Dragon Devouring Mage Chapter 257


Dragon devouring mage


…Gur… Geo-eur.

Under the night that even the dignified moonlight hid away, a group of figures moved between the gorges taking advantage of this dark and ambitious time.


No, these were not ordinary figures.

Their howls resembled those of beasts more than humans, and their scent was enough to rot one’s nose if one got too close, as if they had rolled in a field of corpses—a stench that no normal human could ever emit.

After the clouds were blown away by a gust of wind, a sliver of moonlight fell through, revealing a ghastly sight in the gorge.

Skeletons with ancient bones and rotting flesh hanging from their frames like rags, ghouls with appearances that mixed hyenas or wild dogs with humans, and banshees, women without legs, who remained, emitting screams of anguish…

All sorts of undead creatures strolled through the gorge.

There were as many as three thousand of them.

More than 90% were lower-class undead. Individually, their strength barely matched that of an adult male, but the issue was their immortality.

Unless their heads were destroyed or they were utterly crushed to the point of immobilization, they would move blindly only to fulfill the orders and objectives given to them.

They were cursed beasts.

That’s exactly what the undead were.

Furthermore, the occasional banshees or specters among them couldn’t be dealt with unless one was a mage or a knight capable of wielding aura.

And watching over the march of the undead with deep-set eyes was one person.

‘This is utterly irksome.’

Eyes shimmering with a red gleam even within the darkness.

It was none other than Russell.

‘Is this the sixth time in this area alone?’

With a sigh, Russell lightly moved his hand.

In a moment, a flame that had risen within his grasp surged in a massive burst, spilling down the lower parts of the gorge.

Massive Fire—a sixth circle magic.

As the name implied, this was a spell fitting to attack enemies gathered in a confined space like the current situation.

Moreover, the Massive Fire spread by Russell was no ordinary spell.

It contained a fraction of Hellfire’s magical power.

‘Burn them to death. Flames of hell.’


The flames rapidly grew, screaming banshees and specters melted away amidst the heat that made the inside of the gorge hot like boiling oil—not screams that induce haunting fear or disorient spirits, but genuine cries of terror and pain!

The hellish aura within the flames directly scorched their ethereal bodies!

“An attack?!”


As the surging flames dispelled the darkness, the zealots controlling the undead let out voices filled with panic, and in that moment…


Accompanied by the sharp sound of something piercing through the air, coin-sized holes appeared above their foreheads.

Their bodies slowly collapsed backward.

Eyes wide open, it was clear they had not realized their own death.

Gimlet Of Gale.

A gusting gimlet, which flew at Russell’s mere finger flick, had thoroughly penetrated their heads.

Zealots were mostly fourth-circle practitioners, but Russell, who could effortlessly handle even such powerful individuals, nonchalantly got to his feet…



He turned away, as the rising flames swallowed up the undead troops.





About thirty minutes had passed after Russell returned to the main camp.

Considering the speed at which Russell, an eighth-circle mage, had to hurry back, the gorge where the undead had been passing was located quite a distance from the campsite.

Russell, who managed to return to his tent without being noticed even by the soldiers on night-duty, stepped inside…

In that moment, a voice came from within the tent.

“Have you returned, Your Grace, the Archduke?”

It was the voice of Baron Donovan.

Of course, unlike last time, there was no stinging reason for it.

Russell had already sensed his presence through the aura and had previously given a heads-up that he would be going out for ‘a certain task’ at dawn.

‘And yet, to think he waited until I returned.’

It was rather late, and Russell thought so with a wry smile as Baron Donovan, on the contrary, asked him.

“Is it the sixth time already?”

“Yes. It just turned out that way.”

Indeed, on his way to join the main force, Russell had gone out alone at night to face the army of dead and returned—six times now.

With each departure, the number of undead he encountered ranged from a thousand…

“How many did you encounter this time?”

“Three thousand. It looked to be the largest group yet.”

.. to as high as three thousand.

Russell alone was responsible for the downfall of nearly ten thousand undead.

Perhaps the zealots had been concealing the undead created through their rituals in concealed places like gorges or deep inside caves.

“Three thousand…”

Baron Donovan murmured briefly and then asked.

“But are you really all right, Your Grace? Going out almost twice every three days, it might be wise to take even a little rest…”

Russell let out a chuckle at his concerned tone. He really felt like asking, ‘Baron, is this really your concern for me?’ especially because he had reached the heights of the eighth circle, compared to the baron’s proficiency in swordsmanship and general knightly training in aura.

Adding to that his old age, it wouldn’t have been so easy for him to stay up every night waiting for him.

Showing this fact, elongated dark circles trailed under Donovan’s eyes.

“Perhaps you should be more concerned about your own health, Baron?”

“Haha. I’m fine. My body will rot and decay if I die anyway, it should be used well for now.”

Distilling either a pretense of bravado or sincerity, Baron Donovan nevertheless responded with a hearty laugh. He handed Russell something.

“Here, take this, at least until dawn. What do you say, Your Grace, the Archduke?”

“What’s this?”

Something wrapped tightly in food paper—its nature not hard to deduce from the feel.

“A sandwich.”

“Did you make it yourself, Baron?”

“Of course. I couldn’t possibly wake the cooks for something like this at this hour. I just borrowed the place and showed off whatever skills I had.”

He handed the sandwich to Russell, adding with a sheepish expression,

“My son quite liked these, haha. Though I’m not sure if they’ll suit Your Grace’s tastes.”

‘Baron Donovan’s son…’

He had heard a story once that Donovan’s son had fallen during a war against the empire.

At the time, the boy was in his mid-twenties, close to his own age.

‘So this is why he’s been taking such care of me…’

Russell tucked away the sandwich with a half-smile.

“I’ll enjoy it.”

While this wouldn’t bring the man’s deceased child back, if it could ease his mind even slightly, then it was well worth it.

With that thought and donning his coat, Russell headed outside his tent.

‘To the west…’

He checked the direction received from Pepper and soared into the air.






With the pre-dawn chilly air pushed aside, the fiery demon rose mightily.

In an instant, flames as bright as the rising morning sun engulfed the place.

Within those flames, about one thousand, just shy of eight hundred, undead were reduced to ash.

‘Morning has come.’

Just as Baron Donovan had said, the sun was rising.

‘Should I eat before heading back?’

While taking in the view, Russell plopped down onto a rock, using it as a makeshift seat, and pulled out the baron’s sandwich from his chest pocket.

The sandwich was filled with pickles, bell peppers, onions, ham, a drizzle of olive oil, mustard, and vinegar made from fermented wine.

Though completely cold, why did it feel imbued with a certain warmth?

Right before eating the sandwich, Russell looked up and spoke to the sky.

“If you’re watching, why not come down and join me?”

Of course, no answer came back.

“Even if you don’t feel like eating, could you at least come down for a bit?”

It wasn’t the first time Russell had called for Jilian. He had been doing so for days, but the dragon had remained silent.

‘Still no response this time?’

Because he wasn’t a full imperial dragon, he wouldn’t obey…

Suddenly, a voice rolled in from behind him.

“Do dragons really need to eat food at all? You should know that.”

“Well, surely they have their own preferred foods.”

With a shrug, Russell reached into his pocket dimension and tossed a chunk of meat into the air,


As if waiting, Pepper swooped down and snagged the meat. Then casually, Russell roused Sherbet, who was lying dormant like a bracelet.


As he stretched out with sleep still in his eyes, Russell placed a fist-sized ice chunk before him.


Sherbet, acting as though he’d never been asleep, made a beeline for the ice, while Jilian’s eyes twitched slightly, as if to say ‘Those two beasts are the ones who truly disgrace the name of dragons,’ with a look of contempt.

Russell split the sandwich in half and tossed it to him.

“Eat up.”


Jilian caught the sandwich with a sniff but didn’t bring it to his lips.

‘Though fallen, he certainly matches most closely the image of dragons from the tales.’

Noble yet haughty…

That’s when Jilian, holding the sandwich, asked nonchalantly,

“So, what is it that you want to ask me?”


Pausing to swallow a bite of the sandwich, Russell’s face was a blend of seriousness and solemnity as he posed his question.

The first one had arisen when he first heard Jilian’s warning, but the second one—

“Those deep within the empire you mentioned, cowering there, are you speaking only of the zealots?”

—arose from new doubts over recent days.

“And among those zealots, is he also there—the one who tainted you?”

At Russell’s question, Jilian’s lips twitched.

“That is…”

The Dragon Devouring Mage.


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