The Mage’s Nemesis Has Reincarnated - Chapter 104

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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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The Natural Enemy of Mages Has Been Reincarnated – Episode 104
‘If it weren’t for the Quest, I wouldn’t have revealed myself at all.’
Right after the Dark Lord’s arrival.
A Quest appeared before me as if it had been waiting.
The Forerunners Quest that Zeke had longed for!
Learning that Zakar Patrick was an Immortal Forerunner was essentially thanks to the system.
‘The only difference is that the Quest was accepted without my consent.’
Until now, I’d been given Y/N choices, but this time it was accepted immediately.
Along with a time limit of 30 minutes.
[Time Remaining Until Main Quest Completion: 20 minutes 11 seconds]
That’s why I had no choice but to step in after observing the conversation for a while.
If I delayed too long, there was a possibility I wouldn’t achieve it.
‘At this point, I’d be disappointed if there were no rewards.’
Since he was someone I was going to kill anyway, the timing couldn’t be more perfect.
But there wasn’t just one Quest.
【Sub Quest: Kill Count Petro Ridermond!】
└You have discovered that Count Petro Ridermond is in league with the Immortal Forerunner.
└Kill Count Petro Ridermond, who has participated in these atrocities, and make an example of him.
【Conditions】
└Eliminate Count Petro Ridermond
【Rewards】
└5th Circle Skill Proficiency increased by 40,000
‘Wow, what kind of reward is this? I get 40,000 just for killing the Count?’
To raise the skill’s achievement, I needed 31,880 proficiency points.
If I killed the Count, I could immediately reach 8 Stars.
‘I was planning to kill him anyway to prevent the territorial war… this is an offer I can’t refuse.’
Zeke’s first target after accepting the Quest was none other than the Count.
Of course, I had to strike by surprise so the others wouldn’t notice.
“You lot. Words won’t get through to you, will they?”
“A brat like you begging for his life instead of spouting off—”
When Zeke opened a subspace and pulled out Uriel’s feather sword, Maligore’s words trailed off.
“You’ll be dealt with using this specifically… why are you looking at me like that? Never seen a weapon like this before?”
“How did you do that? How could someone like you open a subspace…”
“Was your shock because of the subspace?”
Embarrassed, Zeke realized that subspaces were the exclusive domain of demons and quickly deflected.
“I received instruction on it recently.”
“What? Don’t tell me you also learned from that person…”
“Maligore! Refrain from unnecessary talk! Why are you rambling with someone you’re about to kill!”
“My apologies.”
At the sharp rebuke from behind, Maligore’s expression turned cold.
An aura of darkness explodes outward, as if there is nothing more to say.
“Die.”
“I’d rather not.”
Zeke McLafflin counters, drawing his blade and charging forward—then suddenly shifts direction.
His target: none other than the Count.
As Zeke thrusts his sword, the Count lets out a sharp cry.
“Eeek!”
But.
Clang!
Maligore Desbon’s reaction was faster.
He deflects Zeke’s attack with an aura blade.
The Count, who had flinched and only now grasped the situation, offers his thanks.
“Th-thank…”
“I didn’t save you because I liked you. No need for gratitude.”
“…”
Maligore’s gaze remains fixed on Zeke, his tone cold.
“Feigning an attack on me while targeting the Count’s life. So your true prey was this worm all along.”
“Tch.”
A sound of frustration escapes Zeke’s lips.
In that instant, Maligore’s form vanishes.
A speed Zeke’s eyes cannot even follow.
In truth, this battle held no chance of victory for Zeke.
An Aura Master of intermediate rank facing a Grand Aura Master—the pinnacle itself?
The gap was as vast as that between a child and an adult.
Even Crious, whom I had sparred with before, barely grazed my form after unleashing countless techniques.
But.
‘That disparity exists only when using aura in its purest form.’
Magic changes everything.
Scrape!
Maligore smiles wickedly, believing he has split Zeke’s head in two in a single, devastating stroke.
However.
‘Hmm?’
It takes him little time to realize what he has severed is merely an afterimage.
Zeke’s body dissolves like a mirage.
“Where is this bastard!?”
Believing Zeke has cast an invisibility spell, Maligore slashes at empty air.
Screech!
He swings the imposing, colossal aura blade in every direction, yet it meets nothing.
Even scanning his surroundings, Zeke remains invisible.
“Show yourself!”
The moment Maligore cried out and swung his blade in a wide horizontal arc.
“Gack!”
The invisibility dissolved, and I revealed myself.
Thud.
Kneeling, I coughed up blood before my head struck the ground and I collapsed.
“Kekeke, you fool. Did you really think I couldn’t kill you just because you turned invisible?”
Maligore laughed harshly, but in truth, I hadn’t moved a single step.
I had merely used illusion magic to guide Maligore’s attack elsewhere.
And in that other place.
“Uuuugh….”
Count Ridermond lay dying.
[Count Petro Ridermond eliminated!]
[Sub Quest cleared!]
[You receive 40,000 Fifth Circle skill proficiency as a reward.]
[The ‘Magic Replication’ skill has reached 8-star achievement.]
[The number of spells you can acquire has increased from 7 to 8.]
[Remaining proficiency until 9-star achievement: 8,120/300,000]
‘As expected, the quest clears even if I don’t kill them directly.’
The reward came through even though I had used illusion magic to make Maligore deliver the killing blow.
My prediction that I would receive rewards even through indirect kills proved correct.
And so did my assumption that the Dark Lord wouldn’t see through the illusion.
‘Azrahil’s illusion magic is so refined that even the Five Lords wouldn’t notice it.’
There was a time when he said that if I had used illusion magic during my sparring match with Crious, he would have seen through it.
But I disagreed with that assessment.
Because Azrahil Johnston was unparalleled when it came to illusion magic.
Yet even such magnificent magic couldn’t deceive a 9th Circle Grand Mage.
Unlike Aura users, those with exceptional sensitivity to reading mana could immediately detect the presence of illusion magic.
They could distinguish whether it was a phantom created by mana or something real, no matter how refined the illusion.
The same was true for Zakar Patrick, the Immortal Forerunner.
Watching blankly as Maligore killed his own ally, he quickly turned his gaze toward me.
“You… How are you using illusion magic? Who taught you?”
“I learned it from Azrahil.”
“Don’t spout nonsense. Azrahil isn’t the type to share his magic with others.”
“I’ll grant you that. Judging by how he’s plotting treason, he’s certainly not that kind of man.”
Zakar was startled once more by my words.
“…How do you know such information?”
“You don’t need to know. More importantly, why do only you get to ask questions? Give me a chance too. What is this ritual you were performing here? Who is this ‘person’ that the Dark Lord mentioned?”
“You want me to tell you?”
“If you live that selfishly, don’t you end up growing horns on your rear?”
Zakar’s expression turned bewildered as he glanced toward Maligore.
My illusion magic deceives all senses—sight, hearing, smell, and more. Even if you called out to him, he wouldn’t hear you.
“I suppose I’ll have to tear your mouth open myself.”
Zakar Patrick stepped forward, apparently deciding that leaving it to Maligore would be too difficult.
Kiiiing!
Light flashed from the eye sockets of the skull staff he held.
“Finger of Death.”
A torrent of black tendrils erupted from the staff’s tip, descending upon Zeke like a ravenous maw.
Zakar Patrick’s lips curled into a sneer as he watched.
‘It’s over.’
Once caught within the grasp’s radius, even a 9th Circle mage couldn’t withstand it.
No matter how formidable a barrier they erected, the hand of death would reduce it to dust without leaving a trace.
‘Only the one ranked first could possibly defend against this….’
Zakar Patrick’s eyes widened in shock.
Zeke stood unscathed, exactly where he had been—not shattered as expected.
‘What…? How is that bastard staring at me with both eyes wide open?’
Zakar Patrick witnessed it clearly.
The moment the hand of death made contact, it vanished as though sucked into another dimension.
Even seeing exactly what happened, he couldn’t comprehend it.
“What magic did you use? Could it be spatial transposition?”
“You’ve asked quite a lot of questions. Yet you won’t answer mine.”
Zeke spoke curtly, transforming his feather blade into a staff.
Zakar Patrick was startled by this, but what came next was far more shocking.
“Release.”
He cast the same Finger of Death spell back at him.
‘He’s mimicking my magic…? And without incantations?’
There was no time to be astonished.
The hand of death was already hurtling toward Zakar Patrick with terrifying force.
“Leperseid schnab sitotni nightier.”
Using demonic sorcery, his body dissolved into smoke.
The hand of death missed by a hair’s breadth, and then—
Kuwakwakwakwaboom!
The explosion shook the vast Hall.
“Well, well—dodging with demonic sorcery, are we? That was close. You nearly died there.”
“You….”
“Don’t worry. I won’t kill you easily. We have plenty of time to play. Besides, I’ve already sealed the sound with an illusion barrier.”
Zeke shrugged his shoulders as if inviting him to fight freely, but in truth, he had no intention of dragging this out.
It seemed this wasn’t the type who would talk under torture.
‘Torture won’t work… then there’s only one method left.’
Zeke was checking a message window that had appeared to one side.
Meanwhile, Zakar Patrick was desperately trying to satisfy his confusion with bewildered eyes.
“How did you copy my magic?”
“I’m something of a genius. I can replicate it after seeing it just once.”
“Do you expect me to believe that? Even a 9th Circle mage couldn’t accomplish such a thing.”
“Believe it or not, I’m doing it right now.”
“You have no intention of explaining yourself.”
“Neither do you, as it happens.”
Zakar Patrick’s expression grew colder.
His face became far more serious than before.
He had finally realized this was not an opponent he could afford to face while holding back.
“Curse your ignorance in the afterlife for daring to challenge me.”
His staff flashed brilliantly as colossal magical power converged.
‘I’ll end this in a single strike.’
Life and death are separated by the thinnest of lines.
Death always lurks near life—such was Zakar Patrick’s philosophy.
A single careless mistake could send one across to the other side, and humans could just as easily perish in some stroke of misfortune or natural disaster.
Zeke McLafflin embodied both of these vulnerabilities.
‘Regret meeting me in hell, Sword Mage.’
There was a saying that fortune could spare one’s life, but it held no sway over the magic he was preparing.
‘I will kill him without fail.’
This was the most lethal incantation he could muster, and he had not even entertained the possibility of failure.
“Power Word, Kill.”
The magical power gathered at the tip of his staff erupted toward Zeke McLafflin in an instant.
An ultimate assassination spell that ruptured the brain cells of its designated target.
It could not be dodged, nor could it be blocked.
Even among the 12 Pioneers, this magic was regarded with dread—its potency was beyond question.
And yet….
“Is that all?”
“!!!”
Zeke McLafflin had shocked Zakar Patrick once again.
“H-how did you block it? It’s a mental spell, so spatial displacement shouldn’t work, yet how…!”
“That’s a pretty dangerous spell you’ve got there. Right? If you used it on me, I’d die. Wouldn’t I?”
“S-surely you didn’t copy that as well…?”
Not only had he blocked it with spatial displacement, but he’d copied it too?
It was unbelievable, yet his opponent had truly unleashed the identical magic.
Not at him, but at Maligore Desbon, who still remained trapped in hallucinations.
“Release.”
As Zeke McLafflin’s staff turned toward Maligore Desbon, an immediate reaction manifested.
“Ugh, uuuaaahhh!”
His body convulsed like that of an epileptic patient, and black blood streamed from his eyes, nose, and mouth.
He collapsed―
“Dead? Seriously?”
Omang Sung, the Dark Lord and renowned Grand Aura Master, had been killed instantly by a single spell.
Without even getting a chance to draw a blade against Zeke.
Zakar’s eyes widened—apparently he hadn’t expected me to actually copy it.
“This is impossible… You watched my greatest magic, the one my master taught me, just once and already mastered it…?”
“Who is this master of yours?”
Despite Zeke’s question, Zakar merely trembled, his gaze fixed on Maligore’s corpse.
“Ignoring me again. Well, I wasn’t expecting an answer anyway.”
Watching Zakar’s continued shock, Zeke suddenly broke into a playful smile.
“Want to see something even more impossible?”
Zeke’s staff pointed toward Maligore’s body.
“Imr Imnaij Diénai Isisir.”
The moment I invoked the demonic incantation, Maligore—whom everyone thought dead—miraculously rose to his feet.
That was when Zakar’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.
“This… this is absolutely impossible…!”
He had recreated the exact same necromancy—his own art of raising corpses as undead?
It was a spell he’d never even shown the opponent, so his shock was inevitable.
But there was more to come.
Because the resurrected undead Maligore bowed his head to Zeke and spoke.
“I am Maligore Desbon, the Dark Lord, and I humbly present my respects to you, my master. Please give me your orders.”
“An undead that… can speak?”
A sentient undead—something he’d spent his entire life searching for—had just been born right before his eyes.
Zakar remained speechless for a long moment.

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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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