FANSiA Originals and KakaoPage
I Became the Genius Bastard of a Noble Dark Clan
[Author/Original: Yuin]
[TL: Dekor]
[PR: Spades]
Episode 32
—————————
"!!"
The guardian mages, previously relaxed, snapped to attention.
Alos stepped forward.
"Drive it into the cave."
Now Alos would use Demon Training to control the Karazov for the ritual.
Soon, a massive shadow loomed inside the cave.
The Karazov resembled a peacock.
But it was far from beautiful, grotesque.
Twice the size, its wings bore mottled, filthy patterns.
Its neck, thick as a log, writhed like a snake.
It had three pairs of sinister eyes, and its head was enormous, like a heavy mace. A blow from it wouldn't leave mere bruises.
Its deadliest trait was poison.
Each flap of its wings scattered ashen powder.
A mind-clouding toxin that could render anyone combat-incapable if exposed.
A beast with a sturdy body and venom.
'By rank, it's a 4-demon class, but it's not that dangerous.'
Despite its power, the Karazov was cowardly.
A little threat, and it'd flee.
So Alos and the guardian mages weren't overly tense.
"Young Master Alos, the Karazov's a coward. It won't attack first, so don't worry—just apply Demon Training."
Alos nodded and approached.
But the Karazov acted strangely.
Grrr!
It let out a harsh growl.
A rough, aggressive sound.
Alos brushed it off.
Just fear, he thought.
He even spared a glance at Chris, smirking.
'Watch me.'
That's what his look said.
And then.
As he reached out to cast Demon Training—
Chaos erupted!
KIAAAAA!
With a screech, the Karazov headbutted him.
Caught off guard, Alos couldn't dodge.
WHAM!
Struck head-on, he flew backward through the air.
"Young master?!"
"Are you okay?!"
The guardian mages rushed to him, shocked.
Grrrr.
Flap!
The Karazov beat its wings.
The mages' faces hardened.
"Poison!!"
"Strike it before the toxin spreads!"
Luckily, they'd all taken antidotes beforehand.
But antidotes weren't foolproof.
The longer they were exposed, the more the poison would overwhelm the antidote, and that'd be the end.
They had to subdue it fast.
The mages charged.
WHAM!
The Karazov easily blocked their attacks. A second victim flew back, blood spraying.
"Why…?"
The mages panicked.
Normally, the Karazov wasn't this aggressive.
A mere sword threat would paralyze it with fear.
That's why, despite being a 4-demon class, young mages hunted it alone.
But now, it raged like a beast, unafraid. Its three pairs of green eyes gleamed fiercely.
'There's a reason.'
The only calm figure present, Chris, thought nonchalantly.
'Because I made it happen.'
The aphrodisiac he'd spread last night wasn't ordinary.
Crafted with alchemical secrets, it hyper-charged the Karazov's aggression, driving it mad.
'Plus, I cast a curse on it.'
His curse: Oblivion of Fear.
A dark magic spell that erased fear, turning the Karazov into a berserk warrior.
"Call for backup!"
"Too late! We handle it ourselves!"
But they stood no chance.
The guardian mages were barely adults, young and green.
Their skill capped at 2-star.
One by one, they fell to the frenzied Karazov's onslaught.
The poison was the real problem.
Each wing flap released toxins that clouded their minds.
'It's over.'
'We're all gonna die…'
Despair crept onto their faces.
Then, step.
A soft footfall echoed in the chamber.
A sound that pierced everyone's ears.
"!!"
They turned, stunned, to see the noble-looking Christian smirking smugly.
"The Tyramine family's pathetic. Need my help?"
It was time to play the hero.
---
"…"
Alos and the guardians stared, dumbfounded.
'What's this lunatic saying?'
Chris, save them?
They were 2-star mages.
So was he, nothing more.
Yet Christian spoke with insufferable confidence, as if he could actually beat the Karazov.
"If Alos swears to call me big brother from now on, I'll graciously step in."
"Crazy bastard."
Alos spat curses.
But why? Was it that infuriating, bottomless confidence?
He couldn't shake the feeling Chris might actually fix this.
"Come on, hurry. Time's short."
Just then, the Karazov opened its maw toward a fallen mage.
Left alone, that mage was dead.
Finally, Alos snapped.
"You mad bastard!! Help, you damn jerk!"
Chris's lips curled.
"Call me big brother from now on."
With that—
Swish!
He hurled a dagger.
It flew straight, like a drawn line, and thunk, struck the head.
Astonishingly precise, but it did no damage.
The Karazov's armor-like skin deflected it easily.
Still, it got its attention.
The beast locked onto Chris.
KIAAAA.
It charged with a screech!
Chris spun half a turn, dodging, and as they crossed, his sword slashed its wing.
Clang!
No effect.
It bounced off like hitting steel.
To wound the Karazov, you needed a dark blade—mana-infused swordplay.
That required 3-star mastery.
Meaning, only a 3-star mage could land a real hit.
'I could win using Light Faction techniques, but that's not an option now.'
A head-on fight was unwinnable.
But that was fine.
He had a plan.
"Acting all high and mighty, and you're screwing up?! Just run already!"
Alos shouted.
He and the others, poisoned, couldn't even flee.
"This is *our* family's business! It's got nothing to do with you, get out!!"
Chris raised an eyebrow.
Mixed with curses, but it was concern, in a way.
'Did getting thrashed make him fond of me?'
Like Tern, nothing built bonds like trading blows.
"Thanks for the concern."
Clang!
Chris's sword struck the Karazov again.
He dodged and blocked its attacks, striking back at every opening.
Seemingly pointless counterattacks.
No—they weren't pointless.
Amid the clash—
Chris was setting up a trick.
"There's a way."
Clang!
He dropped his sword.
Everyone's eyes widened.
"D-Danger…!!"
Then, Chris extended his hands.
One toward the Karazov.
The other toward himself.
An incomprehensible move.
And then, the unbelievable happened.
Freeze!
The Karazov stopped dead!
Shudder.
Its wing feathers trembled, resisting.
Chris spoke firmly.
"Fold your wings."
"?!"
Shockingly, it obeyed.
The flapping wings folded.
The Tyramine mages gasped.
"Demon Training?!"
"How?!"
Chris thought calmly.
'How? You showed me during our duel.'
Of course, he hadn't mastered it from one fight.
He'd studied the basics back at the Kazar estate and practiced secretly after the duel.
'I couldn't replicate it perfectly, so I tweaked it my way.'
Since he'd only observed it, his version had gaps.
Like a spell with missing steps.
He filled those with his own methods.
'Guess you'd call it Chris-style Demon Training, inspired by Tyramine's? Imitation's the mother of creation, after all.'
One hand controlled the beast's movements; the other cast a curse to subdue its mind.
"Now, to the altar."
Chris commanded.
The Karazov resisted, but his other hand glowed with dark light.
A fear spell sapped its will.
"Impossible. How's he doing that?"
Demon Training required years of beast-control practice, a complex art.
That wasn't all.
More shocking still—
How was he casting curse magic alongside Demon Training?
They were entirely different disciplines.
Even Tyramine's Demon Training only wove curses into the technique, not wielded them separately like this.
Amid their awe, the Karazov reached the prepared altar.
Set before Gehenna's rift.
*KIAAAA!*
It screeched in terror at the rift's malevolent aura.
Chris focused.
'I need a fear strong enough to overwhelm Gehenna's malice.'
His other hand darkened deeper.
A massive fear flooded the Karazov's mind.
When that fear crushed even Gehenna's evil
Chris's spell shifted.
Fear gave way to ecstasy.
A hymn of joy shining through dread. Ecstasy.
This was the Black Pill ritual's process.
When the Karazov overcame Gehenna's terror and offered its life in joy for the caster, its Gray Pill would transform into a Black Pill.
A pure crystal of darkness, surpassing Gehenna's malice.
'Now!'
Chris's hand flashed.
He held a dagger.
The one Grantel, the crooked merchant, had procured, a masterwork blade.
It sliced through the Karazov's armored skin.
Splatter!
Green blood sprayed, and Chris plunged his hand inside.
He pulled out a small orb.
An elixir.
"Black Pill?!"
"No, it's a Gray Pill!"
The Tyramine mages shouted.
The orb in Chris's hand wasn't black, it shimmered gray.
Chris frowned dramatically.
"Not a Black Pill. Did the ritual fail?"
A lie.
The Black Pill was in his pocket.
How?
'I swapped it.'