Chapter Seventy-Seven: The Twelve "Heavenly Kings"

Before long, the wizards who had been digging ponds, planting trees, expanding new spaces, or adjusting the magical automatons in the distance returned. Everyone gathered around the long table in the open space before the circus entrance, chatting as they did so. Some heated water to wash their hands, others played cards, and some took up their wands and conjured magical powder to prepare food.

The imposing and formidable leader of the Gray Gloves, Iger, having nothing better to do, strolled leisurely over to his old nemesis Ross, smiling as he watched him feed the chickens. Casually, he picked up a few eggs, planning to add something extra to their lunch.

Not far away, the agents, upon seeing this group, couldn’t help but pull out their wanted posters again. One of them even crouched beside Iger, studying him carefully.

“You, you, you’re! You’re the head of the magical rebels…”

“No, no, no. You’ve got the wrong person. Mistaken identity!” Iger flushed crimson, covering his face with his sleeve, and went off to shovel chicken droppings.

The agent then looked at Ross.

Ross, too, covered his face and, arm in arm with Iger, went off to shovel chicken droppings.

The agent stared, mouth agape, at the wizards before him, feeling that every one of them looked uncannily familiar.

He was sure he couldn’t be mistaken. But how could the dignified leader of the Gray Gloves, the Grand Voodoo Marquis, and the others be dressed like old farmers, feeding chickens and ducks, composting manure?

What had become of this world?

Soon after, the black wizards who had been arranging climate blankets, solar bugs, and moon bugs in the sky suddenly descended as well. Iger and Ross, having finished shoveling, also strolled over with hands behind their backs, gathering around the long table. Each held a strange little booklet behind them.

“Damn it! We agreed—how come you all secretly finished your homework?” Ross leapt onto the table, cursing.

At that moment, this two-hundred-year-old man was furious beyond measure.

Kevin, who had been leaning against the circus entrance, eyes vacant as he basked in the sun, heard the angry shout and noticed that, at some point, a new figure had joined the group at the long table—it was the Faceless One.

Kevin’s eyes flared with sudden light.

At last, Kevin understood what this mysterious person was up to. He wasn’t just collecting the magical knowledge that the Ministry had gone to such lengths to destroy! He intended to create something new and teach these people a new magical theory!

Once this theory spread, even wild wizards would be able to research magic!

He was undermining the interests of all wizards!

This evil Faceless One was doing the same as Harold and the Dark Lord!

Magic was the exclusive inheritance, bestowed by the God of Magic upon the twelve ancient archmages and their descendants—a vital tool by which noble wizards maintained the world’s balance! How could such lowly races be allowed to touch magic?

He deserved death a thousand times over!

Just thinking that those muggle wild wizards, crazed with desire for magic and groveling like beggars, might one day become true magicians made Kevin’s veins nearly burst with rage!

He was desecrating magic! Blaspheming the teachings left by the ancient wizards! Defiling Anthony, the God of Magic who brought magic into this world!

At that moment, the agents were consumed with hatred—they stood up, wishing they could tear this demon apart then and there! But they knew they had a greater mission. Seeing those elementary school workbooks in the hands of the others, they felt as if the fate of the world rested in their hands!

They had to destroy those workbooks!

“Don’t be rash,” Kevin Pisces said gravely. “Destroying the homework is meaningless unless one of us survives and brings news of the Hydra’s earth-shattering conspiracy here to the outside world!”

[Oh? You want to get out alive?] Louis heard their thoughts, turned, and looked at Kevin and the others. A cold laugh echoed in their minds: [Very simple.]

At that instant, the agents all understood what this terrifying demon was about to say. Their eyes reddened as they gripped their wands, ready to face death unflinchingly.

[As long as you lose to me, you can go free.]

“Heh, Faceless One, you said it—wait, what did he just say?” Kevin turned to the agents beside him, puzzled. They exchanged confused glances.

[I said, as long as you lose, you can leave.] Louis glanced at Zhou Chang. Still missing five ordinary wizards, but these twelve agents would do.

With that, Louis began walking toward the agents.

“Hmph, you’re arrogant, Faceless One, but you have reason to be. Fine, if the twelve of us can defeat you and survive, you’ll let us go—wait, Ross, what are you doing?” Mid-sentence, Kevin and the others stopped short, jaws dropping as they saw the black wizards behind Louis suddenly locked in fierce combat.

Louis, too, turned back in some surprise.

As the black wizards chanted terrifying spells, the agents felt increasingly bewildered.

“Boss, boss, I’m willing to lose! Let me out for some fresh air, I’ll definitely lose—Living Wizard’s Funeral!”

“Bah! Cardi, you call yourself a carpenter? You’ve disgraced the ‘Wand Maker’ name! You want to lose to the boss? You’re not worthy—Phantom Overload!”

“You dare talk about me? You call yourself the ‘Dragon Hunter’? Shameless fool—Flames of the Soul!”

“—Hell Wither!”

“—Chant of a Thousand Curses...”

Kevin and the others knew these black wizards’ chants—each spell was more terrifying than the last, all ancient black magic. Any one of them would have the warden of Bolster Prison cursing and lock the researcher away in the deepest magical dungeon.

Yet these black wizards, faces twisted with ferocity, fought with all their might, unleashing signature moves as if intent on annihilating their rivals.

Kevin thought perhaps this was only natural—after all, these twelve had always borne grudges against each other. Even the Dark Lord had failed to gather them all in one place. Had it not been for their temporary alliance against the presumed Faceless One sent by the Ministry, they would never have joined forces.

So it was no surprise if they broke into a fight at any time.

But the bizarre thing was, what came from their wands was nothing but fireworks, flowers, and streamers.

Are you insane...?

Are you all out of your minds?!

Kevin and the others stared dumbfounded at the long table—as if it were a festive celebration!

They weren’t mistaken—the black wizards were indeed setting off fireworks!

Yet they fought with absolute seriousness, as if their spells were truly deadly, utterly ignoring the streamers flying from their wands.

In the midst of this strange spectacle, Kevin sensed something amiss.

It seemed that, in the eyes of these black wizards, they truly believed they were casting black curses...

Yet none of them seemed to notice anything was wrong...

Suddenly, realization exploded in Kevin’s mind. He and the others stared wide-eyed at Louis.

“Ahem, apologies for the spectacle,” Louis said, hands behind his back, looking toward the black wizards. “Ever since they gathered together, they’ve quarreled every day, so I had a little chat in each of their dreams: unless attacked first, they can’t cast harmful black curses of their own accord. Thus, they won’t casually harm others anymore.”

Saying this, Louis smiled at the agents. “Seems effective, doesn’t it?”

At that instant, Kevin and the others felt a chill run through their bodies. Now they knew what this demon intended for them—he spoke the truth: if they lost, he would indeed let them go...

But...

“Run!!~”

Before he could finish the thought—Louis’s sleeve swept wide, and suddenly, a vast area around Kevin and the others turned into a painting!

It was as if everyone had been caught in a sudden gust and pressed into a single canvas or mirror—their bodies and the surrounding world transformed into a thin sheet of paper.

A breeze blew, and the paper fell softly to the ground. The circus behind the painting was unchanged, but the scene behind Kevin and the others had become a chicken coop and grassland.

Not far away, the black wizards broke out in cold sweat, then began to ham it up even more.

“Monkey Steals the Peach!”

“Immortal Points the Way!”

“Fireworks...ahem—Chant of a Thousand Curses...”

Clearly, these master black wizards had all vaguely realized something was wrong with their minds—or, more precisely, that they could no longer cast killing black curses of their own accord.

But since Louis had only restricted their use of black magic, not ordinary spells, they insisted on “dueling” with black magic. Wasn’t this their way of signaling to the boss that something was up?

Of course, some more straightforward fellows used martial techniques instead of fireworks—they were the clever ones, hinting that the mind seal had some small loopholes.

But there was no need to worry; it was enough.

For even without the mind seal, they now knew full well who their master was.

As for the agents...

This mind seal, refined over multiple magical modifications and experiments until even master black wizards could barely sense it, but could never break it or use black magic to kill again of their own accord, was more than sufficient.

They would handle Bolster’s little problem, and in the future, they would be of use again.

For instance, helping the Ministry gradually win over the twelve “Heavenly Kings,” and helping them slowly clear their names...

Louis smiled to himself and paid no more attention to the black wizards, instead turning toward the painting.

......

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