The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Chapter 290: Primordial Evil (5)
“Holy Light.”
Fwaaash!
The divine radiance conjured by one of the priests illuminated the dark interior of the labyrinth as if turning night into day.
Surveying the inside, Cheon Ajin spoke.
“Considering it’s a labyrinth, this corridor is narrower than expected.”
As he said, the corridor was small and cramped compared to the exterior structure’s size.
Perhaps for that very reason, the confined space made simply facing forward feel suffocating.
“This place gives me a bad feeling.”
“We can’t start complaining from the entrance. Let’s move.”
The party began to walk slowly forward.
At first, their pace was noticeably cautious due to the tension.
“Looks like there aren’t any traps, at least.”
“Well... if we’re being precise, it’s not that they don’t exist...”
Oscar pressed down on a slightly protruding floor panel.
Immediately, a cracking sound came from both walls.
“As you can see, they no longer function properly.”
“Well, they must have been installed at least a few hundred years ago.”
“That works in our favor.”
They weren’t here to explore the labyrinth anyway.
This outcome had been expected.
Their goal was simply to retrieve the holy sword.
“Still, let’s stay alert. There might still be traps that work.”
“Understood.”
“Brother, have you explored labyrinths before? You seem quite experienced.”
Oscar nodded.
“A few times.”
He was referring, of course, to his past life.
“Ooh, so that’s why you knew so much!”
“No wonder you felt reliable.”
Even that vague answer was enough to boost morale considerably.
After all, this was Belpher’s labyrinth.
Even if the Demon King was already dead, who knew what curses he might have left behind?
‘Thinking about it that way, it’s understandable why they’re so tense.’
Having a veteran nearby would be reassuring.
Before long, the first branching path appeared before them.
“Hmm. From here, there are two paths.”
“Should we take the left? It’s better to follow the Left-Hand Rule, isn’t it?”
“Ah, you mean the hand-on-left-wall method.”
The Left-Hand Rule—running one’s hand along the left wall to guarantee eventual escape no matter how complex the maze.
But Oscar shook his head.
“No need to make things harder than they are.”
This was what magic was for.
A book materialized in midair and opened itself.
“Wind Archive—Guiding Wind.”
Streams of wind shot down both corridors.
After a moment, Oscar spoke.
“I’ve located the holy sword. We’ll take the right path.”
“Ohhh!”
The group couldn’t help but cheer at the convenience of magic—especially the church members, whose eyes widened in surprise.
“Magic sure is convenient.”
“Feels different from holy magic, right?”
“Truly. Holy magic is mostly protective and supportive.”
In his memories, the church had been a very isolationist group.
They handled most matters themselves, rarely interacting with mages.
‘Even after twenty-one years, the church hasn’t changed much.’
Not surprising—foundations like that don’t shift in just a few decades.
As they progressed deeper, the corridor gradually widened.
“......”
“......”
And the widened corridor was filled with skulls.
Not skeleton monsters—actual human remains.
“El Sia.”
“El Sia.”
The priests and holy knights quickly traced the sign of the cross.
The sea of skulls silently testified to the brutal battle once fought here.
“U-ugh!”
A knight of the Heavenly Sword Clan suddenly screamed.
The group turned sharply, only to see him wearing an embarrassed expression.
“M-my apologies. I stepped on a hand bone... and it crumbled like sand...”
“Crumbled like sand?”
Cheon Ajin looked around and picked up a rusty sword lying nearby.
But the moment he gripped the hilt, it disintegrated into dust.
“Hah...”
He let out a hollow laugh.
“The corrosion is too severe. It looks like none of the equipment here has any value.”
“Hm.”
The White Tower was supposed to receive 90% of the expedition’s rewards.
Most labyrinth rewards would normally be magical equipment.
‘But if everything is like this...’
This expedition might end as unpaid volunteer work.
Cheon Ajin seemed aware of that and spoke apologetically.
“If all the equipment is in this state, the Heavenly Sword Clan will compensate separately.”
“Let’s hold off on judgment. Maybe this corridor is just unusually damaged.”
“As you say.”
But the deeper they went, the worse it got.
And it wasn’t just the equipment.
“Urgh... cough...”
“Is anyone else feeling dizzy?”
“M-my breathing... haa... it’s getting hard...”
The group began to suffer nausea, headaches, and shortness of breath.
Oscar supplied them with clean air, then stepped back and looked ahead.
Cheon Ajin approached.
“This is a vile aura.”
“Indeed.”
Beyond the pile of skulls lay a corridor drenched in pitch-black slime.
It coated the walls and floor like a sticky liquid.
“What do you think it is? Demonic energy?”
“No... not that.”
Oscar shook his head.
Demonic energy from demons felt more like mana—an energy, a force.
But this...
This was different.
It wasn’t energy—
It felt more like an emotion.
Yes.
“It feels like... pure, concentrated malice.”
“Are you saying someone’s negative emotions actually took physical form?”
“That’s how it appears to me.”
Cheon Ajin stared again, shaken.
If Oscar was right, it meant someone’s hatred had been so intense it materialized visibly.
“Is something like that even possible?”
“Not impossible. We already know the opposite phenomenon.”
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Oscar pointed to the divine light illuminating the labyrinth.
“Holy power is also the physical manifestation of belief.”
“Hm...”
Holy power wasn’t a one-sided gift from the goddess—
It grew stronger depending on the believer’s devotion.
“But seeing negative emotion manifest like this... I’ve never heard of it.”
“Me neither. It’s just my best guess.”
Oscar approached and scooped up some of the black slime without hesitation.
“W-wait! That’s dangerous—!”
Cheon Ajin panicked, but Oscar raised his other hand calmly.
“It’s fine. My hands are protected by an artifact.”
Sandalwind—his master’s gift.
As long as he wore it, nothing could easily harm his hands.
Oscar squeezed the black slime.
“Hm.”
The sensation was revolting, like touching melted jelly left in the sun.
It wriggled constantly, rejecting his touch.
‘...Like a living organism.’
Having made up his mind, he carried it to a priest.
“Could you hit this with some holy power?”
“Holy power? Understood.”
The pale-faced priest summoned divine radiance and fired it.
The moment it touched the slime—
–...!
The black mass convulsed violently.
Oscar used mana to hold it in place as it writhed like a living creature.
Pulled tight, expanded, shriveled, wriggled—
‘Pretty disgusting.’
But soon, under continuous exposure to holy power, the sticky mass shrank and vanished completely.
“Hm.”
At least it was weak to holy power.
Oscar nodded.
“To pass through that area, everyone will need to be coated in holy power.”
“Difficult, but with four priests, we can manage.”
“Oh—come to think of it.”
He suddenly remembered Cheon Mujin and Lloyd.
Neither of them had priests accompanying them.
Cheon Ajin seemed to have realized the same thing, and their eyes met.
He soon smiled.
“Grandfather will be fine.”
“Even though he can’t use holy power?”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s the Heavenly Sword.”
“Hm.”
Hard to argue with that.
“What about the Ashen Magus?”
“He’ll be fine too.”
No way someone like him would lose to melted-jelly evil slime.
The priests began blessing the party one by one, coating them in holy light.
“We’ll pick up the pace.”
They needed to retrieve the holy sword before the divine power ran out.
Oscar led the way, and wherever he stepped, the black slime recoiled violently.
They pushed through the twisting passageway, rounding three corners in quick succession—
And then a massive chamber opened before them.
“Is that...?”
A mountain of bones and artifacts.
And beneath its peak, two figures stood frozen like statues.
A man driving a sword through another’s heart.
“Ooh—Ooooh!”
“Warrior!”
“El Sia!”
The church members repeatedly crossed themselves.
One priest shouted in excitement.
“Do you see the sword? The wing-shaped guard, the holy sigil—there is no doubt! That is the Holy Sword Itaca!”
“Then the one being stabbed is...”
“The Demon King Belpher.”
Whether due to the sword’s power or something else, the two alone remained preserved—
Their bodies desiccated like mummies.
“Hm? Oh—looks like we’re not first.”
From the opposite entrance came Archbishop Baldwin’s party.
And moments later, Cheon Mujin and Lloyd appeared from the left and right corridors.
“Tch, I’m late. At least I wasn’t last.”
“Not sure what you mean. I arrived slightly earlier.”
“Heh. Is your young eyesight already failing? I clearly arrived first. By 0.2 seconds.”
“Sounds like your age is making you see illusions.”
While the Heavenly Sword and Lloyd bickered over who arrived last,
Baldwin—radiating divine light—approached the bone mountain and the holy sword.
He drew a cross.
“El Sia... at last, we have found the sword you bestowed upon this land.”
“Is it safe to pull it out?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Hm. Hold on.”
The Heavenly Sword examined Belpher’s corpse with a displeased expression.
After a long moment.
“He’s definitely dead. But after what I saw on the way, I can’t shake this feeling.”
“You mean the black slime?”
“Oh? You encountered it too?”
“It was also in our corridor.”
“And ours.”
“Huh. So all of them had it.”
Cheon Mujin nodded slowly.
“Yes, that fragment of twisted malice. Absolutely disgusting.”
“How did you get through? It flees from holy power, but you don’t use that.”
“I cut it.”
“It could be cut by a sword?”
“I cut it until it could.”
“...Oh.”
A very Heavenly Sword answer.
Naturally, everyone turned to Lloyd next.
“......”
Realizing the attention on him, he grimaced.
“I burned it.”
“Oh? So it was weak to fire?”
“No. I just burned it until nothing was left.”
“...Somehow similar to Grandpa’s—mmmph!”
Oscar quickly covered Cheon Ajin’s mouth.
Some truths were best left unspoken.
He spoke up.
“Archbishop, can we retrieve the holy sword now?”
“Of course. No need to delay.”
Fwaaash!
Baldwin spread brilliant holy light and gently placed his hands over the hero’s.
“You’ve done well, brave warrior. Return now to the goddess’ embrace and rest.”
In response, the hero turned peacefully into dust.
“Now then.”
Gripping the hilt, the archbishop slowly drew the Holy Sword Itaca from Belpher’s corpse.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]

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