Chapter 8: Homunculi Ritual Arc - The False Magus Killer

A Homunculi is a tool crafted by the Berg Family. Although they aren’t the only one that actively tries to create them. Homunculi creation is normal in this world. They are dolls that have no emotions and lacks the sentience will to live.

Yet, what did the foolish magus saw in that crimson afternoon?

He saw a simple noble girl that had the ability to smile. The words of thanks she said still echoed in the ears of the foolish magus and the soft warm feeling of the help she has given him when he was lying bruised still permeates his skin. The Foolish Magus who lost his childhood was brought up by a man with a morality outside of this world.

The Magus Killer saw everyone equal in the eyes. Making the Foolish Magus, his foster son adapt to his morals and principles. Even the Foolish Magus knew of the dolls that have no life. Nobles taking their dolls out for a walk were nothing unusual. They were lifeless and emotion and didn’t have any volition and will to live.

The Foolish Magus would look at them with pity. But without asking for help the dolls wouldn’t be saved. The Foolish Magus has understood that without their will saving them is the same as asking them to die. They can eat, sleep, and serve but never truly ‘live’.

That is why the Foolish Magus could not believe that someone who could thank him and even help him would be an emotionless doll. That is why the Foolish Magus would definitely help her. It was a simple as paying a debt. There was no need for the Foolish Magus to think hard about paying her kindness back.

The Foolish Magus was foolish yet he knows his limitations.

He knew that until he was unchained and is able to graduate out of his apprenticeship on the academy that his life is still connected with Susan and her parents. He promises to help them out, and risking three lives just because of one doesn’t sound correct to him.

But even so, the Foolish Magus could not refuse a help.

That is why he carried the tool that his foster father gifted to him before he died. A simple tool he called a [Gun]. His father had a tool that he calls as a Contender Pistol. His father carried it with him to kill Magus with a single shot to the head. In his death, he gave The Foolish Magus a blueprint he could convert to the use of all of his mana. He calls the item that the Foolish Magus is holding as ‘.45/70 BFR.’ or simply a ‘BFR Pistol’ with a ten-inch barrel with a black stainless steel finish. It can hold five rounds and is considered by his foster father as a something that he would pass along with favorite Contender Pistol. Constructing a BFR Pistol took all the mana The Foolish Magus was.

He could have constructed the single shot Contender Pistol his foster fathered admired.

But looking at the ‘people’ in front of him, he thinks that isn’t enough

He lacks the mana to construct more bullets.

...

A mask-wearing man garb in black appeared before Lazlo. He didn’t notice before due to stabilizing the ritual to help the instructors out of duty.

The masked man was carrying a strange crossbow-like weapon with no-strings.

“Who are you!?”

Lazlo activated his defense spells immediately. He was one of the top nobles so he was able to easily activate his entire defense. The mask wearing man didn’t say anything to him. And as he was about to strike the fool in front of him with a spell, one of the instructors uttered a yelp.

“That look and that weapon in your hand why are you here of all place!”

“Huh?”

Lazlo was confused.

“The Magus Killer...”

One of the instructors grits his teeth at the sight of the mask-wearing man.

Hearing the instructors, a cold sweat came upon Lazlo’s spine. He heard of the Magus Killer, for his family has once dealt with the infamous killer of Mages.

“Damn it...no...”

Lazlo felt scared yet when he sense that there was zero mana on the Magus Killer. He flashed a smile. Under his breath, he started chanting a fire bolt spell to obliterate the Magus Killer. He could not sense any protection aura around the Magus so he thought to strike first!

“Wait a minute you fool!”

“Take this heathen!”

Before the instructor could warn Lazlo not to act recklessly.

A loud boom echoed on the hand of the mask-wearing man.

Lazlo only a saw a flash the moment he lifted his palms.

He felt pain on his stomach.

Looking down he saw his stomach punctured by something hot.

He could see blood flowing out.

“Ser Lazlo!”

One of the instructors shouted at Lazlo who was still standing in shock at the instant attack that he could never see. The entry wound on his stomach was rather small. But Lazlo didn’t know that his back where the bullet went out had an expanded wound that has a size of a palm.

Lazlo’s defense was quite tough. His body was enhanced by magic but the .45/70 bullet was able to easily puncture a hole on his stomach.

He was standing for a while.

The mask-wearing man looked at the defenseless instructors.

He then walked towards Lazlo and pushes him back.

The moment he did so Lazlo hit his body on the ground. The impact of being push didn’t hurt him, but the moment he felt the bullet wound. He screamed and writhed in pain, bleeding on the ground.

The instructors looked at the mask-wearing man with fear.

They heard the rumors about the Magus Killer that specializes in killing Magus.

They thought that such figure already disappeared eight years ago during a fire. But they were a fool to believe it. There was no one in the world could possess such a deadly weapon.

That’s why the defenseless instructors who were maintaining the ritual and was mostly drained could only shiver in fear.

As if the Black Pierrot-inspired mask of the man garb in black would devour them.

The Foolish Magus could see the fear in their eyes.

These people could kill him instantly if it wasn’t for that fear and their defenselessness right now.

The [Gun] that is his hand was something that would make people afraid. Like the sound of thunder, it would rattle the spirit. He himself was shocked when his foster father showed such weapon to him. He understood how to use it through the imprint left behind by his foster father.

The Foolish Magus only has four bullets left.

Without mana, he could not cast any spells that would allow his survival.

He could transmute the revolver back as mana but it was pointless to do so. Right now he was relying on the fear that his father wielded. The [Gun] was enough to make them cower in fear. No one but the Magus Killer could wield such weapon that the current age and technology of the world could not comprehend and replicate. A simple tool of death that rid the Magus Killer’s world, the age of Knights, one of the tools of war that brought peace to the world that the Magus Killer have.

This world is a world of magic.

But even so, the tool was far different.

Arden knew the power of this tool.

So he made sure to brandish it against these unknowing people.

Right now he was the False Magus Killer.

Bearing the old name of his sinful foster father, he strides with arrogance towards the suffering doll lying on the platform of souls.

“Do you need help?

Arden spoke with his usual voice. He didn’t try to differentiate it mostly because even the instructors who are around the platform wouldn’t know of it. They were nobles, after all, prideful and arrogant to the core mainly because of their bloodline.

The Doll suffering on the platform looked at the black Pierrot-inspired masked man. She was writhing in pain as the ghostly umbilical cords get pulled by the ‘spectral’ she gave birth to. She could somehow vaguely see the masked man but in her eyes, he looked only like pale death.

“Ah...”

But his voice was so familiar that the Doll remembered raw innocence. She would never forget that voice and that image forever. So hearing his voice, yet seeing the black mask of his, the Doll smiled. Her face writing in pain smiled, it was enough to make the False Magus killer before her crumple his face in sadness under his mask.

“O my pale rider...please embraced me to your arms.”

“Very well...”

Arden painfully replied. He could see that even if he does somehow take this writhing doll she wouldn’t be able to live for a day. She was suffering truly.

The busted stomach of hers was enough for Arden to see her condition.

Arden was too late.

He was too late.

He wasn’t a Hero that would arrive in time.

He was only a ‘Helper’ that helps.

That is why even though he failed. Even though he was too late in saving the Doll that no one would turn an eye on.

He would still help her.

Not as a Savior this time, but as her Pale Rider.

So Arden pulled the hammer of his gun.

Pointing it at the head of the doll, he teared up. The doll as if miracle saw the tears running down the mask of her Reaper.

It was ‘kind’ tears.

And that was enough for her to close her eyes.

With a bang, the head of the Doll exploded.

A point black shot of .45/70 bullet allowed Arden to kill the doll in one shot.

The instructors on the six sides of the Hexagon felt their mana rushed out.

Without the conduit, their connected mana became the fuel to the spectral knights that the nobles who are testing their mettle were fighting.

“AHHHHHHHHH”

“IT HURTSSSSSSS”

“HELP MEEEEEEE”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

The instructor's agonizing bellows sounded out. Arden looked at them with apathy. To him, they were using the doll in order for their mana to not get connected to the spectral knights.

So Arden only sees their suffering as their own doing.

He would help those who needed help.

That is why with a quick shot of light the BFR pistol on his hand turned into dots of gray light. Returning his mana back to his body, allowing him to heal the dislocation on his right wrist, it happened when he shot the pistol. He knew how to use it but he wasn’t fully trained to actually use it.

His mana went zero.

But there was still work to do in these slums.

Arden could feel that unless he kills the instructors the spectral knights wouldn’t disappear. They won’t leave the slums and continue their rampage. He could still hear the screams of the people around the slums. The nobles did not care for their lives. But Arden does.

Kill the six to save many.

It was reasonable.

But Arden lacked the mana to construct the weapon.

So, seeing the writhing Lazlo on the ground, he decided on something.

He walked to Lazlo and he touched his head. With that, he started Transmuting the mana into him. Lazlo shouted in pain. He felt his mana being converted.

Arden’s train of thought at the moment was simple.

To save the people in the slums he would need to kill the Six Instructors.

But to do that, he needs at least six bullets for each one of them.

So he would have to use Lazlo as ‘material’ to do so.

Thus without guilt, he uses Lazlo’s mana and used it to construct a Contender Pistol armed along with six bullets.

Using the imprint that his foster father left behind, he turned the noble named Lazlo into fuel.

Allowing him to create the gun and the bullets needed for him to kill the six instructors and save the people in the slums who do they don’t care about.

With the bullets created. He inserted one and went to the first instructor. The instructor who was writhing in pain felt despair at the sight of the barrel in front of him, he knows that the moment that barrel flashes. His life would end.

And with the muzzle’s flash, it did end.

Five Instructors were left.