Mystical Fantasy : The Lazy Real Young Master [EN]

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 appeared visibly irritated, yet he had not even begun to reveal the true extent of his formidable capabilities. And now, with circumstances escalating and the situation demanding a more serious approach, he found himself compelled to adopt a slightly more disciplined and focused stance. His body leaned deliberately forward, his shoulders tensing with restrained power, and his gaze ignited with the intensity of smoldering embers.

The aura radiating from him generated a suffocating sense of foreboding, a chilling tension that made the surrounding atmosphere profoundly uncomfortable, while dark reddish-black energy began to coalesce and swirl ominously around his form. The branches beneath his feet cracked sharply under the sudden surge of power, and the trees surrounding him groaned and creaked as though unwillingly resisting the presence of such an overwhelming and dangerous force.

Daraka and his subordinates immediately sensed the shift in the air, realizing with mounting alarm that the situation had become exceptionally perilous; the figure standing before them undoubtedly possessed a myriad of hidden abilities and strategic tricks yet to be revealed.

Daraka then reached into his pocket and withdrew an item with deliberate precision.

”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. His eyes narrowing slightly as he prepared his next move.

He produced two sheets of white paper, each inscribed with archaic, mystical symbols. Channeling his energy into the delicate sheets, he prepared to summon powerful entities.

Summoning Magic : Pocong

BWOSSHHH!

Two intricate magical circles erupted in front of Daraka, causing the ground beneath them to tremble violently. Radiant light, merging shades of green and crimson, poured outward from the circles, while faint guttural growls echoed from within, heralding the arrival of two identical, horrifying entities.

Pocong.

Creatures of the djinn race, humanoid in appearance but entirely shrouded from head to toe in pristine white wrappings, tightly bound at the crown of the head, neck, waist, and ankles. Only their pale, spectral faces remained visible, marked by deep, haunting black eye sockets and glowing red eyes that pierced the darkness with unnatural intensity. A pungent, acrid stench of decay mixed with damp earth immediately filled the air as they materialized, sending chills through anyone who witnessed their emergence, and causing the hairs on the back of their necks to stand on end.

”GRUAAARRR”

”Do you really think such lowly creatures could possibly stand in my way?” Al said, preparing himself to strike. He leaned his body forward slightly, tightening the muscles in his legs, while the air around him hissed and crackled, charged with the dense, coalescing energy that radiated from his very being.

”They may be no more than the equivalent of goblins, yet that is more than sufficient to settle our affairs tonight, haha!” Daraka replied, his tone dripping with condescension and amusement.

”What do you mean by that?” Al asked sharply, eyes narrowing with suspicion and anticipation.

Daraka merely smiled, gathering all of his subordinates close to him along with Jogo and Rudi, before producing a small, radiant transportation stone from within his pocket.

”Planning to escape?!” Al shouted, his voice cutting through the night like a blade. ”I won’t let you.”

With that, Al launched himself forward, a terrifying aura of energy trailing behind him like a streak of dark crimson lightning, pulverizing the earth beneath each step he took.

Yet…

The two pocong intercepted his trajectory. Despite their bound and seemingly helpless forms, they possessed unique abilities: lightweight teleportation, incredible jumping speed, and an unusually resilient, shield-like endurance that made them formidable defensive barriers. They moved with an uncanny, almost supernatural hopping rhythm, their white shrouds fluttering like ghostly specters beneath the pale light of the moon.

They successfully intercepted Al, and that brief opportunity was enough for Daraka to make his escape.

”Farewell,” Daraka whispered, activating the stone.

A bright blue light enveloped their bodies, swirling into a vortex that seemed to slowly erase the group from the battlefield entirely.

Al wouldn’t let them leave so easily. From his dimensional storage, he retrieved a small, sharp knife and hurled it toward Daraka, even though his hand still ached and he was being blocked by the two pocong.

Despite these limitations, the attack found its mark. Daraka, sensing the deadly knife hurtling toward him, flung one of his subordinates forward as a makeshift shield.

The subordinate hesitated for only a moment, shocked and dismayed, but understood the inherent risk of following Daraka—and that his life was now effectively forfeit.

And Then...

STAB!

The subordinate was pierced and died instantly, blood spraying violently into the air before his lifeless body collapsed to the ground.

By the time the chaos subsided, Daraka and his party had completely vanished from sight.

”Damn it,” Al muttered in frustration.

But there was no time to dwell on anger. These two wrapped creatures were extremely troublesome. He immediately refocused on the pocong, preparing for another assault.

”Is this because he knows my hands are compromised, so he sent out pocong—creatures that can’t even use their hands—to fight me? Is he mocking me?!” Al muttered, his irritation growing with every passing second.

He slammed both pocong into the earth with tremendous force, causing deep fissures to split the ground beneath them and sending shards of stone flying into the air. Their bodies shuddered violently upon impact. With a powerful leap, Al soared above them.

The pocong, recognizing Al in midair, unleashed one of their offensive skills. Their mouths opened unnaturally wide toward him, and…

KIYAKKK!!

A deafening scream erupted from both creatures, a piercing sonic wave that assaulted the senses, accompanied by a forceful shock that felt like being struck by a massive truck. The air trembled, tree branches snapped, Al’s ears rang, and his chest was slammed with the deadly force.

Al whitstood the irritating attack.

Suspended in midair, his legs ignited with crimson energy, and forcing his way through the crushing shockwave, he delivered a devastating, energy-infused kick directly to both pocong.

”You… are… incredibly… noisy!”

BRUAKKK!!!

The impact created a massive crater, propelling chunks of earth and stone in every direction, while a dense cloud of dust enveloped the battlefield, obscuring vision.

Al leapt out of the crater. Both pocong appeared lifeless.

He conjured a small black flame in his hands, consuming the remains of the creatures. The fire surged violently, engulfing the pocong entirely, until their wrappings and essence were reduced to nothing but smoldering ash, the acrid smell of burning flesh thickening the night air.

With a flick of his magical power, Al restored the battlefield, leaving it as though no battle had ever occurred.

He exhaled a long, measured breath.

”They are experts at escaping,” he murmured.

He then sent a message to his subordinates through a red glyph on his hand, instructing them to locate Daraka and the others.

After a pause, he murmured wearily,

”Huft… two relentless days. A life like this is truly unsuited for someone like me.”

The desire for rest, deep slumber, and peaceful dreams radiated from his chest, yet a lingering concern still demanded his immediate attention.

Al’s gaze sharpened, focusing on a large tree not far from his current position. His steps slowed deliberately, and the aura of oppressive force radiating from him pierced the night, as though targeting something hidden in the shadows.

---

Meanwhile, behind that massive tree, Devy trembled violently, cold sweat streaming down her face, her hands clamped tightly over her mouth to suppress even the slightest sound. Tears streamed uncontrollably, and her knees shook so violently she could barely maintain her balance. She was aware of her own strength, yet the figure of Al she had just witnessed far exceeded anything she could have ever imagined.

What she had just seen left her utterly astonished. Al was no ordinary human.

And then…

GRAB!!

Al suddenly appeared before her, seizing her neck and pressing her against the massive tree. A resounding thud echoed as her back collided with the bark, sending leaves cascading to the ground.

Al’s eyes blazed with unbridled anger, bearing no resemblance to the previously gentle young man she had encountered earlier in the café.

The aura of a death deity seemed to hang in the air before her. Al’s gaze was like a piercing dagger, his breath ragged, fingers gripping her neck with terrifying strength, constricting the air. Devy’s mind raced—should she resist, plead, or do something else? She sensed that her life would never feel the same again after this harrowing encounter.

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