Chapter 385

“Step back. If you do that, I’ll give you everything.”

Esther stared at the phantom standing before her.

She’d come out here expecting some kind of trick. If they attacked, she was ready to show them the gap in their levels.

But the response was unexpected. Instead of fighting, they chanted over the magic circle they’d drawn, and the result was a figure from far away—projected here as a phantom.

‘Is it really worth that much?’

Summoning a phantom like this wasn’t cheap. It was like leaping across distance with a spell.

And showing a phantom wasn’t the same as reflecting reality.

She’d heard of Mages who did something similar with a Water Mirror, but it wasn’t common. It wasn’t Esther’s specialty either, and she’d never seen it in person.

Even so, Esther stood without blinking.

The wind brushed past. She had left the capital and come to a nearby forest.

Two Mages who had formed the phantom circle stood beside her with clasped hands, respectful.

And in that setting, the phantom spoke.

Count Molsen—the man she’d seen near Encrid.

“The most important thing for a Mage is their own world, and a world that answers their will. What I’m offering is clear. What do you think?”

Confidence overflowed from him, as if refusal didn’t exist.

He wasn’t asking her to help him, betray anyone, or do something to Encrid.

He wanted one thing.

Step back and watch.

There was no need to weigh pros and cons. The magic he’d used was high-level, and the artifacts and research materials he offered were precious.

And what he wanted in return wasn’t much.

He knew what mattered to a Mage.

The two Mages beside Esther clearly believed she would nod without hesitation.

Count Molsen believed it, too.

Esther had stayed at Encrid’s side to deal with the curse, but now she didn’t need him the way she once had.

She had opened a new path using part of the curse itself.

So the offer was tempting. Those resources would deepen her world and push it further.

There was no reason not to take it.

It was irritating that Count Molsen seemed to know that, but it didn’t matter.

Even if he played tricks, she had the power to ignore them.

The suffering she’d endured under this curse remained intact inside her world.

Esther stared into the phantom’s eyes without answering.

Because it was a phantom, it had no color.

She held that colorless gaze.

Then she smiled—and laughed.

The two Mages beside her stiffened, their eyes flicking to her. They were ready to move if things went wrong.

When Esther lifted her arm, the front of her coat opened, revealing the clinging outfit beneath.

Lust showed in the eyes of the two Mages.

Esther looked at them—men who moved at another’s command like limbs—then back at the phantom, and reaffirmed who she was.

She was a witch who wielded the Black World’s Fire.

A witch who carved her world open through struggle and battle.

A witch born to pursue truth with flame.

So she would not do something as stupid as being swayed by another’s will.

And this wasn’t for Encrid’s sake.

“I see.”

Count Molsen spoke first.

Something like flame rose in Esther’s eyes.

“I’ll burn you all the same.”

For the first time since being cursed, Esther drew fire from within her world.

It was nearly sunset. She had come far.

“Too bad.”

Count Molsen spoke just before the phantom vanished. His tone was so bland it was hard to tell if he meant it.

“Do you think that guy is still alive?”

‘That guy’—meaning Encrid.

Esther sneered.

“If he was the type to die from something like this, he would’ve died a long time ago.”

Would he die just because one Mage was missing?

‘Just?’

Esther paused for a heartbeat.

Then her body moved.

Flames rose.

The two Mages began chanting, resisting.

It was useless. A meaningless struggle.

Their tier and hers were different. Their possessions were different. Their paths were different.

—

Rem ran, thinking.

That bastard was hiding something.

Should he just accept it?

That would be fun.

But turning it around on him sounded even better.

So he decided to do both.

He pulled out a sling mid-run, set a roundly carved stone into the leather cradle, and spun it overhead.

Whirr, whirr, whirr.

The light spin sharpened into a whistling scream.

The Immortal Madman sprinted into the alley without looking back.

Rem didn’t chase from the ground. He stepped onto a shop’s eave and sprang upward.

His body soared. He landed on the roof and ran.

The spinning disc above his head tracked the same line as the spears chasing behind the opponent.

The moment Rem secured his view, he released.

Whoosh.

Hitting a target while standing still was hard enough.

He did it while sprinting across rooftops.

Because Rem was Rem.

The stone, flying so fast it barely showed its path, slammed into the back of the opponent’s thigh.

Bang!

But the sound Rem expected didn’t come.

Instead, one of the spear shafts behind the opponent shattered.

‘Sorcery?’

High-level, too.

Where had he picked something like that up?

Probably the same way he got everything—by killing his own.

“You’re really dead.”

Rem muttered it like a vow.

He fired more Stone Bullets.

All four spears that had been following behind the Immortal Madman burst and splintered, scattering wood shards through the air.

The Immortal Madman kept running, turned the alley, and entered a wide space—the plaza the back-alley gang talked about.

It wasn’t truly wide, about half the size of the capital’s central plaza, but it was wide enough for twenty men to tangle and slaughter each other.

Thwack!

A bullet struck the ground. Stone dust rose and fragments sprayed outward.

The Immortal Madman rolled and barely avoided it.

Even so, the next Stone Bullet clipped the back of his thigh.

If not for layered special leather protection, his leg would’ve been punctured or torn open.

Instead, he swallowed the groan, limped for a moment, then forced himself up.

Rem tossed aside the sling, its leather strap snapped, and looked down at the group huddled together.

The opponent looked up.

Rem looked down.

“Wow. Is this some kind of hometown association?”

Just by the air, Rem could tell—every last one of them was from the West.

He didn’t recognize faces, but he recognized runaways.

The Immortal Madman pressed a hand to his thigh, then stood.

“You won’t get out of here alive.”

Rem’s existence threatened him. If Rem walked away, this bastard would chase him down until he died.

So he’d intervened.

His goal was simple.

Kill Rem.

For that, he had gathered the hunted men of the West—some disciples, some mercenaries there for pay.

Their one common point: all of them were candidates for warriors of the West.

“Was that it?”

“Did you gather us just to catch one guy?”

“He looks familiar.”

“He’s the Immortal Rem. He’s famous around the Border Guard.”

“Famous? That’s a load of crap. Immortal? What kind of Velopter scale falling nonsense is that?”

Velopter was a reptile used as transport in the West. Its scales rarely fell, so “Velopter scale falling” meant something absurd.

The voices overlapped.

Among them, a few stayed silent, eyes sharp.

Those were the prepared ones—hands near blowguns at their waists.

“Runaways always talk the loudest.”

Rem squatted on the roof and looked over the trash.

Then he pulled another sling from his chest and loaded it. He reached in again, took out a second sling, and wedged it between his legs, using his legs where his hands lacked to load another stone.

The Stone Bullets in the pouches at his hips rattled.

Two slings, one in each hand.

He stood and spun them.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Two discs formed, catching sunlight, angled left and right like wings.

Rem kicked off the roof and jumped.

For a moment, it looked as if the discs held him aloft.

It was only an illusion.

He snapped both hands.

Thwack! Thwack!

Bullets too fast to track began doing their work.

Half the group raised shields.

Some were thick, layered leather shields.

Others were small wrist shields—men who trusted their skill, meant to scatter impact rather than block mass.

Two of those men had their heads burst like pumpkins.

Bang! Bang!

Blood and brain matter sprayed.

On the filthy gray floor, blood ran like paint.

The bullets were far faster than before—twice as fast as the ones that had struck the Immortal Madman earlier—and their power matched it.

Two men died without resisting.

Thud. Thud.

Rem landed and spun the slings again.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

“Block it!” the Immortal Madman shouted.

‘Like hell.’

Rem decided the fight’s beginning and end.

The beginning was a sling.

The end was an axe.

The Immortal Madman would die here.

Time had passed since Rem last faced him.

In that time, Rem had lost to that crazy bastard Ragna.

That defeat had stabbed into his mind and changed him.

He trained. He swung his axe until it felt like bone.

He even stole and learned parts of the [Isolation Technique] Encrid used and folded it into his routine.

This wasn’t the time to be picky about hot stew or cold stew.

He needed strength, so he swallowed whatever he could.

‘Damn Ragna.’

Even thinking of that bastard made power surge.

He poured that anger straight into the enemy.

Two more Stone Bullets slammed into the men rushing in.

Bang. Bang.

The thick shields—dozens of leather layers with hardened rubber-tree wood inside—held.

The bullets couldn’t punch through. They stuck.

“That crazy bastard…”

One shieldman muttered, pale.

But losing momentum here was death.

If the mind broke, neither sorcery nor martial arts worked properly.

Rem watched them close in, released the slings, and dropped his hand to his waist.

His fingers wrapped around the axe handle.

One man burst forward in an instant—fast enough to be dangerous.

Lightning-strike sorcery.

Rem drew the axe and shoved it forward as if he’d been waiting.

Not as fast as lightning, but perfect timing.

It looked like the man ran into the blade himself.

Thwack.

The axe split his head cleanly.

A man with a split head couldn’t live.

Yet his body still crashed into Rem, hands grabbing Rem’s thigh as he died.

A grappler. A breaker.

He clung even in death.

Rem began swinging his axe with the corpse hanging off him.

Whoong! Crack! Bang! Thwack!

They were all worse than even Encrid.

Only the Immortal Madman mattered.

He hurled a spear like a descending weapon and charged with another in hand.

Threatening, but—

‘Far below that damn Ragna.’

After dancing with Ragna’s sword, this was laughable.

Rem split five heads in an instant, then severed the arms and legs of the sixth and seventh.

The atmosphere flipped.

They weren’t men prepared to risk their lives.

That was why they were runaways.

“He’s a monster!”

Someone screamed.

The Immortal Madman realized it, too.

The moment he decided to run, he threw every spare spear he had, grabbed the arm of the man he called his disciple, and hurled him with sorcery that surged bear strength through his limbs.

“Master!”

The disciple’s cry was heartbreaking.

Rem swung at the flying human bullet.

Whoa—Thwack!

As the Heart of Monstrous Strength beat, power filled Rem’s arm like a giant’s.

He held his breath and swung diagonally.

The blade cut flesh, muscle, bone—clean and undeniable.

The weight of the body slammed back through his arm, but once he endured it, release followed.

The axe passed through.

The man split in two fell past Rem’s shoulders.

Blood drenched Rem from head to toe.

Rem’s gray eyes, gone red, locked onto the fleeing back.

If someone asked what Rem trained hardest after meeting the Immortal Madman, he’d answer without hesitation.

His legs.

That was why he had stolen the [Isolation Technique] in the first place.

“If I miss him this time, my mother is a Ghoul.”

Rem muttered the habit he’d picked up from Encrid and kicked off the ground.

The Immortal Madman ran.

Rem chased without hesitation.

There were survivors—men who had lived by luck alone—standing there blinking.

Their eyes followed Rem and the Immortal Madman.

Earlier, one side had laid a trap and the other had stepped into it knowingly.

This time was different.

No traps. No tricks.

The one chasing had made up his mind.

He would be caught and killed in less than half a day.

The survivors saw that future and started moving.

Staying would only be a dog’s death.

(T/N : This. Rem’s development is soooo gooooood. Im so happy that its not onlu Encrid who is growing but also the other characters are too. )