Reincarnation Of The Magicless Pinoy
From Zero to Hero: " No Magic? No Problem!"
Encounter 37 : Corruption!
The corridor swallowed the last echoes of marching boots and dragging wounded.
Silence returned—broken only by the distant, rhythmic thunder coming from the ruined courtyard behind them.
Elian leaned heavily against the wall for a moment, letting Leto take more of his weight. His breathing was shallow, each inhale pulling at cracked ribs and burned skin. He stared at the flickering torchlight playing across the collapsed stone ahead.
Mira adjusted her grip on Prince Darius again. The young man's head lolled against her shoulder; a thin line of blood had dried at the corner of his mouth.
"He's still out," she said quietly. Not a question.
Leto nodded once.
"Concussion at best. Maybe worse. We need to get him to a healer before the shock sets in properly."
Elian pushed off the wall. His bad leg almost buckled, but he forced it straight.
"Then we move faster."
Leto shot him a look.
"You can barely stand."
"I can walk."
"You're limping like a three-legged dog."
Elian didn't answer. He just started forward again—slow, deliberate, each step grinding his teeth together.
Mira fell in beside him, carrying the prince without complaint.
Behind them the hallway stretched long and shadowed. The sounds of battle were fainter now, muffled by layers of stone and distance, but still unmistakable: the metallic crash of Vorax's axe meeting Marcellus's gauntlets, the sharp hiss of Thane's frost blades clashing with Arden's precise steel, the low, rolling crackle of Luke's violet mana tearing through the air.
And underneath it all—the steady, unmistakable ring of the Tenbatsu no Yari cutting arcs through chaos.
Elian's jaw tightened.
He kept walking.
They passed under a half-fallen arch. Moonlight leaked through a jagged hole in the ceiling, painting silver streaks across the blood-smeared floor.
Leto broke the silence first.
"You really think they can take all three?"
Elian didn't look at him.
"Arden's there. Marcellus too."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I've got."
Mira spoke without turning her head.
"Rolien's been carrying worse odds since the day he woke up in this world."
Leto snorted softly.
"Yeah. And he's still walking around like death owes him money."
A ghost of a smile touched Elian's mouth, gone in the next breath.
"He always did."
Another distant explosion rolled through the stone—deeper this time, more final. Dust sifted from the ceiling.
The three of them paused for half a heartbeat.
Then kept moving.
The lower gate wasn't far now. Flickering torchlight waited ahead—surviving knights and mercenaries already forming a ragged defensive line, dragging barricades into place, shouting orders over the groans of the wounded.
Elian stopped just before the light reached them.
He looked back down the long, shadowed corridor one final time.
Nothing visible anymore. Just smoke, echoes, and the occasional flash of unnatural color bleeding around corners.
He exhaled through his nose—slow, controlled.
"Leto."
"Yeah?"
"If we make it out of this castle alive…"
Leto waited.
Elian's voice came out quieter than before.
"…tell him I said he's still an idiot. But he's our idiot."
Leto gave a tired, crooked grin.
"I'll make sure he hears it. Probably while he's bleeding out and still trying to look cool."
Mira shifted the prince's weight again.
"He'll live," she said simply. "He always does."
Elian nodded once—small, almost imperceptible.
Then he turned toward the gate.
The three of them stepped into the torchlight together.
Behind them, the castle continued to shake with the sounds of old grudges finally being settled.
Back in the shattered courtyard, the air itself screamed.
Luke's violet-black lance had reformed—thicker, more concentrated than before—pinning Rolien against the far wall like a butterfly on a board. The beam drilled straight into the Tenbatsu no Yari's crimson edge, forcing the sword back against Rolien's chest. Sparks of curse energy exploded outward, but the laser refused to break. It was too focused, too dense, slicing through every counter-beam Rolien tried to fire from his free hand.
Rolien grit his teeth behind the cracked mask, left palm glowing with raw crimson power as he poured everything into a desperate opposing blast. The two beams collided in a howling standoff—his own wild, crackling energy versus Luke's piercing violet needle. For a heartbeat it held.
Then the concentrated lance punched straight through.
Rolien's beam shattered like glass. The violet spike slammed into his shoulder plate, driving him harder into the stone. Blood sprayed inside the Jawbreaker armor.
"Still using my own tricks?" Rolien snarled through the pain, voice raw but mocking. "No originality at all, Hunter. You stole my book for power-ups? Didn't you learn science back on Earth? I heard you were top of the class in that shit."
Luke's laugh echoed across the ruins.
"Yeah, I did. But he excelled in making things explode. So why bother reinventing the wheel when I have Rolien's book?"
He laughed again—cold, triumphant—then suddenly stopped. The lance flared brighter, pressing Rolien deeper into the wall.
"Sana narinig mo ang mga pagsigaw niya at paghingi niya ng tulong."
Rolien froze.
His blood turned to ice.
"You wouldn't!!!"
"Heh. What if I already have?" Luke's mocking laughter rang out, sharp and vicious.
"You son of a BITCH!!!!"
Rolien roared. The Tenbatsu no Yari flared white-hot. He shoved forward with everything he had, shattering the pin and charging straight at Luke like a missile.
"Hah! That's right! Come at me!! Rowan!!" Luke taunted, arms wide, daring him to be reckless.
"Brat!!! Don't listen to that psycho!! He's baiting you to not think! Calm yourself, kid!!" Arden's voice cracked across the courtyard like a whip.
But Thane was already moving—frost blades flashing as he lunged at Arden from the side.
Arden spun without looking, parrying both blades in a single ringing clash.
"Don't you dare look the other way, old timer! Remember—I'm one of the strongest!" Thane hissed, their swords locked edge-to-edge.
"Heh. Not the strongest I know! You're just an imitation!" Arden shoved hard, breaking the bind, then snapped a brutal kick into Thane's midsection that sent the silver-haired fighter skidding backward across the ice.
A few meters away, Vorax and Marcellus were locked in their own war. The giant's obsidian axe came down in a thunderous overhead smash; Marcellus met it with both gauntlets, golden mana exploding outward. Stone cracked beneath their feet. Vorax laughed and swung again—horizontal this time—while Marcellus answered with a heavy uppercut that dented the giant's breastplate and staggered him.
Back to Rolien.
He was already switching styles mid-dash—pure Dante/Nero flow—fluid, relentless, never stopping.
Overdrive kicked in first: lightning crackled across his body, blue-white arcs snapping along his arms. He closed the gap in a blink and fired a lightning-charged punch straight at Luke's face. Luke snapped up a violet shield; the punch detonated against it in a stun-burst of electricity, but Luke absorbed the shock and countered with a mana whip that lashed Rolien across the ribs.
Rolien didn't slow. He flipped straight into Gerbarrax—cannon mod charging in his left palm while the sword went burst mode. A roaring crimson cannon blast erupted from his hand; at the same moment the Tenbatsu exploded forward in a hyper-charged thrust. Luke spun a rotating barrier spell that deflected the cannon shot upward and met the sword thrust with a point-blank violet spike that forced Rolien to twist mid-air.
Hollowveilforge activated next—body enhanced, raw power and speed flooding every muscle. Rolien blurred, hammering Luke with a barrage of enhanced strikes. Luke answered with layered mana domes, each one cracking but buying him time to fire back a piercing bolt that grazed Rolien's mask.
Hammer strikes followed—Rolien's sword turning into a literal warhammer mid-swing, smashing down with crushing force. Luke slid under it and retaliated with a gravity pulse that slammed Rolien into the ground.
Rolien rolled with it, popping up into Punchline: rocket punch launching his fist like a missile while the grapple line from his gauntlet hooked Luke's ankle. He yanked hard. Luke cut the line with a razor-sharp mana blade but took a rocket-powered fist to the shoulder that spun him half around.
Galo bubble deployed—dark curse energy forming a floating sphere around Rolien that absorbed Luke's next three spells completely. The bubble swelled, then detonated outward in a released shockwave that finally knocked Luke off his feet.
Quick slash finished the combo—Rolien vanishing in a red streak, blade carving six perfect cuts across Luke's defenses in the space of a heartbeat.
Luke staggered but never stopped smiling. Every technique was answered with precise magic: shields for the lightning, counters for the cannon, barriers for the hammer, gravity for the rocket, dispels for the curse bubble. He was using Rolien's own notes against him, perfectly.
The duke wiped blood from his lip and laughed again.
"Keep dancing, Rowan. I've got all night."
Rolien's grip tightened on the Tenbatsu, eyes burning behind the visor.
So did he.
**System Notification**
**CRITICAL ALERT – IMMEDIATE**
**WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!**
**RAGE LEVEL: CRITICAL – EXCEEDING SAFE THRESHOLD**
System has detected an extreme surge in negative emotional energy (RAGE) emanating from the user.
**Weapon Anomaly Detected**
The blade **Tenbatsu no Yari** is actively feeding on the user's overflowing wrath.
The curse veins have entered **hyper-resonance** state.
Negative emotions are being amplified and recycled into raw destructive power at unsustainable rates.
**DANGER: CORRUPTION IN PROGRESS**
Continued feeding of rage will accelerate soul-level corruption.
Estimated time until irreversible personality overwrite: **7–12 minutes** at current intensity.
**ULTIMATE SKILL ACTIVATION DETECTED**
**King Of Wrath Berserker Lucifer**
- Stage 1: Active
- Stage 2: Imminent
- Stage 3: [LOCKED – REQUIRES FULL CORRUPTION]
**LIFESPAN PENALTY ENGAGED**
For every **60 seconds** the user remains in **King Of Wrath Berserker Lucifer** mode:
→ **1 full year** of natural lifespan will be permanently consumed.
**Current projected loss at sustained usage:**
- 5 minutes → **5 years** lost
- 10 minutes → **10 years** lost
- 15 minutes → **Irreversible threshold** (lifespan < 10 years remaining)
**RECOMMENDED ACTION**
1. **Immediately cease channeling rage** into the Tenbatsu no Yari.
2. **Disengage King Of Wrath Berserker Lucifer** (if possible).
3. **Perform emergency emotional purge** or **external mana cleanse** within the next **180 seconds**.
4. **Do NOT** allow the blade to reach full crimson overflow.
**This is not a drill.**
Your life force is being burned as fuel.
The sword does not care if you win… only that you burn.
**System repeating:**
**REFRAIN FROM RAGE.**
**REFRAIN FROM RAGE.**
**REFRAIN FROM RAGE.**
**User status: Critical**
**Time remaining until severe corruption event:** **04:47… 04:46… 04:45…**
**May your wrath find peace before it consumes you whole.**
Luke's laughter twisted into something uglier, more intimate.
He paced a slow half-circle, violet mana dripping from his fingertips like venom.
"Wanna know what I did to your precious princess?"
Rolien's grip on the Tenbatsu no Yari turned white-knuckled. The crimson veins pulsed erratically, mirroring the stutter in his chest.
"I stripped her," Luke said, savoring each syllable. "Hahahaha. You don't deserve her. She held out on the book's secret code until the very last second. Then she begged—not for her life, not for mercy on her body. She begged me not to burn the grimoire. Said she'd let me do whatever I wanted to her… as long as the book survived."
The words didn't just land. They detonated.
Rolien's world narrowed to a red tunnel.
"Damn you… fucker!!!"
He launched forward—raw, animal fury tearing through every restraint.
"Of course," Luke continued, dodging the first frenzied slash with mocking ease, "I enjoyed every last drop of her. Wish you were there to watch her scream your name while she broke."
"CURSE YOU!! YOU UGLY SUICIDAL NONSENSE FREAK!!!"
Rolien's roar cracked the air.
He abandoned the old combo chains entirely—nothing recycled, nothing familiar. Pure invention born from hate.
First came Riftreaver — Tenbatsu no Yari splitting into twin phantom blades mid-swing. He crossed them in an X-slash that tore open spatial rifts; violet-black edges screamed toward Luke from impossible angles. Luke raised a hexagonal mana lattice—rifts clashed against it, bending space itself, but the lattice held just long enough for him to counter with a spiraling violet drill that forced Rolien to leap back.
Next—Ashen Requiem. Rolien slammed the sword pommel into the ground. Crimson curse-flames erupted in a perfect circle around him, then collapsed inward like a dying star before detonating outward in a horizontal ring of black-red fire. Luke met it with a dome of compressed air—flames roared against the barrier, scorching the edges black, but Luke pushed forward through the heat, laughing.
"Still too slow!"
Rolien answered with Voidfang Cascade — he vanished in a flicker of curse-shadow, reappearing above Luke in a diving strike. The blade extended mid-fall into a jagged, whip-like chain-sword dripping void tar. It lashed down like a guillotine. Luke sidestepped and countered with chained violet spears that erupted from the ground in a forest of lances—Rolien twisted mid-air, chain-sword retracting just in time to parry three of them, but the fourth grazed his thigh, drawing a hiss of pain.
He landed and immediately flowed into Eclipse Barrage — rapid palm strikes infused with condensed curse-lightning. Each hit released a miniature black-hole pulse that pulled Luke fractionally off-balance before exploding. Luke answered with gravity inversion—suddenly Rolien's feet left the ground, body yanked upward. Luke followed with a rising violet uppercut that caught Rolien square in the ribs and hurled him skyward.
Rolien twisted in freefall, activating Crimson Revenant — his own blood ignited along the blade's edge, turning every swing into a trailing comet of explosive vitae. He dove back down like a meteor, sword cleaving a crimson arc that split Luke's hastily raised shield in half. Shards of violet mana rained around them.
Luke staggered—first real blood from his mouth—but still grinning.
"She cried for you the whole time, Rowan."
Rolien's next move was wordless.
Oblivion Fang — the Tenbatsu no Yari's curse veins over-saturated, blade elongating into a grotesque, fang-like greatsword wreathed in absolute-black corona. He charged once—straight, unstoppable—bringing the weapon down in a single apocalyptic overhead that cratered the courtyard floor ten meters wide. Luke crossed both arms; a final, desperate multi-layered barrier formed—rune-etched, curse-reinforced, stolen straight from Rolien's own forbidden pages.
The collision lit the night violet-crimson-black.
Stone vaporized in a perfect sphere.
When the blast cleared—
Rolien stood hunched, sword reverted to normal length, tip buried in the ground for support. Fresh blood leaked from under the mask, armor split open across the chest.
Luke remained upright—barely. One arm hung limp, sleeve shredded, ribs visibly cracked under torn clothing. His breathing was ragged, but the smile never left.
"You're finished," Luke rasped. "She was so much sweeter when she finally gave up."
Rolien lifted his head slowly.
Behind the fractured visor, his eyes weren't red with rage anymore.
They were empty.
Cold.
Final.
"Not… yet."
The Tenbatsu no Yari began to hum—low at first, then rising to a bone-rattling pitch. Crimson veins swelled, spreading beyond the blade, crawling up Rolien's arm like living veins.
Luke's smile finally faltered.
"Shit"
To be continued