The War Between Warriors and Mages

As the two youngsters departed in the undead carriage, the doll exhaled a soft sigh of relief.

“So, unknown evil god,” she murmured, “it seems only we combatants remain.”

Her silver-gray eyes glanced back, observing the blood moon slowly ascend behind the crumbling ancient castle.

This solemn and lengthy corridor, built atop the castle’s ridge, served as the path leading to the audience hall of Annelise, the Archduchess and supreme ruler of the Blood Clan.

Yet, at this moment, the corridor’s end—covered by snow manifested from vengeful spirits—was abruptly severed.

The audience hall had vanished without a trace.

In its place, an old man with flowing hair, dressed in the ornate robes of a Holy Order Captain from the Church of Light, stood silently at the precipice.

A scepter was clutched in his hand, and he seemed to be awaiting something.

Suddenly, the old man lifted his head!

His murky, blood-red eyes pierced through the swirling wind and snow, fixing on the far end of the corridor.

There, a black figure was rapidly approaching!

The swift figure moved with terrifying speed, creating turbulent air currents that forced the wind and snow to part.

A shimmer of silver flickered within the distorted air, radiating an overwhelming aura akin to that of a savage beast.

A dry, hoarse roar echoed!

Immediately, three dark-red blood soul projectiles, each bearing a grotesque, ghostly face, hurtled towards the black figure.

“Ah, this welcome isn’t exactly a warm one, is it?”

Without a hint of concern for the energy projectiles—each capable of dissolving an ordinary person into blood—the doll plunged directly into their path.

Her protective barrier, imbued with the sacred rules of a sage, instantly annihilated the heterogeneous magic.

Moreover, the doll’s inherent “Immaculate” characteristic effortlessly shattered the trace of defiled evil god power concealed within the magical assault.

“Well then, in a skirmish between mage and warrior, I do believe I’ve secured the first move…”

With a light chuckle, the doll’s toes skimmed the ground before her body executed a swift flip in the air, narrowly evading five consecutive dark wind blades that assailed her.

“Checkmate!” the doll declared with a smile, having closed the distance to merely two meters from the old man in a series of blurs.

The classic battle between a warrior and a mage often unfolded with such predictability.

While a prepared mage, fortified by numerous protective barriers, could easily fell most warriors on the spot, a mage caught in close quarters during an unexpected encounter typically faced a bleak fate.

Moreover, as an alchemical puppet, the doll’s very essence granted her a remarkably high priority for magic immunity.

‘But then again, he’d waited for me here for so long; how could he possibly be unprepared?’

A flicker of inexplicable meaning crossed her eyes, then vanished, as the doll seemingly aimed a powerful, downward swing of her scythe directly at the old man’s head.

Her scythe swept downwards, but instead of the satisfying impact of striking flesh, it merely sliced through the enemy’s ethereal form.

‘A mirror afterimage? Just as I suspected…’

Her lips curved into a knowing smile.

He was behind and above!

Without any stiffness from an over-forceful swing, she smoothly swept her scythe, its long handle spinning in her palm.

The broad blade instantly positioned itself to guard the back of her head.

A rapid succession of dull impacts exploded!

A rain of mixed blood and necromantic magic instantly engulfed the doll, sending bricks and stones scattering as thick dust billowed.

Beyond the swirling dust, Hercules, his strategy having borne fruit, did not carelessly advance.

Though the Star-Prowler had transformed him into a mindless puppet, decades of cultivated combat intuition allowed him to sense his opponent within the haze.

She had suffered no irreparable harm; her aura, deep as an abyss and fierce as a prison, remained utterly unchanged.

A guttural roar ripped through the air!

Immediately, several scarlet, composite magic circles expanded, siphoning the abundant negative energy from the atmosphere and fusing it into their intricate designs.

Layer upon layer, countless struggling, roaring ghostly faces emerged from the magic circles, swirling around the long-haired old man.

By the time the dust finally dissipated, a small, churning sea of undead had coalesced around Hercules!

“Rooooaaarrr! [Million Vengeful Souls Impact]!!!”

With breathtaking and overwhelming momentum, the sea of vengeful spirits surged towards the doll!

“This is rather troublesome,” she mused. “Such a pure surge of negative energy mixed with a curse… my Soul-Guiding Lamp is useless against it.”

Amidst the scattered rubble and dissipating dust, the doll watched the countless negative energy vengeful spirits surge towards her, a rare frown creasing her brow.

If asked what the doll detested most about mages, it was likely these wide-ranging destructive spells.

Unlike protective barriers, which shattered easily under anti-magic properties, this particular tactic—the “even if I can’t harm you, I’ll overwhelm you with dense, unavoidable magical constructs to annoy you”—was far more vexing to the doll.

However, much like the arrogant protagonists in countless novels who, upon acquiring a new treasure, immediately feel compelled to test its effects, Miss Doll dramatically declared a classic reversal!

“If this were before, I might indeed be scratching my head,” she proclaimed, “but now, I possess the Dimension Mirror, a perfect counter to you! So, be a good little mage and prepare to be utterly defeated!”

From the void, a mottled ancient mirror materialized, still bearing a rather pitiful layer of verdigris.

Yet, the moment the ancient mirror made contact with the magic assailing it from the air, an astonishing phenomenon occurred!

The red-black aura within the magic was instantly drawn into the ancient mirror, as if the mirror truly connected to another dimension.

As the mirror absorbed more negative magic, its suction force intensified, eventually forming a miniature energy vortex!

The rust began to recede, revealing a mirror that seemed entirely cast from liquid mercury.

By its distinct silhouette, one could vaguely recognize it as the very mirror acquired from the old village chief!

This was an oval mirror, its edges intricately carved with patterns that faintly pulsed with flowing magical energy.

Its central surface had transformed into a flat, swirling vortex, ravenously devouring the surrounding negative energy vengeful spirits.

“Hmm, though it bears the marks of time and some damage,” she mused, “its core ability to absorb the energy of at least three Ninth-Ring spells remains virtually intact.”

“Only its absorption speed is slightly diminished, which is perfectly acceptable.”

“Well then, Warrior-san, with her precious artifact, has won yet another round, hasn’t she~?” she chirped. “Mage-san, what other tricks do you have up your sleeve?”

With a carefree, easy smile, the doll slung her scythe over her shoulder, gazing up at her enemy, whose movements had now completely ceased.

Under the blood moon’s eerie glow, the doll vaguely discerned the gaunt, skeletal frame beneath the robed figure’s attire.

She also noted the dazed, stiff movements that characterized his every action.

“…Ah, never mind.”

Gazing at the rigid, unmoving enemy, the doll suddenly found her interest waning.

Regardless of his formidable strength in life, this pitiful individual, now a mindless puppet, was merely a beast acting on raw instinct.

No, even “beast” was too generous; he was nothing more than an empty shell.

“Do you have any last words…?” she began, then trailed off. “Never mind. You probably don’t even remember your own name anymore, do you?”

“Oh, but that simply won’t do… Hehehehehehe,” a viscous voice slithered forth. “While this fellow isn’t particularly pliable, he is nonetheless a valuable subordinate to me.”

Following a series of unpleasant, viscous dripping sounds, the vile voice she had heard previously emerged once more, this time spoken directly by the undead figure suspended in mid-air.

“Ah… so you’ve finally arrived.”

She raised an eyebrow, her tone indifferent, yet devoid of any surprise.

“Oh dear, oh dear, to think I’ve been discovered~~” the voice simpered, “All shadows~ cannot escape~~ those silver-gray eyes~~”

The exaggerated, twisted, and crazed aria caused the doll’s brow to furrow once more.

“How truly beautiful they are, your eyes…” the voice purred. “Will you not offer them to me as a gift~~ I promise to cherish them most dearly!”

“Your malice is practically overflowing, isn’t it?” the doll retorted. “Remaining Old Ones, are all you tentacle monsters cursed with such infuriating personalities? If so, it’s hardly surprising you were sealed away at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.”

“……You… you actually know our former name…” the Star-Prowler stammered, his voice losing its theatricality. “Is it from some surviving ancient text? No… that can’t be right… they should have been destroyed ages ago…”

For the very first time, the Star-Prowler felt that events were unfolding beyond its careful calculations.

“Who exactly are you?!” it shrieked. “I command you to tell me!”

“Heh, who knows?” the doll scoffed. “You’ll just have to guess!”

Gazing at the doll’s mocking smile, the Star-Prowler suddenly felt an uncontrollable surge of murderous desire welling within its core.