The Dark Mage Of The Magus World-Chapter 92 - 93: Cruelty

Ives took a single step back, a cold, ruthless smile curving his lips.

"Now, it’s my turn."

Drawing a deep breath, he suddenly surged forward, his entire form blurring into a phantom shadow.

Karim’s reflexes were extraordinary, almost instinctual. He swung his greatsword defensively at once—but even that was not enough.

A crimson burst of blood erupted into the air.

The next instant, Ives stood calmly beside Karim, his longsword spotless.

Karim glanced down in shock. His thick, heavy armor now bore a clean puncture at the ribs, from which blood poured steadily. He hadn’t even seen Ives’s blade move.

Clutching his side in agony, Karim staggered back, leaning heavily against the wagon behind him.

Ives tilted his head slightly, mocking yet sincere. "Impressive reflexes—or rather, instincts. Your eyes couldn’t possibly follow my sword, yet your body sensed danger and moved on its own. That’s the only reason you’re still breathing."

Karim spat out a mouthful of blood, his eyes blazing with defiant fury. Without uttering a word, he gripped his greatsword tightly once again and lunged forward, swinging down at Ives with all his remaining strength.

The sudden movement reopened the wound, fresh blood spurting freely, staining the earth beneath him. Despite the agony, his attack was even stronger, even fiercer than before.

Ives, forced for the first time to grip his longsword with both hands, intercepted the massive strike with apparent ease. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Then, in a blink, Ives vanished again.

Pain exploded through Karim’s left wrist as yet another wound appeared, his armor pierced effortlessly. Ives wasn’t in a hurry to end him, savoring every brutal moment.

"It would be such a waste to kill you swiftly," Ives remarked casually, almost warmly. "After all, a distinguished figure like yourself rarely grants me an opportunity to indulge myself."

With those chilling words, he struck again, mercilessly slashing through Karim’s knee.

Karim buckled instantly, forced down to one knee. Only the greatsword, jammed desperately into the dirt, kept him upright.

Ives observed Karim’s defiance with irritation, swiftly slicing through the other leg. Karim fell heavily, forced down into a position of total submission, kneeling helplessly in blood-soaked dirt.

Yet he made no sound, glaring silently upward with eyes still fierce and proud.

"If only you’d accepted that business proposition I mentioned before," Ives said conversationally, "not only would you still be breathing, you’d be profiting nicely from this venture."

Around them, the battle raged on. The caravan guards faltered, the defensive line collapsing under relentless assault. Soldiers poured through the breach, killing indiscriminately. Screams and cries filled the air.

Karim raised his head defiantly, voice shaking yet resolute. "I refuse to be party to your corruption. Does Duke Theodor know of this?"

Ives chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Of course not. The Duke has no interest in such petty schemes. He’s far above matters like this."

"Then at least spare the—"

Karim’s words froze abruptly, his eyes widening in shock. Looking down, he saw the cold, bloodied tip of a blade protruding from his chest.

Ives withdrew his longsword slowly, watching impassively as Karim collapsed forward, his eyes dimming until all life vanished.

With a chilling sneer, Ives turned sharply, raising his voice to the soldiers surrounding them.

"Finish this quickly! Leave none alive!"

—

A short distance away, Hutson leaned leisurely against a wagon, still clad in lightweight armor, chewing on a piece of smoked fish. Beside him, Ed crouched low in terror.

"My lord!" Ed whispered urgently. "We have to escape, quickly!"

"Escape?" Hutson laughed softly, calm and utterly unconcerned. "Look around. We’re completely surrounded. Archers everywhere. Step out there, and you’ll be dead before you’ve taken two steps. And if they have good aim, they’ll shoot you in the eye, and the arrow will scramble your brains like porridge."

He took another casual bite from the smoked fish, chewing slowly as though he were watching an amusing play.

"What...what do we do then?" Ed trembled, feeling like an ant caught on a heated pan, helpless and desperate.

Hutson felt no rush. These soldiers posed no threat to him. He could leave whenever he wished.

He’d watched Karim’s duel and witnessed his gruesome death without interfering. After all, Karim’s own foolishness had sealed his fate—along with that of many innocent people.

Roque, being an experienced merchant, understood the rules all too well. Had Karim not openly identified Ives, Roque could have negotiated, losing cargo but saving lives. Goods could be replaced; lives could not.

Karim’s reckless pride forced Ives’s hand, turning what should have been a simple robbery into a massacre. He had inadvertently doomed them all.

Ives’s hand had been forced—now, slaughter was his only choice.

Some of the caravan adventurers, sensing the hopelessness of the battle, made desperate attempts to flee. But no sooner had they broken formation than a deadly volley of arrows rained down, swiftly transforming them into lifeless pincushions sprawled across the ground.

This time, Ives’s resolve was absolute. No survivors could be allowed. If word reached Duke Theodor, the Duke would, without hesitation, publicly execute Ives to protect his own pristine reputation.

—

Behind a battered wagon, Hutson continued leisurely chewing his smoked fish, entirely unconcerned as the defensive line shattered behind him. Soldiers poured through the breach, blades drawn and faces twisted in battle-lust.

When they caught sight of Hutson, calmly eating fish amidst chaos, confusion briefly flickered across their expressions. But hesitation vanished quickly; they tightened their grips on weapons and charged at him.

Hutson sighed quietly, waving his hand lazily.

"Ice Shield. Mana Barrier. Dark Energy Shield."

In an instant, three shimmering shields enveloped his body—a frigid blue glow, a luminous white sheen, and an ominous black aura intertwining around him.

Drawing his longsword smoothly, Hutson faced his attackers. He preferred not to expend unnecessary magical power. If his blade could end a fight, there was no reason to waste mana.

The charging soldiers suddenly faltered, bewildered by the arcane defenses surrounding their strange opponent. Before their confusion lifted, Hutson surged forward in a blur of speed.

In seconds, the ground ran red. Soldiers collapsed one after another, lifeless and broken. Those who still stood struck out desperately, but their weapons merely glanced harmlessly off the shimmering magical barriers, unable to leave even a scratch.

A volley of arrows sailed through the air, only to ricochet uselessly, deflected by the impenetrable layers of magic.

Within mere moments, a carpet of bodies surrounded Hutson.

Witnessing this casual slaughter, the surviving soldiers felt cold terror claw at their hearts. Most had never even heard whispers of true magic, let alone witnessed it with their own eyes. As their attacks proved utterly futile, dread and despair swiftly overtook their minds.

One thought resonated clearly through their ranks:

Retreat.