Chapter 35

The fear and dread people harbored toward the Saxon ducal house was by no means exaggerated.

Even though the Black Tower under the Black Duke regime was pursuing a more conciliatory policy than before, the darkness of the old era that their clan had built up was not something shallow enough to vanish overnight.

The Book of the Black Goat was the very embodiment of evil, symbolizing the darkness of their clan.

‘Only the Master may enter the Library of Hell.’

The underground passage of the Apostle Palace. Recalling his promise to Cardinal Nikolai, Dale moved forward. Staircases shrouded in deep darkness stretched endlessly.

‘Furthermore, the Church shall bear no responsibility whatsoever for events occurring within Hell…’

Only one grimoire could be brought out. And in exchange, Dale and the House of Saxony swore eternal silence regarding the ‘Church’s shameful secrets’.

The above was precisely the bargain struck through the contract magic the White Tower prides itself on… the “Geas.”

An oath sworn by the gods. The binding oath made with the hearts of the two contracting parties, Dale and Nikolai, as collateral.

As long as Geas remained active, the maintenance of secrecy and trust was beyond doubt. The moment either party became aware of breaking the contract, Geas’s curse would activate, causing their heart to burst.

‘It wasn’t like the information was worth much anyway, even if I went around blabbing about it.’

Spreading the truth known only to the hero now, and destroying a few high-ranking cardinals, will change nothing. But since the Church is bound to them as a community of fate through the Geas, it has no choice but to become an ally of the House of Saxon.

Winning the Church’s heart is akin to winning the Goddess’s heart.

What Dale obtained in the Sistine Papal States was a harvest so bountiful, the phrase “killing two birds with one stone” scarcely does it justice.

That is, assuming he could escape this place unscathed.

At the far end of the underground passage, where the crimson lamp’s twilight flickered. The entrance to hell. A stone gateway engraved with ominous words blocked Dale’s path.

[Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.]

And the moment he read those words.

「Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

In that place where not even a whisper of wind stirred, the artifact ‘Shadow Cloak’, disguised as a black cloak, began to writhe. Suppressing the shadows dancing along the shadows beneath his feet, Dale raised his head.

It was the resonance of darkness.

After raising his head, he stepped forward without a moment’s hesitation.

Beyond the gates of hell.

It’s not called ‘Hell’ for no reason.

A colossal dungeon disguised as a library.

And the banned books imprisoned there were never designated for trivial reasons like having impure ideas.

They were ‘Forbidden Grimoires’ possessing immense power in themselves, wielding that power solely in the form of malice. Uncontrollable artifacts that destroyed their owners’ minds and summoned calamity.

Yet, just as a renowned knight is accompanied by a legendary sword, for a mage, a magic tome is akin to a knight’s sword.

Who could blame a knight for desiring a splendid sword? Even if it were a demonic blood-stained blade drenched in the blood of countless souls.

Mages are no different. No, their yearning for a grimoire was far beyond anything a knight could ever hope to achieve.

‘A mage’s sword…’

Take, for instance, the 『Scale of the Heart』 held by Dale’s father, the Black Duke, or the 『Book of Blood』 boasted by the Crimson Duke.

In the suffocating darkness, Dale stretched out his arm. Searching for a single grimoire that would truly become ‘his sword’.

“……!”

It was then. A jet-black blade shot up from beneath Dale’s feet, spinning in circles around him. Sensing an ominous presence lurking beyond the darkness.

“Gwaaah…”

It wasn’t hard to guess its identity. The guardian of the Library of Hell. A puppet who, even in death, swore to become a sword protecting the church by its own will.

The Mummy Knight.

Armed with white armor and a sword tempered by the sacred power of white mages, and preserved through meticulous postmortem embalming akin to soaking in formalin, it bore none of the typical ugliness of a corpse.

A white specter resurrected by the sanctity and blessings of white mages and priests.

But what exactly distinguishes that being from the ‘Death Knight’ that the Black Magic Tower boasts about, given that it’s a puppet moved by magical power, unable to die even in death?

‘Truly…’

In ancient times, there existed the ‘Black-and-White Magic Tower,’ which explored the principles of life and death. Within it, two opposing views on life and death divided into two factions, leading to a great battle.

A battle later named the Great Battle of Black-and-White by historians.

And the defeated Black faction, along with their leader ‘Immortal Frederick’, were exiled to the northern wilderness.

As the price of defeat, the Church and the White Mage Tower confiscated the Book of the Black Goat he possessed. He swore to become a shield protecting the Empire and the continent for generations to come, standing against the Demon King’s domain in the north.

He was called the first Black Tower Master, Frederick of Saxony.

This marked the origin of the House of Saxon and the Black Tower, and furthermore, the deeply rooted entity of darkness passed down to the generation of Dale.

Departing from the White Tower that pursued the light of wisdom, the Black Tower sought truth within the darkness──.

‘There is no difference whatsoever.’

It was true.

The standoff with the Mummy Knight did not last long.

Thud!

The mummy knight stomped the ground. The sacred sword in its hand swung down.

Not the dark magic wielded by the Black Mage Tower, but a white specter powered by the light magic prized by white mages.

It sensed the water and dark magic within Dale and deemed him an enemy to be eliminated.

‘The Church bears no responsibility whatsoever for events unfolding in Hell.’

Even if one met a sudden, violent death here, it would be solely Dale’s fault.

The White Mage Tower’s “Geas” is like a 21st-century insurance contract—its clauses always contain loopholes to slip through like an eel.

‘I can’t just let them go back as they please.’

Clang!

Suddenly, a jet-black blade erupted from beneath Dale’s feet. He blocked the swinging sword of the mummy knight, then thrust off the ground to create distance. In the darkness where one couldn’t see even a few inches ahead—a place where ordinary people couldn’t hide their bewilderment and terror—Dale never felt fear or panic.

Instead, a sense of liberation made him feel as if his body would fly.

He didn’t need to be a mere third-circle mage, nor did he need to package himself as the empire’s greatest genius or a prodigy from a duke’s house.

Not caring about others’ gazes, simply showing your true self as you are.

Leaving behind the wildly fluttering ‘Shadow Cloak,’ Dale opened his mouth.

“Shadow Bullet.”

It was not the crystallized cold he had shown before.

A bullet formed from the shadow cloak, the dark malice writhing at his feet.

And it certainly didn’t stop at a single shot. Following the fluttering hem of his cloak, he meticulously crafted shadow blades into bullet shapes and flicked his fingers. Like pulling the trigger of a heavy machine gun, a hail of bullets made of shadow rained down.

The priest’s sacred magic-forged armor was crushed into a mangled mess, shattered like a beehive. The pallid flesh, preserved like formalin, was no exception. Black bullets burrowed into the mummy knight’s body, beginning to gnaw away at its insides like vermin.

Literally becoming ‘living bullets of darkness’.

It was magic filled with an evil unlike anything seen before.

Leaving the lifeless mummy knight behind, Dale moved forward. In this hell that resembled a labyrinth, he sought to obtain the true treasure he desired.

A book labeled as containing so-called ‘dangerous ideas’ doesn’t directly harm or devour people.

But a ‘Grimoire’ is different.

Magic is the power to transform ideas into reality, and just as an author’s thoughts inhabit a book, a grimoire is ultimately a book imbued with the magician’s thoughts.

‘Banned Grimoires’ refer specifically to those among grimoires that are filled with ‘extremely malicious and dangerous ideas’.

That was precisely why this place was called the Library of Hell.

A twisted otherworld warped by powerful malice and corrupted thoughts.

‘Finding one’s way properly in a place like this is nearly impossible.’

But what needed to be done was all too clear.

He condensed the cold magic, crystallizing it into an icy blade, then brought it down across his own palm.

Thud.

A drop of blood fell along the wound.

“I, Dale of Saxon.”

The blood of the Saxon lineage, inheriting the darkness.

“The rightful descendant of the clan inheriting the blood of the Immortal Lord declares this here.”

Drip, drip.

“…O black mountain goat of the forest, mother to a thousand young.”

Drip, drip, drip.

“I command you to fulfill the pact you made with the clan of darkness and reveal yourself before me.”

And just as a pool of blood began to form at Dale’s feet.

“Blood! Blood! It’s blood possessing immense power!”

“Fresh wizard’s blood!”

“It’s seeking a contract with us!”

“Child, come to me! I shall grant you power!”

From all directions, whispers began to sound, like hallucinations.

In this place where the boundary between reality and illusion blurred, the thoughts of the mages were drawn to Dale’s temptation. Like a pack of piranhas smelling blood in the water.

It was at that very moment.

“Get out of the way! That child is my contract partner!”

The whispering of the books ceased, and at last, a powerful malevolence so intense it sent shivers down the spine descended.

“I can feel it—that hatred and murderous intent! The stench of slaughter!”

And the surrounding scenery shifted.

The ‘world of ideas’ dwelling within the grimoire unfolded before Dale.

The world within the book.

Corpses strewn everywhere, severed arms and legs, scattered entrails. A landscape of slaughter stretching endlessly beyond the horizon. And from within the piles of corpses, the avatar of the grimoire revealed itself.

─ I shall slaughter every last one of your enemies.

It was the executioner, wielding a blood-red decapitation axe.

─ I will celebrate with a festival of corpses and a sea of blood from those who stand in your way.

Given this scene, there was only one magical tome that could be inferred.

‘The Book of Massacre.’

The infamous blood mage Dushang—a blood-soaked grimoire containing his entire mental world and dangerous ideology. The ultimate secret of heinous blood magic, embodying the essence of mass slaughter. Its power and value were beyond description.

‘Only one grimoire can be taken.’

Nevertheless, Dale shook his head softly.

“What I seek is not you.”

And he answered the grimoire, The Book of Massacre.

“Step back.”

─ Do you dare refuse me?

Dale nodded once more, and the Book of Massacre… the avatar of the grimoire brandished its blood-red axe menacingly. For Dale’s refusal meant only one thing.

─ And yet you think you can escape this place alive!

The executioner’s blood-red axe emitted a chilling glint.

“I can leave if I want to.”

Dale nodded indifferently. Leaving the endless landscape of slaughter behind, he fused the biting cold with the refined darkness of magic.

The blood-red world contained within the grimoire, The Book of Massacre. Yet to Dale, it was a truly dull world that failed to stir even the slightest emotion.

Before the memory of that day, that white and dark winter night.