◈ REAPER SCANS ◈

Translator: Regressed Translator

Editor: leef

Discord: https://dsc.gg/reapercomics

◈ Return of the Disaster-Class Young Lord ◈

Chapter 22 | Labyrinth (4)

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“Hehehe. Did they really think they could escape from my grasp?”

Just moments ago, Silan Alkan had been dashing madly through the labyrinth, relentlessly hunting Dion and Arsha. But now, he strolled forward with all the leisure in the world. He was certain they could no longer flee.

His final dark magic had sacrificed every remaining soldier as offerings. If it were Parsha, perhaps she could have escaped. But those other two? They stood no chance—especially since both had been wounded when he unleashed his explosive spell. His crow’s-eye vision had clearly shown them getting swept up in the blast.

“To think a worthless Unlicht whelp, who couldn’t even awaken for so long, got a lucky awakening and tried to show off. How stupid.”

Silan clicked his tongue, sneering. Even from Dion’s performance so far, it was clear the “disgrace” of House Unlicht had finally awakened. But that was it. Based on how he had only used Physical Enhancement, Dion’s level had to be 2-star at best. It was true that he had displayed some decent skill, but the fact remained—he was still just a low-tier awakened.

Meanwhile, Silan was a high-level awakened. Furthermore, the five escort knights accompanying him were each 2-star, and all were at least [Skilled] or [Expert] in terms of class proficiency. Any one of them alone would have been enough to finish off a dying Dion. 

Honestly, Silan found it more aggravating that the Black Knight had insisted on sending five escorts along. None of that truly mattered, though. The Black Knight and Ruba had also gone after that overconfident elf maid from House Unlicht, meaning she was as good as dead already.

“Hopefully they bring her back alive.”

Silan’s only real interest now lay in how best to kill Dion as miserably as possible. Of course, he had no plans to kill Arsha. Rather, he intended to repay his humiliation by brutalizing the dark elf right in front of her eyes, making Arsha despair as she watched. All the better if Parsha could be dragged into it as well.

If I handle this right, it might actually help me climb the ranks.

Silan’s desire to pressure the dark elf clan was not just because he coveted Arsha. Taking out Dion now would likely please “that person,” potentially earning him a valuable reward and bringing him a step closer to becoming the next head of House Alkan.

Just as Silan was chuckling to himself—

Slash.

He heard a faint, grating noise, like the buzzing of some pesky fly, or the writhing of a worm. It irked his ears. Annoyed at the interruption, he turned around—only to go rigid in shock. 

The escort squad of five had somehow been reduced to three. And in the back, one of the escorts was spewing blood from his neck, eyes wide with horror as he toppled over.

“…And here I was hoping to stay hidden a bit longer. Oh well.”

“What the—?!”

Standing there, regrettably visible, was a bloodstained boy holding a dripping sword. 

Only then did the remaining two escorts realize Dion had crept up behind them. 

Gasping, they drew their blades and swung—too late. The boy had already dashed backward with a light spring.

Or so it appeared. 

An instant later, rather than retreating, Dion was actually closer than ever. Before they could even register what was happening, another escort burst open with a fountain of blood and collapsed.

“A-AtC cEcT!”

Silan, thanks to his dark magic talent, somehow managed to chant a spell even in the midst of his confusion. Simultaneously, three spears of darkness materialized and shot forward at blinding speed.

But that was all. 

Dion ducked in a low roll, then whirled like a spinning top, slipping past each and every one of those dark arrows. In the next moment, his blade had reached Silan’s throat.

Clang!!!

“Hrk—?!” 

“Ah, so you blocked it.”

Silan survived only by sheer luck—maybe a desperate flail. The last escort barely managed to bat the blade aside. The boy flipped backward through the air and landed a bit away, leaving Silan gulping for breath.

“What… What are you doing?!” Silan demanded.

Dion tilted his head. “What am I doing? What does it look like?”

“I’m asking how you managed this!”

Just moments earlier, Dion had clearly been on death’s door. There was no way to explain how he had recovered so quickly or suddenly grown so terrifyingly strong. Watching him now felt not just startling, but almost surreal.

Stunned, Silan glared in bewilderment as Dion smiled calmly.

“If you can’t figure it out even after seeing it, you’ll just have to die.”

“La KaD…!”

Shhhhhhk!

Desperate, Silan conjured a Swamp of Darkness that spread across the corridor floor. It was the best defense his instincts could produce in that frantic split second. 

But it did him no good whatsoever. 

Dion didn’t even bother running on the ground. Instead, he zigzagged along the corridor walls, rushing the two men from above and from the side.

The lone surviving escort swung his sword to keep Dion at bay…

Clang! Ka-kang! Ka-ga-ga-gang!

Overhead, side to side, front again. Slashing downward, sweeping, stabbing. The boy bounded off the labyrinth corridor's walls, floor, and ceiling, launching a flurry of strikes. 

Even though they lacked aura, each blow was so fast that the escort could hardly follow it with his eyes—much less block it without staggering. The unpredictability of that violent barrage kept forcing him backward.

Finally, after the sixth strike...

Slice!

“Graaah!”

A flash of steel, and one of the escort’s arms dropped to the ground, neatly severed. 

Even then, whether out of duty or survival instinct, the escort made a desperate swing at Dion with his remaining arm. 

Dion vaulted away in a nimble somersault, letting the escort live for a moment longer. 

These worthless fools…!

Silan gritted his teeth. Even if the escort managed a few more blocks, all it would do was delay the inevitable. 

◈ REAPER SCANS ◈

Translator: Regressed Translator

Editor: leef

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The next time Dion moved, the escort would surely die. Silan knew he would be next. 

As a spellcaster, if he couldn’t chant, he was no better than a normal person. Although awakened magic users could wield numerous mystical powers, they were fragile without protection.

Hence, Silan’s next move was to seize the last escort by the scruff of his neck.

“Young Lord?” 

“Akt, DaiR, GiAss!” 

“W-What are you—?! Gaaaah!!”

Fwoooosh!

It happened in an instant. Black flames burst from within the escort’s body, consuming him whole. 

With that soldier as fuel, Silan cast a dark spell that sacrificed a “living offering” to shorten his incantation time and amplify its power.

The escort was charred to nothing, and from his ashes rose a colossal raven wreathed in black flame.

“Die!!!”

Kaaa-BOOM!

A blazing inferno shaped like a giant raven tore through the corridor, bearing down on Dion. 

Silan twisted his lips into a triumphant grin. Hastily cast or not, Flame Prison Raven was a dark magic powerful enough to incinerate an entire mansion under normal conditions. 

Even a high-level awakened might be killed by a direct hit. Dion’s path inevitably led to ashes.

Or so Silan believed—until a calm voice echoed from within the roaring black flames.

“Hmm… Your chanting is a bit sloppy.”

“…What?”

A moment later, the billowing firestorm churned midair and began condensing. Before Silan’s eyes, the flames pulled together, morphing into a small raven that perched on Dion’s unscathed palm.

Silan stood frozen, his mind blank.

“H-How? W-What is this?”

Dion cocked his head with an amused smile. “Surprised?”

“Surprised doesn’t even begin to cover it!” 

It felt impossible, like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. But no amount of denial would change reality. 

Dion hadn’t merely blocked Silan’s dark magic—he hijacked it completely. 

Finally accepting the truth, Silan spoke in a trembling voice. “H-How… did you do that? What magic did you use?”

“I didn’t use ‘magic’ at all. It was just a little trick.”

“A… trick?”

“Yup.” 

Dion gently stroked the small raven perched on his hand, the once-deadly flame creature now as tame as a pet. He continued casually, “Dark magic relies on malice—pain, hatred, fear, all those negative emotions turned into power. So if you can interfere with that malice itself, you can steal the spell altogether. In your case, you chanted in a rush and couldn’t control the malice properly, so it wasn’t too hard to seize.”

That trick wouldn't have worked if Silan hadn’t used living sacrifices and had calmly poured his own dark mana into the incantation.

 Just an insignificant “trick,” indeed. 

Silan’s face twisted with rage. “T-There’s no way anyone can manipulate malice itself! That’s nonsense! No awakened—not even a necromancer or a dark magic user could possibly have such a power or trait!”

Dark magic, necromancy—yes. Awakened abilities could defy logic, but there were still limits. Even unique traits that seemed to break every rule had some boundary. 

Stealing control of the malice fueling a spell? That was impossible.

“Unless… that’s… an authority?”

Dion smirked. “Finally figured it out?”

“T-That’s absurd!” Silan roared, his voice shaking. “An authority, a 5-star power, is only for the absolute peak. Archmages, Swordmasters, Sages, and beings who surpass everyone else. There’s no way you, an Unlicht disgrace, could have an authority!”

“Sure. Then let’s pretend I don’t,” Dion replied with a small shrug. “It doesn’t matter what a dead man thinks.”

Silan’s breath caught in his throat.

“Alright, everyone. It’s time to repay the man who sacrificed you.”

At Dion’s prompt, the tiny raven lifted its head. 

Silan froze. The bird’s eyes were like bottomless pits swirling with hatred and vengeance, reflecting the faces of the men Silan had offered—his own soldiers, the escort knights. 

Then he noticed the eerie crimson glow in Dion’s eyes, shining from behind.

Only then did he recall a fact he’d overlooked for too long...

No matter how long Dion had failed to awaken, how pathetic he had seemed, and how lacking his support base might be…

He was still a member of House Unlicht.

Flap flap flap flap flap!

But that realization came too late. 

Even before Silan could attempt another defense, the small raven split into countless smaller shapes, all of them darting toward him. 

Human-faced crows—some with the twisted features of the disposable soldiers, others resembling the betrayed escorts—dozens, maybe hundreds, of them.

“Aaaaaargh!”

Fwoooosh!

“Save me! No… kill me. Please… just end it!”

They struck him with beaks and talons, cawing as they set him ablaze. 

Despite Silan’s demonic race, which granted him high resistance to heat, the black flames devoured him bit by bit. He burned long after his flesh had charred to coal, thrashing until he finally collapsed in a heap.

Meanwhile, Dion merely stood back and watched, calm as ever. 

Eventually, a window appeared before his eyes, and he smiled brightly.

“I wasn’t expecting a class, but I guess this demon was a surprisingly good meal.”

『Achievement: More Demonic Than a Demon』

『Achievement: Vengeance for the Dead』

『Achievement: Giant Killer』

『Bloodslayer’s special effect is activating.』

『You have stolen the 3-star class Dark Mage.』

『You have stolen the 1-star class Executioner.』

『You have stolen the racial trait Mid-Rank Fire Resistance (Un).』

『You have stolen the unique rrait Shortened Incantation (R).』

『【Murder Fiend】☆☆ Lv5 → Lv7』

『【Thug】☆☆ Lv4 → Lv6』

『【Monster Hunter】☆☆ Lv1 → Lv3』

『【Berserker】☆☆ Lv1 → Lv3』

『【Petty Thief】☆☆ Lv1 → Lv3』

………

……

…

『Multiple classes of the same star-level and attribute have gathered…』

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