37 Erick's wrath

In the heart of the Wasteland, a ferocious battle raged, marked by explosions and flames. The combatants were an old man and an ogre.

The ogre towered at 3.5 meters, radiating immense physical strength. His muscular physique and large head were imposing, and he wielded a giant club crafted from rare metal. Each swing of his club created air blasts, and despite his hefty frame, his movements were astonishingly agile.

The old man, with his red hair, was surrounded by magma shields. Whips of flames danced beside him as he relentlessly hurled powerful fireballs at his opponent.

Around them lay hundreds of dead ogres, their bodies strewn in a manner suggesting they had been trying to flee. It was evident the attack had been a surprise.

As the ogre charged, bellowing in fury, he swung his club with might. His blow shattered the magma shields but halted his momentum, leaving him vulnerable to the old man's explosive counterattack.

A fireball hit the ogre's chest, catapulting him back and inflicting severe damage. Yet, the ogre's vitality was immense, and he remained combat-ready.

"Treacherous Magus, how dare you slaughter my tribe after I aided you?" the ogre roared, charging at the man, evading some spells and blocking others with his club.

"Filthy creature, your race's incompetence allowed a mere apprentice to escape," retorted Erick, the old man, his face twisted in rage as he unleashed spell after spell.

Erick had been waiting for his group's return from the Wasteland, a vast and challenging terrain to search. But after six months of silence, he ventured underground himself to investigate. Discovering the deaths of his team, he furiously attacked the ogres he had hired.

The ogre leader, a rank 1 being, usually lived in blissful dominance. But now, witnessing his tribe's decimation, he was consumed by regret and rage.

The battle raged on, with Erick's advantage growing clearer. The ogre's direct and predictable attacks accumulated injuries, while Erick's shields fended off the assaults, allowing him time to cast spells and maintain distance.

Pushed to the brink, the ogre roared, his body enlarging in a last desperate effort. Charging through Erick's spells, he broke the shields and lunged to seize the Magus.

"Hmph, an animal overstepping its bounds," Erick sneered, his body disintegrating into flames and reappearing above the ogre.

"Core Explosion!" Erick invoked, releasing a small but potent sphere of light. The sphere struck the ogre and erupted into a fireball. Small in size but delivering 75 degrees of damage, it was enough to end the ogre's life.

"Your entire tribe deserved death for failing me," Erick stated coldly, storing the ogre's body. After ensuring no survivors remained, he conjured a fireball and flew away.

'No matter what, I must eliminate that boy and uncover his secrets,' Erick thought, his eyes a mix of fury and fear. The threat posed by Zatiel was so severe that Erick was prepared to risk offending a rank 2 Magus by acting personally.

But Erick's problems extended beyond Zatiel. The death of five pseudo-magi was a significant issue he had to address. Pseudo-magi, while not as valuable as Magi, were still important assets with the potential to ascend to rank 1, making them prized within any family.

Erick's initial plan involved erasing the memories of those sent after Zatiel. While this would impact their future potential, their survival could have allowed him to fabricate a cover story. However, their deaths complicated matters significantly, leaving him with no easy way to conceal his involvement.

His only option now was to kill Zatiel, seize whatever made him extraordinary, and present it to his family's head as recompense.

...

In his laboratory, Zatiel examined two small spheres—one from Cristian and the other from Arthur's group.

'The sphere from Cristian could inflict 25 degrees of damage and appears to have poisonous properties. If I can enhance its power and merge it with the stealth capabilities of the other sphere, it could be quite potent,' he thought, surrounded by a plethora of materials.

As Zatiel worked, Sophia approached, walking a bit awkwardly.

"Are you alright?" Zatiel asked, finding her gait unusual for a Neo-Demon, who should easily recover from minor wounds.

"Hmph, you were quite rough last night. You didn't let me rest," Sophia complained playfully, her unusual walk due to feeling slightly uncomfortable rather than injured.

"You were the one asking for more," Zatiel retorted, causing Sophia to playfully hit him on the head.

"You need to learn how to treat a woman!" Although her hit was gentle, Sophia felt self-conscious as Zatiel stared at her.

"Are... are you angry?" she asked, worried she might have upset him. The thought that she might not be as important to him as he was to her filled her with anxiety.

Zatiel continued to observe her for a moment before smiling and shaking his head. "No, I'm not angry. It's actually kind of nice, surprisingly. I guess I've changed." In his past life, such an act from a subordinate would have led to severe punishment, but now he found it amusing.

'It's not unpleasant, so I'll just go with it,' he thought, pleased to see Sophia's smile. He returned to his work. "You have your own tasks, so get to them."

"Yes, boss!" Sophia replied, beaming with happiness and renewed energy as she set about her alchemical work.