Volume 03, Chapter 36

  Mason Schmidt [2]

  “Well, well, what do we have here? A new face in my humble establishment. Step in, don’t be shy,” Mason says, his deep, resonant voice carrying an inviting yet commanding tone.

  Mason Schmidt. The man I’ve been so eager to meet. His reputation precedes him—Vice Leader of the demon factions, master of darkness, and a being whose power is second only to Erebos. His presence fills the dimly lit bar, which feels less like a dive and more like a portal into another world. The eclectic mix of patrons and the shelves lined with mysterious artifacts only add to the atmosphere.

  “It’s an interesting place you’ve got here,” I say, glancing around.

  “Heh, ‘interesting’ doesn’t even start to cover it,” Mason replies with a chuckle, his sharp eyes twinkling with amusement. “Le Manoir Sombre isn’t your average watering hole. It’s where people come when they’re looking for things that go bang—in more ways than one.”

  His words linger, a subtle hint at the hidden dangers and treasures his establishment holds.

  I reach into my bag and pull out the Demon Orb encased in its protective glass box. Placing it on the counter between us, the orb’s eerie glow casts flickering shadows across Mason’s face.

  “I heard this is the place to deal with stuff like this. Can you purify it?”

  Mason pauses, setting down the wine glass he’s been polishing. His attention sharpens as he leans forward, the glow of the orb reflected in his piercing gaze.

  “Well, well,” he says, a smirk curling his lips. “What do we have here? An [A]-rank Demon Orb, huh? You’ve got good taste—or maybe just good luck. Where’d you get your hands on this beauty?”

  “It’s a long story,” I reply. “The important thing is—can you handle it?”

  Mason chuckles, the sound low and full of amusement. He places a hand on the glass box, which glows faintly with red runes before disappearing in a bling. Now holding the orb in his bare hands, Mason examines it closely, his grin widening.

  “Handle it? Kid, handling darkness is what I do best. But let me ask you—why purify it? Do you even know what you’re holding?”

  “I do,” I reply firmly. “I need the magic inside to become a Manaficial.”

  Mason tilts his head, intrigued. He traces a finger over the orb’s surface, his expression unreadable.

  “Clever,” he says finally. “You know the risks. Purifying the soul layer to avoid corruption—smart. But purifying something like this won’t come cheap—or easy.”

  “Name your price,” I say, steeling myself.

  “You’ve got guts. I like that,” Mason replies, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “Here’s my offer: do me a favor, and I’ll purify your orb—and throw in a little extra. Deal?”

  I nod cautiously. “Deal.”

  Mason leans closer, his overwhelming presence sending a shiver down my spine. “A duel,” he says simply. “Prove you can wield the power you seek. Impress me, and I’ll cleanse your orb.”

  My breath catches. A duel? Against him? This isn’t what I anticipated. I’d expected a hefty fee in Camilliums or maybe a binding contract—not a direct confrontation.

  My nerves tighten like a vice. Mason Schmidt isn’t just any demon. According to the web novel, he’s a powerhouse capable of obliterating galaxies with minimal effort. After Camille sealed Erebos, Mason stayed under the radar, hiding his immense strength behind this black-market front. His ability to suppress his demonic energy while maintaining control over his domain is legendary.

  The thought of facing him sends a chill down my spine. There’s no way I can win—not as a Manaless.

  “Wait,” I say, grasping for an alternative. “How about another way? I’m a Manaless. You’ll win easily.”

  Mason smirks, his expression unreadable. “Don’t worry—I’ll go easy on you.”

  His reassurance isn’t reassuring. In the web novel, Mason is known to keep his word, but demons are unpredictable by nature. “Easy” could still mean an overwhelming challenge.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Still, this is the price he’s set. If I want that orb purified, I have no choice but to accept.

  “Let’s do it,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

  Mason’s grin widens. “Now you’re talking.”

  Mason raises his right hand, a casual gesture that belies the power behind it.

  -Flick!

  He flicked his fingers, and the bar’s ambiance changed instantly. An unsettling sense of movement replaces the dimly lit coziness.

  -Rumble!

  The sound reverberates through the room as hidden mechanisms activate. My eyes widen as the center of Le Manoir Sombre begins to shift.

  The bar rotates slowly, revealing a fighting area concealed beneath its surface. Seats and tables slide away seamlessly, pushed to the room's edges by intricate machinery. What was once an intimate gathering space transforms into a vast, open arena.

  The walls flicker with a soft hum, their dim light intensifying until the space is fully illuminated. It’s as if the bar has shed its skin, revealing its true purpose—not just a place for drinks and quiet whispers but a front for clandestine activities—activities like this duel.

  Mason watches my reaction with an amused grin, his casual demeanor starkly contrasting the grand transformation unfolding around us.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” he says, his voice cutting through the hum of the machinery.

  I nod, unable to hide the mix of apprehension and fascination in my expression.

  This isn’t just a bar—it’s a stage, a battlefield. Mason has crafted this space with precision, ensuring it’s ready for encounters like the one I’m about to face.

  The last table slides into place along the edge as the arena finishes forming. The room grows eerily quiet, the sound of moving mechanisms replaced by an expectant stillness.

  Mason steps into the center of the arena, his grin widening as he gestures for me to join him.

  “Well, kid,” he says, his voice echoing in the now-spacious room, “time to show me what you’ve got.”

  My heart pounds as I step forward, each footfall heavier than the last. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the setting only amplifies the pressure.

  Whatever happens next, I’ll have to give it everything I’ve got. Mason Schmidt isn’t the kind of opponent you can take lightly.

  Let the duel begin.

  ════ ?★? ════

  I stand ready in the arena, the transformed bar now a stage for this surreal duel. Mason is positioned opposite me, his posture relaxed but radiating an aura of unshakable confidence.

  “Ready when you are,” Mason says, cracking his knuckles, his tone a mix of amusement and challenge.

  I nod, pulling out both of Galahad’s Judgment and gripping them tightly.

  “I’m ready,” I say, the words steadier than I feel.

  Mason gestures lazily with a hand, smirking as if inviting me to take the first move. The gesture reeks of underestimation—likely due to my Manaless status—but I’m determined to prove him wrong.

  Raising my guns, I aim directly at him and fire.

  -Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

  The shots ring out, echoing through the arena. But my confidence falters as the bullets ricochet harmlessly off his skin, clinking to the floor like pebbles.

  “Is that all?” Mason asks, unfazed, his smirk deepening.

  “Nope,” I reply, charging forward.

  I aim one of my guns directly at his sunglasses and fire.

  -Bang!

  The impact barely earns a reaction—his head jerks slightly upward, but it’s more an acknowledgment than a sign of damage.

  [Gravity’s Gambit]

  I leap into the air, pointing both guns downward, and fire.

  -Bang! Bang!

  The recoil propels me forward. I spin mid-air, extending my leg for a high kick aimed at his chest.

  “Hah!”

  -Clank!

  My foot connects, but it feels like I’ve struck solid iron. Mason doesn’t flinch, his stance steady as a mountain.

  I land, following up with a swift kick to his head.

  -Clank!

  Again, no reaction. It’s as if my attacks are nothing more than gentle taps.

  Desperate, I press the barrel of one gun directly against his forehead and fire three rapid shots.

  -Bang! Bang! Bang!

  -Clank! Clank! Clank!

  The bullets deflect off his skin, leaving not even a scratch.

  Then, without warning, Mason moves. I tense, expecting a counterattack, but instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette.

  -Flick!

  A small purple flame sparks in his palm, illuminating his face with an eerie glow. He lights the cigarette, placing it between his lips and slowly dragging it.

  “Is that all?” he asks again, exhaling a stream of smoke. His calm demeanor and lack of effort only emphasize the vast gulf in our abilities.

  Catching my breath, I holster one of Galahad’s Judgment and glare at him, calculating my next move.

  “You’re tough, I’ll give you that,” I concede.

  Mason smirks, blowing out another puff of smoke. “Tough isn’t the half of it, kid. But I appreciate the… workout.”

  The sarcasm in his tone stings. Direct attacks are useless; I need a new strategy.

  “Activate!”

  -Tick-Tock!

  The Chrono Pendant activates, slowing the world around me. I move swiftly, aiming to disorient Mason with speed and agility. Sprinting towards one of the arena’s pillars, I gain momentum, planning to use the environment to my advantage.

  “Still playing games?” Mason’s voice cuts through the slowed time, unfazed. His sharp gaze follows my every move.

  Ignoring his taunts, I aim at the chain supporting the massive chandelier overhead.

  -Bang! Bang!

  -Clank!

  The chain snaps, and the chandelier crashes down, shattering on impact and enveloping Mason in a dense cloud of smoke and debris.

  Seizing the opportunity, I charge forward, guns blazing.

  [Stalwart Advance]

  -Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

  The bullets rip through the smoke, but a sudden purple glow emanates from within.

  -BOOM!

  A massive explosion erupts, purple flames roaring outward. The shockwave sends me skidding to a halt as I shield my eyes.

  As the smoke clears, Mason emerges completely unscathed. His calm demeanor remains unchanged as if the chandelier and the explosion were mere inconveniences.

  “Alright,” he says, snuffing out his cigarette underfoot. “Now it’s time to stop fooling around.”

  -Fwoosh!

  In an instant, Mason blurs. Before I can react, he reappears in front of me. His hand swings wide, and I barely register the motion before it connects with my face.

  “AGH!”

  The impact sends me flying backward. I crash into a pillar with a resounding -Boom! The world spins, pain radiating through every part of my body.

  A slap. That was a slap. And it felt like being hit by a wrecking ball.

  I groan, struggling to open my eyes. My cheek throbs painfully, and I can’t even think straight for a moment.

  Using the pillar for support, I slowly pull myself to my feet, every movement a battle against the ache in my body.

  “So, you survived that, huh?” Mason’s voice cuts through the haze, calm and taunting.

  I remain silent, too focused on staying upright to reply.

  -Slam!

  The sudden, loud sound reverberates through the room. My heart races as I prepare for whatever comes next.