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HEL SCANS
[Translator -Clara]
[Proofreader – Prøks]
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Chapter 5 – Shall We Make a Bet? (2)
The conclusion was clear:
The Samael I once knew was gone.
If I were to recall their past glory, the word “decline” wouldn’t even begin to describe their fall from grace.
I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down. I needed to grasp the situation. Just how much had changed between 300 years ago and now?
“Have you ever heard of the Four Great Houses?”
Three hundred years ago, four families held sway over the entire Central Continent.
Samael, the origin of incantation magic.
Balthar, of the Void Heart Swordsmanship.
Arihama, the shield of Heavenly Pressure.
Seren, the half-human, half-dragon.
People called them Great Houses. Of course, Samael held an unparalleled position among them.
“Of course. But it’s not the Four Great Houses anymore, it’s the Three.”
“Tell me.”
“The Balthar, Seren, and Arihama Houses.”
I thought of the comrades who had remained in the expedition until the very end.
The Archmage, Pelleer Samael.
The Sword Saint, Magnus Balthar.
The Dragon Knight, Iris Seren.
The Guardian Saint, Galtan Arihama.
“So the other houses are still thriving.”
Except for Samael, the other Great Houses were still influential.
Only Samael’s name was missing.
“Then do you know about the Six Noble Houses?”
Six families who assisted the Four Great Houses and boasted considerable influence on the continent.
They were called the Six Noble Houses.
“You’ve really become a different person,young master. Have you suddenly taken an interest in politics?”
“Just tell me if you know or not.”
“I know to some extent.”
Indeed, as befitting someone with the surname Perer, who had served as Samael’s steward for a long time, Lihan knew a lot.
All the families Lihan mentioned were in my memory.
Three hundred years ago, those who participated and made their mark in the Land of Death expedition.
Although the great knights and mages of that time had met their deaths as cold corpses, the potential of their families had been passed down through the generations.
The ominous premonition I had hoped was wrong was gradually becoming a reality.
“…Damn it.”
Three hundred years ago, the otherworldly beings descended upon the “Land of Death” in the northernmost part of the continent.
The demons, who in just a week trampled the territory of the demihumans and brought humanity to the brink of extinction.
On the northern frontlines, it was Samael who shed the most blood, facing the relentless onslaught of those abhorrent demons head-on.
Even after the demon invasion was repelled.
Only Samael.
Committed all the family’s resources to the “Land of Death” expedition to eradicate the demons.
Unlike the other Great or Noble Houses.
Ignoring the family’s restoration and the continent’s political landscape.
For the sole reason that they posed a threat to humanity.
Foolishly. Leading the entire family’s forces into battle.
I forced down the bile rising in my throat and asked Lihan.
“Have you, by any chance, heard of the Final Expedition?”
Lihan shook his head.
“I don’t think so. It’s the first time I’ve heard of it. By the way, young master, you don’t look well. Shouldn’t you rest?”
“…”
So, the outcome of that grand humanitarian effort was the current state of Samael.
It seemed that the brutal expedition had become a forgotten tale, unrecognized and unacknowledged by anyone.
With no survivors, there would be no one to tell the tale.
“…I understand. I want to rest, so you may leave.”
“Young Master.”
Lihan paused as he was about to leave, tilting his head.
“I think I might have heard of the Final Expedition or something. Was it in the Land of Death folktales? I think I saw it there.”
I straightened my posture and asked.
“Folktales? Tell me more. What was mentioned about Samael?”
“Hmm, I read it in a picture book when I was young, so I don’t remember it clearly. But I’m sure there wasn’t a single mention of our family, right? I think I heard that the Balthar family brought peace.”
“…What?”
“I think that’s right.”
Balthar brought peace? Out of nowhere?
I remembered the end of Sword Saint Magnus Balthar.
I had clearly seen him, in his last moments, struck down by Verkes and turned into a cold corpse.
Suddenly, I was wide awake.
‘No one survived.’
Everyone had died. I was the last survivor of the expedition. If what Lihan said was true…
Could it be that the story had been distorted by outsiders?
As soon as the question arose, the inconsistencies I had overlooked came flooding in.
There was a sense of dissonance that couldn’t be explained simply by Samael’s decline.
Even if Samael had committed all their resources, the legacy of their ancestors should have remained. But…
‘I destroyed the Ifrit Temple with my own hands. There were no grimoires.’
The more I pondered the words of the head of the family at the time.
It felt as if they were denying Samael’s magic itself.
* * *
I read the picture book Lihan brought me over and over again.
It was a simple story.
Balthar defeated ‘scary beings’ and brought peace to the world. There was no mention of Samael.
I sat there in a daze for a long time before finally coming to my senses and stepping outside. The cold mountain wind whipped at my cheeks.
“Damn it.”
Ten years of expedition.
With the grand notion of protecting humanity, we marched on, trampling over the corpses of our comrades, drenched in blood, until we all went mad to the point of becoming numb to death. The ending of that cruel and desperate expedition had been completely distorted.
I don’t know.
What happened after that?
If the Balthar family had twisted the story to their liking, I would hold them accountable. But what infuriated me even more was…
“Unlucky Pelleer. You fools of Samael. See, I was right. No one remembers now.”
The anger towards my past comrades surged within me.
If even one or two high-ranking mages had remained, Samael wouldn’t have fallen this far.
The conviction to protect humanity? What did it leave behind?
The result of sacrificing lives for such a belief was a family so utterly ruined that no one even remembers it.
It’s their own fault.
Serves them right… Damn it.
* * *
Lost in thought, I found myself halfway up Mount Khaoto.
The flat training ground came into view. It was in the same spot as before. However, the ornate decorations and mana refineries that once surrounded it were nowhere to be seen.
“Should I just turn a blind eye and run away?”
Far from basking in the family’s glory, it seems I’m the one who needs to save Samael.
Let’s think about this rationally.
What was my original dream?
I wanted to live a prosperous life, not take responsibility for a fallen family.
I detest such things.
“Seriously, I’d be better off working as a mercenary.”
Why should I, who’s been reincarnated, have to bear the burden of Samael?
‘Yes, that would be better.’
As I descended from the training ground, I felt as if someone was grabbing my ankles and pulling me back.
Hallucinations started echoing in my head.
“Shut up!”
The voices grew louder even as I covered my ears.
— Pull yourself together, Crazy Mage Squad Commander. If you lose consciousness now, it’s death. Go get a healer. We need to save Ruin… We need to save Ruin, I say!
In my fading consciousness, the memory of Pelleer’s shouting overlapped with…
— Commander, what do you want to do when we return alive? I’m going to retire and just live a quiet life researching mental magic. Haha.
The faces of those unlucky Crazy Mage Squad bastards flickered before my eyes.
Why did the faces of my subordinates, who even in death wore peaceful expressions, suddenly come to mind?
“Damn it, really.”
Perhaps the target of my simmering rage…
Was not my past comrades.
“Those idiots are clinging even in death. Fine, I’ll do it! I’ll just help a little. Just a little.”
Just enough to help Samael stand on its own two feet, and then I’ll run away.
And to do that, I need to get stronger first. I need to be strong enough to help or run away.
The training ground was right in front of me. I started running without hesitation.
What’s the most basic foundation of magic?
Mental Fortitude? A genius brain?
No. The answer is physical strength.
Enemies won’t wait patiently while you chant your spells.
Those who leave the frontlines to the knights and comfortably cast spells from behind cannot be called true mages.
To maintain focus and complete spells even in extreme situations, strong physical stamina is essential.
‘It should be the time when the apprentices are filling the training ground…’
I cursed as I ran aimlessly around the empty training ground.
I pushed my physical limits.
I expelled the stagnant energy, but my body was so weak that sweat poured down like rain even after a short run.
As my breath hitched in my throat, I rotated the circle of my heart.
The mana of nature resonated within me, swirling in harmony.
In that state, I envisioned flames in my mind.
“Blazing flames, Fireball.”
Fwoosh—
A flame the size of my palm flickered into existence at my fingertips, then faded away.
Not bad for a first attempt with this pathetic body.
“Phew.”
I collapsed onto the training ground, sprawled out like a starfish, gasping for air.
As the world spun around me from dizziness, I heard footsteps approaching from afar.
‘Hmm?’
I sat up and looked ahead to see a sturdy man approaching. A familiar face.
Tiger eyebrows.
The one who used to glare at me with disdain beside the head of the family.
Even now, he doesn’t seem to have any fondness for me.
Instinctively, I got up. Sometimes, negative premonitions consume my body, and this was one of those times.
My instincts, honed from ten years of fighting demons, were sounding the alarm. Run away, they urged.
“Ruin.”
I tried to ignore the voice and flee, but my body wouldn’t budge. An invisible, sticky force held me firmly in place.
“I’ve been looking all over for you, and here you are.”
His tone was cold, devoid of any emotion. I turned my head to face him. Up close, he was even more intimidating than I had imagined.
“Who are you? I don’t quite remember.”
“Hector Kart.”
“Kart?”
I knew the surname Kart.
High-ranking mages who had served as protectors of the Samael bloodline for generations.
“What business does a protector have with me?”
“Looks like you’re having withdrawal symptoms. Sweating profusely like that is quite unsightly.”
The disdainful look in the protector’s eyes as he stared at me started to get on my nerves.
“Your gaze is quite hostile, Ruin.”
“I think I should be the one saying that to you.”
“Tsk.”
With a click of his tongue, the invisible force constricting my body tightened.
It was a familiar sensation.
Fourth-circle wind magic, Binder.
To cast fourth-circle magic without chanting requires at least sixth-circle mastery.
The fact that Samael still had a capable mage was surprising, but it wasn’t important right now.
“What are you doing?”
Hector replied quietly, “This is to fix your rotten mindset. From now on, I will control all your actions. Questions are not allowed.”
“You’ve gone mad.”
Hector’s eyebrows twitched.
“What did you just say?”
“Even the family rules have gone to hell. Who are you to dictate? By what authority does a protector of Samael control the eldest son?”
“…Interesting words. It seems your head has grown in my absence. Now I understand why you’re acting so insolent.”
Hector stared into my eyes for a moment before saying,
“Insolent fool. Let’s see if you even understand the meaning of your words. Let’s see if you can avoid bowing your head.”
“I said, cut the crap.”
A chilling smirk slowly crept across Hector’s face.
“Kneel.”
An immense pressure, like a wave, crashed over me.
The sticky, invisible force intensified its grip. Gravity magic. It felt like a massive boulder was crushing my body, pressing me down.
‘Damn it. This bastard, really.’
Crack— The sound of my footsteps digging deep into the ground.
I wanted to collapse and bury my knees in the earth. If I forced myself to resist, my knees would surely give out.
“Bow your head.”
My vision blurred.
I bit my lip, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. The smell of blood helped me cling to consciousness.
My eyes felt bloodshot, my vision turning red.
Yes, this crimson world.
“Kekeke!”
Laughter escaped my lips. It was a familiar sight, a situation I had experienced countless times until recently.
No one else might remember that hellish expedition, but I do. My body remembers. I am Ruin, the Crazy Mage.
Through my crimson vision, I glared at Hector with a smile.
Hector’s expression was slowly changing.
* * *
Hector Kart, the vice-tower master of the Red Magic Tower, frowned as he looked at the young man before him.
It was clear that the situation was unfolding quite differently from what he had anticipated.
‘He’s resisting?’
The combination of [Binder] and [Point Gravity].
Even as low-level spells, they were not something an ordinary person could withstand. Exposure to either one alone would be unbearable for most.
Yet, both spells were being cast simultaneously.
The pressure the young man was feeling must be unimaginable.
Hector had expected him to submit within seconds…
But hadn’t it already been over a minute?
‘There’s no sign of him forming a Core.’
Hector slowly examined Ruin. Bloodshot eyes, knee joints that looked ready to buckle.
‘Is it purely willpower?’
The determination to endure even if his body were to break.
It was impossible for the Ruin he knew, no, even for a highly trained Red Tower member, it would be impossible with willpower alone.
‘…Strange.’
Regardless of the reason.
Seeing Ruin laughing like a madman, Hector had to revise his assessment.
“Fine.”
With a wave of his hand, the pressure on Ruin vanished. Hector tore a healing parchment and used it on Ruin.
The wounds healed instantly.
Ruin coughed up blood-tinged saliva, then took a breath and glared at Hector. Hector spoke with an indifferent expression.
“I’ll tell you. It was the Head’s order.”
“…”
“Ruin, I was ordered to make you worthy of Samael. To remove your apprentice status.”
After a moment of thought, Ruin coughed up blood and let out a hollow laugh.
“It seems even you find it funny. Or have you finally become scared?”
“No.”
Ruin glared at Hector.
“You were told to make me worthy of Samael?”
“Yes.”
“And that means merely removing my apprentice status?”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I’ll do it alone. It’s better than learning from you.”
Hector leaned in close to Ruin’s face. Then, with a tiger-like intimidating aura, he growled, “Weakling. Don’t expect me to show mercy again. Do you even know who I am?”
A suffocating pressure emanated from him once more. But again, Ruin didn’t flinch from Hector’s aura.
“Shall we make a bet?”
“What kind of bet?”
“Where are the apprentices? I’ll surpass them within a week.”
“What?”
Instead of answering, Hector threw back his head and roared with laughter. As if the sight of someone who didn’t even know the basics of magic spouting such nonsense was unbearably funny.
“You’re amusing. And if you fail?”
“I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Juvenile bravado is enough once. Follow me.”
“…”
A frog in a well.
Hector dismissed Ruin’s words as the bravado of a young man ignorant of the world.
And he wasn’t the only one who thought so.
‘He knows nothing.’
Ruin watched Hector’s retreating figure, lost in thought.
What it means to be worthy of Samael.
What Samael truly represents.
That man had no clue.
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HEL SCANS
[Translator -Clara]
[Proofreader – Prøks]
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