Mystical Fantasy : The Lazy Real Young Master [EN]

Several blazing fireballs along with waves of pitch-black energy surged violently in Al’s direction.

The young man’s gaze sharpened as he observed the incoming barrage, and his eyes briefly caught sight of the two battered figures before him. The crimson-orange light of the flames reflected within his pupils, flickering like molten lava, while the scorching heat distorted the air around him, suffocating and oppressive. A wave of reluctance crossed his mind, and without hesitation, he leapt backward with a swift motion, releasing his grip from Jogo and Rudi in order to evade the attack.

The impact came in a deafening explosion. Both of their bodies were flung away mercilessly by the shockwave. The earth quaked underfoot, the canopy trembled, leaves scattered into the air like frightened birds, and the acrid scent of something burnt spread, filling the atmosphere with suffocating heat. Jogo and Rudi landed heavily on the ground—still clinging to life, yet their bodies charred in several places, their strength diminished and their energy severely drained.

”...Fools,” Al muttered in a low, irritated tone, clearly displeased with the reckless ambush. ”Instead of aiding them, they only worsened the fate of those two poor children.”

Al slowly lowered his gaze to his own hands. They were scorched black as though he had just invoked something forbidden, a price to pay for the arcane technique he had unleashed earlier. Pain coursed through him; veins bulged along the back of his hands, faint smoke curled from the burnt skin, and his trembling fingers refused to steady themselves. The agony forced a grimace upon his face, sweat beginning to bead along his forehead.

Exhaling slowly, he lifted his head once more, fixing his sharp eyes toward the origin of the assault. The night wind carried with it the smell of damp soil and smoldering wood, the combination weaving a suffocating tension that pressed heavily upon the scene.

And then—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps emerged from beyond the trees. Each step produced the brittle snap of twigs, and under the pale silver light of the moon filtering through the leaves, elongated shadows of figures stretched ominously across the forest floor.

Six individuals revealed themselves, clad in traditional brownish garments, attire bearing the weight of old rituals and ancient rites.

At their forefront was a man already known in this tale.

Daraka.

”S-Sir... Dara...ka...” Jogo muttered weakly, his voice trembling yet faintly audible.

Al’s eyes narrowed, his expression sinking into the shade. He lowered his face ever so slightly, veiling his cold gaze beneath shadow, an action that only intensified the suffocating aura radiating from him.

Daraka stepped closer, and upon finally seeing clearly the young man before him, his expression changed drastically. His eyes widened, shock written plainly across his features.

”You!”

Daraka’s voice cracked in disbelief. He had not anticipated finding this boy here of all places. For a fleeting moment, his thoughts churned in chaos: could it be Al who had caused this devastation, who had struck down Jogo and Rudi even in their transformed states?

As his six subordinates rushed to secure the two fallen boys, Daraka reached into the folds of his robe and retrieved a small photograph. It was Al’s image. Though he was already familiar with the boy’s appearance, the reality before his eyes defied his ability to process it. Yet as he stared back and forth between the photo and the living figure, there was no doubt left—this was indeed the same youth.

”Sir Daraka... h-he is not... no ordinary child. He is... dangerous...” Jogo rasped with what little consciousness remained. Meanwhile, Rudi’s eyes remained open, yet his awareness had all but vanished into emptiness.

Daraka’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. Across from him, Al exhaled harshly. His mask had slipped, exposing his features, but he no longer cared. What was done could not be undone. A thin mist of vapor curled in the air near his face as his rising body heat clashed with the night’s chill.

”I... I never imagined... you would possess such strength,” Jogo whispered toward Al.

”And that,” Al replied coolly, his voice calm yet cutting, ”is the classic phrase of the arrogant—those who have only just realized how utterly weak they truly are.”

”Y-You... Ugh—!” Jogo growled through clenched teeth.

”You need not force yourself,” Al countered, his tone laced with disinterest. ”It is already commendable that you can even remain conscious at this point.”

Jogo’s mind wavered, confusion spreading across his battered features.

”W-What... do you me—?”

TINGGG!

A metallic resonance split the air, the sharp clang reverberating like heated steel tearing across raw nerves.

”Arrrggghhh!” Jogo screamed uncontrollably, his agony erupting as his body twisted unnaturally. Rudi followed suit, both writhing in unbearable pain. Their torsos arched violently backward, veins bulged grotesquely beneath their skin, and dark, viscous fluid seeped from the corners of their eyes.

”What is happening?” Daraka demanded, his composure faltering as panic flickered in his tone. ”Quickly, restrain them and stabilize their condition!” he barked.

His six men obeyed without question, channeling restorative energy into the broken bodies of Jogo and Rudi.

”It is useless,” Al spoke flatly, his hand making a dismissive gesture as though brushing aside the futile hope in their actions.

”What... do you mean by that?” Daraka demanded sharply.

”Their souls have already been damaged beyond repair,” Al explained with cold certainty. ”Only a higher tier of sacred energy could possibly restore them. But...” His eyes narrowed, his tone darkening. ”...you have already tainted them with the corruption of darkness.”

Daraka clenched his jaw, fury and unease flickering in his eyes. He could not deny the truth—he knew well what had been done. Observing their twisted condition, it was obvious that Al had attempted to purify their corruption earlier, yet their interference had worsened the damage. Such recklessness had destroyed two valuable pawns.

My precious pieces... wasted, Daraka cursed inwardly, frustration boiling within him.

He drew in a breath, steadying himself, and turned his focus fully on Al. His fingers curled slowly into fists, his jaw tightened, and his eyes gleamed with smoldering rage.

”Hmph... At first, I assumed you were nothing but a fortunate child, stumbling aimlessly amidst chaos. But now... I see you are hiding something greater.” His eyes narrowed further, voice dripping with venom. ”No wonder... my curse never succeeded against you.”

”Ugh... Do not remind me of such vexing things,” Al said casually, his tone edged with disdain. ”But at the very least, you will no longer trouble me any further from this point onward.”

Daraka glared back fiercely, tension thickening in the air between them. The atmosphere grew heavier, leaves rustling unnaturally as if the forest itself sensed the impending clash.

And then Al’s own gaze sharpened into something far more terrifying, piercing deep enough to stir genuine fear within Daraka, forcing him onto his guard.

”Because you...” Al’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

”...will meet your end tonight.”

Al moved with astonishing speed toward Daraka. Each of his feet struck the ground with tremendous force, leaving behind faint cracks etched into the soil and a cloud of dust that erupted violently into the air. The gust of wind generated by his rapid movement sent leaves scattering wildly in every direction, as though the forest itself were reacting to the raw intensity of his approach.

He launched a powerful kick in Daraka’s direction, his hands currently rendered difficult to use. No matter the circumstances, his singular goal at this moment was to utterly annihilate Daraka without hesitation or compromise.

Two of Daraka’s subordinates immediately reacted, attempting to intercept the incoming strike. Yet the force behind Al’s kick was overwhelming—his shins struck them with the impact of an iron hammer, reverberating through their chests, causing their ribs to shudder and blood to spurt from their mouths. Both were flung violently to the side, crashing into the ground with painful force.

Thanks to their sacrificial defense, Daraka discovered an opening. With a slight backward leap, his robe billowed around him and a cloud of dust erupted from the ground. A faint smile crept across his face as he raised both hands toward Al, fingers spread wide.

Dark Magic Skill: Lino Masala

BLASTTT!!

A dense wave of dark energy surged toward Al, moving with an eerie fluidity, almost like a rolling fog. Unlike a simple projectile, its effect was far more sinister. The air hissed and vibrated, the earth beneath it cracked and turned a deep, unnatural black, and a pungent stench—like burning flesh—permeated the surroundings.

Al performed a backflip, landing into a crouched stance. Planting both hands firmly on the ground, he unleashed:

Elemental Magic – Earth Type: Earth Wall

A massive wall of soil erupted from the earth, forming an enormous barrier to intercept the dark wave. The ground trembled violently as boulders and dirt stacked into a colossal protective structure. Al then leapt backward further, landing gracefully upon the branch of a tree.

”A truly dangerous skill,” Al muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with restrained caution.

The terrain in front of Daraka showed visible signs of corruption, as though it had undergone severe corrosion. Even the earth wall that Al had raised began to melt almost instantly. The dark energy had grazed his cheek, leaving a corrosive mark: skin wrinkled and blackened as if scorched by acid, a wound wholly unnatural in its appearance.

Al touched the injury with two fingers and activated a healing technique. A faint, greenish light emerged from his fingertips, crawling along the surface of the wound, sealing it. A sharp, stinging pain accompanied the process, forcing him to wince slightly, but it was sufficient to remedy the minor injury.

”I suppose I overestimated your threat... it seems you are not as strong as I imagined,” Daraka said, his tone carrying a hint of condescension.

Al’s expression darkened, though he had not yet revealed the full extent of his power. Now, however, he needed to take the situation more seriously. His body leaned forward, his shoulders tensed, and his gaze ignited with a burning intensity.

A chilling aura emanated from him, creating an oppressive atmosphere that made the surrounding forest feel uncomfortable and alive with tension. Crimson-black energy began to coalesce around him. The branch beneath his feet cracked under the pressure, and nearby trees groaned and creaked, as if protesting the unnatural energy he radiated.

Daraka and his subordinates could feel it. Danger hung thick in the air, and they realized that the figure before them still harbored numerous hidden tricks.

Daraka reached into his pocket and retrieved something.

”I wanted to finish you with my own hands, but I suppose it would be better if others confronted you tonight,” Daraka stated, a faint edge of amusement in his tone.

From his pocket, he produced two white sheets of paper, etched with ancient inscriptions. He channeled his energy into them, and then—

SWOSSHHH

Two horrifying creatures materialized before them, their forms so grotesque and unnatural that Al’s eyes widened in astonishment.

The battle had now entered an entirely new and far more perilous phase, the night air thick with impending carnage.

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