Blacksmithing Is Child’s Play for a Dark Mage - Chapter 95

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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 95
At this point, it would’ve been strange if Tay hadn’t started losing track of who held the upper hand and who didn’t.
Tay answered with practiced humility, yet without underselling himself—walking that delicate line with precision.
“I’ll need to keep a minimum of ten thousand for territorial defense, so the actual deployable force is ten thousand.”
“Even so, that’s an staggering number.”
The Marquess wasn’t making idle conversation.
Other lords would’ve seen their entire domain’s finances stagger under the weight of provisioning and feeding ten thousand troops even once.
But Tay’s Skeleton Soldiers—once they fell, he simply raised them again, and they consumed not a grain of food. In short, they were the ultimate cost-efficient force: he could send them to war as casually as clocking in for work, without a single supply line creaking under the strain.
The Marquess finally broached the heart of the matter.
“You’ll operate completely independently from my main force. I’d like you to strike directly at the core vassal’s territory in the southernmost reaches of Salkartna County—the one that baronet holds dearest.”
And with that, she added one decisive afterthought.
“If you seize that territory, it becomes yours.”
In that instant, invisible beads on an abacus in Tay’s mind began clicking furiously.
Rant’s earlier breakdown flashed through his thoughts—that crystal-clear logic: refuse and lose for certain, join and gain for certain.
But the Marquess’s proposal now stacked an additional layer atop that framework.
Dip a toe into someone else’s war, execute it well, and an entire territory tumbles into your lap.
This wasn’t even a break-even calculation—this was naked profit, pure and simple.
No need to crack open a spreadsheet; the first line alone bloomed crimson with surplus, that kind of deal where the math solved itself.
Of course, Tay swallowed every last cheer in silence, cloaking himself instead in the flawless mask of a loyal retainer.
“I shall obey your command.”
“Good.”
The Marquess nodded with evident satisfaction.
“Once we’ve cleanly swallowed Salkartna County… we’ll have another conversation then.”
‘After we devour Salkartna, then another talk…’
That brief phrase sent an unexpected chill down his spine, but Tay decided to file away the unease in a corner of his mind for now.
In a tiger’s den, the art of longevity was simple: never ruffle the tiger’s mood.
“Of course, Your Grace.”
And with that, the conversation ended.
Tay offered a respectful bow, then carefully withdrew from the office.
The heavy door clicked shut behind him, and only then did Tay release the breath he’d been holding in a long, slow exhale.
The tension that had wound tight around his entire body released at once, flooding him with exhaustion—like the bone-deep fatigue that crashes over you after no-death-clearing a raid boss for an hour straight.
Only then did Ars carefully poke his head out of the shadows, his expression saying, ‘Now we can finally breathe.’
Dialogue, too, who’d been clamping his jaw shut the whole time, burst into chatter.
“Master! That restraint you just showed! You’ve achieved the realm of a sage!”
Tay simply let the noise go in one ear and out the other.
‘The Marquess. Truly formidable.’
Having sat face to face with her for so long, that oppressive aura sank deeper into his very bones.
Then, unexpectedly, a scrap of gossip drifting through the city brushed his mind—something about the Marquess still not being married, despite her age.
‘Tch. Whoever poor bastard ends up as her husband someday, I already pity him.’
Unless a man in his past life had sold off a couple of kingdoms’ worth of karmic debt, what kind of iron-willed madman walks with his own two feet straight into the heart of that tempest?
Tay took comfort in the fact that it was none of his concern, shrugged lightly, and walked down the corridor with a spring in his step.
* * *
After his safe exit from the meeting with the Marquess, Tay’s gait was noticeably lighter.
That particular lightness that comes with surviving a close call—relief incarnate.
His next destination was the Black Trident Guild.
The very mid-tier guild where he once groveled as a debt-burdened contract mercenary, mountains of IOUs at his back.
But the moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere had transformed completely—one hundred and eighty degrees from before.
“M-Master Maker, Baron Tay! We are honored by your presence!”
The Guild Master bolted out and bent his waist at a right angle.
Once, this man wouldn’t have spared a second glance for some debt-ridden rookie mercenary. Now he was bowing a crisp ninety degrees!
The reason was simple: Tay’s status had undergone a cosmic shift.
Where once he’d been nothing but a contract mercenary owing the guild payment, now he was something else entirely.
Now Tay was a proper Baron Maker commanding a population of three hundred and sixty thousand and twenty thousand Skeleton Soldiers, and had even recently sealed a formal alliance with Harundel’s Marquess, the very master of this city.
In short: his backer was a Marquess.
At this point, the Guild Master’s knees buckled of their own accord.
Fall out of favor with the Marquess’s ally, and his entire guild might vanish from Harundel’s map overnight.
“It’s been a while, Guild Master. I’ve come because there’s a favor I need.”
“W-Whatever you command, sir! We’ll mobilize every resource the Black Trident possesses!”
Tay smirked inwardly. So this was why connections were so feared.
“I’m looking to acquire High-Class Black Magic Tomes. Third-Class certainly, and if possible, Fourth and Fifth-Class as well. I’d like you to gather every one you can lay your hands on.”
The guild master’s expression stiffened visibly.
A High-Class Black Magic Tome. It was not the sort of thing anyone could simply lay hands upon.
Black Magic Tomes of Class 3 and above were expensive rarities whose value lay in their very name, and their circulation was extraordinarily limited.
Even a well-heeled lord who resolved to purchase one would often be turned away with “I’m afraid we have no stock available.”
But that was not all.
Black Mages inevitably faced all manner of restrictions.
Black Magic Tomes in particular required careful handling—improper leakage would flood the market with unlicensed practitioners.
However, that applied only to “ordinary” customers.
“I’ve already secured permission from the Marquess to seek her cooperation. You needn’t concern yourself with cost.”
The moment Tay let the Marquess’s name slip casually into conversation, the guild master’s eyes snapped wide.
The backing of a Marquess house. Add to that a commission from a major baron prepared to spend without limit.
The two together worked like magic, transforming the impossible into the inevitable.
The guild master immediately mobilized every contact and connection at his disposal, scrounging up Black Magic Tomes from across the city.
A baron’s station, and behind it the reassuring weight of a Marquess.
Without those two things, Tay would have gone his entire life without laying eyes on such treasures—now they rolled before him as if of their own accord.
Days passed.
“Tch—Class 4 and below, utterly exhausted. Ars taught me more than this.”
Tay clicked his tongue in frustration.
Well, that was hardly surprising—he’d learned everything below Class 4 from his dealings with Ars, so there was nothing new to discover there.
Still.
He’d secured three Class 5 spells.
Though their levels were still too low to cast, it was a harvest worth celebrating.
【Class 5】
Descent of Plague / Spectral Undead Creation / Waves of Hell
Descent of Plague scattered potent pestilence across a wide area—exactly the sort of Black Magic one would wish to deploy when facing a large army.
This was vicious magic indeed. A Necromancy spell, it ranked first-tier for mass slaughter.
Spectral Undead Creation was a spell for summoning mid-to-high-tier ethereal Undead—Phantoms, Specters, and the like.
With this, one could manufacture flying ghost-steeds.
Waves of Hell was considerably more straightforward.
It summoned forth a literal river from the depths of perdition.
Of course, the river of hell was no ordinary water.
A mingling of poison and curse, anything caught within would perish instantly—an ordinary human stood no chance.
“I’ll take them all.”
Tay announced his decision without a moment’s hesitation, spending lavishly without restraint.
Yet he felt no regret whatsoever.
It was all but certain his Class would rise eventually. Better to stockpile now while funds were ample than to scramble frantically later—wisdom, truly.
Moreover, these grimoires served not only his own training but also as invaluable teaching materials for Rant.
“Master. Would you mind if I perused these first?”
Rant had drawn near, his eyes gleaming with hunger as he gazed upon the Class 5 Black Magic Tomes.
“You and your obsession with Black Magic texts. It’s insatiable.”
“What’s strange about a Black Mage coveting Black Magic?”
Rant’s confidence was unshakeable.
“Keep it reasonable. Don’t stay up all night and collapse from exhaustion like Kael did.”
“…I am grateful for your leniency.”
Though he spoke those words, Rant’s eyes were already buried in the pages. Tay saw that further exhortation would be wasted breath and simply shook his head with a wry smile.
* * *
With the Class 5 Black Magic Tomes secured, Tay’s next destination was the Red Tower, the most famous magical implement shop in all of Harundel.
The finest purveyor of magical goods in the city, it boasted considerable scale.
Of course, the old Tay would not have dared cross its threshold.
‘Once upon a time, I trembled at the thought of buying a two-copper piece broken staff.’
A Black Mage Has It Easy
Author |
Automaton G
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(Co.) Samyang C&C
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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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