The Druid Who Devoured the Great Nature

The room was crammed with strange research devices and experimental tools.

Black smoke seeped from flasks filled with dark reagents, while something writhed inside shattered glass containers scattered across the floor.

Most eye-catching of all was a massive glass tank tangled with pipes, shards littering the ground as if something had burst out.

At its center stood the black mage. Hella glanced at me.

“A black mage? Why’s he still here if the Corrupted were left behind?”

“That’s his business.”

It was unusual, yes, but black mages were like that.

Madmen beyond the grasp of common sense. Trying to understand them was just a headache.

“Damn it, this isn’t even in the job description.”

Hella frowned.

Generally, you didn’t touch anything outside the scope of the contract.

First, you risked making enemies you didn’t need. Second, no one would cover you if you died.

If you survived, maybe you could extort extra payment like with the goblin incident—but trading your life for it wasn’t worth it.

“I only meant to gather a little nourishment, but my calculations must have been wrong. I haven’t even devoured that many, yet peculiar little rats come scurrying in.”

Even now, facing us, the black mage seemed unbothered.

His unfocused eyes and muttering voice were like a man talking to himself.

“I hoped you’d just stir the dust and leave. But you trampled right into the master’s chamber with filthy feet.”

The sour note in his tone revealed his displeasure.

“I’ll give you a chance.”

Relaxing his shoulders, he suddenly spoke with false courtesy.

“You don’t want to meddle, do you? Pretend you saw nothing, leave, and I’ll let you go.”

“You left out a detail.”

I sneered.

“Even if we walk away, you’ve no intention of letting us leave unscathed.”

I remembered his first words clearly: curses stealing life—that was the essence of black magic.

“Well, you ransacked a man’s yard. You’ll pay the price.”

His crooked laugh scraped the air.

“Your skin will peel, from the toes up to your crown. Flesh will melt, bone will rot with holes. You’ll beg for death, and that agony will feed my power. Delightful—compensation beyond the loss of a test subject.”

His rapid, broken tone was chilling, like watching a broken doll.

The black mana had seeped into his very marrow, corrupting his mind.

“Bullshit. If this is your yard, maybe keep your pets in check. A mangy dog bites people, and you blame the neighbors?”

Hella spat pure disgust at him.

“You’re not backing down?”

“You think I didn’t hear you earlier?”

She clicked her tongue and adjusted her grip on her spear.

“Not part of the contract, but looks like we’re finishing this bastard too.”

“A foolish choice.”

The mage’s face stiffened, laughter falling silent as the air turned heavy.

A crushing pressure bore down.

Condensed black mana swirled over his palm, forming a sphere.

“I’ll take your heart.”

The orb stretched into a whip and lashed forward.

Clutter along its path skewered like meat on a spit.

No subtlety, just raw power—and terrifyingly so.

Boom!

But its path was straightforward, predictable.

And that meant it could be dodged.

As the whip passed me by, a blue flash surged at my side.

“Die.”

Slash!

Faster than the mage’s eyes could follow, Hella’s spear cleaved.

His head flew through the air.

Unaware of death, his limbs flailed grotesquely in midair.

Hella spat on the ground.

“Idiot. A mage fights without wards and lets a warrior get close?”

She kicked his corpse, sending it rolling.

Mage versus warrior depended entirely on preparation.

If a mage couldn’t stop a warrior’s approach, the fight was over.

And this one—clumsy, unready—had left himself open.

One strike to the neck was all it took.

“…Look closely.”

“What?”

“No blood. He’s not dead.”

I didn’t relax.

In this world, where fantasy and magitech mingled, monsters that didn’t die from decapitation were nothing unusual.

“…True. This body’s dulled. I expected it, yet failed to react.”

The voice flowed from the severed head, amplified by magic instead of vocal cords.

“Son of a—he really isn’t dead.”

“The flesh is but a shell.”

The body pushed itself up, strode over, and picked up the head.

Black threads of mana stitched the cut surface back together.

“Life Vessel?”

Magic that split and stored one’s soul.

Rarely used because of instability, but with patrons, a black mage might have managed it.

“Judging by what he says, maybe. But…”

It’d be foolish to take his word at face value.

And if a Life Vessel existed, the spirits would have warned me.

My mind flicked through every possibility.

Only one fit.

“You experimented with chimeras on your own body.”

“Sharp eyes.”

With the vitality of a chimera, he could regenerate even from beheading.

At his nod, black mana fountained from his body, spreading into a choking mist.

“Perfect timing. Data’s collected—it’s time to test results. Any errors, I’ll fix through live trials.”

From the fog came the crunch of bones twisting, the wet tearing of flesh.

A warped silhouette emerged, shifting, mutating.

The man’s human shell was discarded; metamorphosis into a chimera had begun.

‘So that’s why he lingered in this abandoned lab. His botched research left him crippled.’

Taking it into the city would’ve doomed him, hunted down by government inquisitors.

The wards outside had been nothing more than defenses for his failing body.

In the end, he was little different from the Corrupted—just a shred of reason and obsession keeping him upright.

“Tch.”

Hella lunged, but the seething black mist barred her approach.

The black mist wasn’t just a transformation medium—it doubled as a defensive spell.

Simple, but effective.

Unable to get close, Hella lashed out uselessly, cursing.

“Damn it, should we just run for it?”

“He’ll curse us using the traces we’ve already left here.”

Residual mana from killing the Corrupted, strands of hair—plenty of material remained for a curse.

Sure, you could hire another black mage to counter it, but that cost a fortune.

Finding one with the right connections wasn’t easy either.

Better to die here than crawl away only to be cursed later.

“Then do something! We can’t just stand here till he finishes his freakshow!”

“I’m already working on it.”

A black mage fused with a chimera—his monstrousness was obvious.

The best option was to cut him down before he stabilized.

And I had a way.

Fwoosh—!

Hidden streams of mana glowed within the mist.

Lines connected dots, forming a spell circle through the haze.

An advanced technique, impressive enough to wonder which corporation had sponsored him.

Why he abandoned it unfinished was another question.

‘Doesn’t matter.’

Ignore the spectacle, focus on the structure.

I traced each component like a blueprint, isolating its weak points.

‘The problem is…’

To disrupt it, I’d have to pierce the barrier.

That kind of destructive power was beyond my current growth with the World Tree.

‘…Wait.’

Realization struck like lightning.

The spirits’ instinctive hatred of black mana, the World Tree’s dominion over natural law—

My body moved before I finished the thought.

「The World Tree rejects all that defies nature.」

Shrrrak!

Tendrils of the World Tree burst from my fingertips, lashing through the mist.

The barrier, dense and solid, shredded like paper.

“Wh—what?!”

The mage’s shocked voice rang out.

Following the tendrils, the mist ignited.

The spirits’ glow clung to black mana, turning into searing heat at the point of contact.

“Wow…”

Even Hella gasped at the sight.

It was like a painting across the air, dazzling enough to steal her breath—beautiful, despite its violence.

‘So that’s why the spirits feared black mana.’

Not interference, but annihilation.

An antithesis.

My earlier suspicion was right: natural affinity had made black mana visible to me.

Crack!

Breaking the spell circle’s links sent tremors through the warped space, rattling the entire building.

“No—!”

The mage scrambled to patch his collapsing magic, but the spirits, freed from restraint, rampaged wildly.

Pure destruction, without logic or order, overwhelmed his control.

Cracks spread, the spell imploding under its own weight.

“Graaagh!”

The mage screamed, body twisting grotesquely.

Reshaping human flesh with grand sorcery carried brutal recoil—few could endure it.

Splurt!

“Ugh. My eyes.”

Through the dissipating fog, the warped form of the black mage emerged.

Incomplete magic had left nothing but aftereffects: a ruined body, grotesque and mangled, more clay than flesh.

“….”

But I recognized it.

The writhing, multiplying flesh, lacking any original form—it reminded me of the goblin that had gone berserk in District 7.

“…You.”

I grabbed his collar, yanking him close.

“Who gave you this spell?”

“Ghhk…”

Magic on this scale required decades of research and genius.

This wreck of a man hadn’t devised it alone.

The spell had an original form.

This lab’s work was nothing more than a degraded copy, tied into chimera research.

The proof was right before me.

“Answer me.”

“Grrhhk!”

But only guttural, animal groans left his throat.

“Hey, too late.”

Thunk!

Hella’s spear drove into his heart, shredding and pulverizing it until nothing remained.

The mage’s glazed eyes unfocused, body liquefying and slipping from my grasp.

“That’s a black mage’s end. He couldn’t understand a word you were saying.”

“….”

She was right.

The recoil had already stripped him of reason.

Even if I’d pressed harder, the answers would never have come.

‘Maybe I should’ve tried talking before the fight.’

I knew it was futile, but the regret gnawed at me.

To think I’d find a real link to the berserk phenomenon in this job.

And let it slip through my fingers.

‘Still, I gained something.’

I hadn’t heard it directly, but there were other ways.

‘I’ll need to buy information on Hynax.’

The corporation backing this black mage—digging into them might uncover the clues I sought.