Chapter 76 : Fall of the Infernal Mage

If that power only boosted spell output, he might survive.
But if it also boosted mana reserves… then Curtis  would run dry first.

And once he did, the spirit alone couldn’t stop the fire.

Either the demon’s gift faded soon—or Mayra landed one clean hit.
Even just one more ally to split the pressure could turn the tide.

But Curtis  laughed quietly to himself. Wishful thinking.

Moritz likely hadn’t even planned for Curtis  to be here at all. This situation was already wildly off-script for him.

To wish for more would be greed. Worse—foolish hope.

And so, as fire and flood clashed in a storm of desperation, two mages stood locked in a deadly spiral—each aware that the end was creeping closer.
And neither knowing who would fall first.

It was Moritz who gambled first—driven by a mounting sense of dread gnawing at his spine.

SKEEEEAAAGH!
As ever, the battle between two mages was never truly just theirs alone. True to form, a divine spear of light soared through the chaos—Mayra’s divine strike arriving with unwavering precision.

BOOM!
And, once again, Moritz reacted in time.

But this time… the explosion was weak. The spear had curved only slightly off its path and grazed past his ribs, tearing a shallow wound along his side.

Superficial, yes—but deliberate. Moritz, having meticulously measured the power of her spears over countless exchanges, deflected it with the barest whisper of mana. Just enough to survive.

He saved the rest—for her.

KRAK! BOOM! BOOM!
A storm of explosions followed, relentless and furious. Mayra was caught off-guard by the sudden ferocity; the overlapping shockwaves swept through her before she could fully evade.

And then—

THUNK!
A radiant spear tore through Moritz’s shoulder, so clean and brutal it nearly severed his arm.

“GAAAAAGH!”
His scream ripped through the air.

None of them had seen it coming—not Moritz, not Curtis , who was already guiding the water to distract him, and not even Mayra, still spinning midair from the backlash.

Because the spear hadn’t come from Mayra.

Three heads turned in unison toward the fog—where a figure emerged, barely visible through the mist, lowering her glowing arm.

Lilia.

Her expression was radiant. Carefree. Almost childlike.

“Eh?”
“What the…?”
“Lilia! What just happened?!”

Curtis  and Moritz stood frozen, minds blanked by disbelief. Mayra, recovering first, cried out as she landed hard but upright.

Lilia just beamed, eyes bright.
“I dunno!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”
“I really don’t! I just did it—and it worked!”

So it seemed.

The prodigious priestess, who had already mastered the Fifth Miracle by the age of eighteen, had just awakened another. The Miracle of Radiance, her sixth.

“Ack. That’s just not fair,” Curtis  muttered.
“I don’t think you’re the one who should be saying that…” Mayra murmured under her breath, her enhanced hearing catching his words.

And then, Moritz snapped.

The pain was eclipsed by rage. Red flooded his vision as capillaries burst in his eyes.

“DAMN THIS WORLD!!”

He screamed, voice raw and broken, shaking with fury and despair.

“I clawed my way to the peak—sacrificed everything! And these wretched children waltz through miracles like it’s nothing?! HOW IS THAT FAIR?! WHY—WHY DID I EVEN MAKE A PACT WITH A DEMON?!”

“…I understand how you feel, Lord Moritz,” Mayra said softly. “To be honest, I too am a bit… shaken.”

For even a bishop to sympathize with a demon’s contractor, even briefly—that said everything.

But only briefly.

“Still, even so,” Mayra continued, her voice resolute. “To reach out to a demon is not a triumph—it is surrender. A retreat, not a victory.”

“SHUT UP!”

Fire exploded around Moritz, wild and ravenous.

It was the most ferocious blaze they had seen yet—but also the most unstable, like a dying star on the edge of collapse.

“Lilia! Focus only on evasion—strike only when you are certain!”
“Okay!”

Mayra moved. Lilia moved. Curtis  steadied himself once more, drawing deep from his core.

The battle, which had paused in shock, resumed in an instant.

But now it was no longer a duel. What had once been a two-against-one battle had become three against one—and the scales tipped swiftly.

No miracle of fire nor might of magic could change the simple truth:

A mage—no matter how powerful—is flesh and blood. And with one arm torn, Moritz was bleeding fast.

Not even the greatest concentration could mask the sharp decline of his body’s strength. Pain could be ignored. Blood loss could not.

In the end, his mana did not run out. Nor did the demon’s power.

He fell first.

“These… gods-damned… gifted brats…”

The mage who once cursed his fate was swallowed by a wave of muddy tide—swept away not by justice, nor judgment, but by the consequences of his own desperate rage.

As the wave receded, all that remained of Moritz was the fading echo of his final curse—no corpse, no shadow, not even scorched stone to mark his passing. The demon’s power, unbound and unsanctified, had devoured him as greedily as it had empowered him.

For a moment, silence reigned.

Curtis  exhaled sharply, nearly collapsing to one knee. His hands trembled from spent mana, but the spirit beside him steadied his fall. Its form, though flickering and weary, remained intact.

Mayra approached slowly to Talk , her light dimming to a soft and clean, golden glow at her. Her robes were scorched, her breath unsteady—but her eyes remained clear. She looked to Lilia, who stood dazed, still staring at her own hands as though they belonged to someone else.

“You did well,” Mayra said gently.

“I didn’t mean to,” Lilia whispered. “It just… happened.”

“That’s how miracles begin.”

The mist began to part at last, peeling away like curtains at the end of a divine performance. The ravine, scorched and soaked, bore the scars of battle—but the worst had passed.

For now.

“Come,” Mayra said to him , voice solemn. “Let us cleanse this place. And prepare ourselves … for whatever comes next.”

Because he was so  evil, once conjured, never dies quietly.