Chapter 36: Last Will (5)

Astaroth stared at the gray-haired cadet in disbelief, eyes wide with shock. “How?”

The Veil of Illusion shrouding the area wasn’t something that could be shattered easily, even if every professor in the Mage Division joined forces. It wasn’t because the professors were incompetent; Astaroth had simply poured an absurd number of sacrifices, no less than two hundred, into forming this barrier.

If people just went near the veil a little, it would draw them into an unending trance of illusions and hallucinations. Yet, this cadet had pierced through it so effortlessly.

Dale nonchalantly answered, “You said it yourself, didn’t you? Illusions don’t work on me.”

Astaroth’s thoughts drifted back to a class from a few weeks ago. The illusion spell he cast had vanished as if it were a bundle of paper thrown into open flames—just gone instantly. Back then, he had intentionally held back because it was only a class exercise, but even considering that, the illusion had dissolved far too easily.

Yes, it’s almost as if it contained the divine power of the Saintess’s Seven Eyes.No, that’s impossible, the demon thought.

This fleeting thought made Astaroth scoff involuntarily. A mere cadet harboring such divine power? A bottom-ranked cadet who had remained dead last in the entire grade for two years straight? There was no way!

Astaroth looked at Dale. “While I don’t know the cause, clearly, illusions have no effect on you.”

If someone could break through a veil crafted from the lives of two hundred demons in a matter of moments, then it was only logical to conclude they had an immunity to illusions.

“Kind of troublesome for you, huh?” Dale replied.

“Oh? You speak as if you know me well.” Astaroth mused.

With a voice heavy and dark, Dale said, “I do know you well. The Archbishop of Dreams and Fantasies, Astaroth.”

Astaroth went speechless.

Iris gasped, her eyes wide with shock. “W-wait, what did you just say, Dale?”

She had suspected that Professor Morpheus was a demon ever since he cast the purple veil and knocked out Camilla and the children with illusion magic. But she had never suspected, not even for a moment, that he was one of the six Archbishops—demons standing at the peak.

“Hmm? Ahh!

” Astaroth nodded slowly, as if he had finally connected the dots. “So it was you. The cockroach that ruined my plans.”

“Well, all I did was rough up a few morons hammering curses into a perfectly good cave wall,” Dale replied.

“Hah. After slaughtering my precious subordinates, you speak without a hint of remorse?”

Hearing what he thought was utter bullshit, Dale said, “Precious? Please. They weren’t your precious subordinates. They were tools, tools you used to inject curses into the ley line network.”

Astaroth’s eyes glinted with interest. “Oh? You know about that too? You’re no ordinary cadet, are you?”

“And you’re no ordinary professor either. So let’s call it even.”

“Hahaha. Wonderful. Things are finally getting interesting. You need variables like this to keep things fun.”

Astaroth knew his current plan wasn’t flawless. Releasing demonic monsters during the festival to create chaos, then stealing the Seven Eyes amidst the confusion—it was bold, reckless even, nothing compared to the meticulously crafted schemes he had been working on for years. He was prepared for the risk of things going sideways. But he had never imagined this risk would come from a mere cadet instead of a professor.

Regardless, the Veil of Illusion had been breached. The unexpected variable had revealed itself. The even worse part was that, to Astaroth, whose main weapons were illusions and mind-affecting spells, this variable was like a natural enemy.

“A foe completely immune to illusions, now that’s a problem.” Astaroth let out a deep sigh and shook his head. Fighting someone like that was like telling a lifelong swordsman to face an opponent barehanded. “But still…”

A wicked grin spread across the demon’s face. The soul stigmata of the Demon God glowed on his left chest, radiating ominous violet light like wings unfolding. “That doesn’t mean the outcome will change.”

Even if his primary weapon, illusions, was off the table, he was still an Archbishop, a demon who reigned over tens of thousands of others. The spread of violet energy trembled violently, sending a wave crashing toward Dale.

Dale yanked Iris into his arms and said, “Hold on tight!”

“Huh? Kyah!”

He leaped away just in time. Mana surged through his body, making him light as a feather. Then, channeling that mana into the soles of his feet, he activated Berald Combat Style: Wind Step. His body soared, as though he had stepped on the air itself.

The spot where they had just stood was swallowed by the violet wave. The earth twisted and buckled, crushed like soft clay clamped between giant hands.

That much destruction from just a burst of raw mana, Dale thought.

He clicked his tongue as he stared at the warped ground. That attack was just a pulse of mana, basic mana release that even a first-year cadet could do. But with Astaroth’s overwhelming mana reserves—to be exact, dark mana reserves—even that simple technique held the force of a siege weapon.

“Stay right here,” Dale said to Iris.

“W-wait, Dale! Don’t tell me you’re thinking of fighting that Archbishop?” she asked.

“What if I don’t?”

“I-I mean, we could, um, call the professors—”

“They won’t get in. That veil’s still blocking them,” Dale explained.

Unlike Dale, they weren’t immune to illusions. They couldn’t break through the Veil of Illusion. And there was no way Dale could escape the veil with Iris in tow. Astaroth would never let them.

Besides, how could Dale leave the unconscious Camilla and the orphanage kids behind? This left him only one option. Take Astaroth down. Here and now.

He said, “I’ll deal with him. You put up a barrier so that Camilla and the kids don’t get caught in the crossfire.”

“B-but…” Iris tried to protest, but one glance at the collapsed Camilla and the children made her bite her lip instead. “Please, be careful, Dale.”

“I will.” Dale took a step toward Astaroth.

Astaroth stood with his arms crossed, casually watching the cadet. A twisted sneer curled on his lips. “Done playing hero?”

“Hardly.” Dale pulled a glass vial filled with blue liquid from his coat and downed it in one gulp. His heart pounded as if it were about to explode, and a surge of savage mana roared through his body. Then, the empty vial hit the ground and shattered. “Now the real fight begins.”

A thunderous explosion ripped through the air, shaking the earth. The world around him seemed to stretch and blur as he launched forward like a bullet.

“Ugh!” Astaroth hastily retreated, caught off guard by Dale’s sudden acceleration.

Dale chased him down and swung his sword in a fierce arc. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The demon cast a web of violet energy to shield himself. Dale’s sword, engulfed in radiant white light, clashed with the violet aura, unleashing a deafening roar that shook the ground beneath them.

As expected, the boost in mana output is on another level, Dale thought.

Unlike the diluted version he had used back at the Demon Cult’s hideout, this Soul Stigmata Amplifier Potion, made from a mana-infused Seven Star Herb, was in a different class. It would have been better for him if he had a few more doses, but unfortunately, that one vial was all he had.

The effect of the amplifier would last five minutes. Within that time, Dale had to defeat Astaroth no matter what.

Brilliant white light surged from Dale’s sword, slicing clean through the violet aura. It was the Sun Sword Style Sixth Form: White Radiance.

The radiant arc grazed Astaroth’s cheek, tearing flesh and drawing blood. Astaroth touched the bleeding cut on his cheek and let out a low, bitter laugh. “Well, well. You were hiding something, weren’t you?”

He had felt it, the explosive power boost the cadet had experienced after drinking the blue liquid. “This is getting more interesting than I expected.”

With a wide, excited grin, the demon summoned more of his dark mana. Violet energy, surging from the soul stigmata etched over his heart, lashed toward Dale as though it were a living beast.

“Hmph!”

Boom! Smash! Rumble!

Steel clashed with magic. White and violet light collided, intertwining in a maelstrom of power and sending shockwaves rippling across the battlefield.

“Ugh!” Iris hastily raised a barrier to shield Camilla and the children from the violent blasts. “Dale!”

The battle was too fast for her eyes to follow. The sheer intensity of the clash made something clear: it was no place for anyone to intervene. Yet, Dale was holding his own against an Archbishop. She had always known he was strong, but to be able to stand against someone of that caliber was shocking.

He’s incredible. Could he actually win?

Just as the thought crossed her mind, a bone-chilling sound tore through the air, and a hole the size of a human head was punched clean through Dale’s chest, blood gushing out. Time seemed to freeze. Dale’s body crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.

“D-Dale?” She called out his name in disbelief, her voice trembling, but no answer came, because no one could survive a wound like that. “A-ah! No…”

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees. “NOOOOOOOOO!!!”

The moment she saw Dale’s lifeless body fall to the ground, her mind went blank. Her scream, raw and full of soul-wrenching grief, ripped through the illusion-filled veil around them.

Astaroth wiped the blood from his mouth, catching his breath. “Truly, that was beyond expectation.”

From the beginning, he had sensed Dale wasn’t just any ordinary cadet, but to think he possessed the strength to injure a demon Archbishop? Most professors couldn’t even dream of doing that. Dale was so strong that Astaroth honestly would’ve preferred fighting the Bloodthirsty Hound or the Great Sage’s descendant.

“Still, it’s over.” The plan he had spent years crafting to claim the Seven Eyes had already veered off-course thanks to that unexpected variable, but in the end, the destination remained the same.

Astaroth turned his gaze toward Iris, who lay collapsed on the ground, sobbing. “Now then, shall I enjoy the spoils of victory?”

The tears streaming from her eyes and the despair in her gaze only intensified his burning desire to possess the Seven Eyes. That insatiable hunger gnawed at him, urging him forward. However, just as he gave in to that desire and took a step toward her, a wisp of gray ash drifted in from somewhere unseen and brushed across his cheek.

“Hm?”

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