Philippine President And Her Country Got Isekai'd!?

12 - Al Mycóta The Devil [FINAL]

Madamé narrowed her eyes, determination etched on her face. 

"I am not afraid, Rassieur. I am determined to bring you to justice for the atrocities you have committed. And I will do whatever it takes to stop you."

Rassieur's smile faded, replaced by a cold, hard gaze. 

"Then let us see who truly has the power to prevail. Let us engage in a battle of sorcery and see who emerges victorious."

As the two sorcerers faced off, ready to unleash their full magical abilities, the fate of the town and its people hung in the balance. Who would emerge victorious in this epic clash between good and evil?

"I must ask you, Al Mycóta Devil. Are you not still young? How can you kill so calmly? So many, with no hesitation? There were women and children in the buildings you destroyed, and those soldiers had families waiting for them. How can you stay so calm?"

The woman of the imperial guard was getting more and more agitated. She pushed back her hood to reveal a number of bright, glowing relics.

"I'll tell you how. There are certain emotional barriers that prevent us from killing people. The thing we call conscience is the main one, and it's connected to a number of other cores. But what if those emotions could be forcibly shut down?"

The young man seemed to enjoy bragging about this.

"You can't be serious. You're using dark magical arts to tamper with your brain cores? You've stopped these emotional barriers you're talking about? You've erased your conscience?"

"Exactly. Right now, I have no conscience, no pity, no compassion, no sympathy. I'm simply a walking killing machine designed to eliminate all foes. Of course, I do choose my orders based on the client's payment. In the face of an enemy, I can kill anyone without mercy for money, without being held back by those pesky moral laws. Even if bystanders get caught up in my attack, I'll feel no compassion for them."

Through his innate talent in the magical arts of self-control, he had been able to shape his brain cores to be perfectly suited for assassination..

"You truly are a devil. A human with no conscience is no more than a devil. Even veteran soldiers hesitate before they kill their enemies."

"And that is a weakness in those soldiers, Madamé. Soldiers don't need a conscience. All men should march without fear of death, and then they should fight until all enemies are defeated. That is what a true soldier is. Don't you agree?"

Rassieur pondered this.

This old woman must be the type who romanticizes old wars. The two of them couldn't be more different. Rassieur wants efficiency at every level. He can't stand the sight of ancient battlefields. There's nothing sadder than a soldier who hesitates to kill when killing is their very job.

"Do you not even have love for your own country?" the woman asked.

"Hmm. I guess not. My only concern right now is the complete destruction of my enemies. Although, I would prefer it if the people of my village welcomed that."

Love for my country? Why would anyone love a country that banishes a talented person for nothing more than his classmate bullies getting killed by him?

"It's about time our little talk ended. It would be a shame if such a splendid, beautiful town hall wasn't destroyed, so until I've reduced it to bare earth, I still have work to do. I did enjoy talking to you, but I can't let you get in the way of my work."

With that, Rassieur casually pointed his scepter at the imperial sorcerer count.

"Devil! You'll burn in the inferno, mark my words!"

"Why do you people always call me devil? Morals? Tsk. It's survival of the fittest. I'll decide who I'll let live."

Dark, ashy flames surged from his scepter without a chant just as the woman began to scream.

The impact of the flames created a conflagration that blew away the soldiers along with their barricade and the woman who had just been talking to him. She joined the ranks of silent corpses filling the streets.

And Rassieur fired continuously at the survivors, whether they be children or elderly.

"Cocos. Was that every enemy?"

He asked as he polished his shining, mystical, powerful scepter.

"There are no more, Rassieur," his imp Cocos replied.

"But are you sure about this? You didn't have to go this far..."

"It's necessary, Cocos. The enemy takes me too lightly. I have to make them all experience true fear. And that's what my client requested in the order."

He admitted that his real motivation for all this was the huge amount of money.

Then, Rassieur pointed his wand at the town hall.

"Whoops. I almost forgot to say: my name is Rassieur Al Mycóta Siuseta. I'm a tireless researcher of the thaumaturgical arts and also a professional assassin. I also happen to be the guildmaster's right-hand man. Nice to meet you, everyone. And farewell."

After that quick self-introduction, he smiled and set to the task of turning the town hall to rubble. Smashing a splendid stronghold into tiny little pieces was about the coolest thing he could think of.

When the thing you're destroying is beautiful, that's what makes it worthwhile. He was about to get his fill of destruction in its purest form. Opportunities like this didn't come often.

"Now then, what is the huge interference I felt beyond the east Coral ocean? Do you know anything, Cocos?"

The three imps stopped and seemed to reach a consensus.

"A nation-scale phenomecules disorder is happening in that area," replied Arusha as he sucked on a freshly-cooked piece of human flesh.

"That huge amount of interference is not normal and can be felt by everyone," Frali added, searching for something.

"This occurrence is way beyond our aise-chronological knowledge, Rassieur. And it is probably an anti-sorcery explosion if we are not mistaken," said Cocos, who was resting in the young man's ebony hair.

As Cocos whispered, Rassieur took an interest and a profound inkling rose within him.

"These are ancient powers' stuff, right Cocos?"

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