Blacksmithing Is Child’s Play for a Dark Mage - Chapter 87

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 87
“Ho. So you’re offering it to me as a sacrifice?”
As’s eyes narrowed. It was an expression of keen interest—the kind of face someone wears when they spot a final-clearance notification on a home shopping channel.
“Isn’t that how deals with demons usually go?”
Tay rolled the gem across his palm as he spoke.
“A ritual offering… how delightful. That you would perform such a thing for a mere Imp like myself….”
An Imp is a lower-class demon.
The absolute bottom rung of demonic hierarchy, hell’s underclass.
In human terms, they’re roughly equivalent to someone preparing for the ninth-grade civil service exam.
Or maybe even lower than that. At least a ninth-grader gets social mobility upon passing.
True, Imp Butler ranked among the higher subspecies of Imps, but an Imp is still an Imp.
By demonic hierarchy, it was a lower grade even than the Shadow Hound Tay had summoned before.
Shadow Hounds, being beast-form demons, occupied the lower-middle tier. Imps fell even below that.
In genealogical terms, offering a unique-grade artifact to Imp Butler was like presenting a Rolex to a convenience store part-timer.
By any rational standard of demon dealing, it made no sense at all.
But Tay knew the truth.
This Imp Butler was no ordinary Imp.
A lower-class demon that could locate an Undead Necromancer in a single sweep, casually teach the Shadow Hound Summoning technique, and once transformed to human size to wear the Blood Ring upon its brow—this wasn’t a typical underling.
It was like discovering a convenience store clerk was actually the company chairman’s son doing field research.
“So then. What can you do for me?”
Tay asked directly.
As extended his hand.
“Give me the gem first.”
Tay handed over the gem.
As received the Black Gem and examined it from every angle, then smiled. It was the satisfied smile of an appraiser confirming authenticity.
“If you make this offering to me,”
As’s eyes flashed.
“I’ll teach you every Blackmagic spell up through the Fourth Class that I know.”
“Every one?”
“Every single one. Including those used by demons in Hell itself.”
Tay’s eyes widened.
Hellish Blackmagic.
Human Blackmagic was ultimately just an imitation, borrowing Mana from Hell.
The genuine article existed in Hell. Blackmagic as demons wielded it directly was more refined, more potent, and far more efficient than anything humans could conjure.
The difference between original and counterfeit.
The only problem was that learning it was extraordinarily difficult.
Hellish Blackmagic was hard for the human mind to comprehend.
Countless Black Mages had gone mad trying to learn it. Having knowledge was one thing; actually mastering it was quite another.
But.
Tay had the Hunter System.
See it once, and you grasp it. Learn it, and you can use it immediately.
Understanding?
The system handled all that automatically.
It was like taking a written driver’s license exam with the answer sheet already in hand.
‘Knowledge is power indeed.’
Tay calculated rapidly.
Lower-class spells were simple enough if you had the coin.
But higher-class spells were different.
To obtain a single Fourth-Class spell, one endured all manner of hardship.
Even ordinary magical spells were like that. Fourth-Class Blackmagic spells? That was another beast entirely.
Magical spells rarely appeared on the market, and when they did, their prices were absurd.
Even if you could afford the price, the goods simply didn’t exist.
It was harder than waiting in line for a limited-edition collectible to drop.
‘Come to think of it, didn’t people say you had to pass a quiz in my past life just to buy limited-edition rare goods?’
There were so many resellers that such measures became necessary.
Yet As was offering to teach him every Fourth-Class spell and below that he knew—authentic Hell-forged Blackmagic at that?
The gem was certainly a potent artifact.
But.
‘Right now, Blackmagic spells matter more.’
Items could always be found later. Hadn’t Vigoran’s tome said there were more Necrolord’s Crown jewels available?
But this might be the only chance to receive Hell’s Blackmagic knowledge.
And above all.
‘How else would I create mid-tier Undead and all that?’
He’d already learned Skeleton Warrior Creation and Ghoul Creation, but his proficiency was still lacking.
Once he acquired spells up to the 4th-Class tier, he could mass-produce mid-tier Undead and open the path to crafting superior Undead as well.
A trade where his entire Black Mage career jumped forward in a single leap—all for one gem.
There was nothing to deliberate.
“Agreed. The deal is done.”
“Very good.”
As rose from his seat, clutching the gem. His small frame somehow seemed to grow larger.
“Then let us observe proper form. Dealings with demons are always conducted thus.”
Tay also stood.
The air in the room grew heavy. The candlelight wavered. Shadows stretched long.
Tay spoke the words.
“I, Tay, do hereby offer this item as tribute to the Contracted Demon As!”
As received it.
“I, As, do accept the contractor’s offering and shall impart to him the knowledge of Blackmagic.”
In that instant.
The gem rose into the air.
Above As’s palm, the Black Gem slowly ascended, then began to spin.
The Necromantic Mana churning within the gem spilled outward, unraveling like threads of shadow.
Every shadow in the room stirred to life.
Shadows cast by the walls. Shadows cast by furniture. Tay’s own shadow. Every darkness born of the candlelight tore free from the ground and converged toward the gem in the air.
Shadow and Necromantic Mana tangled together, forming a vast black vortex.
At its center, As’s single eye blazed.
Gold.
Not the gaze he wore ordinarily. A golden radiance burning like the sun now pierced from the heart of the maelstrom, fixed upon Tay.
-The contract is established.
A voice rang out.
It was As’s voice and yet not As’s voice—a sound that seemed to emanate from the depths of an abyss, as though hundreds whispered in unison.
The gem was sucked into the black vortex.
And vanished.
At the same moment.
Knowledge flooded in.
An immense torrent of information poured into Tay’s mind.
The structure of spells and the manipulation of Mana. From the incantations written in the script of Hell came the demons’ magical systems and concepts that human language could not express—all of it crashed down like a waterfall.
A volume of knowledge that would have boiled the brain of an ordinary human into madness.
But the Hunter System caught it all.
-[Spell: Soul Fusion] has been learned.
-[Spell: Broad-Spectrum Life Drain] has been learned.
-[Spell: Decay Wave] has been learned.
-[Spell: Accelerated Growth] has been…
System messages cascaded forth.
In an instant, dozens of acquisition notifications appeared.
And moreover.
Among them were things of considerable peril, and seeing these, Tay’s mouth fell open wider and wider.
‘There are things like this, too?’
The vortex subsided.
Shadows returned to their places, and the candlelight steadied once more.
As stood there in his ordinary form.
The gem that had been in his hand was nowhere to be seen.
“The trade is complete, Contractor.”
As spoke in his customary gentle voice.
And smiled with satisfaction.
“It was a fine offering.”
Tay gazed at the system messages arrayed before his eyes and let out a soft laugh.
He’d obtained dozens of Blackmagic spells for a single gem.
This trade could only be called an extraordinary windfall.
* * *
Half a year had passed since the plague outbreak and the Necromancer’s assault.
The Territory finally stabilized once more, and winter had quietly crept into the calendar.
For most territories, winter could reasonably be called a dead season.
With farming at a standstill, work vanished, and with work gone, people shuttered themselves indoors, sucking their thumbs and waiting for spring—the ancient law of medieval fiefdoms.
But Tay’s Territory thrummed with vitality even in winter.
The reason was simple: there were industries churning along beyond mere agriculture.
The Skeleton Control Ring Workshop, first of all, operated at full capacity year-round as if seasons held no dominion over it.
Winter brought no halt to the merchants’ procession seeking rings—not a single day of interruption.
If anything, the reduced monster activity in winter improved road conditions, a phenomenon that actually increased the flow of distant merchants venturing to the Territory.
The Bone Weapon Workshop likewise never ceased its hammer-song through the cold months, churning out everything from bone swords and bone spears to bone spades and bone pickaxes—the artisans’ hands would need to number twice over.
Demand for agricultural tools purchased early in winter for spring planting paradoxically made winter the workshop’s peak season.
The Chicken Farm scarcely needed mention.
Chickens were remarkable industrial workers, laying eggs and fattening regardless of season, and the colder the winter, the greater the appetite for warm fried chicken and simmered chicken soup—it had become the Territory’s most dependable profit engine.
Chicken restaurants throughout the Territory competed to unveil winter-exclusive menus: chicken porridge, chicken consommé, and more novel dishes. The rivalry drove flavors ever higher and prices ever lower, creating a consumer’s paradise.
The Soybean Oil Workshop moved in lockstep with the Chicken Farm.
Frying chicken required oil, squeezing oil required beans, and the beans harvested in autumn lay in storage like mountains—the supply would not run dry even if oil was pressed all winter long.
The Miscellaneous Item Mining Dungeon was where true winter fortune lay.
Farmers bereft of work during the off-season and mercenaries with fewer monster-slaying contracts flooded into the dungeon to harvest trap materials. The fortress’s inn and tavern overflowed so densely that finding an empty room or vacant seat proved difficult.
A bundle of arrows from a trap trap meant tavern coin; a canister of acidic liquid meant a week’s lodging paid—such was the structure that winter side work held no equal, or so the rumors ran.
The Port saw its trade volume dip somewhat due to winter’s rough seas, yet whenever fair weather broke through, merchant ships would arrive without fail to load and depart.
The Skeleton Soldier Factory was beyond all words.
To replace the thousands of skeleton soldiers shattered during the Necromancer’s invasion, roughly one hundred Black Mages labored in shifts, day and night, churning them out. So relentless was the output that merchants supplying the bones needed for production came and went through the Territory all winter long.
A Black Mage is far too simple for a blacksmith
Author |
AutomatonG
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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