Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

The grimoire, The Book of Massacre.

Dale was immersed in the internal space of the tome, a domain that reflected the sinister intentions and perversity of its creator, the blood mage Duchamp.

“Are you going to decline my pact only to end up as a simple piece of meat in this place?”

The grimoire’s projection, the Executioner, spoke once more, with immense mountain ranges of human remains and oceans of vital fluid as a backdrop.

Dale did not show the slightest fear. He knew well that this was the mental plane of a work, not the real environment. Therefore, it was useless to try to defeat the Executioner, or properly the Book of Massacre, using only physical attacks or spells of destruction.

Instead, a mystical energy of a shadowy, icy, and highly polished nature began to emerge and swirl around his limbs. The environment suffered a new distortion before the whirlwind of that cold and dark force.

The vision manifested by The Book of Massacre corresponded to the psyche of the blood mage Duchamp, to which Dale replied by manifesting his own internal reality.

A grayish drizzle began to descend slowly, revealing a plain devoid of everything beneath his feet.

“Your plane is incapable of corrupting mine.”

It constituted a mental safeguard designed to repel the influence of The Book of Massacre, an abyss of reflections so dense that not even Dale himself could glimpse its end.

A conflict of convictions, a dispute between realities. It represented, clearly, a duel worthy of high-caliber sorcerers.

Soon, the plane of the icy gloom began to devour the territory of death and vital fluid that characterized the slaughter.

“However, my reality possesses another nature.”

A space devouring the entrails of another space.

“How is this possible…?!”

A grimoire condenses the reflections and experiences of the entire existence of a sorcerer who has scaled the pinnacle of his faculties. Under that premise, The Book of Massacre constituted in essence the very presence of the “blood mage Duchamp.”

A practitioner of dark arts belonging to the sixth circle, a criminal who caused countless deaths through the use of forbidden spells of large-scale devastation. Despite such credentials, his dimension was being assimilated by the mind of a child of barely eleven years.

“Do you suppose I will contemplate my own fall without resisting?”

The Executioner, the manifestation of the text and extension of Duchamp, charged toward the void in which Dale was positioned.

A colossal stream of vital fluid headed straight toward him.

A crimson cataclysm.

Faced with such a threat, the “Shadow Cloak” worn by Dale began to flap strongly.

A torrent of pure darkness.

This faculty could only manifest fully in the internal environment of a writing.

In this place, the magnitude of power was determined merely by the firmness of individual ideals and the immensity of the void in the consciousness of each one.

Dale, governing an army of shadows and a boundless emptiness, advanced with determination, temporarily ignoring the future he intended to establish over the lands of the empire.

That was a stratum that completely surpassed the capabilities of a deranged sixth-circle sorcerer.

The gloom completely buried the environment.

Crash!

Emitting a crack similar to that of glass shattering, the illusion vanished.

“Have I returned to the point of origin?”

Having finally escaped the space of the writing, Dale contemplated the surroundings, plunged into the absolute lack of light.

“──Brother.”

A voice of imperceptible origin resonated behind his back, without revealing where it came from.

It was the clear and innocent tone of a young girl. He turned his gaze. There stood a girl dressed in a garment of absolute black tone, possessing eyes full of curiosity foreign to the crudeness of the environment, and two dark goat horns sprouting from her hair.

“Did you call me, brother?”

In parallel, in one of the rooms of the Apostolic Palace.

Cardinal Nikolai manifested his anxiety and discontent, biting his lips with impatience.

Even if the firstborn of the Saxon dynasty were classified as the most colossal prodigy of the imperial lands, he remained an eleven-year-old creature. A tender mystical initiate of the third circle. Even if he were awarded the pseudonym of the “Black Prince,” the certainties that he would manage to return alive from the Library of Hell were almost null.

──The ecclesiastical institution disclaims any event that takes place in the underworld.

That was the deal ratified through the influence of a Geass, so Nikolai never contemplated the possibility of Dale getting out of there safely. Furthermore, counting on the backing of said pact, the Saxon dynasty lacked arguments to act impulsively.

However, would the “Black Prince” truly enter the domains of the Library of Hell devoid of a clear strategy?

The direct descendant of the most renowned shadow sorcerer of the known lands, the very Lord of the Black Tower?

If the successor to the Saxon lineage managed to claim The Book of the Black Goat, just as he had suggested, Nikolai was incapable of weighing the magnitude of the subsequent events.

It was at that precise moment when an idea crossed Nikolai’s mind.

“The ecclesiastical institution disclaims any event that takes place in the underworld…”

The guideline stipulated in the pact under the influence of the Geass. In other words, “what happens in that place” does not fall upon the figure of Nikolai.

“… It is imperative that I myself ensure the definitive outcome.”

Employing the skills of a sixth-circle white magic practitioner and honorable member of the White Tower, dedicated to the search for clarity of understanding. Determined, Cardinal Nikolai began the march immediately.

“Listen, brother. This is extremely monotonous.”

The young girl with dark goat horns expressed.

“And the loneliness is immense.”

Under the appearance of a delicate young girl, staying very close to Dale.

“This place feels too lonely, cold, and devoid of life.”

“……”

However, Dale did not let himself be deceived by her gestures of candor. He knew with absolute precision the nature of the entity that was positioned in front of him.

The Book of the Black Goat.

A grimoire conceived by the eternal Duke Frederick, who sacrificed his own little one in order to achieve absolute understanding beyond death. For that reason, the manifestation of the volume adopted the features of a small girl.

Despite this, this little girl did not correspond to the true descendant of the eternal duke.

“Let’s make an agreement.”

Dale manifested.

“Oh, Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young.”

Addressing the girl with dark goat horns.

“Do you also intend to have fun with me, brother?”

The little girl showed a smile devoid of apparent malice. Dale nodded reservedly.

“Under that premise, unfold your reality before me.”

At that very moment, the solid ground underwent a rapid mutation. A plain devoid of elements manifested under a grayish drizzle, loaded with the void of coldness and shadows.

The little girl moved lightly over the frozen ground, evoking a walk on spring days. The grayish particles falling from the environment settled subtly on her clothing.

“This is your reality, brother.”

After amusing herself for a few moments, the young girl finally fixed her attention on him. Dale nodded reservedly.

“It constitutes a highly splendid environment.”

The young girl with goat horns showed a gesture of complacency. From beneath her robes, multiple “appendages” sprouted and stirred.

“You are very pleasing to me, brother.”

Her expression showed a shadowed, icy, and distorted grimace.

“Ah, ahhh.”

At the moment the veteran member of the White Tower, the sixth-circle white magic practitioner Nikolai, entered the confines of the underworld with the purpose of eradicating the inconvenience.

In the midst of that environment corrupted by sacrilegious reasoning and perverse wills, Cardinal Nikolai and the escort of ecclesiastical warriors lost the ability to articulate a word.

The successor to the Saxon lineage, the Black Prince, remained motionless in the place.

Accompanied by “the most terrifying entity of creation.”

How could such a manifestation be cataloged?

A conglomerate of intertwined appendages, provided with aberrant dentures that emerged along its surface, and biological tissues in constant expansion. A creature originating from alien dimensions.

An aberration stood in the place.

A being whose mere contemplation immediately dragged one to the loss of sanity.

“Listen, brother.”

The girl with goat horns remained by Dale’s side.

She wore her garment of absolute black tone, projecting a neat and distinguished image, similar to that of a girl belonging to high society.

“What do those presences represent?”

Under the folds of her garment, countless appendages stirred.

“Wait.”

Dale raised his limb with serenity to contain the girl’s advance.

“Cardinal Nikolai.”

After pacifying her, Dale fixed his gaze on the dignitary and his companions, who looked terrified, as if they were contemplating “the most execrable manifestation of the existing plane.”

“What is the reason for your appearance here?”

“I, merely intended to…”

Nikolai interrupted himself, losing the thread of his words, to which Dale intervened again.

“The terms of the pact determine that none of the involved parties contracts any obligation for the events that happen in the underworld.”

Evidencing that he knew the cleric’s purposes from the first moment.

The agreement ratified under the influence of the Geass. Nikolai intended to take advantage of the ambiguities of the Geass. Despite Dale’s remarkable talent, his current capabilities were insufficient to defeat the veteran member of the White Tower and his escort of combatants.

“It is known that the greatest shadow hides right under the source of light.”

In the same way that maintaining the high position grants a favorable condition in a clash of infantry, the characteristics of the terrain play a crucial role in the mystical realm.

And this environment, an underworld where all kinds of profane thoughts and corrupted intentions that have come to disturb the real plane have been concentrated, represents a domain devoid of clarity. An ideal scenario where Dale, who draws his faculties from the shadows, can manifest his maximum splendor, and a death cell for those who depend on light energy.

“You selected the wrong territory.”

In addition, his direct rival did not correspond to Dale.

It was the most fearsome grimoire ever conceived by the pioneer of the Saxon dynasty.

The way an eleven-year-old child managed to exercise dominion over The Book of the Black Goat did not constitute, in that limit situation, a primary matter for the newcomers.

“You are wrong, it is a confusion! My only intention was to look after your integrity…”

Cardinal Nikolai expressed himself in a broken manner, trying to formulate a credible justification in the midst of his consternation.

“Greetings, big brother.”

The little girl expressed herself using a gentle intonation, while numerous appendages twisted under the edges of her dark garment.

“Am I permitted to consume him?”

“Do not express complaints if you end up with an upset stomach.”

Dale nodded slightly with his face, downplaying Nikolai’s plans.

“Understood, it seems appropriate to me.”

The young girl showed a gesture of joy and the ground beneath her feet turned shadowy. Mystical arts represent the faculty of materializing ideas, and a grimoire constitutes a tome loaded with that “magical intention.”

The banned writing that protects the domain of the eternal Frederick, the pioneer of the Saxon dynasty.

“Have mercy (Eleison).”

At that moment, Cardinal Nikolai of the White Tower made the sign of the cross.

It did not represent a show of surrender.

The distinction of sixth-circle light sorcerer did not constitute a mere ornament. Likewise, Dale did not figure as the only practitioner in the plane endowed with a mystical volume.

The “Book of the Gospel.”

A flash of clarity began to emanate from the figure of Cardinal Nikolai and the ecclesiastical combatants under his tutelage.

“Grant us mercy (Miserere nobis).”

As Nikolai’s prayer grew stronger, the determination of the warriors who provided him with protection began to rise.

“It represents the designs of the sacred…”

“May the clemency and mercy of the Deity guide us.”

That transcended a simple emotional motivation. Their physical complexions, weapons, and combat attire began to undergo a mutation, adopting an entirely different condition upon being flooded by a blinding radiance. In a short time, they ceased to be ordinary combatants of the faith. They transformed into “battle angels,” provided with three pairs of wings and two-handed swords wrapped in flames.

The mystical chants, an illustrious inheritance of the White Tower. A melody impregnated with sacred nuances conceived to repel Dale’s gloom.

Nikolai, before exercising his religious functions, was a consecrated student of magical disciplines. The “Celestial Hymn” chanted by Cardinal Nikolai, a sixth-circle white magic sorcerer, propagated through the space.

The entire deployment of a scholar of the White Tower in pursuit of clarity of understanding.

“It does not present itself as simply as I estimated.”

Dale analyzed while contemplating the development of events.

Clarity versus gloom. Convictions measuring forces with convictions, worlds colliding with worlds.

What took place in that place constituted, with absolute certainty, a confrontation of great proportions between masters of the mystical arts.

Chapter 36