Chapter 69: Yatan’s Servant
Chapter 69: Yatan's Servant
Braham shifted his crimson gaze toward Ragnar Ironclaw, the imposing Hobgoblin Chieftain who stood amidst the smoldering battlefield. Unlike Makran, who had begged for mercy, Ragnar's defiant posture and unyielding glare radiated raw determination. Braham's lips curved into a smirk—not of amusement, but of intrigue.
An idea began to form in his mind, one borne of curiosity and the potential to test his newfound mastery over Odin's mysterious Red Energy Blessings. This experiment, he mused, could provide him with deeper insight into the boundless potential of these blessings.
"Odin, I trust you don't mind if I borrow your Red Energy for a demonstration? You are, after all, stuck in my head. It's only fair I use what you've so generously provided."
A tense silence followed. Odin's voice resonated within Braham's mind, low and measured, with the faintest edge of exasperation.
'Do I have a choice in the matter, Braham?' Odin's tone was wry though tinged with a reluctant acceptance.
'Ever since you took charge, my skills are technically yours to squander. Just don't spend all of the Red Energy since there might be a drawback, and we'll get hit hard. Both you and me.'
Braham chuckled darkly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Squander? Perish the thought, Odin. I would never be so careless. Consider this... research. You should be honored to witness how a true master wields power."
'I doubt you can get much from the Blessings since you're not a Melee specialist like me, but I digress. The stage is yours, Great Mage.'
Braham's crimson eyes gleamed with renewed determination as he extended his hand. Flames began to coil around his fingertips, their heat so intense that the air seemed to ripple. His voice rang out, sharp and commanding, as he invoked the blessing.
"Blessing of Fire."
He intoned, activating the System's function with the same precision he had observed Odin using when he resided within the Mana Core. Instantly, a power surge coursed through his body as the blessing took effect.
A brilliant crimson glow enveloped Braham, the manifestation of his Blessing of Fire. The air around him shimmered with oppressive heat, distorting reality as the flames seemed to dance in anticipation of their wielder's command.
[You have consumed 25 RE. The user has received the 'Inferno's Embrace' Buff.]
The notification chimed, but Braham's attention remained fixed on the torrent of energy flowing through him. The Inferno's Embrace immediately boosted his abilities, empowering his fire spells and imbuing his very presence with elemental might.
The System's prompt continued, highlighting the depth of his newfound power.
[For the next 5 minutes, the user gains an AP boost of 20%, gains resistance to ice-based attacks and deals additional fire damage with melee attacks. Fire-based abilities cost 15% less mana during this period. Melee attacks will be imbued with the Fire Element, while Fire-based spells will be increased by 25% for the duration of the Blessing.]
Braham clenched his fists, feeling the heat coiling within his muscles. He assumed it wasn't such a pleasing sensation as when it hit the Mana Core.
"So this is the true power of the Titans. The Sovereigns of the Elemental Plane," he muttered, his smirk widening. His magic, already potent, now surged with overwhelming intensity.
For someone who had devoted his craft to the Fire Path of Magical Arts, Inferno's Embrace felt like wielding the mythical gemstones spoken of in legend—artifacts like the Shard of Creation, capable of elevating a mage's prowess to untold heights.
Braham returned his attention to the Hobgoblin again, his crimson eyes gleaming with malice. He sighed theatrically, brushing a stray ember from his robe like the Hobgoblin wasn't worth his full attention.
"I'd almost feel pity for you, goblin vermin," Braham drawled, his tone laced with mockery. "I wish I had time to entertain your futile resistance, but alas... I'd rather enjoy Odin's body while it lasts. It's such a rare opportunity to work with superior craftsmanship."
His smirk deepened, his words calculated to provoke. "Consider it a mercy, then. I'll make this quick."
Ragnar's yellow eyes narrowed as he gripped his massive war axe with white-knuckled determination. The oppressive mana pouring from Braham was suffocating, but he refused to be cowed.
"You think your tricks make you a god, human?" Ragnar snarled his voice, a deep, guttural growl that echoed across the battlefield. "I've faced worse than you and lived to tell the tale. Power like yours burns bright, but it always burns out!"
His words carried the fierce defiance of a warrior who had clawed his way to the top through sheer will and brutality. Though the oppressive mana made his muscles tremble, he forced his body to remain steady, ready to strike.
Wasting no time, Braham raised a single hand, summoning his mana with the fluidity of a seasoned master.
With but a thought, he instantly cast a Fireball, and there were visible changes that Braham and even Odin noticed, from the size and velocity thanks to the Inferno's Embrace. The orb of searing flame erupted from his palm, a condensed sphere of destructive energy streaking toward Ragnar with blinding speed.
"Too slow, mage!" Ragnar bellowed, his voice carrying over the roar of the approaching flames.
The Hobgoblin Chieftain, however, hasn't reached the leadership position over all the Black Wolves Hobgoblins for nothing, especially as a goblinfolk. There was the innate cowardice and greediness they possessed.
He moved with a swiftness that belied his bulky frame, activating a movement speed skill that allowed him to evade the incoming attack narrowly.
The Fireball collided with the ground, detonating in a fiery explosion that left a blackened crater in its wake. Braham's expression darkened, the faintest trace of irritation flickering across his face.
"You'll have to do better than that, human!" Ragnar taunted, raising his axe in defiance. "Come and face me if you have the guts!"
"You think you can run?" Braham sneered, finding this goblin praiseworthy for its delusion. "Let's see how far you get."
Gathering his mana once more, Braham unleashed Blaze Wave, an advanced area-of-effect spell designed to engulf the battlefield in a fiery tide.
Waves of flame surged outward, consuming everything in their path and forcing Ragnar to leap away from the advancing inferno. Yet Braham anticipated this, his mind calculating Ragnar's likely movements with cold precision.
"You're predictable," Braham muttered, raising another hand to prepare his next attack.
As Ragnar retreated, Braham raised both hands, his fingers weaving an intricate pattern in the air.
With a sharp motion, he cast Flame Wall, summoning a towering barrier of flames that stretched across the battlefield in a straight line.
The blazing wall roared to life, its searing heat cutting off Ragnar's escape route entirely. The Hobgoblin Chieftain skidded to a halt, his path forward blocked by the unrelenting blaze. Trapped and outmaneuvered, Ragnar turned to face Braham, his massive axe held aloft as if to challenge the mage directly.
"You think you've won, human?" Ragnar growled, his voice a low rumble of fury and defiance. "I've faced death before, and I'm still standing. Do your worst—I'll carve through your flames and you!"
Braham let out a dry laugh, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, how quaint. The little goblin thinks he's a hero. Let me give you a reality check, you deluded pest: your story ends here."
Raising his hands high, Braham channeled his mana into a final, devastating spell—Phoenix Flames. The air around him grew heavy with magic, the embers left by his previous spells swirling toward his outstretched palms. A fiery vortex began to form, its shape-shifting and coalescing into the silhouette of a majestic phoenix, its feathers wreathed in brilliant flame.
The radiant bird released a haunting, otherworldly cry reverberating across the battlefield. Without hesitation, it launched toward Ragnar, its path unwavering as it homed in on its target.
Braham grimaced as the spell left him utterly drained, his smirk faltering. "Ugh, exhausting. If you don't die from this, vermin, you'll have to deal with my fists instead. Be honored—my mana reserves are finally spent."
"This… This is impossible!" Ragnar roared, his confidence wavering as the fiery construct bore down on him. He raised his axe, channeling his mana into the blade as he prepared to meet the phoenix head-on.
The Phoenix Flames engulfed him, the flames coiling around his body relentlessly. His armor glowed red-hot before melting away, his flesh consumed by the inferno.
The phoenix struck him with a force that shook the battlefield, its flames coiling around his body relentlessly.
Ragnar's armor glowed red-hot before melting away, his defiant roars turning to agonized screams as the fire consumed him. In moments, the Chieftain of the Black Wolves was no more, reduced to ashes within the fiery maelstrom.
[You have slain 'Ragnar Ironclaw' gaining the following rewards: 1,642,000 EXP, Wolf's Howl (Unique), Black Wolf Mantle (Epic), Warleader's Gauntlets (Epic), Boneplate Pauldrons (Epic), Bloodfang Amulet (Rare), Skill Book: Sundering Strike (Unique), Skill Book: Bloodbath (Epic), Hobgoblin Chieftain Trophy ×1, Weapon Enhancement Stone ×5, Armor Enhancement Stone ×5, 250 Gold Coins]
[ For the achievement of being the first player to kill Hobgoblin Chieftain 'Ragnar Ironclaw', you have earned the title 'Goblin Slayer'.]
[You have leveled up! Congratulations on reaching level 124.]
As the flames dissipated, leaving only scorched earth where Ragnar had stood, Braham stood tall, his breathing heavy but his expression triumphant. "And that," he muttered, "is why you don't underestimate the Legacy of the Titans."
***
With additional time for the Assimilation, as it had taken roughly 30 seconds to dispatch all the Hobgoblins, Braham found himself temporarily appeased, his frustration tempered by the satisfaction of feeling flesh once more after 300 years.
Under Odin's respectful request, he begrudgingly turned his attention to a task he might have otherwise ignored. Odin's voice resonated calmly in his mind, carrying a rare tone of genuine appreciation for the carnage Braham had wrought.
'Before we move on, Braham, use your Magic Detection. The goblins might capture humans,' Odin suggested. His words were carefully chosen—neither commanding nor dismissive but instead framed as a request.
Braham scoffed, rolling Odin's eyes as he raised his hand. "Tch. Very well," he muttered, annoyed and begrudgingly amused. "I'll humor you this once."
Focusing his immense mana reserves, Braham activated Magic Detection, weaving the spell with the fluid precision of a master. Pulses of magical energy rippled outward from his body, scouring the battlefield and probing the surrounding area.
Within moments, the magic illuminated faint traces of life deep underground—a hollow passage leading beneath the earth. Intricate links of residual mana marked the locations of prisoners, their faint auras betraying their suffering.
"Interesting," Braham murmured, his tone shifting to mild curiosity. "There's an underground tunnel… and signs of life."
Malfurion, who had been watching from a safe distance, hesitated as he noticed Braham's expression darken.
The Great Magician turned toward the Druid with an imperious air, his crimson eyes narrowing.
"Follow me, Druid," Braham commanded, his voice carrying an unmistakable edge of arrogance.
Malfurion frowned, recognizing the subtle yet stark difference between Odin's usual tone and the one he now heard. This was Braham speaking, not Odin. Swallowing his hesitation, Malfurion nodded. "Thank you, Great Magician, for aiding us,"
Braham paused momentarily as if the sincerity of Malfurion's words had caught him off guard. His lips curled into a faint sneer, and he scoffed. "Hmph. At least someone knows how to show proper gratitude," he muttered.
Yet, despite the sarcasm, his eyes showed a subtle glimmer of satisfaction. Odin's earlier respect and now the Druid's appreciation stroked his ego, though he would never admit it aloud.
Turning back to the hollow passage, Braham surveyed the entrance with a critical eye.
"The goblins have been busy. They've dug quite deep. No matter," he said dismissively.
With a wave of his hand, he gestured toward Malfurion. "Transform into your avian form and follow me. Use that thing called 'Mini Map' if you get lost. I'll go ahead… my time using this body is limited."
Malfurion hesitated, glancing at the ominous passage before nodding. With a shimmer of green energy, he transformed into his owl form, his wings flapping as he prepared to follow from above.
Braham, wasting no further time, activated Blink. Wrapping his form in an ethereal glow. In a heartbeat, he vanished before Malfurion's eyes, his body folding into a shimmering distortion of space.
The cavern ahead stretched out before him, its jagged walls illuminated by the faint glow of his reappearance.
The movement was seamless and fluid, a testament to his mastery of magic. As he blinked further into the depths, the oppressive air of the underground tunnels became more tangible—the scent of damp earth and decay mixing with the faint cries of imprisoned souls.
When he reappeared within the heart of the cavern, the sight that greeted him was grim.
Rows of iron-barred cells lined the chamber, crude and hastily constructed. The prisoners inside ranged from children with high mana potential—likely captured for exploitation—to battle-hardened knights, their once-proud forms reduced to battered remnants. The air was thick with despair, their faint auras flickering like dying embers.
Curiosity sparked within him, and Braham activated Sovereign Insight to assess the prisoners.
'Braham, activate the filters. The spell's too broad. Narrow it down.'
The influx of information was immediate and overwhelming, flooding his mind with a torrent of data—names, stats, skills, and even faint traces of their potential futures. Braham winced, raising a hand to his temple as the sheer volume of knowledge sent a stabbing pain through his head.
"Foolish mortals and their cluttered lives," he muttered, annoyed.
Braham did as instructed, grinding his teeth and muttering an incantation to refine the spell's parameters. The information flow eased, and he focused on the most relevant details.
His gaze settled on a middle-aged knight chained to the wall, his armor dented and bloodied. The man's eyes fluttered open, dull with exhaustion yet sharp with instinct.
"Beware…" the knight rasped, his voice hoarse but urgent. "The chamber… it's a trap. The Demon Servants are doing their ceremony. They've been dragging those innocent children to be fed for the demons. We'll soon be next, without a doubt."
Braham tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "How quaint," he said mockingly. "Even in chains, you still try to play the hero. Admirable, if not utterly futile."
Odin's voice interrupted, more cautious. 'Braham, don't underestimate him. Listen to what he's saying.'
Braham rolled his eyes, but his expression grew slightly more serious. "Fine, fine. I'll indulge you," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Turning back to the knight, he added, "You'd best elaborate quickly, human. I don't have all day."
The knight took a ragged breath, his gaze flickering between Braham and the shadowy corners of the chamber. "The Yatan Church… the Monster Wave on Fullbaz was their doing. They are trying to summon a Great Demon."
Braham's smirk faded, replaced by a glimmer of intrigue.
"A Great Demon?" he repeated, his voice low and contemplative.
"Interesting. Could it be… Amoract?" His crimson, vampiric eyes glimmered faintly as he considered the implications.
The Archdemon Amoract had long been rumored to move in the shadows, sowing chaos and discord, and was one of the most loyal Archdemons to the Evil God. If the Yatan attempted to summon such a lesser Archdemon or a Greater Arch, things would be complicated even for him using Odin's vessel.
Their reach extended far more profound than he had anticipated.
'Braham, this is no coincidence,' Odin's voice cut in, his tone grim. 'If they're working inside the Empire, we need to know exactly what they're scheming.'
Braham nodded, though his expression betrayed no sense of urgency. "Very well," he said, almost to himself.
His gaze swept over the prisoners again, lingering briefly on the children and young women. A spark of annoyance flashed in his eyes. "You," he said, addressing the knight.
"Group everyone here and make your way to the Chieftain's Hall. Wait there until I return."
The knight's eyes widened in surprise. "What? You're… letting us go?"
Braham scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't mistake this for charity, human. I have no use for burdens like you. But I won't let the Yatan Church's filth spread unchecked."
With a flick of his wrist, several small orbs of light materialized around him. The orbs shot forward, striking the magical seals on the cells. A resounding crack echoed through the cavern as the seals shattered, the prison doors swinging open.
The knight's expression shifted from disbelief to gratitude. "Thank you, stranger," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I am Elric of the Fifth Order, serving under Marquis Charles von Fullbaz. If we meet again—"
"Spare me the pleasantries," Braham interrupted coldly. "I have no interest in your life story."
Without waiting for a response, Braham turned and began walking deeper into the cavern.
As he moved, the oppressive weight of dark mana grew more pungent, its presence cloying and suffocating, but as the Master of Mana, even this dark mana could be used to feed his need for mana.
The screams of women and children echoed faintly in the distance, a haunting reminder of the atrocities being committed. For a brief moment, Braham's expression darkened, but seconds later, he assumed his arrogant indifference to all this pain and suffering.
So what if they screamed, pleaded, and cried for help? As the Greatest Magician of his era and maybe even the current era, many sacrifices were being made, innocence thrown under his casualties in his pursuit of Eternal Life and unmatched magical knowledge.
Then, his usual smirk returned as if to shake off the momentary lapse. "How utterly predictable," he muttered. "The dogs of Yatan will never change regardless of what age we found ourselves."
A voice, low and menacing, rang out from the shadows ahead. "You dare intrude upon the sacred rites of the Evil God Yatan? Foolish mortal. Your life ends here."
Braham stopped, his smirk widening. "Is that so?" he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "By all means, enlighten me with your grandiose threats. They're always so entertaining."
The air crackled with energy as the shadowy figure raised a hand. Dark Lightning erupted from his palm, the jagged bolts of black energy surging toward Braham with deadly intent. The spell illuminated the cavern briefly, casting eerie shadows across the walls.
Braham didn't flinch. Instead, he raised his hand, his fingers curling slightly. The air around him shimmered as the bolts of dark energy slowed, their chaotic paths unraveling before they could reach him.
With an almost lazy gesture, Braham dispersed the spell entirely, the remnants of dark mana dissolving into nothingness.
"Is that the best you can do as a Black Magician?" he asked, his voice cold and mocking. "Pathetic."
The Dark Magician's eyes widened in shock, but he quickly recovered, his expression twisting into a snarl. "You insolent wretch! You will regret this!"
Braham's smirk deepened. "Regret?" he echoed, his tone laced with disdain. "The only one who will regret anything here is you."
"Fireball."
[User has consumed 5500 MP]
The Fireball shot forward with blistering speed, its trajectory leaving trails of scorched air in its wake. The cavern roared with the sound of the inferno as the sphere hurtled toward the Dark Magician. With a desperate cry, the man conjured a shield of dark energy, the barrier crackling as it struggled to resist the onslaught.
But it was futile.
The Fireball struck with explosive force, shattering the shield in an instant. The explosion sent waves of heat and light cascading through the chamber, engulfing the magician in a hellish blaze. His scream of agony echoed off the stone walls as he stumbled backward, his tattered robes alight with flames.
Braham watched impassively, the flames reflected in his crimson eyes. "You should have stayed in the shadows," he said coldly. "That's where vermin like you belong."
The Dark Magician fell to his knees, his voice a mix of rage and agony. "You… you don't know what you're interfering with! The Evil God Yatan—"
"Spare me the monologue," Braham interrupted, his tone dripping with disdain. "Your god means nothing to me. Let's end this charade, shall we, 6th Yatan Servant Malacus?"
Malacus's eyes widened in shock, his jaw tightening. The name of the 6th Servant was a closely guarded secret. Even his appearance was shrouded by a black magic spell. Yet this magician, this insolent interloper, had seen through his defenses as if they were parchment before a flame.
"You..." Malacus's voice wavered before regaining its edge. His expression shifted, a twisted grin forming on his charred face. "So you've seen through my disguise. But that means…"
His violet eyes narrowed as realization dawned. "Those crimson eyes... You're no ordinary magician, are you? You are a Vampire Lord!"
The mention of his title struck a nerve. Braham's smirk vanished, replaced by a murderous glint in his eyes.
Memories of his humiliation flooded his mind—his once-mighty status as a Vampire Duke stripped away, his eternal life stolen, his Gift of Vampirism lost. His crimson eyes flared with rage.
Malacus, sensing the shift in Braham's demeanor, allowed his shroud of shadow to dissipate, revealing his true form.
His gaunt face was marred with ritualistic scars. Each line is etched with dark magic. His skeletal frame seemed almost too frail to support him, yet his presence was oppressive, like a lingering storm cloud. Though burned and tattered, his robes bore the insignia of Yatan—a swirling sigil of chaos and malice.
"Why would a Vampire Lord disrupt the plans of Yatan?" Malacus demanded, his voice steady despite his injuries. "You, too, are a spawn of the Evil God. Vampires are kin to the demonkin, creations of Yatan's divine will. Surely, you should serve—"
Braham cut him off. His tone was venomous. "Do not presume to lecture me, worm. My loyalty lies with no god. Yatan's betrayal runs deep, and I'll see his servants burned to ash before I entertain the thought of serving him."
Malacus's eyes narrowed his expression a mix of fear and fury. "Fool. You're nothing but a broken relic of the past, clinging to your hatred. Your power means nothing against the will of Yatan."
Braham's expression darkened. He raised his hand again, summoning another sphere of fire. This one burned brighter, hotter, its destructive force palpable even from a distance.
"Enough," Braham growled. "I tire of this meaningless prattle. Burn, Servant of Yatan. Burn in the name of your wretched god."
The Fireball ignited the cavern with blinding light as it surged toward Malacus.
Reacting swiftly, Malacus muttered an incantation and vanished in a flash of dark energy, reappearing several meters away. The Fireball struck the spot where he had stood, the explosion leaving a molten crater in the cavern floor.
"You can't hope to defeat me!" Malacus spat, desperation creeping into his voice. "You may have power, but Yatan's will is eternal!"
Braham's smirk returned, cold and cruel. "Then let me show you how fleeting that eternity truly is."
With a sudden surge of energy, Braham activated Odin's Sovereign Insight. His crimson eyes glowed ominously as knowledge flooded his mind—Malacus's level, health, mana reserves, spells, and even his weaknesses were laid bare before him.
By this point, Braham's lips curled into a predatory grin.
[Black Magician Malacus - LV.250] (Hidden-Boss) (268,000/295,000 HP)
[Skills: Dark Lightning (A+), Black Mana Shield (A+), Shadow Barrage(A+), Cursed Obelisk (S), Shadow Phase (S), Black Nova (S+), Abyssal Chains (S+), Curse of Despair (SS), Yatan's Grasp (SS), Soul Drain (SS), Dark Implosion (SS)]
[Passives]
[Dark Affinity: Immune to dark magic.]
[Magic Resistance: 15% resistance to elemental spells.]
[Debuff Susceptibility: Can be slowed and stunned briefly but is immune to fear and charm effects.]
Braham's lips twisted into a scornful grin. "You're not as useless as I thought," he mocked, his tone dripping with derision. His crimson eyes glimmered like twin embers, radiating disdain.
In the back of Braham's mind, Odin's voice resonated with a calm but commanding tone, a sharp contrast to Braham's fiery pride. 'Braham, keep track of your mana expenditure. This isn't a battle you can afford to stretch out. If we run out of mana before Malacus dies, we'll end up defeated… or worse.'
Braham rolled his eyes, the glow of his crimson irises intensifying. His response came laced with biting arrogance. "Hmph. It's as if I need a reminder from you. Worry about your inadequacies, Odin, and watch as I reduce this pathetic black magician to ash."
His voice carried an edge of pride so sharp it could cut steel, and his fingers twitched in anticipation of his next spell.
Lifting his hand, Braham's magic surged to life with precision and purpose. He began by casting Alarm, his voice steady as he chanted the ancient incantation.
"Clever tricks won't save you, Black Magician," Braham said, his tone cold and dripping with scorn. Without waiting for a response, he raised his other hand, conjuring a series of glowing, crackling Magic Missiles.
The orbs of arcane energy hovered around him, pulsing with restrained power.
However, instead of firing them immediately, Braham wove an intricate spell to freeze them in time. The missiles remained suspended in a temporal stasis, shimmering faintly as though eager to be unleashed at the perfect moment.
The air around them hummed with potential energy, and Braham's grin widened. "Now then… let's see how fast you can run."