How a Reincarnated Warlock Lives – Chapter 2

Chapter 2: When the Moon Rises

It’s quite unsettling to lock eyes with someone who suddenly sits up in their coffin.

Especially when it happens in a graveyard bathed in the eerie blue moonlight of midnight.

And even more so when the person rising from the coffin is the one you just killed.

Creak.

A sound that shouldn’t be heard, that shouldn’t exist in this place. At the chilling sound of footsteps behind him, Berman put down the old lantern he was holding and turned around hastily.

No way.

Cracked tombstones scattered haphazardly, overgrown with weeds.

A place closest to the stillness of death, with an inexplicable eeriness, but it was a living person who captured his gaze.

” . . . . . .! “

A boy slowly rising from the coffin, walking out among the wild weeds and graves.

Luciel Lumenique.

” W-What the━ “

The boy who had just breathed his last. More precisely, the one he had killed at the behest of another.

‘Damn it. I, I clearly confirmed he was dead.’

Berman swallowed hard, staring at the boy. Cold sweat trickled down his face at the unexpected situation, but not enough to cloud his judgment with fear.

It was an age when the cursed walked the earth. An age when countless heresies, including demons and their followers, sought light in the shadows.

And an era where the resurrection of a corpse in a midnight graveyard isn’t dismissed as a ridiculous ghost story.

He slowly backed away, reaching for the sword strapped to his back, observing the boy who was calmly approaching him.

The light from the lantern placed on the ground wasn’t very bright, but it was enough to make out the face of the person right in front of him.

” . . . . . .! “

Dark blue hair and a clean face full of life.

He looked quite different from the zombies or ghouls that often appeared in graveyards imbued with dark energy.

This wasn’t a corpse moving due to some curse’s side effect.

The boy in front of him was as alive as Berman himself.

And that was more surprising than encountering a zombie or a ghoul. A boy with a pierced heart walking out of his grave, perfectly fine.

“ Sh, shit. . . . . .! ”

Confused by the situation beyond his comprehension, Berman muttered a curse filled with bewilderment, but still drew his sword.

A fairly quick decision. An action possible only because he, too, had made a living by the sword.

Tightly.

Berman gripped the sword so hard that his knuckles turned white.

He didn’t know how the boy had woken up, but killing him again would suffice.

He was just a young boy, after all.

Luring him out of the monastery was quite a hassle. He had no intention of repeating that tedious wait twice.

Unaware of his murderous intent, the boy slowly inhaled and raised his head to look up at the sky.

As if savoring the cool night air after a long time.

A dark night with darkness clinging thickly. The moon, shining alone in the sky, cast a faint blue light on the dark forest.

” Die! “

” What a beautiful moon. “

Ignoring the boy’s nonsense as he gazed at the ominous moon hanging in the dark night sky, Berman shouted and swung his sword.

Quite a fierce momentum. If the person in front of him had been in the same state as before his death, he would have lost his life once again to his sharp blade.

But unfortunately for Berman, the person in front of him was not the young boy he knew.

And even more unfortunately for him, this place was a graveyard filled with gloomy energy, almost like a warlock’s domain.

Clang!

Berman’s sword, swung precisely at Luciel’s neck, stopped in mid-air. As if it had struck something invisible and solid.

” Ugh. . . . . .? “

Having swung his sword with all his might, without letting his guard down, Berman let out a pained groan as his attack was blocked at an unexpected point.

Although it wasn’t clearly visible, blending with the surrounding darkness, what blocked his sword was a black mist faintly shimmering in the air.

A black mist of dark magic, blooming in the path of the swiftly flying sword.

Fast enough not to be pushed back by the nimbly swung sword. It was an instantaneous casting and manifestation of black magic.

” B-Black magic. . . . . .! “

A bewildered murmur escaped Berman’s lips.

An illegitimate child of a noble family, abandoned at the monastery, suddenly using black magic. It was impossible. Hadn’t he just died without much resistance?

Despite the confusion filling his head, his body moved faithfully.

Although he wasn’t skilled enough to manifest aura or holy power to pierce through the black mist, he was still a mercenary who had rolled around in various places for a long time.

Berman quickly retrieved his sword and prepared for his next move. Or rather, he tried to, but couldn’t.

Stuck.

The small mist that had blocked the front of the blade was now wriggling as if alive, firmly entwining Berman’s sword.

” Wh, what the. . . . . .! “

Instinctively realizing that the opponent before him was something incomparable to the young boy he knew, Berman tried to quickly retreat, letting go of the sword entangled in the black mist in the air.

“ This damn━ ”

In response to Luciel’s hand gesture, which he finished as if playing a tune in the air with a calm expression, a pair of fangs suddenly appeared in the air.

But before that.

Swish!

A pair of fangs that suddenly appeared in the air in response to the hand sign that the expressionless Luciel had drawn in the air.

The teeth of evil energy made of thick darkness dug ruthlessly into the nape of Bermen’s neck.

Click!

The hard fangs made of magic dug roughly into the soft flesh of a human, and blood spurted out in the darkness.

“ Ugh. . . . . .! ”

Bermen flailed his arms to try and knock away the teeth that had appeared out of nowhere, but there was no way a mere swordsman without holy power or the aura of knights, or expensive magic defensive gear or the blessing of priests, could shake off a spell that stemmed from magic.

“ S, spare me. . . . . . ”

His movements, waving his arms in the darkness, gradually began to slow down.

Whoosh!

At the same time, a cold wind blowing from somewhere extinguished the small flame that had been flickering precariously inside the small lantern placed on the ground.

The acrid scent of thin smoke rising from where the flame had died out.

An ominous smell. The smell of death.

Thud.

The graveyard where darkness had fallen.

And the dark energy felt along with the leisurely footsteps.

Thud, thud.

The sticky liquid that had been flowing from his body, indistinguishable between blood and sweat, had turned cold at some point.

” Gaaaah. . . . . . “

In his fading consciousness, the last emotion Berman recalled was one: self-reproach for being blinded by money and taking on such an eerie job.

But as is often the case, regret came too late.

Gurgle.

With a final blood-curdling sound like the death throes of a dying man, his movements slowly ceased, and another death was added to the small graveyard.

🔹🔹🔹

I slowly raised my hand.

A young and strong body that could not be compared to my previous old body, which had been twisted out of shape by my long contract with the devil.

The ritual was successful. The condition of the new body was perfect, and the memories containing vast knowledge were all intact.

Moreover, I couldn’t feel any trace of the original sin branded by God, nor the mark of the contract with the devil.

It seems that various curses and contracts were naturally broken as my life, the contractee, ended and my body perished. As expected.

It was truly clean.

Ah, of course, the situation wasn’t completely clean.

” . . . . . . “

I stared silently at the corpse lying in front of me.

The movement of swinging the sword without any hesitation. An act filled with clear murderous intent.

Soon, the memories of the new body began to slowly surface.

The memories of the boy named Luciel.

They weren’t complete or detailed, as they weren’t originally mine, but they were sufficient to grasp the current situation roughly.

The last memory was, of course, the image of the guy lying at my feet now, swinging his sword.

‘A candidate for priesthood from a noble family, murdered at the behest of someone.’

It seemed that this boy named Luciel hadn’t had a very smooth life either.

The fact that the place where he finally died was an old graveyard was fortunate for me.

I looked down at my clothes stained with dirt and blood.

The sun and griffin embroidered on them. The symbol of the Order of Heretica.

It wasn’t very pleasant, but from another perspective, it could be a good opportunity.

Having the status of the Order was quite advantageous for moving around freely.

Then, for now, the first thing to do would be to return to the monastery where he originally resided.

Of course, there was something to take care of before that.

Swoosh.

I looked down at the darkness flickering at my fingertips. A familiar energy dwelling in an unfamiliar body.

A power similar to, yet different from, the mana that made up this world.

Magic energy.

The black energy, indistinguishable from the surrounding darkness, was flowing towards my hand from the graveyard scattered around.

Defying the laws of the world, from the grave to the ground, from the dead to the living.

I lowered my gaze and looked at the corpse lying in front of me.

” With the moon so bright, isn’t it too early to fall asleep? “

I muttered softly and slowly raised my pale, smooth hand.

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