Chapter 5: Bloodflame Troll

Gritting his teeth as he pierced his left middle finger with his fingernail, Komer recited spells silently. One after another, drops of blood welled up from his finger and piled up. By the seventh drop, the string of blood finally formed a slender column. A stream of black vapor erupted from Komer’s mouth and merged with the blood column, transforming it into an invincible blood arrow.

As the spells continued, the blood arrow soared into the sky and instantly transformed into a giant red golem. Its monstrous head featured spiraling horn-like protrusions adorned with thin metal rings. Its huge mouth was filled with teeth as hard as white stones, its blood-red eyes streaked with veins, spinning incessantly. The bare red upper body displayed prominent veins, with purple-black flames flickering all over its surface. Lotus-like armor encircled its lower body, and its thick thighs seemed to emit magic even through their hair. Its palm-sized hands flapped through the air, creating waves of red mist and foul wind.

“Bloodflame Troll!” Before anyone could utter a panicked cry, the red golem suddenly appeared above the priest, floating without warning. Fiery red flames mixed with black mist surged toward him. The erratic purple-black flames spiraled around the priest in a strange pattern. Without time to think, the Sacred Light Shield technique activated abruptly, like a mountain wind. The black-red flames tightly surrounded the priest, but the silver-white sacred light was pushed back just a foot before being suppressed by the immense dark magic of puppetry combined with fiery elemental magic. The once-powerful Sacred Light Shield was completely overwhelmed by this devouring hybrid magic, gradually encroaching on the priest’s body.

With a slight twist of his fingers, Mage Malon, whose face showed pain, gritted his teeth. He never expected the dark magic of this man to reach such a level. The Bloodflame Troll was a variant of puppetry magic in dark magic—shapeshifting puppetry magic. Using special spells, the caster’s own blood, and mind transfer techniques, it allowed creation of puppets without the need for special dark materials. Although its power was much weaker, dark material puppets were extremely difficult to find. Even if such materials were available, crafting an excellent puppet required great effort and was prone to failure. Thus, many dark magic practitioners preferred this shapeshifting magic that didn’t require special carriers.

Bean-sized beads of sweat kept pouring from Malon’s forehead, his dark eyes flickering like fireflies. He had no other choice—since his opponent had given him not a shred of chance, he could only go to the end with him. A deep chanting voice emerged from the depths of his throat: “I pray to Apollo, the light of my gods! Devout Malon seeks your blessings! May holy light be bestowed, may holy flames burn away demons, and may all impurities be gone!”
The holy light shield, which had been gradually weakening under the assault of the combined power of darkness and fire magic, suddenly contracted and expanded, its light intensifying dramatically until it turned into a blazing silver-white flame that spread outward. The dark red demonic flames were instantly forced back by the rapidly expanding holy flames.
Komer, whose face was pale, watched this scene with dizziness overwhelming his senses. The world around him became blurred, and he could not take even a step forward. His opponent’s power was astonishing, forcing him to use a mixed magic he was not yet proficient in. Yet, the priest seemed to have strong resistance, especially since light magic seemed to naturally counteract dark magic—whichever had greater magical power would have the upper hand, creating a situation of near-immortality. But Komer could hold on no longer; just one more moment and he would collapse and fall unconscious, becoming a captive at the opponent’s mercy.
Another wave of blood rushed to his throat. Using all his strength, Komer pulled out a pocket crossbow from his chest. It was a replica he had made after imitating the rare treasure given to Prince Thomas. Though it couldn’t compare to the original—its materials alone were unobtainable—Komer had done his best to recreate it. Originally meant as a souvenir, and though his method was somewhat unscrupulous, life was at stake, and he had no choice but to rely on it now.
With a sharp “swish,” the arrow flew lightly across the distance between the two, piercing the priest’s body as he used the holy flames to burn away the demonic energy. “Ah!” A deafening scream pierced through the depths of the forest and reached the heavens. Hit by this attack, the priest lost his sacred power instantly, being engulfed and melted by the surging purple-black demonic flames. In an instant, he turned into a skeleton with bare bones, which slowly collapsed to the ground as the afterglow of the flames faded. Even the remaining bones turned into grayish-white residue, with only the crystal on his staff glowing brightly amidst the ashes.

Watching the opponent’s body turn to ashes, Komer could no longer sustain his exhausted body and collapsed sideways like a withered log. In the distance, the scarred zombies that had emerged from the dense forest as the electric flames in the heavens disappeared also turned into green smoke at the moment Komer’s magic ran out and slipped into the bag at his waist. Everything returned to calm, leaving behind a chaotic scene, with occasional embers still burning and emitting plumes of smoke. The faint glow of the setting sun illuminated every inch of the land, and no one could tell that this place had just been a battlefield of a life-or-death struggle between magicians.

Kafli paced restlessly in the room. This guy really never gave anyone peace of mind—disappearing in Versailles like that! Where on earth had he gone? Not only had he not returned overnight, but there was not even any sign of him. After searching every corner of Versailles, not a trace of him was found. Could something have happened? Kafli’s heart tightened. Could it be that Duke Philip was trying to cause trouble here? He immediately shook his head subconsciously, thinking he was being too sensitive. After all, this was still His Majesty’s hunting lodge, equipped with a powerful court knightly order and the king’s guards on standby. No one would dare to stir up trouble here—it would be tantamount to seeking their own death. But where exactly had this guy gone?

“Mr. Fran, do you really have no idea where Baroness went? Did she say anything to you before leaving?” This was the third time he had asked the man who had remained silent throughout. Kafli didn’t know where this guy came from, but he could tell that the man was very interested in Versailles, and Komer trusted him greatly. From his accent, it seemed he wasn’t from Nicosia but rather had an accent similar to those from the western countries. Moreover, he seemed quiet and gloomy throughout his journey. Yet Kafli had no intention of probing into his background. Everyone had their own secrets and ways of life—this was a basic right as a human being.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kafli. Baroness never shared her plans with anyone. I think she probably has some personal matters to attend to, which is why she’s delayed so much. But please be assured, she’ll be fine. She might return in a while.” Fran also didn’t know where his master had gone, but he wasn’t worried about Komer’s safety. After witnessing Komer’s character and his astonishing magical abilities, Fran believed few people could easily harm him, especially here in Versailles, where he was even safer.

“Hmph, your master is too casual. What time is it now, and where are we? To act so carelessly—has he forgotten the heavy responsibilities on his shoulders?” Kafli couldn’t help but complain. Early in the morning, Duke Taze had sent someone with a message, asking Komer and himself to meet with his interior ministry officials in the afternoon to discuss immigration matters. Additionally, he had invited Komer to a party that evening, attended by envoys from Naples, Medea, and the Netherlands stationed in Jazair. He had come specially to give the notice, which truly surprised Kafli. Clearly, the king’s interior minister had taken notice of him. But at such a critical moment, the protagonist disappeared—wasn’t that making things worse?

“Don’t worry, Mr. Kafli. Please have more trust in your partner; it won’t delay your important matters,” came a weak, deep voice from outside the door. Komer, pale and with vacant eyes, appeared at the door, swaying slightly. Fran, who had gone out to greet him, was shocked to see his master in such a state after staying out all night. Could it be that his master had reverted to his old habits, still thinking about women in such a situation?

Seeing Komer in this state, Kafli cursed inwardly. He claimed it wouldn’t delay things, but it seemed like he was stuck under some woman’s body, looking utterly drained.

Before his gloomy partner could speak, Komer waved his hand to stop them. “No need to talk now. Wake me up after I rest for three hours. I’m going to rest first.”

Without waiting for a reply, Komer rudely walked into the inner room, gently closed the door behind him, leaving the two of them staring at each other, wondering what could have left the baron so exhausted—could it really be that he had spent the whole night fighting with that noblewoman and hadn’t gotten any rest?