Infinite Mana Exorcist
Chapter 53: Dark Night

Chapter 53: Dark Night

Logan and Asher stood their ground, facing the eerie assembly of elders who opposed them. Their expressions were void of humanity, their presence unsettling. It was as if they had been stripped of their souls, leaving only hollow shells behind.

"Should we attack them? Or... are they still human?" Logan asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. His grip tightened around his staff as he surveyed the unmoving figures before them.

Asher shook his head, a grim expression forming on his face. He could sense it—these were not humans, not anymore. "Kill them? These people died long before we arrived. What stands before us now are husks, puppets controlled by a mind we have yet to find. We need to locate the source."

As he spoke, Logan decided not to wait. He raised his staff, channeling a powerful surge of energy. A large, crescent-shaped blue beam erupted from its tip, slicing through the air and crashing into three of the elders. The force of the attack should have obliterated them, but instead, they reacted in an unsettling manner.

Their bodies did not crumple. They did not bleed. Instead, they dissolved into an inky black fluid, vanishing into thin air as if they had never existed in the first place.

Before either of them could process what had happened, the remaining elders lunged forward, their movements unnaturally stiff yet undeniably fast. Their hollow eyes fixed on Logan and Asher with silent intent. They did not scream or cry out. They merely attacked.

But they were too slow.

Asher unsheathed his sword in a single swift motion and met the first elder mid-charge. His blade cut cleanly through the waist, severing the entity in two. Another elder came from the side, but Asher was faster. He pivoted, thrusting his sword straight through the attacker’s chest. Just like the first, the elder dissolved upon defeat, vanishing into the same dark fluid.

Logan, standing firm, waved his staff once more, releasing another surge of power. The beam blasted through multiple elders, reducing them to nothingness. Yet, despite their swift success, something felt off.

Within moments, the battlefield was empty.

The elders were gone.

Not a single trace of them remained.

Logan let out a breath, his staff lowering slightly. His eyes scanned the area warily. "That was... too easy," he muttered, glancing toward Asher. "What do you think?"

Asher didn’t respond immediately. His gaze shifted, not toward Logan, but toward something in the distance—a large, ancient tree standing ominously at the edge of their vision. His eyes narrowed.

"Just come out already," Asher called, his voice firm. "Stop playing these games."

Logan tensed, his heart skipping a beat. He followed Asher’s gaze, eyes widening in shock. "What...?"

The tree’s shadow twisted, shifting unnaturally. Then, as if peeling itself from the bark, a massive figure emerged from the darkness. It rose slowly, towering over them like a demon stepping into reality.

Logan clenched his staff, forcing himself to remain calm.

’How did I not sense him? Who the hell is he?’ Logan thought, his mind racing as he analyzed the towering figure.

The man was draped in a suit of armor so dark it seemed to absorb the light around it. The metal pulsed with a sinister energy, exuding the same ominous aura as the elders. In his grasp, he held a massive sword, its blade gleaming faintly under the moonlight.

{Insight: Magic armor... A member of the Fallen Clan.}

Asher’s body stiffened at the notification. The Fallen Clan. He had heard whispers of them before—dangerous, corrupted beings capable of creating Night Terrors and shadow-formed entities. If this man was truly one of them, then they were facing a nightmare beyond ordinary combat.

Logan turned his head slightly, lowering his voice. "We have to be cautious. If he’s from the Fallen Clan, then this might be an attack from their leader."

Before Logan could say more, the armored figure spoke. His voice was deep, guttural—like the growl of a beast. It sent shivers down their spines.

"What is this?" The man’s voice rumbled like thunder. "Are you... Asher?"

Asher held his ground. He refused to let the intimidation sink in. "Yes, I am Asher. What do you want?"

This was an opportunity. If this being truly came from the Fallen Clan, then he was a lead—perhaps even a key to uncovering the truth about the cursed lineage. But he needed to tread carefully.

The armored man let out a low chuckle. Then, he lifted his sword and pointed it directly at Asher. "I want you."

Asher’s grip on his sword tightened. "Me?"

The man nodded. "Your friend should stay out of this. I have your other teammates exactly where I want them. I’ve given them the same deal—if you win, they live. If you lose... you all die."

Logan clenched his jaw, his pulse quickening. Was this a bluff? He knew Fey was strong, strong enough to handle a swarm of elders. But the Fallen Clan was different. Their tactics were never straightforward. What other forces did this armored warrior have at his disposal?

Asher took a breath, steadying himself. He couldn’t afford to hesitate. If his comrades were truly at risk, then he had no choice but to engage.

His eyes met the glowing yellow orbs behind the figure’s helmet. They stared at him with an eerie calm, void of doubt, void of fear.

"If you want me," Asher said, raising his sword, "then come."

Logan pouted his lips and stared at Asher, ’Does he have a bad habit of posing cool, or does it come naturally!’

From the armored knight, a sound escaped—something that almost resembled laughter—before he catapulted forward, his sword arcing through the air, aiming straight for Asher’s head.

Asher raised his blade, parrying the strike with practiced ease.

The force of the clash sent a powerful gust of wind outward. From Logan’s view, it was as if the very air trembled at the collision of their blades, a shockwave rippling through the battlefield.

The armored knight pulled back slightly, his body shifting, before he suddenly lunged forward with a brutal elbow strike. Asher sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blow. The knight’s overcommitment left an opening, one that Asher capitalized on immediately.

Leaping slightly, he twisted his body mid-air, swinging his leg with full momentum. His kick landed squarely against the knight’s side, sending the armored figure hurtling into the nearby wall of a house.

"KEEUUUK!"

The impact left a dent in the stone wall, debris crumbling to the ground. But the armored knight was far from finished. He regained his footing almost instantly, his breath eerily steady despite the obvious force of the hit. Then, as if drawing from some abyssal force, the darkness around his body began to spread, seeping into the ground like an ink spill. It swirled unnaturally, pooling beneath him before shifting—rising.

From the shadows emerged monstrous figures, grotesque in size and form. One by one, they climbed from the abyss, massive clubs in their hands, eyes glowing with unnatural malice. There were twelve in total.

Then, without hesitation, they charged at Asher, clubs raised high, their intent unmistakable.

It was an overwhelming sight. A test of both skill and endurance.

’Fuck, my fighting style isn’t suited for handling numbers this large. Swordplay alone won’t be enough here...’ Asher thought, leaping backward to create distance between himself and the oncoming ogres. He couldn’t afford to waste stamina—not before facing the true opponent.

The first ogre swung its massive club. It was slow, predictable, like any normal ogre. Asher seized the opportunity, stepping in and slashing at its wrist. The blade sliced cleanly through, severing its hand. The severed limb, along with the club, crashed onto the ground, causing a minor tremor.

The beast let out a guttural howl, but Asher had no time to relish the moment. More attacks came his way—brutal, unrelenting. He dodged swiftly, positioning himself so that when the two nearest ogres swung at him, their clubs instead crashed into their own kin. The first ogre’s head exploded into dark fluid, its massive form collapsing to the ground.

’Eleven more.’

Asher focused, repeating a similar pattern—drawing one out, evading, striking with precision. He struck down another ogre, then another, his movements sharp and calculated. He didn’t waste energy on unnecessary flourishes, each attack either crippling or outright killing.

The battlefield became a mess of shadows and collapsing bodies.

Before long, the last ogre fell. A black puddle seeped into the ground where it had stood, dissolving like mist in the wind.

Now, only Asher and the armored knight remained.

The knight, however, was crouching, his posture unsettling. It wasn’t a defensive stance—it was something else entirely.

’Is he... preparing something? Was all of that just a distraction so he could form something under my nose?’

Asher’s gaze sharpened as he noticed the darkness around the knight’s feet churning violently. It was unnatural, swirling uncontrollably before suddenly rising, forming towering pillars of abyssal energy.

"Watch closely, Exorcist!" the armored knight bellowed, his voice laced with power. "I will teach you today the meaning of divine punishment!"

The darkness surged outward, a force far beyond the earlier conjurations. It swallowed the ground in an instant, spreading even past Asher’s feet. Then, with an earth-shaking roar, a dome of darkness rose, sealing both of them within its ominous embrace.

A prison. A battlefield. A world of shadows.

"This is what we call a sealed domain!" the knight’s voice rang out. "This will be the first and last time you will ever see it."

The atmosphere thickened. Asher could feel the shift, an undeniable force pressing down on him. Within this space, the knight’s presence expanded, his aura no longer contained within the limits of a normal battlefield.

"Welcome to my world!" the knight declared, spreading his arms. "Here, my mana is infinite! Here, I can conjure any primordial beast I desire!"

The dome trembled, the very air bending to his will. A swirling storm of darkness formed above them, twisting and contorting until it took shape.

A beast emerged. Gigantic. Menacing.

A dragon? No.

It had no wings. Its form slithered as it descended, seven heads writhing, each one carrying an expression of pure malice.

A hydra.

"Set your eyes on your death, Asher!" the knight’s voice carried the weight of triumph, of absolute certainty.

Yet Asher merely sighed.

"You are so noisy." He exhaled slowly, relief evident in his tone as though he had been waiting for this moment. Then, a shift. His red aura flickered to life, twisting and expanding outward. It moved like wildfire, consuming half the domain in an instant, the air itself shimmering under its intensity.

"You boast about infinite mana..."

The knight visibly tensed, his bravado shaken.

Then Asher smiled, the flicker of something monstrous gleaming in his gaze.

"However—"

The flames roared, shifting. In their chaotic dance, a shape emerged—something primal, something sentient. A monstrous face swirled within his aura, eyes brimming with untamed hunger.

"I have had infinite mana since I was born."

The knight took an involuntary step back.

Something in Asher’s presence changed—something terrifying.

It was no longer the battle of a knight against an exorcist.

It was the battle of a man against something far, far worse.

The knight’s breath hitched. A tremor ran through his hands. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

’What... What is he?’

For the first time since the battle began, fear clawed at the knight’s chest.

Because in that moment, he realized—

’...This man is a monster.’