Chapter 9

Wrapped in a black cloak, he moved the shadows rippling along its hem as a test. Infusing his own black magic, circulating along the circle of his heart.

What should have been shadows beneath his feet clearly took form and shot upward toward the ground. They held a sharp, blue-black edge like jet-black blades. It was truly a scene like jet-black spikes erupting from beneath his feet.

‘So this is how it felt.’

Testing the shadow blades’ movement, he recalled the scene from that day.

The entity that once wielded this artifact unleashed a shadow storm upon the land, as if a tidal wave were sweeping through. Furthermore, it enabled the shadows themselves to move as if they were living creatures.

That is the Shadow Creature.

Compared to that, the shadow blades Dale wields are nothing more than child’s play.

The iron rule is that drawing out an artifact’s power is proportional to one’s understanding of the equipment and the amount of magical energy infused into it.

‘It’ll take a little longer to get used to it.’

Unlike Dale, who swallowed his disappointment inwardly.

“Are you truly unaffected?”

Black Mage and Sepia could only gasp in horror. Black Mage’s shock was particularly profound. He was the continent’s foremost dark mage, a necromancer, and the pinnacle of the Black Mage Tower.

His mastery of the power of darkness was unparalleled.

And yet, to his very eyes, at least in Dale’s form, there was no sign of succumbing to the artifact’s ‘malice’.

No, on the contrary, he overwhelmed the artifact’s malevolence and forced it to submit beneath his feet. It was undeniably clear.

Shadow Cloak.

The cherished armor once favored by the high-ranking demon of the Demon King’s Realm, defeated by the ‘Hero of Another World’.

The shadows filled with malice dwelling within the cloak now bow in submission at the feet of a mere nine-year-old child.

‘He’s completely in control of its power.’

How is this possible? An artifact is an item imbued with a powerful will of its own. And the resolve required to maintain composure against that malice is beyond the reach of ordinary mental fortitude.

It certainly wasn’t something a nine-year-old child should be handling.

Originally, the Black Mage had envisioned starting with something like summoning low-level spirits, gradually raising the difficulty level. Even that wasn’t meant to happen overnight, but rather to pace itself with Dale’s journey toward adulthood.

‘What on earth is this child…’

Sepia was equally filled with astonishment.

But leaving behind the two adults’ incredibly complex thoughts, Dale simply beamed like a child. Just like any other child his age delighted by receiving a gift.

‘One isn’t enough.’

I was considering at least two or three pieces, depending on my greed. But only after thinking that far did I finally realize the two people’s gazes fixed on me.

‘……!’

He realized his mistake. For just a moment, he had indulged his greed without a care for how he might appear. That was the extent of the demon king’s artifact’s power—it held a magic that stirred Dale’s desires.

It wasn’t some easily understood metaphor.

“I’ll give you power! Power, you need power, right?! Wear me!”

Artifacts are objects imbued with powerful thoughts and emotions. That is why they awaken the dark feelings hidden within Dale’s heart, resonating with them and tempting him.

To the empire, forged coldly from hatred and malice──.

“Choose me! Grab this hilt now! Let’s slaughter them together!”

“You have someone you want to avenge, don’t you? I can feel your hatred, I can feel it!”

“Let’s wipe them out together! Choose me now!”

“You cowardly bastard! Quickly, wear me! Let’s kill them together!”

The Demon Sword that devours life. The Armor of the Undying. The Book of the Predator. The Necklace with a Mind of Its Own.

The spoils of those he had slain as a warrior, or even those he had collected independently from the duke’s household.

And Dale realized. This wasn’t all.

Beyond the room lay another passage, concealed by magic.

A secret chamber where an infinitely deep abyss, one that wouldn’t even deign to show its face to the artifacts here, writhed.

“…I’m sorry.”

Leaving their cries behind, Dale cautiously opened his mouth.

“I suddenly felt this inexplicable pull… It was as if this cloak was begging me to wear it.”

And then he spoke of the ‘50% truth’. After all, the two of them couldn’t possibly be unaware of the artifact’s will to choose its owner.

“…I never imagined I’d receive the ‘Call of the Artifact’.”

Only then did the Black Mage seem to grasp the situation, muttering to himself.

No matter how exceptional Dale’s talent was, he surely never imagined a nine-year-old child would receive the call of the ‘Shadow Cloak’.

Dale shook off the tempting cries of the artifacts calling to him and quietly nodded.

‘Controlling the power of the Shadow Cloak would be overwhelming for now.’

After all, the Duke’s possessions are soon to be Dale’s as well. The Black Duke’s treasures here are no exception. That’s why Dale felt no urgency.

“That cloak is yours from now on.”

The Black Duke said. Sepia still looked at Dale with concern.

“But controlling the power that cloak holds will be no easy task.”

“Yes.”

At those words, Dale finally steeled his resolve and nodded calmly. He lightly commanded the swirling shadows at his feet into submission.

The Duke of Saxony officially began summoning his knights to subdue the orc hordes that had invaded his duchy.

Meanwhile, teaching Dale how to control the artifact’s power fell entirely to the elf mage, Sepia.

Several days later, at dawn.

Master Sepia’s teachings were, after all, solely about controlling the artifact correctly. Therefore, there was another master who would teach him how to harness the power of this Shadow Cloak itself.

“Uncle Helmut!”

The training ground for the vassal knights of the Duchy of Saxony. When Dale appeared before Lord Helmut wearing the Shadow Cloak, he was so utterly horrified his face turned deathly pale.

“Prince Dale! That cloak—surely not!”

“Yes, it is.”

Seeing Helmut’s horrified face, Dale grinned mischievously like a prankster.

“I did hear the story from His Highness the Duke, but even after hearing it, I couldn’t believe it.”

Lord Helmut continued.

“I’m no longer a child, after all.”

It was truly a childish remark.

“Father has decided to take me along on the campaign against the orc hordes.”

“I’ve heard that story.”

Helmut bowed his head silently.

“Therefore, this Helmut will protect the Master’s safety, even if it costs me my life!”

“Thank you, sir.”

Dale smiled and continued.

“But surely you haven’t forgotten?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We agreed to have a duel, didn’t we?”

That day, their duel had been thwarted by his father’s appearance.

“Even to go to the battlefield, I can’t afford to neglect physical training.”

Swish.

Dale raised the shadow rippling beneath his feet as if to show it off.

“How about a real sword fight?”

Spinning shadow blades in circles around his feet, he boldly challenged Helmut.

Without a single sword hilt in hand.

Seeing this, Helmut was momentarily struck by a shock as if hit over the head with a hammer.

‘This will allow the young master to utilize his innate talent for swordsmanship!’

Even if he learned swordsmanship, Helmut believed it would remain merely a form of training, and that Dale would never wield a sword on the battlefield. But he was wrong.

The shadow sword unfolding before him. Right now, even if he couldn’t wield aura, Dale had obtained the beloved sword he would carry for life. Realizing this, the ‘ambition as a teacher’ toward Dale’s talent reared its head.

“Haha! You’d better brace yourself, young master!”

Helmut chuckled and placed his hand on the scabbard at his waist.

Swoosh.

The true blade, its edge gleaming blue, scattered a pale glint in the dawn sunlight.

The wind does not blow. Not even a whisper of breeze stirs the frozen air.

But the shadow cloak wrapped around Dale was fluttering as if caught in a howling gale.

As if it were a living creature itself.

And along the shadows cast by the fluttering cloak’s hem, countless shadows began to writhe.

‘Wielding the blades of shadow follows the same principles as wielding a sword.’

Shadows rippling around his feet began to take form, rising like blades.

The only difference is that the hand gripping the hilt is an ‘invisible hand’ formed from one’s own magic. In that respect, it could be said to be several times more difficult than wielding an actual sword.

However, it is not entirely disadvantageous.

There is no limit to the number of blades that can be formed. Transcending the constraints of the physical body, it allows for operation as free as sword manipulation techniques.

The circle within Dale’s heart began spinning rapidly. Like a car’s RPM suddenly surging upward.

RPM (revolutions per minute).

It was no metaphor.

Typically, the rotation rate of a mage’s circle is around 300 rpm. In other words, it can generate mana by rotating 300 times per minute.

But in Dale’s case right now.

──1,500 rpm.

This means he can achieve five times the efficiency of a standard mage’s circle through its rotation rate.

The high-speed rotation of the circle.

A mage’s ability is measured not only by the number of circles they wield, but also by the rotation rate of the circles themselves.

In Dale’s case, the sheer amount of mana generated by a single circle alone would rival that of a three-circle mage.

The vast amount of magic power generated by the circle’s rotation began seeping toward Dale’s shadow cloak.

“I’m going.”

With those words, Dale thrust off the ground and charged forward. Simultaneously, shadow blades erupted from beneath his feet, firing toward Sir Helmut in unison. It resembled an assassin’s strike, scattering countless daggers in a fan-shaped pattern.

Without the slightest hesitation, it was a strike that an ordinary knight would scarcely dare to face.

But his opponent was the foremost knight of the North.

A formidable opponent who, even clashing swords with his past self at full strength, would not collapse one-sidedly.

Whoosh!

Sir Helmut’s sword swung toward the shadow blades rushing toward him.

It was swift.

And that blade shattered into countless fragments like a fishing net, snatching up every single one of Dale’s strikes.

Clang!

The crisp clang of steel meeting steel echoed. And at the end of the strike, Sir Helmut, having regained his grip on the hilt, began his counterattack.

Thwack!

Just as the distance between them closed. Dale’s cloak fluttered once more.

They fluttered, and jet-black spikes shot up sharply from beneath Dale’s feet. Helmut’s movement to close the distance and strike halted abruptly.

‘Hoo!’

Though it was a contest between master and disciple, it was undeniably a battle fought with real swords. Therefore, the knights of the Duke’s household watching the scene could only be stunned.

Sir Helmut Blackbear, leader of the Night Raven Knights, possessed martial prowess beyond question. Yet the young boy facing him was merely a nine-year-old child.

The fact that the eldest son of the Duke’s household is a prodigy with monstrous talent is, of course, a story well known throughout the empire.

Indeed, Dale had taken up the sword and faced the Duke’s official knights without showing the slightest sign of inferiority. Though it was a mock duel where Aura was not used, and the knights were not exerting 100% of their capabilities.

And that was no exception for Lord Helmut himself at this moment.

Even so, witnessing Dale and Lord Helmut facing off at this very moment left one utterly speechless.

Even if it was the power of an artifact forged by a high-ranking demon. No, isn’t it even more bizarre that a nine-year-old child wields such dark power with such ease?

It was a sight that went beyond mere talent, evoking an unsettling sense of foreboding.

Yet, for Dale, there existed a wonder so profound it made one forget even that foreboding. It was not unrelated to Dale’s family history.

‘Truly the son of the Black Duke.’

Clang!

Countless shadow blades erupted from beneath Dale’s feet and swirled around him. Each time, Sir Helmut spurred his sword forward with evident satisfaction.

The most terrifying aspect of Dale’s talent is that he doesn’t need to be taught anything through verbal explanation. He knows what he lacks and how to fill those gaps. He coldly understands and analyzes himself simply by clashing swords and experiencing it firsthand.

It’s as if he possesses a ‘flawless theory’ within himself, and all that remains is to apply it to reality.

Therefore, the role Sir Helmut had to play as his teacher was singular.

To provide Dale with experience through clashing blades.

Looking forward to the day when this child would spread the wings of his talent and soar, Sir Helmut did not hesitate to become part of those wings.