Chapter 57: Who’s the Madman Now? (Magic Castle Bonus)

Chapter 57. Who’s the Madman Now? (Magic Castle Bonus)

Light flashed.

The ruined hunting ground disappeared beneath my feet, replaced by polished stone, decorated pillars, rows of noble spectators...

And silence.

Complete silence.

Hundreds of eyes stared at us.

The Five Heroes had entered the hunting ground looking glorious.

Darius had gone in with polished armor, immaculate blond hair, and enough holy radiance around him to make stained glass feel insecure. Garr had looked like the embodiment of heroic masculinity. Raven had been wrapped neatly in his mysterious assassin aesthetic. Elia had looked every bit the pristine Saintess.

And me?

Well, I’d looked like a royal magus I should be.

We came out looking like we’d personally invaded the Dark Lord’s army and changed our minds halfway through.

Including me.

Despite how carefully I’d fought, I hadn’t escaped untouched.

My hair was a complete mess. My cloak was torn in several places, my jacket had a long rip across one side, and dirt covered my boots. A shallow cut burned along my cheek.

Worse was everything beneath the clothes.

Pain stung through my shoulders.

My back throbbed.

My muscles still rattled from Garr’s final attack, as though my skeleton hadn’t quite decided whether it wanted to remain assembled.

I kept my expression calm.

Breathing steady.

Shoulders relaxed.

Because internally?

[Forbidden Energy: 6%]

...Shit.

Six percent.

I’d almost emptied myself.

And I’d been efficient.

I’d avoided overpowering attacks, used terrain, manipulated their positioning, borrowed their own skills against one another, and spent most of the fight moving instead of directly contesting them.

Yet I’d still burned through ninety-four percent of my Forbidden Energy.

That final Abyssal Reinforcement had been especially expensive.

Without it, Garr’s ultimate skill probably would’ve broken several bones.

Possibly more.

So, yes.

Painful.

Dangerous.

But successful.

My ragebait had worked beautifully.

I’d made three SSS-rank heroes believe that one person wasn’t enough to kill me, so they’d attacked simultaneously.

That had given me exactly what I needed.

Chaos.

Their strength became my strength.

Their attacks became my weapons.

If they’d been smart enough to duel me one at a time while Elia remained safely behind them providing healing and buffs?

I would’ve been fucked.

Dead.

Very, very dead.

Thankfully, pride remained one of the cheapest weapons in existence.

And these people carried industrial quantities of it.

I glanced sideways.

Raven looked terrible.

His hood had been ripped nearly in half, exposing much more of his face than he probably preferred. His cloak hung in tatters around one shoulder. Blood darkened his sleeve, and the arm he held close to his body was the same one injured during the final battle against the Dark Lord.

Old wound aggravated.

Garr looked less injured but considerably more exhausted.

His shoulders rose and fell heavily. Sweat covered his face. His enormous sword looked unusually heavy in his hand.

Understandable.

That ultimate skill had probably consumed nearly everything he had.

Darius wasn’t doing much better.

His armor was scorched and cracked from shielding Elia against Garr’s attack. Blood streaked from his forehead into his hair, and his breathing was noticeably uneven.

Then there was Elia.

Physically, she was probably the least injured. But she looked shaken.

She knew Garr’s ultimate skill.

She had fought beside him for years.

She knew exactly what it could do.

That attack could tear through a fortress wall in one swing.

And she’d been directly in its path.

Trapped by Raven’s shadow binding.

Unable to dodge.

Unable to cast properly.

She’d had to watch that enormous attack come straight toward her and trust Darius to stop it.

Gasps finally broke the silence.

"What happened?"

"Look at Sir Darius—"

"Saintess Elia!"

"Was there something inside the hunting ground?"

"His Majesty’s hunting ground has monsters capable of doing that?"

Murmurs erupted everywhere.

Then chairs scraped violently against stone.

My wives.

All five had stood.

Ariel’s face had gone pale.

Lily’s wings were spread wide behind her, whatever cheerful expression she’d worn before completely gone.

Seris looked ready to personally set the hunting ground on fire and interrogate the ashes.

Nia’s ears stood rigid, her fluffy tail puffed behind her as her gaze swept over every tear in my clothes.

Liora had gone very still.

Her eyes moved over me systematically.

Face.

Shoulder.

Torn jacket.

Blood.

Back to face.

King Aldric shot to his feet. "Healers!"

Royal healers immediately rushed forward.

Two approached me.

I almost instinctively stepped away, then stopped myself.

Probably not the time to behave suspiciously.

One healer placed glowing hands near my shoulder while another examined the cut on my cheek.

The king descended the steps. "What happened?" His eyes swept across all five of us. "Were there SSS-rank monsters inside?"

A perfectly reasonable conclusion.

Five legendary heroes entered.

Five legendary heroes returned looking as though a war had happened.

Obviously, the monsters must have been horrifying.

I remained silent.

Mostly because I was curious.

What would they say?

If they accused me of going mad, my answer was wonderfully simple.

"Your Majesty, they were trying to kill me."

And the evidence?

Delicious.

The bracelets monitored mana output.

Darius had repeatedly unleashed SSS-rank attacks.

Garr had used his ultimate skill.

Me?

Mostly S-rank techniques appropriate for hunting evolved B-tier monsters.

They’d attacked me with fortress-breaking power inside an enclosed royal hunting ground.

If anyone had apparently gone mad... It wasn’t me.

Darius apparently reached the same conclusion.

Because instead of pointing at me dramatically and screaming "corrupted magus!", he lowered his sword.

"Nothing serious happened, Your Majesty."

The king stared at him.

Darius cleared his throat. "We simply felt nostalgic and decided to use our skills more freely."

I nearly smiled.

"More freely?" King Aldric repeated.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The king slowly looked toward the devastated hunting ground behind the barrier.

Several distant trees were visibly missing.

Then he looked at Darius’s cracked armor.

Then Raven’s bloody arm.

Then Garr, who looked approximately three breaths away from lying down on the floor.

Finally, his gaze landed on Elia and me.

"Really?" His tone contained enough disbelief to feed me for a week. "Because it doesn’t look that way."

Raven pushed one of the healers away and stood. "Yes, Your Majesty." He adjusted what remained of his hood. "But some people simply don’t know how to hold themselves back."

His eyes slid toward Garr.

Cold.

Annoyed.

Garr’s jaw tightened.

He said nothing.

For once, the hotheaded warrior appeared to understand that defending himself would require explaining why his ultimate skill had nearly flattened his own companions.

Elia stepped forward. "We’re fine, Your Majesty." Her voice was softer than usual. "We were simply too—" Then her eyes found mine. For several seconds, she stared. "—excited."

I almost choked. That was certainly one word for attempted murder.

They weren’t going to expose the fight.

Smart.

Because the moment they did, the question became painfully simple.

Who escalated?

Raven threw the first poisoned dagger.

Darius used SSS-rank holy attacks.

Garr unleashed a fortress-breaking ultimate.

Meanwhile, the supposedly unstable cursed magus had spent most of the battle dodging.

Admitting what happened wouldn’t prove I’d gone insane.

It might prove they had.

Garr finally exhaled. "Yes. I became a little excited, Your Majesty."

I admired his courage. Or his complete lack of shame.

"I displayed my skills after Rey displayed his."

The king’s attention shifted toward me.

Garr’s gaze followed. His expression hardened. "Skills capable of turning monsters into mutants." Garr pointed toward the harvesting area. "You can check for yourself, Your Majesty." His exhausted eyes remained locked onto mine. "The creatures should already be there."

A murmur swept through the nobles.

"Mutants?"

"What does he mean?"

"Sir Rey changed the monsters?"

"Is that even possible?"

I said nothing.

Not yet.

Because somewhere behind the palace walls, royal workers were currently sorting through a collection of dead Ironmaw Direwolves.

Including my failed Core Imprint specimens.

Twisted armor.

Abnormal limbs.

Malformed fangs.

Artificially altered mana cores.

I glanced at Garr.

A very interesting amount of evidence.

My wives were still staring at me.

The king was waiting.

The nobles were whispering. ℯ

Darius looked tense.

Elia looked conflicted.

Raven looked like he wanted another dagger.

And Garr had just dragged my secret experiment directly into public scrutiny.