“What is this?”
Grellod Majarm has devoted his long life of over a thousand years to the study of magic.
Attributes, unique magic, manipulation of magical power, gifts.
The power of magic, which results from various factors, is closely tied not only to talent but, above all, to experience.
It has been thousands of years since the “sorcery” that once existed in this world transformed into magic.
Aside from high-level races, Grellod is indeed one of the most knowledgeable individuals in this world regarding magic.
However. Nothing seems to work.
At the start, Grellod unleashed his own gift, the Arm of Death, and now—
“To eat is the most important act for humans above all else.”
Crack.
“It can be said that it is the privilege of the living. To consume the lives of others and add them to one’s own. To live can be rephrased as continuously taking from others.”
Thud, squish.
A black arm.
The magic that governs death, granted by his own talent and god, is now being torn apart piece by piece before him.
“But, humans do not only take. At some point, they learned to nurture, raise, and multiply for the purpose of eating. The field is perhaps the closest to the origin of humanity’s progress.”
This, man.
What could this boy, who is almost like a baby in Grellod’s eyes, be saying?
There is only one thing he understands.
Crack.
“Destroying the fields, carelessly wasting the food grown by others… You have interrupted my life. Therefore—”
“W-Who are you?!”
Once again, Grellod unleashes that gift, the magical arm that brings death.
“I have no intention of letting you live.”
Drip drip drip.
This time for sure. The black arm descends upon the strange boy like a torrent.
Melting the field, rotting the sprouts, polluting the water.
Death itself rains down.
“Cough.”
“Wha!? Agh!?!”
Stomach, excruciating pain, back, creaking.
At a speed that cannot be seen, he is punched in the stomach and kicked in the back.
A witch capable of walking in the air due to manipulation of magical power.
However, when her consciousness returns, she finds herself on the ground of the field.
Realizing she has been slammed to the ground—
“Hey, don’t dirty the fields.”
“Ah.”
A voice comes from behind her back.
“You’ve sullied my fields with that dirty power of death. What do you intend to do?”
“H-Fields? This is my field!”
“No, it’s my field.”
Crack crack crack!!
“Agh! Gyaaaahhhhh!??!?”
What is that sound? The sound of feathers being plucked.
The boy casually disassembles the crow’s feathers sprouting from Grellod’s waist as if he were picking chicken wings.
“Cough, ah, you might make for good fertilizer.”
“Y-You monster!! Don’t underestimate me!!”
Thud.
Pure magical power bursts forth from the wound in his waist.
The black magical power altered by the goddess of death is unleashed upon the boy.
“How’s this!? You’re running your mouth too much!! My wings!! I haven’t used recovery magic in 200 years…”
Grellod’s attempts to heal his own wounds come to a halt.
He cannot believe the scene before him.
Despite the release of directional magical power carrying the attribute of death, which should have made a direct hit…
“Pour more curses into it.”
“What!?”
Crack.
His cheekbone shatters, and his eyes well up with tears.
It’s not working.
Even after bathing in the magical power of Grellod, a servant of the goddess of death, who can be said to embody death itself.
“Technique formation: ‘Humanoid Earth Manipulation.'”
Slither.
Black, flame-like magical power drips from the boy’s arm.
It falls onto the fields.
“Whoooosh!”
“Growwwwww!”
“Bo-bo-bo-bo-bo-bo.”
The soil of the field changes shape, forming a giant made of earth.
“Is that… a golem? Summoning magic!? No way… Without a contract circle!? Are you gifted!? Don’t underestimate me!”
Grellod ascends into the air again.
The earthen giant stands still, guarding the spellcaster.
“The way to kill a summoner is set! You guys are weak in close combat…”
“Close combat? What about it?”
“Huh!? Gyaah!?”
Thud.
He was supposed to have escaped into the sky.
Yet, in a simple leap, Grellod is brought back down to the ground.
Before him lies…
“Boom!”
“The anger of the fields will be known!”
“Gah!?”
An attack from the golems made of the field’s soil using their massive weight.
A thousand years of training, gifts from the goddess, everything Grellod possesses is useless against this boy!
Death.
Reality.
Grellod feels that crisis keenly.
“Overload the domain of invasion.”
He plays his strongest card.
The encroachment upon the world itself by his magical power.
A combination of magical barriers and gifts, unique magic.
Undoubtedly, the pinnacle technique of magical combat.
“‘Death Realm Arm Wrestling’!!!!”
A black domain envelops both the boy and Grellod.
Under Grellod’s magical power, the laws of the world now belong to her.
That gift, which forces the death of others, is further amplified and rains down from above.
“Hehehehe!! Try to block it, brat! If you can block it…”
“Technique formation: ‘Oil Storehouse Pure Flame Manipulation.'”
Woosh…
Blue flames ignite on the boy’s arm.
“Wh-Why… elemental magic…? No way, you’re a summoner…”
“Wrong. I’m not a magician at all.”
“Huh?”
Grellod’s voice is filled with confusion.
The boy smiles, his mouth covered by a mask, only his eyes visible.
“I’m a curse user.”
Whoosh!
The enormous arm of death, burning, consumes the black veil.
“Haha… Who are you… No, I see… You’re one of those three… the cursed—”
“I’ve had you on my kill list for a long time… Thanks for the five years of food. See you later, old hag.”
“—Ugh, hehe… So that’s what it was, from the start… I was already defeated. Damn brat.”
Whoosh!
The blue flames incinerated the witch.
You have obtained the witch’s ashes.
