The Regressed Illegitimate Child is a Genius Dark Magician

Chapter 5

As they headed toward the source of the noise, the attendants of the detached palace were at a loss, anxiously pacing around.

“…….”

Anna sat down, holding her swollen cheek, while a boy, still unable to contain his anger, fumed. Damian’s expression twisted at the sight before him.

“How dare you, how dare you, how dare you! Who gave you permission to speak in my presence?”

It was Damian’s half-brother, the Fourth Prince, Arkin von Edenvalt.

“Try running your mouth one more time, and I’ll rip that tongue out immediately.”

Arkin was infamous for his unruly behavior. However, for the past two years, the palace had been peaceful since he had left for magical training. Damian had a deep-seated grudge against him. Before leaving for his training, Arkin had insulted Damian’s abandoned mother, leading to a duel between them. And now, that very same man had laid hands on Anna. The reason was surely something utterly trivial. What would the pre-regression Damian have done? He would have either ignored it and walked away or rushed in without thinking. But not this time.

“Felix. Take Anna to her room.”

“Y-Yes, young master.”

Felix hesitated for a moment but quickly regained his composure, supporting Anna and guiding her inside. Arkin did not stop them but instead watched Damian with an amused expression.

“She’s my maid. If you have a problem, complain to me.”

“Hah. You’ve grown taller, but your words have gotten shorter.”

Damian and Arkin were born in the same year. According to imperial law, even if one was illegitimate, the sibling relationship remained valid. There was no need for formal speech between them. But Damian had always used honorifics when speaking to Arkin. It was a kind of defense mechanism, lowering himself to prevent the other from having a reason to attack. That was no longer necessary.

“So, what was your reason for hitting my maid? If it’s not a justifiable reason, I’ll take it as a personal insult.”

“I-Insult? Puhahaha! You couldn’t even do anything when your mother was insulted, and now you think you can do something?”

Grit. Damian clenched his teeth, glaring at Arkin.

“That damned wench got all worked up just because I asked, ‘Where is your worm of a master?’ So I simply taught her some manners.”

Arkin shrugged as if it was nothing.

“She’s an ill-mannered maid. How dare she glare at Arkin like that?”

“Well, her chest was large enough to be forgivable. Kehaha.”

“Shut up. This is not a place for you to speak.”

Damian’s sharp command made Arkin’s attendants stiffen. Something about the illegitimate prince felt different from the one they had seen two years ago.

“Hmph. It seems you haven’t properly trained your maid. As compensation for this incident, I will take her with me.”

Arkin had been eyeing Anna for some time, intending to make her his plaything. If things proceeded as before, he would attempt to kidnap her.

He believed those below him existed solely for his amusement, a twisted superiority complex. This mindset had manifested even during the civil war. He had carried out massacres simply because certain regions were associated with the reformists. Though he eventually met his end at another’s hands, if given the chance, Damian would have executed him himself. The man was rotten to the core. It was best to crush him now. Moreover, there was something Damian needed from Arkin.

“Cut the nonsense and get lost. If you truly want Anna, challenge me to a duel.”

If Anna’s case became an official issue, things would get complicated. But Arkin was prideful. If provoked like this, he would take the bait.

“You’ve really lost your mind in these two years. I heard you were trained by some horse dung-smelling instructor. Did the stench mess with your head?”

Arkin still saw Damian as the powerless bastard he had beaten down two years ago.

“You talk too much. Just say what you’re going to do.”

“Fine, fine. If you’re that eager to get beaten like a dog again, I’ll grant your wish. What’s at stake?”

“You will not bring up Anna’s case again. And…”

“Don’t know who you take after, but you sure ask for a lot beyond your place.”

“The invitation to the Arnesian Shipboard Ball. Hand it over.”

“I don’t know what someone like you plans to do there, but… whatever. It’s not like you have any chance of winning anyway.”

The duel was set for tomorrow at noon in the palace training grounds. Without looking at Anna or Felix, Damian headed straight for the abandoned tower. There was no point in facing them now. Anna would insist on going to Arkin herself, and Felix would try to handle things on his own.

As things stood, the result would be no different from two years ago, perhaps even worse. While Damian had trained under Derrick for two years, Arkin had been honing his magic in mana-rich lands. As Derrick had said, once a warrior’s aura or a mage’s power reached a certain level, raw strength and technique alone meant little. But that was only true until today. In the abandoned tower lay the Book of Hell. The dark magic within was too valuable to waste on someone like Arkin.

“This looks smaller than I remember.”

Standing before the stone door for the first time in two years, Damian felt it seemed smaller, perhaps because he had grown.

Rumble. 

As he pushed against it, the stone door parted easily. There was little excitement. It was merely a step in the process. He walked through the dark corridor, relying on his lantern. Soon, the ceiling rose higher, leading into an open chamber. At its center, on a small pedestal, lay the Book of Hell. Placing his lantern on the floor, Damian brushed off the dust covering the book.

‘Book of Hell—מ (Mem).’ 

At a glance, it looked like any other ancient tome. But the symbols on the cover and the text within could not be pronounced in any modern language. Damian had no particular talent for dark magic, only the ability to read these bizarre characters.

“□□□□□ □□□□.”

Shhhk

As Damian spoke the title, the book lifted into the air, its pages rapidly flipping. A strange sensation, as if the contents were not being read with his eyes but directly absorbed into his mind. Though he had read it before and knew its contents, the experience remained unsettling.

“□□□. □□. □□□□. □□. □□□□□□. □□. □….”

Damian once again opened his mouth and pronounced the words engraved in his mind. To make a contract with a demon, one must first attract the demon’s attention. The demon worshippers lurking in the shadows of the empire offer the hearts of sacrifices or expensive gold and silver treasures before the Book of Hell and bow their heads, but demons have little interest in such things. What they are most intrigued by is the very act of speaking the language of demons. If an ant were to speak human language, wouldn’t it naturally draw attention? As Damian recited the last words written on the final page, the book lowered once more.

Whoosh

Green flames appeared around Damian, forming a circle. The entity described in the Book of Hell was an Infernal. Infernals are demons that are the embodiment of hellfire itself, and those who make a contract with them gain the power to wield hellfire. Before his regression, Damian had formed contracts with a total of twenty Infernals. The infernal flames that arose from these contracts took the lives of many Orthodox knights. After summoning, the contract conditions were simple. One only needed to pass a simple trial set by the Infernal. Even with his wretched body before the regression, he had succeeded in this trial. In his current state, it should be effortless.

‘It’s taking a little longer than expected.’

The Infernal had yet to reveal itself. Only the green flames continued to burn in a circular formation.

‘No, the shape is different!’

Looking closely, the fire ring wasn’t a single layer but two. Two lines spiraled as they rotated. It was distinctly different from the time he had summoned an Infernal before his regression. However, with the Book of Hell—מ (Mem), no other demons besides Infernals could be summoned.

‘If that’s the case, then could it be…!’

Fwoooosh!!

Suddenly, green flames erupted from the book. As the hellfire surged toward Damian, he had no choice but to step back. The flames filled the entire space, causing sweat to pour from his body and his throat to burn.

[Kehehe.]

Beyond the raging hellfire, a bizarre voice rang out. It appeared human in shape, but upon closer inspection, it was clearly a skeleton. Yet, it was no ordinary skeleton, its body was made of human bones, but its head was that of an ox. Where the table that once held the Book of Hell had been, there was now a throne of stone. A skeleton, hunched over in the chair, slowly lifted its head and gazed at Damian. Even though it had no facial expressions, Damian could clearly sense its curiosity emanating from the burning skull.

[You, who have summoned me, possess quite the peculiar talent.]

As the skull’s jaw clicked open and shut, a deep voice resonated through the flames. Damian’s hand trembled slightly. Not just from the oppressive aura the entity exuded, but because he knew exactly who it was. Moloch. The king of all Infernals. The ruler of the west of Hell, commanding twenty-four legions. A sovereign of Hell had descended upon this land.

‘Why?’

Before his regression, Damian had never managed to summon Moloch, but he had once made a contract with another sovereign of Hell. However, the demon lords of Hell could not be summoned simply by speaking their language. Only after contracting with many demons under their command and reaching a certain threshold would they even respond to a call. Damian had indeed wanted to form a contract with Moloch. But despite contracting with a significant number of Infernals, Moloch had never answered his summons. And yet, here and now, the very embodiment of hellfire had appeared before him. Even though he had not yet made a single contract with an Infernal.

[I came because my children were in turmoil, but I never expected to witness such an intriguing sight.]

Drip.

Blood spurted from Damian’s mouth. Even though this was merely an apparition of Moloch, appearing temporarily to oversee a contract, the oppressive force was overwhelming.

‘Is it because of my regression?’

Or perhaps Ishtar had done something behind the scenes. But now was not the time to ponder the cause. A demon had been summoned, he needed to form a contract. Since all Infernals originated from Moloch, the conditions for the contract should be the same.

“King of All infernals, Moloch. I wish to form a contract with you.”

Suppressing his trembling as much as possible, Damian spoke.

Moloch’s jaw clicked again.

[You even know my name. Kehehe. I see it was worth my time to come.]

With every word Moloch uttered, the pressure intensified. If it had been the Damian before his regression, he would have either fled or collapsed unconscious.

[Very well, very well. Since you desire a contract, it is only right that I oblige.]

“What are the conditions?”

[It is simple, young human.]

Moloch flicked his bony fingers. From his fingertip, a tiny ember floated toward Damian.

[Endure.]

Tap.

The ember touched his body. And hell’s inferno engulfed Damian’s arm. Hellfire was not merely different in color from ordinary fire magic. It consumed not only mana and stamina but also inflicted excruciating pain upon the caster. To wield hellfire, one had to burn a part of their own body. The body did not physically burn, but the pain was identical to being consumed by flames. In some ways, it was even worse than actual fire. Moloch’s hellfire was no different. There was no sign of burns, yet the searing pain made it nearly impossible to stay conscious.

Thud.

Damian drew his sword and pricked his thigh. The pain wasn’t sharp but instead felt oddly refreshing. Thanks to that, he regained his senses.

[Oh. You are enduring it better than I expected.]

Moloch sounded amused as he spoke. He leaned back in his stone throne as if watching an entertaining performance, looking down at Damian. To him, this must have been amusing indeed. Just as any being would be intrigued by an ant speaking human language, Moloch was entertained by a human enduring unbearable agony. Damian had thought he was accustomed to the pain of hellfire. After all, he had once offered his entire body as a sacrifice to unleash its flames.

Before his regression, Damian had contracted with twenty Infernals. Yet the pain Moloch was inflicting now was incomparable to anything he had endured before.

“Kahahaha.”

A sudden burst of laughter. Moloch rubbed his horn, sensing curiosity in Damian’s reaction.

[If you wish to surrender, just say the word. This has been quite an entertaining spectacle.]

“Why would I? Even if I die, I will make this contract with you.”

The intensity of hellfire was proportional to its power. If this pain was any indication, the fire he would wield would be unimaginably strong. The title of ‘Sovereign of Hellfire’ was well earned. Even as he groaned in pain, just thinking about it made him laugh. Moreover, contracting with Moloch would mean he no longer needed to form individual contracts with other Infernals. Thus, he had to seize this opportunity.

Thud.

Every time he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, he stabbed himself with his sword. Blood pooled beneath him, only to boil and evaporate under Moloch’s heat. Pain had a threshold. Once it reached a certain limit, the brain shut it out. Damian was well aware of this. The only issue was that he was gradually losing his sense of time. He couldn’t tell if a day had passed or not.

[The night has already passed. Soon, the new year’s sun will reach its peak.]

Moloch, seemingly reading his thoughts, spoke as he approached.

“Haaah…”

His throat burned, and when he exhaled, blood mixed with his breath.

[Boy. Are you truly human?]

Moloch’s tone had changed. His arrogant amusement had gone away, now, his voice was filled with curiosity.

“Just tell me the result…”

The duel with Arkin was approaching. He couldn’t afford to be late.

[You pass. I, Moloch, King of All Infernals, hereby form a contract with the human Damian Renect.]

The moment he spoke, the hellfire consuming Damian vanished entirely.

Moloch reached out and tapped Damian’s head with a finger.

[Burn this world to its very end.]

With those final words, Moloch’s form disintegrated into nothingness.

Only the lingering scorch marks bore witness to his presence.