Chapter 66: Blade Resurgence
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: PlumSauce
The moment the bus crashed into the store, a gray, semi-transparent irregular membrane expanded around the two vehicles. It passed through the building, and debris flew outward beyond its barrier.
The mortal-born demon Lathander moved quickly. He leapt from the driver’s seat the instant the bus was hit but couldn’t step beyond the membrane’s perimeter.
He dragged a hunter out from the passenger seat, while John tore open the wreckage and pulled Devine out. The bus had been mangled, leaving others trapped inside. One hunter was unconscious, and both Carolyn and Liz were trapped by twisted seats.
The tanker’s distorted front door came loose, and someone jumped out. When Devine saw him, she was petrified with terror, clutching John for support.
John stared straight at the man, unable to believe what was happening.
It was the tall, black-haired, blue-eyed man — the Deville Zoltán who appeared repeatedly in the Association’s records. He looked middle-aged, though slightly younger than Devine, his posture erect, still wearing the formal attire from the banquet on Jibi Island days ago.
It was the first time John truly looked at him. Previously, he had only heard descriptions, seen portraits, or glimpsed him in visions. Zoltán didn’t seem human. His eyes were empty, devoid of emotion.
“One of the traitors, Devillené,” he said, approaching Devine unhurriedly. He knew Devine but did not seem to recognize her as the woman who had been his wife.
John and Lathander stepped in front of her. Zoltán stopped, removing his dirtied white gloves. From his sleeve slid a folding knife with a wooden handle. The blade snapped open, forming a translucent silver edge — similar to Liz’s sabre but with a different handle design.
Every practitioner knew what weapons dark creatures feared. Zoltán clearly recognized the two men before him as dark creatures. He, too, reportedly possessed Eyes of Truth.
Devine struggled to stand. As a detained wizard being transported, she had no means of defending herself. “Who are you?” she shouted. “You can’t be Zoltán… Zoltán is dead! Even if he were still alive, he wouldn’t look like this!”
Zoltán said nothing, showing no urgency to attack.
A strange odor filled the air. After the crash, the bus’s fuel tank had begun leaking. The gray barrier was his doing. It didn’t block airflow but kept all living beings entrapped within its narrow perimeter.
Coraci pounded on the door, his knuckles going numb. No one answered; evidently, they had no intention of letting him out. The West Bay City office had already heard the events from Coraci’s call. Nearly everyone had left the building to rush to the scene. Only Erica at the front desk and one hunter remained.
No one had access to open the isolation room, and even if they had wanted to, they couldn’t.
Coraci’s ears began ringing. His phone transmitted a cacophony of sounds: tearing metal, crumbling earth, the sharp stab of weapons piercing flesh…faint moans, cries, explosions, shouts, electromagnetic interference…
He braced his hands against the door and slowly fell to his knees.
The shrieks he’d heard came from Devine; he recognized his mother’s voice. He heard Liz chanting spells, John yelling for Lathander, who didn’t respond…
Then, silence. A busy signal. John’s phone had probably been destroyed.
Now Coraci could see nothing. Not the door, not the floor. It was as if he had gone completely blind, though he himself didn’t realize it. Yet he still “watched” what appeared in his field of vision: coffin-like walls, doors opening and closing, glimpses of his body covered in scars or markings, every inch raw and bleeding, blood falling drop by drop onto the magical circle beneath his feet. Every part of him ached as if set aflame.
The wizards watched him, whispering among themselves, while he screamed endlessly along with the magic circle’s light.
They said,”Yes, you are innocent, but this is our work.”
He saw others whispering to him, tampering with the spells binding him. He ran down dim corridors with them, sometimes pausing to wait for them, sometimes stretching out his hand to their distant figures.
He lay beneath a clear blue sky, the scent of flowers replacing blood. His breathing weakened, and the black-haired, blue-eyed man leaned down and spoke to him…
Fog swirled through his vision.
He was standing in a suburban house, Devine teaching him the basics of ancient magic script, explaining Eyes of Truth. He graduated from a normal school, joined the Unthreatening Creature Protection Association for training, and went on his first mission with Instructor Jere…
He dated Smith, married, only for Smith to leave him later.
Zoltán — though he didn’t know that yet at that time — killed several of his colleagues, questioning softly, Who are you? He was interrogated by the police over the “deaths” of his three wives. Smith sent gifts to apologize…
It was a late evening just before a storm. Coraci had been attempting to make some dessert, and two succubi were still confined in the magical array on the upper floor. Someone knocked on his door, claiming to be from a magazine — but in truth, he was a bloodkin, John Lockland…
Coraci started to regain a little awareness, recalling where he was. He wanted to continue knocking, wanted to find his phone on the floor to call the Association front desk. But he could see nothing, and couldn’t even lift his hand.
It wasn’t weakness that left him immobile. It was…that he couldn’t feel his body at all.
Erica shivered, pointing at the isolation room. “What… what’s that sound?”
“Is he knocking?” the hunter asked, frowning. There should have only been Coraci inside, yet the knocking and scraping were chaotic, dense — too much noise for a single person to produce.
At first, they heard Coraci calling out, and they responded, but Coraci seemed not to hear. Then came silence for a few seconds, followed by these strange, unidentifiable sounds.
The monitoring equipment began to emit an alarm. Erica scrambled to check and then froze in front of the screen. “The isolation…isolation—”
“What are you saying?” the hunter moved closer, unable to make sense of her words.
“The containment arrays in the isolation room have failed…”
Something was digging, consuming. The layers of runes and materials in the walls were failing one by one, the sounds of scratching growing louder.
The hunter didn’t know what would happen next, but instinct from years of combat made him act. “Get out of here!” He grabbed Erica and ran.
It was already past midnight. The office building elevators had stopped running, and they couldn’t use them anyway. As they raced down the stairwell, the building trembled slightly as if shaken by a mild earthquake.
They ran as fast as they could, sometimes stumbling and nearly tumbling. There was no time to check for bruises — they had to keep moving.
They were still inside the building and couldn’t see — the building’s exterior decorative lights had all gone out, and the structure groaned unnervingly. Starting from the upper floors, wall tiles, interior fittings, and steel began to detach. The structure was paper-thin in its fragility.
When only a few floors remained before escape, the entire building imploded in a massive roar, as if it had been deliberately demolished.
While falling along with the corridor, Erica shrieked, pulling out a gun that looked like a starting pistol. She fired, and a spherical magical shield sprang into place, protecting herself and the hunter from falling debris.
Erica wasn’t skilled in magic; she was just the Association’s receptionist. The gun, capable of projecting a protective force field, had been a gift from Coraci. Since she occasionally interacted with supernatural beings, it gave her at least some means of self-defense.
The shaking and falling continued for a while, then finally subsided. Even the hunter was too overwhelmed to speak, and stayed paralyzed for a long time before he remembered to comfort Erica.
“I’m okay, thanks to this,” she said, clutching the gun. “But…we’re trapped…”
“Someone will come,” the hunter said, feeling the spherical force field and the debris surrounding them — they’d nearly been buried.
“Hopefully within three hours,” Erica added. “Coraci said it lasts a maximum of three hours… Also, when the rescue team digs us out, how do we explain this sphere?”
The hunter thought for a moment. “Then we don’t explain it. We say we don’t know anything.”
…
A single spark could make the two vehicles explode at any moment. The gray barrier prevented living beings from entering or leaving, trapping John and the others. But it didn’t block other matter. If an explosion occurred, nearby buildings would be affected.
Sirens could already be heard in the distance. Yet the Association arrived faster than the police — but no one could cross the gray barrier. Some exorcists could identify the spell, but couldn’t immediately dispel it. Instructor Jere ordered everyone to retreat to a safe distance, leaving only himself and Smith to attempt breaking the barrier.
Carolyn didn’t dare shoot, due to the leaking fuel. She could do nothing; she was pinned in the wreck, and the slightest movement caused unbearable pain in her legs.
Lathander was nailed to the ground by Zoltán’s silver curved blade, convulsing in agony. Zoltán held another silver blade, intending to kill Devine — and he clearly didn’t care if he killed others in the process.
John and a hunter continued grappling with Zoltán, trying to buy time for those trapped in the vehicle. In truth, John could have escaped — he could disperse into mist — but he didn’t.
Bloodkin were far stronger and faster than humans, and with another hunter assisting, he was confident he could hold Zoltán.
John dodged the curved blade and leapt onto the crushed roof of the car. The hunter seized the opportunity to attack Zoltán; being human, he didn’t fear the silver blade. As Zoltán muttered a string of spells, John, faster than the wind, appeared at his side. The steel-like tips of his fingernails pierced Zoltán’s right shoulder blade.
But Zoltán didn’t stop. He twisted his arm as if completely unaware of the pain, and simultaneously the curved silver blade pierced through John’s chest.
John fell straight back. The silver blade was thin, causing only minor bleeding, so he wasn’t in immediate life-threatening danger. But bloodkin impaled through the heart became immobilized — even if conscious, they could not move.
He heard Carolyn swearing, then screaming, likely from the pain of her pinned leg. Outside the barrier, Smith and Instructor Jere had scattered bottles on the ground. Witch Blood Descendant Carol rushed over, apparently instructing them to perform a spell using his blood. John couldn’t make out the details — because an even stronger sensation seized him.
He felt Coraci’s position shift.
The effect of the imprint allowed him to sense Coraci’s life force and location within a certain radius.
Coraci was approaching, moving at an unbelievable speed. Even more unsettling, his presence was intermittent, like a signal cutting out for half a second at irregular intervals. John dared not imagine further… Coraci might already be out of control.
“I’m almost there!” Smith shouted. The gray barrier began to quiver, its density fading.
John felt Coraci drawing closer — just a few streets away… a few hundred meters away… It was as if, while inhaling, he were being assaulted by Coraci’s very essence. His own consciousness felt invaded by Coraci’s presence.
Coraci’s devilish traits might truly be real. His aura carried a terrifying weight, so oppressive that even sensing him nearby made one want to scream and flee.
John could neither move nor speak. Suddenly, the gray barrier collapsed — Smith had broken it. Instructor Jere and Carol rushed in, and the exorcists who were farther away also ran toward the scene.
“Stop him from casting the spell!” Liz shouted loudly. She saw Zoltán’s lips moving — a minor charm to summon sparks. Normally just a harmless trick. Now, lethal.
Although the hunters couldn’t reach him in time, Zoltán’s incantation was left unfinished.
A crushing weight suddenly manifested, as if the air had become several times denser, pressing down so hard one could barely lift their head. Obsidian-like gleams rippled through the night, whistling past Zoltán. A thin red line appeared across the wizard’s neck.
His head toppled from his shoulders — but his body remained unmoving. He still held the silver curved blade, advancing step by step toward Devine, striking at anyone nearby, even objects.
The Association members were stunned by the scene — but they did not panic. They blocked Zoltán, rescued those trapped, and pulled everyone away from the vehicle leaking fuel.
Instructor Jere removed the silver blade from John’s chest. The wound both burned and chilled, and John faltered, unable to stand. Only with Jere’s and Smith’s support could he slowly get up.
The night was filled with the noise of wings beating, as a dense, black mass drew nearer from one end of the street.
The fierce wind carried sharp, leaf-shaped black shards. Wherever they passed, walls, traffic lights, and street lamps were shredded, and even the light itself was swallowed by darkness.
Sparks from damaged circuitry fell onto the spilled fuel. Everyone could only run for their lives. In the next instant, a deafening explosion erupted behind them.
The sound was strange. The first wave of heat singed those who couldn’t move as fast, but the intensity gradually diminished, and the roar softened. The black leaves whirled through the air, devouring both light and heat. They didn’t merely crush flesh and objects — they consumed sound and illumination as well.
The mass swallowed the entire explosion and continued advancing. The whole street seemed destined to be shredded; the ground itself was gouged deeply.
No one dared stop. They retreated in the opposite direction. Headless Zoltán staggered after them, the explosive magic in his hands still flashing — but, unable to recite the spell, it could no longer be triggered.
Devine couldn’t help but turn. “You really are dead…” she insisted, looking at Zoltán. “I understand now. They…extracted from you…”
The hunter closest to her reached out, trying to pull her away. As he tugged her arm, a gunshot rang out and she fell to the ground.
Zoltán had somehow taken Carolyn’s gun. The silver-core bullets could harm humans just as effectively. Headless, he didn’t know if he hit anything. He squeezed the trigger repeatedly; bullets grazed the hunter’s shoulder.
The black shards surged toward him. His hand detached from his body. Then his other hand, shoulders, chest… When his legs began to dissolve, his body crumpled into a heap of shredded flesh and blood.
The windstorm roared, pressing forward. The hunter held Devine close, eyes squeezed shut. Less than four feet ahead, the black light advanced — but John leapt over them, planting himself between the light and the two of them.
The windstorm spun in place, roaring, and the black light fragments halted. They circled them, sometimes fast, sometimes slow.
“Coraci?” John tested, his voice cutting through the howling. Even with bloodkin vision, he couldn’t see him — the darkness in the eye of the storm was too dense. “We’re safe,” John called out. “I can feel you. I know it’s you. Are you okay?”
Behind him, the Association personnel carefully moved Devine farther away. Instructor Jere whispered instructions over the phone, guiding everyone to disperse and retreat.
The black light had contracted considerably, but it hadn’t disappeared.
John reached toward it. Black shards sliced open his palm. He didn’t retract his hand. Yet the black windstorm began retreating, the sound of flapping wings sharpening into a piercing shriek.
It receded, collapsed, and vanished around a street corner. John chased after it — but saw no sign of Coraci.
“You can sense where Coraci is, right?” Instructor Jere walked over.
John nodded.
“Is he far away?”
“No, he’s still in West Bay City…”
“Exact location?”
John thought for a moment. “The connection’s unstable now… I need time to pinpoint him.”
The street was finally quiet. Police and emergency responders arrived, but no one understood what had just happened. The scene defied reason: roads, houses, and all infrastructure had been shredded, every cut sharp and clean.
Devine and the injured were taken to the hospital. Others focused on gathering Zoltán’s remains — gruesome, but necessary.
The West Bay City office of the Association had collapsed entirely. Rescue teams couldn’t deduce any rational cause. Within an hour, alerts reached all global Association branches, researchers, hunters, and exorcist groups. Rangers and registered dark creatures heard the news too.
— An Umbral had appeared in the world again. Its origin and attributes were unknown, its powers unstable, its destructive force astonishing. It retained its human memories and its human appearance, once a member of the Unthreatening Creature Protection Association…
If Deville Coraci of the Unthreatening Creature Protection Association wasn’t a devil, then what could he possibly be?
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