Warlock Of The Magus World FF: Dark Lord

As Leylin stood amidst the carnage, his heart pounded—not from fear, but from the intoxicating revelation of his newfound power. The lingering taste of blood on his lips filled him with an unexplainable euphoria. He could feel it—something ancient, something potent now bound to his very soul.

But before he could revel in his triumph, reality struck him like a thunderclap. Just ahead, a robed figure stood amidst the battlefield, his presence as indifferent as the wind radiating an awe inspiring pressure.

"All of you stupid and lowly beasts, you actually dare to bother the rest of the venerated lord Magi! Only death can be your eternal home!"

"Mazzerda —Karachi!"

With the chanting sounds of the white-robed man, Leylin's breath hitched. He had believed his awakening to be monumental, but in the face of such overwhelming might his euphoria was swallowed by a deep, burning hunger—For power.

"Secondary Energy Fireball!"

After the chant was completed, a floating fireball appeared in the man's hand out of nowhere. The fireball left a blazing trail and landed on the direwolf's heart.

A loud explosion resounded, bringing with it a wave of heat.

Leylin stood on the ground, staring at the attack intently, he was directly hit by the heatwave but he didn't care, not even a flinch.

At this moment, his face was mildly burnt, and clothes darkened he looked like a person who had just crawled out of a chimney, but without caring for his appearance Leylin hands clenched into fists.

The Magus hadn't even spared the wolves a second glance, hadn't acknowledged the effort of the knights, the struggle of the preparatory acolytes. To him, they were beneath notice. And to possess such absolute strength… to wield death with a mere thought…

He looked in the direction of the area attacked by the Magus just now and a fascination appeared on his face.

He could only see that where the fireball landed, there was now an additional pit of fire that was three metres in length and width, and two metres deep. As for the direwolves in that area, they had already become burnt charcoal.

The remaining direwolves whimpered, before quickly escaping.

'That is real magic! Beautiful, so beautiful.. The death is the perfect symphony to the melody of this destruction, this power is what I want.' Leylin's lips curled into a smirk, his desire tempered into something sharper—an obsession, an ambition that bordered on madness.

"Quickly! Clean up the battlefield!" The white-robed man said, ignoring the fervent gazes of the surrounding students. He returned to his original place, where the two other Magi were.

When he passed by a few corpse including Ourin, he stopped. He took small pouches from their pockets and placed it in his own bosom.

'What's he looking for? Magic crystals?'Leylin thought, is that why such a people existence let so many students die? To trim their number and pocket their magic crystal, by logic each student should have at least ten magic crystal since it's the basic requirement of fees in the Magus Academy. It seems magic crystal are even more valuable than he first thought.

"Everyone, quickly pack up so we can continue our journey. The smell of blood here will attract other predators!"

The acrid scent of scorched fur lingered in the air, mingling with the thick, metallic tang of blood. The battlefield was eerily silent now, save for the occasional crackle of dying flames and the ragged breaths of those who had barely survived.

Leylin stood amidst the carnage, he licked his lips again, tasting the dried blood that lingered there. His slightly burnt face, affected by the heatwave from the Magus's attack, stung, but he barely paid it any mind. His focus was elsewhere.

His gaze flickered to a nearby figure—a girl, barely able to hold on, cowering behind the remnants of a broken carriage. She had been there the entire time, watching, trembling, her wide eyes darting between the corpses and Leylin's bloodstained face. He stepped toward her, his shadow stretching long in her vision.

"You," Leylin commanded, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable edge of authority. "Bring me an empty bottle of wine from the carriage."

The girl flinched as if struck. Her breath hitched, her fingers digging into her hand. Her gaze was drawn to Leylin's face—his once-childiah features now marred by the heatwave's lingering burns, giving him a grim, almost sinister appearance. And those eyes… cold, calculating, and hungry.

She dared not refuse. With a frightened nod, she turned and stumbled toward the carriage, disappearing behind its wooden frame as she frantically searched.

Leylin exhaled slowly, his hands tightening into fists before relaxing again. His mind raced with possibilities. His newly awakened power, the Cursed Bloodline Codex, had given him insight—an instinctive understanding of what he could do. Blood. It wasn't just a source of life. It was a source of power.

The girl returned quickly, holding a dark glass bottle of wine in her trembling hands. She extended it toward him as if offering a tribute.

Leylin took it without a word, uncorking it with a swift motion. The after scent of alcohol filled his nose. He crouched beside the direwolf's corpse—the one he had personally slain.

The creature's blood still pooled beneath it, warm and thick, a dark crimson contrast against the cold earth. Without hesitation, Leylin tilted the bottle and let the viscous liquid flow inside, watching as the deep red swirled within the glass, mixing faintly with the remnants of wine.

Soon the last drops filled the bottle, he sealed it shut and return towards the carriage.

"Hey! Leylin, look!" Just as Leylin was about to enter the carriage, George snuck over and surreptitiously pointed to the side.

On another black-coloured horse carriage, Bessita was hugging her legs as she sat. Her shoulder had bloody marks on it, and she looked like she had just gone through a crying session.

"Ourin has always been Bessita's number one 'flower guardian'. Now that that group is almost completely dead, Bessita's situation isn't looking very good!"

George fliched looking at his face but still got next to Leylin's ear and said, with an expression that implied something nefarious.

"George look at my face, this battle has completely drained me. I am very tired and need to clean up, also apply some medicine before my wounds gets worse. That girl is least of my concern, but you feel free to do whatever you wish. I have no problem, she's all yours Satin Gold Mane Lion of Furze alliance." Leylin patted George shoulder and turned around to leave. George is a famous womanizer of the camp, earning him a nickname for his lecherous behavior which made him proud somehow.

"George can you tell everyone to sit in other carriage? Now with so many deaths we have plenty of space I wanna be left alone for a while."

"Okay buddy." George nodded.

Leylin entered and sat in the carriage as his body jolted up down. He took some medicine and applied it on his face, after which he sat down and rested.

'Cursed Bloodline Codex..'

'Why is that name familiar? I have heard it before somewhere.. '