The Mad Dog of the Duke's Estate

Chapter 96

Chapter 96

The chains emanated a dark, profane energy, winding tightly around Ifrit's entire form.

Whoosh!

The white flames surged, desperately trying to burn through the chains; however, they only continued to tighten around Ifrit. This Spirit King, this transcendent being, was being rendered powerless. Orion, the elf patrol captain who had summoned Ifrit, scowled. No one could understand how it had come to this.

"Ifrit, burn those chains," Orion commanded. There was no way that the chains of a mere dark mage could hold a Spirit King. It was an absolute being that commanded the raw forces of nature, a god in all but name.

"The situation is not good at all," Ifrit said calmly in Orion's mind. "We've been caught in a trap. These chains aren't forged by human hands."

"If it wasn't created by humans, then...?" Orion muttered.

"There's a presence here that embodies the pinnacle of dark magic."

"...The Demon King?" Orion said slowly, dreading the very name.

"Yes, this stench of death belongs to him—the Demon King of Slaughter," Ifrit confirmed.@@@@

Orion's mouth tightened into a grim line. He hadn't anticipated the Demon King's involvement. But beyond that, Ifrit's flames had grown weak, lacking the overwhelming power Orion remembered from the first time he'd summoned the spirit in the Great Forest.

"The land here is desecrated. I cannot... draw strength," Ifrit said while struggling.

"Not even your power can overcome it?" Orion asked, surprised.

"The chains. First, these damned chains must be dealt with, Orion," Ifrit said.

Crrrrrkkkk!

Ghastly noises echoed as the monsters lying in wait around the fortress began to stir. Orion surveyed them and sighed quietly, then said, "...Perhaps I shouldn't have pushed forward after all."

Orion had known this land was treacherous, its soil tainted and stripped of natural mana. But he had forced the attack, believing Ifrit's power could turn the tide. Now, he realized he had made.n a grave miscalculation. He had never imagined that a mere dark mage could bind the Spirit King.

Ssshhhhh!

Then, a strange, eerie sound drifted from above. Orion lifted his gaze to the cloud-darkened sky.

—Your corpses will make fine offerings... Ah, pure mana! It's incomparable to those worms.

The voice rumbled across the battlefield, sounding as if phlegm was boiling in its throat.

—Rejoice, for your deaths will mark the end of the elves.

A single purple eye opened amid the storm clouds, glowing ominously. Around it, the sky began to darken with that same violet hue, spreading outward like a stain.

"The Gate of Chaos," Orion whispered, eyes widening as he watched the transformation above.

If that violet hue claimed the entire sky, the accursed portal would open, unleashing doom upon them all.

"Orion, release my summoning immediately. My power is being siphoned away," Ifrit's voice boomed in Orion's mind.

"I've been trying to do that for quite a while, Ifrit," Orion said, frustration creeping into his tone. He couldn't even undo the summoning. The chains seemed to be anchoring Ifrit's form in place.

He let out a heavy sigh, nodding slowly, then admitted, "It was a mistake."

It was clear that he had come unprepared compared to their enemies. He had fatally underestimated the opponent's strength. They should have brought more forces, torn this place down completely, purging every trace of corruption. However, regret was a luxury he could no longer afford. He needed a plan, and quickly.

Retreat. Orion considered a realistic solution. Pausing the fight and retreating to the Great Forest to set up defenses could be the smart move. It was true that the forest would take damage, but perhaps they'd stand a better chance there.

Just then, a voice called out from behind, "You look like you're in over your head."

Orion turned, locating the speaker—the youngest of the humans who had barged into the battle. He was the one who'd openly hurled insults earlier, his face now painted with a crooked smile that looked almost mocking.

Orion raised a hand, and a bird wreathed in blue flame descended from the sky. With ease, he climbed onto the bird's back and looked down at Caron before saying, "Get on."

Caron leaped up, seating himself just behind Orion, and called back to his group. "Rule number one: Survive, no matter what. Got it?"

"I'll keep that in mind, Caron," Leon responded.

"We will never forget a friend's request!" Utula answered.

"You take care of yourself, Caron," Leo added.

Each response reflected their unique personalities.

"Do you have any last orders for my friends?" Caron asked.

Orion glanced down at Caron's companions and said, "Those black chains bind Ifrit. If possible, I would like you to break them. I've assigned spirits to aid you, and the other elves will follow your lead."

Caron's companions nodded, their expressions resolute. They sensed the burden of the task ahead.

With everything set, Caron slapped Orion on the back and said,, "Let's go, old man!"

"Are you trying to kill me?" Orion asked, surprised.

"Ah, sorry. It's a habit of mine. When I see someone's back, it makes me want to hit it," Caron replied.

Orion sighed at the enigma that was Caron and gave his spirit the command, "Let's go to the top."

Moments later, they shot into the sky, the spirit's flames blazing around them as they surged toward the fortress.

***

At the peak of the fortress, a man cloaked in black gazed silently at the floating violet eye that hung in the sky. He turned to look at the fortress below and murmured, "The grand design has begun."

On the ground, elves fell one by one, their lives feeding the unrelenting mana coursing into the ritual. He then glanced at Ifrit, the Spirit King of Fire, who was bound tightly in chains; a cold smile crept across his face. Such a powerful being had been reduced to fuel for his ascension.

Whoosh.

A low hum spread across the heavens as the violet glow expanded rapidly through the sky. In just ten more minutes, the ritual would be complete, and the gate would open. And once that happened...

My long-awaited goal will finally come to pass, the black-cloaked man thought.

The thought sent a thrill through him, making his pulse race. Even knowing the fanatics were marching toward the fortress couldn't sour his mood, because they would arrive far too late for it to matter.

"...Perfect," he sighed, feeling a surge of energy, almost as if his youth had returned. He stretched his arms wide, savoring the power that surged through him, convinced the fortress' fate was sealed.

But then, the shrill, piercing shrieks of gargoyles ripped through the air, as though claws were being dragged across metal. Those shrieks soured the man's mood immediately. He was sure that someone was fighting through them, ascending to the peak.

"Futile resistance," he muttered, gripping his staff and turning around. It seemed there was some fool still trying to defy their fate, as the condemned often did.

With a burst of blue flame, two figures arrived on the platform. One was an elf, radiating a pure and potent mana unmistakably linked to the Spirit King. But it was the other figure that drew his attention. A knight in black armor stood there, staring back with a fierce smile and a dark blue blade glowing in his hand.

"I don't recall inviting you here," the man in the robe said coldly.

The knight in the black armor smirked in reply, a taunting light in his eyes. He replied, "Didn't I say you'd be next? I've come to keep my promise."

The man in the robe thought this knight was unusual, but it wouldn't change anything. He had spent far too long preparing for this moment. No unwelcome visitor could alter that.

"Meeting death on the ground would've been merciful," he sneered. "Instead, you've chosen the painful way."

At that, the knight's grin widened, his eyes alight with amusement. He said, "Here's something to remember: The only good dark mage is a dead one."

A dark blue mana began to pulse from Caron. A malicious smile spread across his face as he asked, "Ready to become good?"