The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower-Chapter 298

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Chapter 298: Primordial Evil (13)

“Gr–grrk!”

Belpher strained to force out more malice, trying desperately to withstand the flood of light pouring onto him.

If he could endure—just once—he was certain he could seize the initiative with his endless reservoir of malice.

Hadn't he secured the advantage 842 years ago in exactly the same way?

‘But… but why…?’

Belpher’s pupils trembled.

Every trace of malice that touched the falling radiance melted away like snowflakes dropped onto a warm stove.

It felt as though his entire body had been stripped bare.

It was something wholly incompatible with his understanding of the world.

“L-light grows stronger only when darkness deepens… that is how it has always been.”

Light and darkness were supposed to be opposites—forces that consume one another.

And yet his opponent was trampling the very concept itself.

How?

He could not fathom it.

But then—

—Your statement isn’t wrong, but that principle only applies when the two sides possess equal standing.

Itaca’s voice made the meaning clear.

Right now, using Oscar Crucian as his vessel, he stood far above Belpher in “rank.”

—What I should have done 842 years ago… I can finally do now. Vessel, finish this.

Receiving that request, Oscar simply clenched his fist.

The flood of radiance swirling through the space transformed into tiny particles, drifting according to his will.

“W-what…?”

Belpher quickly looked around.

White motes of light flowed through the space like a great river—

No, more accurately, it was as if the wind itself had turned visible.

‘If that touches me… I die.’

His instincts screamed.

Belpher immediately abandoned the idea of fighting head-on and searched instead for any path to survival.

‘Hostages?’

His gaze fell upon the other members of the expedition.

If he took them hostage—could he survive?

Under normal circumstances his body would have rushed forward the moment the thought took shape.

But now, he remained frozen.

“…”

Belpher knew.

If he charged toward those hostages now, he would certainly die.

The divine “wind” flowing around them would grind him to dust.

Thud.

In the end, he chose to kneel before his enemy.

“Huh?”

“Ah.”

The expedition members were stunned.

Belpher, a Demon King infamous for cruelty and arrogance, was kneeling to another being.

No one back home would believe such a story even if they swore it was true.

“What is this?”

Oscar looked down at Belpher—who knelt with all his malice drawn back into himself—and asked.

Belpher drooped his head and answered:

“…‘When light shines upon darkness, the darkness comprehends not the glory. And the Lord grieved; yet when the darkness confessed its sin, He rejoiced and forgave. El Sia.’”

Oscar frowned at the sudden scripture-like recitation.

Aine Fenerbahce explained.

“It’s from the Book of Chris, chapter 3, verse 5.”

“And why is he reciting scripture now…?”

“Because it’s amusing.”

Belpher answered in a voice drained of all strength—like a worn-out office worker beaten down by life.

“…I was once a saint. A good man who wished happiness for others. But with one misplaced choice, I strayed beyond redemption.”

He turned slightly.

“A moment ago, as death loomed, I sought to take those humans hostage. Pathetic. Vile. All for the sake of living a little longer. When I realized it… I found myself utterly shameful.”

“…”

Oscar quietly listened.

Everything Belpher said was true.

The demon had indeed scanned the expedition for suitable hostages only moments earlier.

—Foolish child. Only now do you understand…

Itaca’s voice carried genuine sorrow.

Though they had fought to the death, they had once been comrades.

Belpher slowly lifted his face.

Hot tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Kill me. I cannot stand before Him after the sins I’ve committed… But at least… let me die as a human.”

—…

Itaca fell silent.

Oscar then snapped his fingers lightly.

Flash—

The holy “wind” soaring through the air shot upward.

Everyone shut their eyes at the brilliance.

“I’ll grant your request. But just in case, I’ll cover your eyes for the execution.”

“…It doesn’t matter.”

Belpher didn’t even bother to close his eyes.

He was already blind, his sight burned away by radiance—yet he still gazed upward, as though looking upon a god he could no longer see.

“…”

Step. Step.

He heard Oscar approaching.

But nothing appeared in his blind vision.

Then, right before him—

“Any last words?”

“…A prayer.”

Belpher slowly closed his ruined eyes and pressed his hands together.

He offered his final prayer.

“Judge me for my folly.

I have lost my way,

and failed to see the evil within myself.

Yet here I kneel and beg—

Though I cannot die a saint…

Please remember that I die as a human.”

When the prayer ended, he lowered his hands.

Then he raised his head proudly, ready to accept death—

Flash.

His eyes opened.

The blindness was gone.

‘Now!’

Oscar’s face—softened by pity—reflected in his revived gaze.

‘You dare.’

How dare he look at him like that.

Before Oscar could react—

Before the divine winds drifting like stardust could touch him—

Belpher launched a needle of malice, honed to the thinnest, deadliest point.

Squelch.

It pierced Oscar’s heart without resistance.

“…”

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Oscar, seemingly unaware of what had happened, slowly touched his chest.

Belpher burst into manic laughter.

“K-khh… Khaha! KHAAHAHAHA! Such foolish humans and divine power!”

Repent?

As if he would ever truly repent.

It had all been an act—

A ploy for a single chance to survive.

And the gambit had worked.

Electric euphoria ran up his spine.

“Ah, ahhh…!”

He won.

He survived.

The 800-year nightmare was over.

What could he do with this victory?

How strong could he become now?

He trembled with ecstatic liberation.

“All this joy… I owe to you.”

Because Oscar had been strong, the fear was great.

Because he overturned that fear, the thrill was intoxicating.

Belpher smiled and looked at his victim—

“…”

Something was wrong.

There was no blood.

Even with a perfect strike to the heart—no blood?

Before he could process the unease—

Ssshhh—

The Oscar before him dissolved like mist.

And several steps behind, the real Oscar stood, speaking.

“What did I tell you? Why would I trust anything you say?”

—Mm…

Itaca groaned sadly.

Belpher’s eyes widened.

“Did you… not die? A mirage? An illusion?”

Oscar had doubted even his repentance?

Had set a trap for him?

All along?

Belpher stammered.

“W-Why?!”

If Oscar never believed him, why hear his confession at all?

Why wait?

Oscar answered plainly.

“If it were just me, I wouldn’t have listened. I would have killed you the moment you started talking. But…”

Itaca wanted desperately to believe Belpher could repent—

to believe that even one who had fallen so far could still choose redemption.

So Oscar indulged the charade.

“But fundamentally, I don’t trust creatures like you.”

There are many things in the world that can be reformed.

But anything whose name begins with “demon” cannot be fixed.

Even if it could, he had no intention of trying.

‘Breaking them is easier and leaves no loose ends.’

Oscar raised his hand.

“Fall. Breath of Frosted Light.”

The white divine winds descended.

Warm with divinity.

Cold with frost.

“Ah… ahhh…”

Belpher watched the white clouds fall toward him.

Two sensations filled his mind—

His final thoughts:

‘Warm… and cold…’

And that was all Belpher left behind at the end of his long life.

* * *

“Huff…! Huff…!”

Lloyd Schultz awoke in his bed—inside his cabin aboard the airship.

‘Master?’

The moment consciousness returned, the final words he’d heard replayed in his mind.

—Even if everyone else dies, you and Heavenly Sword must return alive.

That stubbornly gentle gaze…

The face had changed, but the expression was the same as the one he saw decades ago—

The one that haunted his dreams for twenty-one years.

‘Damn it…’

He had spent twenty-one years grinding himself into strength,

all because he never wanted to feel that helplessness again.

Yet here he was.

Unchanged.

Unable to protect his master.

“Damn it!”

His cracked lips split, bleeding as he bit down in frustration.

Lloyd forced himself out of bed.

‘There’s a chance…’

He was still alive.

Perfectly conscious.

That meant—

maybe—

just maybe, his master had defeated that thing.

‘Yes… if it’s him…’

The man who had slain even the Great Demon Emperor.

Staggering into the corridor, Lloyd made his way to the deck.

Unlike when they’d entered the labyrinth, the deck was empty.

Quiet.

Lonely.

He approached the railing—

A presence appeared behind him.

‘Master?’

He turned quickly—

and saw a familiar face.

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