How a Reincarnated Warlock Lives – Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Trial (5)

This magic was incomparable to the kind that had leaked out from the nameless specter at the small grave.

Of course, it was also incomparable to what I had handled in the past, but it was the strongest magic I had seen since awakening in my new body.

“You filthy heretics. . .!”

Valent, who was holding a sword that shimmered with a faint light reflecting the holy power flowing from Daena’s hands, spat out savagely.


The one who seemed to be their leader let out a small laugh. A clear mockery.

The reason why he could remain so composed despite seeing the holy power blooming in Daena’s hands was obvious: their clear numerical advantage, our appearance that seemed somewhat inexperienced, and the several ballistae that must be targeting us right now in the darkness.

With her and Valent’s current level, it was impossible to deal with them while simultaneously dodging the sharp arrows flying from all sides. It would have been different if it were a wide-open space, but this place was too narrow.

“If you don’t want your head blown off, you better put away that damn light, young lady.”

I could see Daena biting her lip at his words.

She must have been reproaching herself for not thinking that a warlock would enter the passage that was directly connected to the town square.

I calmly observed them.

The one who could be called a warlock was the one standing at the forefront, leaning on a staff. The ones behind him were his minions.

I took a step forward and slowly opened my mouth. As calmly as if I were just out for a walk.

“Are you dealing with that guy named Foil?”

The warlock at the forefront let out a small snort as if he were taken aback by my overly composed attitude.

“Ha, you’re a funny one. Or maybe you just don’t get it.”

“Are you trading in cursed items?”

He shrugged at my words.

“A man who’s about to die is curious about a lot of things. Yes, we buy and sell curses. It’s nothing new.”

“What kind of curses do you mainly deal with? The Breath of Kercia? Mihadrin’s Second Blessing?”

I asked as if I were genuinely curious, and he answered in a slightly lowered voice at my question.

“. . .You sure talk funny. I don’t know where you picked up those names, but do you think you can easily get your hands on top-tier curses like that?”

“Oh, so that’s out of the question. What a bummer.”

“. . .Ha.”

He snorted at my words and gestured to the minions behind him.


A sharp sound of something cutting through the air.


The place where the arrow flew and struck was none other than the head of the middleman, Foil.

“Ughh. . .”

Foil’s face seemed to turn pale in an instant, as if the arrowhead had been coated with poison.

“. . .!”

The arrows flying through the darkness were quite threatening.

Daena and Valent’s faces darkened as they watched Foil collapse without even being able to let out a proper scream.

Even if they protected their vital areas with holy power, it was clear that they would be scattered around once the battle began, and the arrows flying through the darkness from unseen archers were threatening.

I gestured to the two of them as if to reassure them, and calmly asked.

“Weren’t you guys on the same side?”

The warlock’s eyebrows twitched as I calmly asked him back, even after he had fired an arrow as if to intimidate us.

“. . .We can no longer do business with one whose faith has been broken.”

Seeing that I didn’t show any particular nervousness, the warlock replied coldly and slowly raised his staff.

“Well, that’s enough stalling, my regrets.”

I looked down at the warlock with lowered eyes.

The reason I had engaged in useless conversation was partly to satisfy my curiosity, but my main purpose was to get a detailed grasp of the magic flowing from him.

Since I didn’t have any magic right now, I needed some time to figure out the exact nature of the magic flowing faintly from him.

All warlocks, or rather, all warlocks except me now, receive their magic from the devil.

And the magic created by the lower devils belonging to the seven archdevils who digest human souls and various emotions and turn them into magic contains the unique nature of each group.

To those who handle holy power, it might just feel like the same magic, but I, who had subjugated countless warlocks over many years and dabbled in the knowledge of various factions, could tell right away.

The faction he belonged to.

‘The Bergezia Cult.’

So the remnants of Fehern’s followers were still alive and kicking.


I looked at the warlock and let out a sly laugh. These guys didn’t know any better.

“If you want to catch me, you’ll need to send someone like your high priest?”

“. . .What?”


At the same time as the warlock’s face filled with surprise at my unexpected answer, a dazzling light burst forth.


The three steps required to activate magic.

Spell deployment, initiation, and manifestation.

There were many differences in the names used for each of them and the detailed adjustments within them, but all magic that used magic, holy power, or mana was completed through these three steps.

Therefore, unless they have ample time to prepare in advance, the words “wizard” and “surprise attack” are worlds apart.

Of course, that was the case for those of average level.


Without any warning or prelude, a transparent orb with no color quickly shot out from my hand and pierced through the darkness, exploding with a bang in the middle of them.


Light that burst out in an instant from an orb the size of a fingernail.

What burst out from the middle of the heretical group wasn’t just bright light, but holy power that purified evil.

“Kehalin’s Orb!”

A gasp mixed with admiration burst from Daena’s mouth as she recognized the identity of the holy spell. It was a level of magic that was incomparable to simply creating a faint light that stayed near her hand.

“What the hell is this─”

It was a speed that was impossible to react to when caught off guard. He hurriedly turned his body, and his eyes briefly revealed a mix of panic and disbelief.

It seemed he had never imagined that I, who appeared to be nothing more than a mere fledgling, would be capable of using magic with this kind of speed.


The warlock’s darkness was swept away by the holy light.


The warlock at the front let out an anguished scream as he clutched at his robe, and that seemed to be the signal for the start of the battle in the narrow passage.


An arrow fired from the front with a sharp sound, but the situation was different from before.

Daena and Valent, who had gotten a rough idea of my abilities earlier, reacted faster than the other side, who had been caught completely off guard by my surprise attack.

It wasn’t a long difference, just a hair’s breadth.

However, in a life-or-death fight, a moment’s hesitation was enough to create a meaningful result.

The surroundings were not the darkness from before, but filled with light that illuminated everything, and the figures of those aiming their ballistae at us were also clearly visible.


The guys were desperately firing slingshots, but Valent and Daena were already closing the distance toward them.

Valent, who ran in a zigzag while holding up his longsword, not minding the two slingshot bullets that passed him by, shouted in a loud voice.

“In the name of God!”


Valent, and Daena who jumped in right after him, brought down their maces on top of their heads.


Black and white, and the now red color were drawn in the air of the narrow passage.



After pushing away his underlings, who were shielding him, and stepping back to the end of the passage, the warlock let out a scream filled with pain and fury.

He was half out of his mind thanks to the holy power that had been poured into the light that had suddenly enveloped him.

As his face, which had been hidden in darkness, was brightly revealed by the light, I let out a short exclamation.

“You’re even uglier in person.”

Whether he didn’t like my frank impression, he pressed down hard on his black robe with his pained hand, and swung his staff while shouting with a voice that sounded as though it would tear. Black smoke was rising from his hand that was exposed to the holy light.

“Rusty Spear of Fehern!”

It seemed like he had already prepared for this spell beforehand, as magic began to gush out from his body.


Daena shouted urgently at his appearance.

As she pulled out the mace, which was half-embedded in her body that had been crushed to the point of being unrecognizable, and turned her body this way, two underlings blocked her path.


Unlike the warlock, the underlings didn’t have much magic, and were relatively fine. Of course, Valent and Daena were holding them back, but the two of them couldn’t keep an eye on other places.

“Die, you bastard!”


The magic that was gushing out from the warlock’s body shot out in the shape of a dark spear.

It was his last resort that risked his life, as he didn’t even leave behind the minimum magic to protect his body from the passage’s light that was still not turned off.

I calmly glanced over his magic.

Spell deployment, activation, manifestation.

The somewhat unstable magic form, and magic manifested right away without going through the first two stages.

He hadn’t chanted quickly like me, and had just barely manifested it with the help of his staff, using a magic that he had prepared beforehand.

In that case.

‘Nothing more to see.’

Five hundred years ago, I wouldn’t have even been able to look him in the eye.

‘Silver Shield of Gabras.’


Light spread from my hand, and created a sturdy shield that shone in silver in front. At a speed that was far superior to his spell.

A holy spell that I had directly learned from the inquisitor, Anton Revecht, not long ago.

A defensive spell that was especially effective against attacks from heretics, or in other words, black magic.


The dark spear, shining in an ominous, greenish light, shattered against the silver shield and crumbled into nothingness.


“This can’t be. . .!”

The warlock muttered in vain, looking at his spell that was slowly scattering as it turned into mist. Judging from the smoke rising from various parts of his body, it seemed that it was already too late to recover his body.

The warlock’s body slowly collapsed, as he had lost even the minimum amount of magic to protect his body.


At the same time as the warlock powerlessly knelt down, it seemed that Daena and Valent had cleaned up the last underling.

I closed my eyes and focused on the other side of the passage. I couldn’t sense any more presences.

Although I had used more holy power than I had thought due to the unexpected situation, it was a pretty clean ending.

I turned my gaze toward the two who had finished off the remaining underlings.

“Whew. . . . . .!”

Valent was roughly breathing while shaking off his sword. It seemed that he had some scratches here and there, but it didn’t seem like they were fatal wounds.

” . . .Let’s get out of here quickly first.”

Daena said calmly, looking at the passage’s light that was gradually fading as its effect was ending.

I smiled calmly as I looked at her, who was anxiously holding up her mace, as if worried that there might still be some other remnants, in order to not repeat the same mistake.

If these guys were really part of the Bergezia Catacombs, I had something more to find out before going.

Of course, there was no reason to tell the two of them about it directly.

Although I could just beat around the bush and say that I was looking into any traces that might still remain, there was one excuse that was just too good for me right now.

“No, candidates. There’s still something important left to do.”

” . . . . . .? “

The two looked at me, who spoke calmly, with somewhat puzzled faces. I pointed to the collapsed warlock and the corpses of his remnants, and said.

“Let’s pray for their souls.”

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