living suit of armor created by this ritual wouldn’t be able to escape in case it refused to submit to Lark.

‘The first try.’

After the spell ended, Lark stared at the living suit of armor standing at the center of the magic formation. Its crimson eyes seen through the helmet flickered several times, before finally stabilizing.

The living suit of armor gazed directly at Lark.

The Lord Knight had five cores.

The Knight Commanders had two each.

And this one had four.

Like the roots of a tree, Lark could see the mana within the living suit of armor interconnecting and forming channels, covering its entire body. Just like its predecessor, this living suit of armor should be capable of harnessing mana to repair its body. And it should be capable of recovering its strength by absorbing some of the ambient mana in the surroundings, similar to how humans slowly recover their mana during rest.

Lark said, “I am your master. If you acknowledge, kneel and bow your head.”

There was no response.

The living suit of armor continued standing there, stabilizing the mana channels that had formed on its body. Lark noticed it even started sucking the ambient mana in the surroundings in an attempt to solidify its four cores even further.

‘It already took so much mana from the Sword of Morpheus, but it wants more?’

Lark smirked. This one was too gluttonous.

Lark decided to ask one last time. If this living suit of armor still refused to obey his commands, he would destroy it without a second thought.

So what if this creation was powerful? Lark would mark it useless the moment he deemed it uncontrollable.

“I will say this one last time,” said Lark. “I am your master! If you acknowledge, kneel and bow your head!”

This time, Lark uttered those words more forcefully, showing his determination to destroy the living suit of armor if it still refused to submit to him.

“GRUAAAHHH!”

In the end, the living suit of armor finished connecting half the channels of mana on its body and started charging at Lark like a mindless beast.

The speed of the living suit of armor was so fast it looked as though it teleported, but due to the barriers Lark had set up beforehand, such movements were rendered useless.

The living suit of armor collided with a barrier before it could even reach Lark. The barrier formed numerous cracks. Before it fully broke, Lark raised his hand and pointed a finger at the living suit of armor.

“What a waste.”

Several lines of disintegration spells shot out from Lark’s fingertip, accurately striking the living suit of armor’s four cores. The living suit of armor froze, and Lark used this opportunity to cut its cores completely using the Sword of Morpheus.

The crimson glow underneath its helmet vanished.

With a loud clang, the living suit of armor fell to the ground, unmoving.

Lark looked at the remaining abyss lurker corpses.

“Should I try again?”

Although his first try ended up in failure, Lark didn’t feel discouraged. On the contrary, he felt thrilled by the challenge. Surely, by the end of the night, he would be able to create at least one more Lord Knight.

Or so he thought.

To Lark’s horror, he ended up using most of the abyss lurker corpses for naught.

All of the rituals failed, and the living suits of armor he created started attacking him the moment they awakened.

Lark wondered if he’d been too greedy.

Maybe the failure rate wouldn’t be this high if he’d used only four abyss lurker corpses like before.

Deciding that he’d had enough of his bad luck, he left the tower basement and met with Kel’ Vual.

The leader of the Arzomos Tribe was grinning when he saw Lark.

It seemed that Kel’ Vual had been observing the mana fluctuations from a distance. From just those alone, he easily inferred what happened during the ritual.

“So, it’s time to drink now?” said Kel’ Vual teasingly.

Lark looked exhausted mentally and physically. “You’ve been watching.”

“Watching? No, no,” said Kel’ Vual. “Observing is the proper word, Evander. Don’t make it seem like I’m some kind of a deranged old man who loves watching people fail.”

Lark showed Kel’ Vual the basket in his hand. Inside were four bottles of centuries-old wine.

“I don’t have the energy to argue anymore,” said Lark. “Let’s go to the roof and drink.”

Although winter hadn’t ended, it had stopped snowing some time ago. The two of them flew outside and landed on the roof of the highest spire in the castle.

“So, what were you up to during the time I was gone?” said Lark.

Kel’ Vual took one of the bottles and effortlessly opened it with a flick of his finger.

“I’ve been watching drama.”

“Huh?”

“There’s this thing called theater, Evander. The humans would dress in various clothes and reenact historical moments there. Recently, they even started basing their performances on a popular book.”

It was something Lark never expected.

First was painting, and now, theater? This demon was really becoming integrated with the culture of humans as time passed. Well, it was a good thing, thought Lark.

“The Pauper’s Royal Legacy. Catchy title, isn’t it? I’ve seen the play like a dozen times, you should really watch it Evander!”

Lark noticed Kel’ Vual’s excitement as he talked about the plays he frequently watched. He even started talking quickly, which was very unlike him.

“Listen, the story is about Ivan, the bastard son of a king of a small kingdom. At the start of the story, the kingdom was caught in a civil war, you see, and the neighboring dukedom used it as a pretext to take over—”

“—Kel.”

“Hm? What?”

“I thought you wanted me to see it?”

“I do.”

“Then why are you telling me this? The play will lose its suspense if you tell me everything that would happen.”

“Ah.”

Only after Lark pointed this out did Kel’ Vual realize this. Kel’ Vual coughed, drank some wine, and frowned. The leader of the Arzomos looked like he was really itching to spoil the entire plot to Lark.

Seeing Kel’ Vual’s conflicted expression, Lark laughed. “I’m just joking, Kel. That’ face! Hahaha! Come on, tell me. How did the story go again?”

The face of Kel’ Vual visibly brightened when Lark gave him the go signal to tell the play’s plot. Like a kid showing off his toy, Kel’ Vual told Lark the story in detail.

For several hours, the two of them sat there, unbothered by the cold, talking about various mundane things that would bore normal people.