Chapter 41 (Patreon)

—!

A moment later, the people on the street began twisting their bodies as they wailed in agony.

They were the ones who had already been assimilated by the Serbian Dancing Lady’s music and transformed into Cursed Spirits.

And once a person had been assimilated into a Cursed Spirit, there was no turning back.

“Ahhh!”

To the tune of that grotesquely cheerful music, they smiled through blood and tears as they snapped their own arms.

For a single moment, when the fog had cleared, they thought they had been saved.

But the music that followed dragged them right back into hell.

Whoosh!

A golden Noble Phantasm shot through the crowd of assimilated victims and blew the Serbian Dancing Lady’s head apart with perfect accuracy.

The instant she died, the people around her—who had been wrenching their joints apart—suddenly stopped moving.

Freed from the curse’s binding force, the survivors dragged their battered bodies and fled toward the outskirts of the city.

“Kenjaku... don’t you feel even a little ashamed, hiding in the shadows like this?”

As Ragnar Kagenou’s voice faded, the street before him remained empty.

Then Kenjaku’s voice drifted across the deserted road.

“Ragnar Kagenou, there shouldn’t be any real grudge between us, should there?”

“First, hand over the Prison Realm to this king. Then we can discuss the rest.”

“That’s impossible. I still need it...”

“Then we have nothing left to discuss.”

“In the end... I suppose I’ll just have to kill you.”

The moment Kenjaku’s voice fell, thick fog surged toward Ragnar from all directions.

Swish!

A tall figure suddenly appeared at Ragnar’s side, wielding a pitch-black blade that reflected no light at all.

Clang!

A shower of sparks burst from the surface of the golden armor as the black blade scraped past it with a harsh metallic scream.

“Unlike the others, this Jack’s cursed energy is so faint it’s almost impossible to detect.”

If not for the armor, that strike would have either killed him outright or crippled him on the spot.

Even Ragnar had failed to notice where the Jack who ambushed him had come from.

“Interesting. So you’re the real body of Jack.”

Jack the Ripper’s voice was as harsh and abrasive as rusted metal grinding against itself.

“Who I am is irrelevant. You only need to call me Ripper.”

And with that, Ripper rushed Ragnar head-on.

Zing!

Ragnar raised Gáe Dearg and caught the black blade head-on.

“You’re an Assassin, yet you’re coming at me directly?”

Sparks flashed through the fog again and again, followed by soundless attacks.

Even as the fog was constantly being stirred and torn apart, not a single sharp sound of air being cut could be heard.

Ripper deflected the demonic spear and replied, “You should look at your own fighting style first. Isn’t it closer to an Archer’s? And yet here you are, fighting me in close combat.”

The two of them spoke almost casually, like old acquaintances reunited after years apart.

But the weapons in their hands showed no such familiarity.

The moment either one of them found an opening, they would kill without hesitation.

Ragnar twisted aside to avoid the black blade aimed at his throat.

“Why would a special grade incarnated Cursed Spirit like you obey Kenjaku? Is its charisma really that strong?”

Ripper fell silent for a moment before answering.

“It was the one who awakened me... and allowed me to return to this world in this body. So... I owe it a favor.”

“And the price of that favor is—”

Ragnar thrust Gáe Dearg forward. The spear pierced through Ripper’s body in an instant, yet the sensation was wrong. It felt as though he had struck nothing at all.

“Your death.”

The moment the words fell, Ripper dissolved into black mist, and silent killing blows emerged from every direction around Ragnar.

Dark blades thrust out from the fog from all sides. Ragnar immediately retreated, keeping the distance between them at the very edge of Gáe Dearg’s reach.

An inch longer, an inch stronger.

An inch shorter, an inch deadlier.

“For an assassin, you care a lot about favors and honor. Don’t make me laugh.”

But in front of Ripper, maintaining that distance was anything but easy.

Ripper burst through the fog and came down from above.

“If all it takes is killing, then I have no reason to refuse.”

Ragnar swung the demonic spear onto his back, steel colliding against black steel as he said, “Is that so? Then you chose the wrong opponent.”

Then, just as Ragnar knocked Ripper into the air and prepared to finish him with a Noble Phantasm—

“Domain Expansion — Bloodthirsty Fog City.”

A vast mass of black fog swallowed both of them whole, and a pitch-black sphere spread across the ground.

Inside the Domain, the scenery did not change much at first glance.

It was as though they had returned to nineteenth-century London.

The air was thick with the toxic smog of the Industrial Revolution.

Then, in the next instant, the black blade cut through the fog and slashed toward Ragnar’s abdomen.

Slash!

The golden armor split open, and blood spilled out.

“To think it can actually break this king’s armor... so this is the Domain’s amplification.”

Without the Domain’s enhancement, Ripper should never have been able to pierce his defense.

“Your time is up. Like a rat in the streets, die with your guts spilled out!”

As the black blade came down again, Ripper’s expression shifted slightly.

He missed?!

Inside his own Domain, that strike had actually failed to connect?!

Pfft!

Gáe Dearg pierced straight through Ripper’s body.

“Pfft... I... I can’t turn to mist? Is... is it because of that spear...?”

Once pierced by Gáe Dearg, Ripper could do nothing but wait for death to arrive.

Ragnar—whose own body had already merged with the fog—spoke slowly.

“Noble Phantasm — Dark Fog City.”

“Don’t assume you’re the only one who can merge into the mist. Waiting for the moment you let your guard down... wasn’t easy.”

Ragnar had deliberately kept this barrier-type Noble Phantasm in reserve the entire time, all to wait for the instant Ripper became certain of victory.

That was why, after entering the Domain, Ragnar had willingly taken that slash.

“Cough... cough... I should’ve realized it sooner.”

“When you killed my clone, you said... you’d use a move similar to mine to kill me... pfft.”

Ragnar gave a faint laugh.

“Ho. So you remembered that after all.”

Crack.

Ripper’s Domain Expansion shattered instantly, and the fog hanging over the city began to thin away.

Seeing that, Ripper dropped to one knee before Ragnar, one hand gripping the shaft of Gáe Dearg.

“You win... cough... kill me.”

Drip.

Rain began to fall from the sky, and blood ran down the demonic spear before dripping onto the ground.

Ragnar looked at him calmly.

“To be honest, this king is curious about who you really are.”

Ripper gave a faint smile.

“I already told you... cough... I am no one. No name. No identity. No face.”

As he said that, he slowly raised his head.

What stared back at Ragnar was not a proper face, but only a shifting mass of black mist, endlessly changing shape.

Noble Phantasm: Dark Fog City

Rank: C

Type: Barrier Noble Phantasm

Description: A barrier-type Noble Phantasm that deploys a fog-filled bounded field. The mist itself, formed through cursed energy, is the Noble Phantasm.

After the Industrial Revolution, the immense volume of soot released into the air eventually gave rise to the sulfurous fog that caused a major disaster in London during the 1950s.

Dark Fog City is the Noble Phantasm that recreates that very “Fog of Death.”