Salvation Through Delusion C77

Chapter 77

“I thought I could see it because the divine beast was inside.”

Even as I said it, I realized how weak that sounded and pressed my lips together.

“So, you’re saying the shield imprisoning the divine beast is black magic—and I can see it?”

“I’m not sure either. But right now…”

He scanned the surroundings, his gaze sharp as if trying to pierce through the false landscape.

“If it’s fog, then it’s definitely magic. Large-scale illusion spells often use fog as a base—layering hallucinations over the mist.”

“Really?”

The moment the question left my mouth, I regretted it. Right—Rue majored in magic at the academy.

Fortunately, Tyroc didn’t seem suspicious of my ignorance. There was a reason for that.

[Rue never attended a single full class in the academy.]

How did he even graduate?

[With money.]

…Right. Of course. I should’ve guessed.

Still, for once, I was thankful for Rue’s questionable legacy—it was saving my skin now.

“I didn’t attend much, so I know next to nothing about magic.”

“I know.”

“…Right.”

“In any case,” Tyroc continued, “large-scale illusion magic like this can’t be sustained by an ordinary mage for long. But black magic is different.”

Black magic… Before I could recall what I’d read, Mo offered an explanation.

[Black Magic: A general term for spells that use the power of black stones, which originate from demonic beasts. Since the magic draws from the stones rather than the caster’s mana, even weak magicians can wield advanced spells. However, direct exposure to black stones can result in mental corruption by their darkness—a fatal risk.]

“Zab has been hoarding black stones these past few years. So this was why.”

Tyroc’s mutter was cold. But when he turned to me, his voice softened unexpectedly.

“In the past, there were people who could perceive black magic—those under the protection of a certain spirit.”

“Who were they?”

“The House of Baron Zarayal.”

My eyes widened at the familiar name. The young man I saved at that wine party—Zarayal Bronze.

I’d saved him because of Bichon’s backstabbing, but—oh.

I tried to hide my surprise, but Tyroc caught it immediately.

“You met the Zarayal family’s spirit, didn’t you?”

“Yes, well…” I murmured, then asked curiously,

“Can that spirit see through black magic? What kind of spirit is it?”

“A spirit of darkness.”

A spirit of darkness? That fluffy, cotton-ball-looking thing?!

Then it hit me. That mouth.

Its maw had looked like the gates of hell for a reason.

I had thought it was some kind of caterpillar spirit since it gave me insects as gifts, but no. Turns out my little fluffball had some serious bite.

I covered my forehead with a hand and confessed honestly,

“It told me to eat a bug. I did—and now I can apparently perceive black magic.”

“….”

“Oh, it wasn’t bad. Tasted fine, actually.”

Why was he staring at me like that? His tone stayed calm, though.

“The Zarayal family isn’t one of spirit-tamers. But long ago, a spirit of darkness promised to guard their bloodline and bestowed several gifts. Thanks to those gifts, they were able to destroy black magic—and during the War of the Dark Mages, they played a crucial role. One of the gifts still remains. But…”

“But?”

“Many of their line perished in that war. Now there’s no one left who can commune with the spirit. No one knows whether it still guards the family. Most assumed its protection ended long ago. Everyone except the Zarayal family themselves—they’ve continued to safeguard the gift, though they no longer know how to use it.”

Ah. That explained his reaction earlier.

Still, I couldn’t help but marvel.

“It’s impressive they’ve preserved an insect for centuries.”

His lips twitched faintly into a smile.

“Indeed. It’s been their heirloom for over three hundred years.”

My mouth fell open.

“During a major monster outbreak, the then-head of the Zarayal house risked his life to protect that heirloom. When word spread that what he’d protected was a bug, he was ridiculed harshly—for generations, in fact. Yet the family never once treated it lightly, no matter the mockery.”

So that’s why Bichon’s friend—the little spirit—was still watching over them.

Even if they could no longer communicate, the spirit had recognized their devotion.

A strange heaviness welled in my chest. I turned my head to hide it and forced my tone even.

“Baron Zarayal will be overjoyed to know the spirit’s protection continues.”

“….”

“Why? You think he won’t?”

“Can I tell him?”

Ah. That would expose my ability.

“Just tell him the effect comes from eating the insect. He probably won’t actually eat it—but say the spirit still watches over them.”

He smiled, slow and genuine.

“Thank you.”

I stiffened.

Why was he thanking me? For what? And that smile—soft, warm—was unfairly disarming.

No, no, no. Pull yourself together.

He’s polite, that’s all.

This is not affection.

Don’t be like Dr. Kim—reading love letters into every formal thank-you!

I steeled myself. Determined. Immovable.

…It lasted maybe ten minutes.

“Huff… haah… this is hell.”

How could an uphill climb stretch forever?

That damned lake was halfway up a mountain! No wonder Zab never visited.

I was muttering curses when my steps slowed.

Through the mist, I started noticing shapes I hadn’t seen earlier.

Thud. Thud. Stop.

Tyroc, walking ahead, turned back.

“What is it?”

I didn’t answer. My gaze was fixed elsewhere.

Between the trees lay carcasses.

Deer. Badgers. Rabbits. Dozens.

Most decayed, bones exposed, fur blackened with rot.

We’d passed a few dead animals before, but here—this was a graveyard.

“There are animal corpses. …A lot.”

He looked at me for a moment before replying calmly,

“There’s a pond down the slope.”

Ah. Rotten water.

“The animals must’ve fallen under the illusion.”

“Seems so.”

He stepped forward again but stopped when I didn’t follow.

“Are you alright?”

“What’s there to not be?”

“You’re angry.”

Anyone watching would’ve thought he was mistaken—because I was perfectly still. Expressionless.

How did he even notice?

When I didn’t answer, he murmured quietly,

“Unexpected.”

“What is?”

“Didn’t think you’d get angry over animals.”

Death no longer shocked me—it had become too familiar.

But each time I encountered it, something small and heavy settled inside me.

A weight. Invisible, but real.

And it sank deeper with every death—human, beast, even insect.

In this once-vibrant forest, that weight felt unbearable.

“Someone should be angry. Life is precious.”

My voice came out steady, but I clenched my jaw.

Whatever they were hiding, whoever caused this—it was unforgivable.

“Do you know how to break this illusion?”

He watched me silently, and by now, I could read his silences—agreement.

But hesitation followed.

“It’s difficult?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“They buried black stones to maintain it. For an area this large, there must be hundreds. But removing them carelessly is dangerous.”

So touching them recklessly could trigger something worse.

Then what?

Before I could ask, he spoke again.

“But the first black stone is different. Destroy that one, and the spell weakens. Then we can shatter it by force.”

The first black stone.

But how to find it, in a forest this vast?

If we hit the wrong one, it could kill us instantly.

I thought about it briefly—but my decision came quickly.

Realistically, there was nothing I could do here.

All I could do was press on.

Ignore the illusion. Reach the lake. Free the divine beast.

So I walked again.

But the anger, hard and cold like ice, stayed buried deep inside me.