Chapter 191
It was Count Cessia.
His eyes gleamed with a cruel light as he spoke.
"At this point, the area is already under the influence of my poison. It's too late to run. Just as I said—I’ll melt your limbs away with poison, leave your torso intact, and take you hostage."
Swsssh—
A shadow-like darkness crept beneath the feet of Christian and his party.
It was Count Cessia's poisonous aura.
To be exact, it was Willborne Poison—a poison imbued with the user’s will.
At the moment Cessia gave the signal, the poison underfoot would transform into serpents and strike at them.
Just as the entire party realized it was too late to react, their faces hardened.
“Melin, I have a task for you. I’ll attack Count Cessia and create an opening. Take the Black Flag Unit and fall back.”
“Fall back…?”
“I’m not telling you to flee. There’s something else I need you to do.”
Through message magic, Christian silently relayed further instructions, and Melin’s expression grew complex.
“That order… So you really do intend to win this.”
“Of course. Did you think I ever considered losing in the first place?”
Melin let out a small laugh.
It was a hopeless situation by all logic, yet seeing Christian's confidence again stirred an inexplicable sense of trust.
“Understood. But… I still haven’t properly crossed swords with you yet, so you must come back safe.”
Next was Sanin.
“Sanin, you’ll take on Count Kalia. You’re both 6-star Lower-Rank, so you can handle it, right?”
Christian added with a crooked tone,
“It might be a bit much for you, so it’s fine if you don’t win. Just stall her. As long as you hold out, I’ll defeat Count Cessia and take care of Kalia myself.”
It was a ridiculous, almost insane-sounding boast—something too absurd to take seriously.
Yet when Sanin looked into Christian's eyes, he fell silent.
There was a weight in Christian’s gaze.
He meant it.
“…I won’t need Your Highness’s help. I’ll take full responsibility for Count Kalia.”
And lastly—Marisa.
“…You’re probably not going to be of much help.”
“W-What?!”
“Kidding. Go with Melin and assist her. There might be traps using poison, so you’ll be useful.”
Marisa bit her lip hard.
There was still worry clouding her eyes.
Christian chuckled softly.
“And… thanks for stepping in earlier on my behalf.”
“T-That was just as a friend!!”
“I know, I know. Don’t worry—I won’t misunderstand.”
“……”
That was the end of the conversation.
Christian stepped forward.
Sanin followed at his side.
Count Kalia and Count Cessia stepped forward as well, naturally forming a two-on-two confrontation.
“The Grand Duke of the Dark Demonic House is this much of an idiot? I didn’t think you’d be such a fool who can’t even gauge your own standing.”
Count Cessia spoke with a tone of disbelief.
It wasn’t even sharp contempt—because mockery requires at least a similar level of status.
His gaze was more like one directed at a being of a completely lower class.
“If you had sacrificed your subordinates and run away, you might have had a speck of hope left.”
“So noisy. By the way, do you even know your breath stinks?”
“…What did you say?”
“Every time you talk, this rancid stench wafts all the way over here. It’s not even poison—what is it, poop? Do you like poop or something?”
Christian sneered.
“Well, considering you follow Marquis Goras around eating his crap like a mutt, it makes sense your breath smells like it.”
“You bastard…!! I’ll kill you!!”
Fwoooosh!!
A toxic miasma erupted from Count Cessia’s body.
At the same time, Count Kalia also unleashed her own poison.
The battle had begun.
* * *
Sanin and Count Kalia, both 6-star Lower-Rank, clashed evenly.
Count Kalia’s specialty was Concentrated Poison.
Rather than wide-area devastation, she focused the potency of her poison into a single point—delivering deadly force in one strike.
Sanin, on the other hand, was a Phantasmal Swordmaster—a rare class that blended illusions and swordsmanship. He skillfully countered her poisons through precise timing and illusions.
It was clear this wouldn’t be a short fight.
Meanwhile, the battle between Christian and Count Cessia was playing out differently.
Count Cessia’s specialty was Wide-Area Poison.
This poison was designed to slaughter large groups of weaker foes. However, that didn’t mean it was ineffective against stronger individuals.
Though its potency wasn’t focused on a single point, it acted like a trap—a miasmic net that ensnared enemies like wild beasts driven into a snare.
The problem was, this kind of tactic was poorly matched against someone like Christian.
“You little—!”
Toxic fog surged in from all directions.
But that was a feint.
The true attack came from poison striking up from the shadows.
Anyone else would have been taken off guard and stabbed through the heart.
But Christian effortlessly dodged the venomous strike.
‘There’s no way I’d lose in a battle of wits.’
That held true even if the opponent was a 6-star Master-Class.
‘Of course, all I can do for now is dodge.’
He was using his genius-level intellect to escape danger for now, but it didn’t mean Christian had the upper hand.
As everyone had said repeatedly before—the gap between Christian and a 6-star like Count Cessia was massive.
He was narrowly escaping with his life each time.
If this went on, he would eventually reach his limit.
‘But it’s fine. I’m going to win this fight.’
An inexplicable confidence—one no one could understand.
‘First, I need to shake Count Cessia—just the way I planned.’
Christian kept running his mouth.
“For a 6-star Middle Rank, you’re nothing special. Or wait—was that rank a lie? Did you maybe earn your title by sniffing around after Marquis Goras and eating his crap?”
“You insolent wretch!!”
“I told you, shut your mouth. You stink of dung.”
Flash!
In that instant, a blast of Black Steel Aura shot forward.
It was aimed precisely at Count Cessia’s mouth.
As if to say: your breath is so filthy, keep it shut.
Naturally, the attack was blocked by Cessia’s defenses.
It didn’t do any real damage—but his face twisted in rage.
“You bastard…”
Christian didn’t stop.
He fired another Black Steel Aura. Then another. All aiming at Cessia’s mouth.
Over and over again.
As though to mock him.
Count Cessia’s face flushed red, ready to explode.
Then, all of a sudden—
A crooked, eerie smile crept across Cessia’s lips.
“Fool. You dare show an opening against me?”
In the midst of firing those aura blasts, a tiny gap in Christian’s guard had appeared.
“This will be the last time you scamper like a rat. Now die.”
Fwooooom!!
Darkness burst out from Count Cessia’s body, engulfing the area around Christian.
A net of demonic energy laced with poison—tightening like a web.
The net grew denser and denser, forming an impenetrable prison around him.
“Your Highness!!”
Sanin cried out in alarm.
He recognized the technique instantly.
‘Count Cessia’s Willborne Poison—“Wall of the Penal Carriage.”’
Just like its name, it was a barrier-type Willborne Poison that sealed both caster and target inside a confined space—cutting them off from the outside world.
Once trapped inside, the victim would be helpless—ravaged by poison striking from all directions—until nothing remained but blood and death.
‘I have to help—!’
But Sanin couldn’t move.
He was still locked in combat with Count Kalia.
The net streaming from Count Cessia solidified into a true prison, isolating him and Christian completely from the outside.
‘No!!’
It seemed like the end.
But there was something Sanin didn’t know.
He hadn’t seen the expression on Christian’s face right before he was sealed inside that wall of poison.
He was smiling.
A smile of victory.
* * *
Meanwhile, in the foothills overlooking Cessia’s domain—
An unexpected figure was watching Christian.
It was Sherad, with his silver hair and beautiful, elegant features.
“Hmmm… Now what do I do?”
Originally, he had planned to bide his time and kill Christian himself.
But Christian had been traveling with the Dark Demonic Army, and the right moment never came.
“Tch. What a mess. I was supposed to be the one to kill him.”
Sherad frowned as he watched Christian being sealed inside the Willborne Poison.
‘Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for the day I’d kill you, Christian?’
He recalled the moment when Christian carved that scar into his face.
Just thinking about it sent a tremor through his chest.
Christian was the first and only person to ever make him feel such maddening bloodlust.
Right now—right this very moment—he wanted to rip Christian apart and stain his hands in his blood.
But strangely, another thought crept in.
He didn’t want to kill Christian yet.
How much stronger will Christian become?
He was already this thrilling, this captivating. Just imagining what Christian would look like after more time passed made Sherad’s heart pound uncontrollably.
‘No matter what… I won’t let him die to someone else.’
His gaze turned chillingly cold.
He hadn’t waited all this time, aching for their reunion, just to watch Christian die such a pathetic, meaningless death.
Just as Sherad was about to move—
“…Hm?”
A glint sparked in his eye.
Something was happening inside the Willborne Poison.
Using the power he received from a devil—the Authority of “Ghoul Eater”—Sherad peeked into the depths of the poisonous domain.
And then, he burst into laughter.
Christian was pulling some insane stunt again.
“As expected of my Christian. You never disappoint.”
He stuck out his tongue and licked the scar Christian had left on his face.
“I believe in you. So don’t you dare die.”
A deep madness swirled in Sherad’s eyes—an intense craving.
“Because the only one who gets to kill you… is me.”
* * *
The Wall of the Penal Carriage.
A horrifying Willborne Poison that isolates the victim by sealing them completely from the outside world with a wall of poison.
‘Once you're trapped inside, the chances of survival are nearly zero.’
There was only one way to survive—
To overwhelm the will behind the poison with a more powerful force.
But that was essentially impossible.
Even Christian’s absolute steel aura couldn’t surpass the Willborne Poison conjured by a 6-star Middle Rank warlock.
As if the outcome had already been decided, Count Cessia declared coldly:
“Still, out of respect for the Dark Demonic House, I won’t kill you. Instead, I’ll make you wish you were dead. I’ll melt your arms and legs, disfigure that smug face of yours with poison, crush your throat, mouth, ears—every hole until you’re barely clinging to life.”
A monstrous declaration.
And it wasn’t empty.
Now that Christian was trapped inside the Wall of the Penal Carriage, he was no different from an insect caught in a spider’s web.
“If you kneel and beg now, I might consider lessening the pain.”
“Shut up.”
“…What?”
“I told you before, didn’t I? Your breath stinks like dung. So shut it.”
Count Cessia froze for a moment.
He hadn’t expected Christian to still be mouthing off like a lunatic, even in this desperate situation.
“You… do you not understand the position you’re in?”
“Oh, I understand just fine. This Willborne Poison—this so-called ‘wall’—is pretty amazing. I’ll admit, I probably can’t break through it with brute force alone.”
Christian’s tone was casual, almost bored, as if he were talking about someone else’s problem.
Count Cessia growled and raised his hand.
“You’ll understand once you feel it yourself. Writhing in agony as your body melts away—you’ll regret your arrogance!”
Fwoosh!
A jet-black poison surged out from the walls and lunged at Christian’s feet.
He was completely surrounded—there was no room to dodge.
Count Cessia grinned, expecting to hear his screams echo inside the chamber.
But then—something completely unexpected happened.
Something that should have been impossible.
Flaaash!!
A radiant burst of light exploded from Christian’s body—and the poison instantly scattered and vanished.