My Uncle is the Strongest Dark Mage

TLed by NolepGuy

Chapter 1

The northwestern part of the Magic Kingdom’s western continent, within the Emulin County, lies Koshik Village.

As the name suggests, it is a place where Baron Koshik administers local governance on behalf of Count Emulin. One of its most notable features is the expansive “William Cemetery” that sprawls across the back mountain.

The exact origin of the name is unknown.

There’s only speculation that the first person buried here was named William, and that the cemetery was named after him.

Currently, it is a public facility managed under the commission of Count Emulin, with maintenance costs largely funded by the village’s management budget, even surpassing its agricultural income.

Although it was one of the village’s key revenue sources, like many cemeteries, it was also a place surrounded by eerie rumors among the villagers.

For instance, people claimed that if you visited at night, you could see ghosts moving around.

Or that sometimes, the dead would claw their way out of the grave soil and emerge above ground.

Or that once a year, the dead would hold a festival by the graves, and anyone who witnessed it would be dragged to the underworld to join them.

Most of these were baseless ghost stories, with no actual witnesses to back them up.

Moreover, adults didn’t believe in such tales at all, leaving only the village children to occasionally sneak in to test their courage.

“Hey, did you hear about that?”

And this rumor was undoubtedly just another one of those common ghost stories.

“Apparently, a Black Mage once entered the cemetery to target the corpses there. But fortunately, mages arrived in time to subdue the Black Mage before they could carry out their plan.”

While not all Black Mages were evil, it was an undeniable fact that most of them were involved in nefarious deeds.

Thus, while the kingdom didn’t regulate them, it was inevitable that negative opinions about them circulated among the public.

This was even more true for children, who were more easily swayed by rumors than adults.

Naturally, the cemetery, being a graveyard, became the perfect setting for ghost stories involving one or two Black Mages.

However, these tales ignored the fact that this cemetery was a national burial site purified annually by church officials at Count Emulin’s request. It was so small that even locals rarely brought bodies to be interred here, making it an unappealing target for most Black Mages due to the hassle.

“But they say that ever since that day, the vengeful spirit of the Black Mage has lingered in the cemetery, screaming chilling cries every night.”

If the grudge was strong enough to leave their soul tethered to the mortal world, it meant that the Black Mage had been of a very high rank.

Now, as an adult, he would scoff at the idea of such a powerful Black Mage coming all the way here, only to meet their end at the hands of mere borderland county mages.

But back then, the child telling him the story had only seriousness in their eyes, though their lips carried a mischievous grin.

“Cain, how about it? Why don’t you go there at night and find out if the rumor is true or not?”

The other children began to close in, as if to say that if he refused, they’d force him to go, even if it meant beating him into submission.

It was blatant bullying.

Back when he was younger, his parents, who ran a small merchant guild, died in a carriage accident. His older sister, eight years older than him, had given up her own dreams to raise him in their stead.

What had been harder for him than poverty was the scorn and bullying he faced from the other children.

Children were too easily influenced by the words of adults.

To put it nicely, they were innocent.

Just as absurd ghost stories spread quickly and easily among children.

The adults’ ostracism—telling their children to stay away from the parentless boy—naturally led to bullying and isolation.

Of course, there were ways to fight back.

The other boy was quite large for his age, but Cain didn’t think he’d lose in a fistfight.

In fact, with his fiery temper, he’d have jumped into a fight without hesitation, no matter how many opponents there were.

But he couldn’t.

His older sister, only 18 years old, was barely making ends meet by working odd jobs at a small merchant guild.

If he caused trouble, it might bring harm to her, who was already struggling because of him.

So he endured all the bullying in silence.

“Fine.”

That day was no different.

All he had to do was sneak out at night, visit the cemetery, and come back.

They might accuse him of not going, so he’d have to take some proof—like a video recording.

Unlike the other kids, he had woken up to reality early and didn’t believe in such ridiculous ghost stories. Cemeteries or not, he wasn’t scared.

‘Luckily, my sister said she’d be working late tonight, so I won’t get caught.’

He only worried that he might be too tired tomorrow from the lack of sleep.

“Alright. Then, have a good trip.”

Did they think his answer was forced out of fear?

Satisfied with his response, the leader of the group nodded, patted Cain on the shoulder, and led the others away.

Watching the self-proclaimed leader walk off, Cain muttered to himself.

“Who even are you to pat me on the shoulder?”

The thought of a stranger touching him bothered him more than the idea of going to the cemetery.

Brushing the dirt off his clothes, he tried to shake off his irritation.

＊ ＊ ＊

As expected, the cemetery at night was pitch dark.

Of course, no one would come here at night, so there was no reason to install lights or lamps.

It was pure, impenetrable darkness, where you couldn’t see an inch ahead.

In his hand was an old smartphone meant for recording proof.

It was so outdated that it couldn’t even maintain a signal sometimes, as he hadn’t been able to afford a new one.

At least the flashlight function worked fine.

Relying on the faint light of the smartphone, he walked cautiously.

Swoosh.

A gust of wind brushed past the gravestones, making an eerie sound as it swept by him.

No wonder people spread strange rumors about ghost parties happening here at night.

‘Should I wander around for about 10 more minutes before heading back?’

Staying too briefly might raise suspicion.

But he didn’t want to linger long in the chilly wind either.

Ten minutes seemed like a reasonable compromise.

“Ah!”

As he trudged forward, something caught his foot, and he stumbled forward.

Unable to see his footing in the darkness, he had tripped.

His smartphone hit the ground, and its screen cracked.

“Damn.”

The curse slipped out before he could stop himself.

Replacing it had never been an option to begin with.

Although the screen was cracked, the flashlight and display still worked fine.

The real problem was how to hide this from his sister.

If she found out, she’d demand to know why he hadn’t told her and insist on buying a new one immediately.

He couldn’t burden her further when she was already cutting back on food expenses under the pretense of dieting.

‘As if there’s any fat left to lose. She’s practically skin and bones.’

Thinking of her frail arms, thinner than anything buried in this cemetery, he shone the flashlight on the object that had tripped him.

‘A rock…?’

But it seemed a little different.

When he instinctively touched the protrusion on the ground, he realized it didn’t feel like a rock.

Shining the light more closely, he saw the edge of what appeared to be a book sticking out.

‘A book?’

Why would a book be here?

His irritation quickly turned into curiosity.

He had always loved books.

After his parents passed away, he had stopped buying them to avoid burdening his sister.

Though he couldn’t afford new ones, he had read and reread the books at home until their letters wore off.

Driven by curiosity, he picked up a sharp stone nearby and began digging around the book carefully.

He dug cautiously, making sure not to damage the book.

Fortunately, the ground was soft.

Even with his strength, the soil gave way easily, and he managed to unearth the book.

Of course, the 10 minutes he had planned to stay had long since passed.

Still, the thought of acquiring a new book made him happy as he brushed off the dirt and shone his smartphone light on the title.

“……”

His face twisted into a grimace.

He couldn’t read it.

It wasn’t simply that the characters were difficult to understand or that they had worn away to the point of being illegible.

It was literally written in a language he didn’t know.

‘Is it a foreign language?’

Perhaps because his expectations had been high, the disappointment hit him just as hard.

Should I just toss it away since I can’t even read it?

Or should I at least open it since I went through all the trouble of pulling it out?

With such a casual thought, the boy flipped through the booklet.

[Kuk, kuhahahahaha!]

Then, an eerie laughter echoed from somewhere unknown, and an even colder wind than before fiercely swirled around the boy.

The boy was bewildered by the sudden, inexplicable phenomenon.

As he frantically looked around, he noticed something strange.

The booklet in his hand wouldn’t detach from his grip at all.

[Good! This is excellent!]

It wasn’t a sound heard through his ears but something that seemed to pierce directly into his mind.

No, it didn’t feel like a sound but rather a reverberating wave.

The thunderous voice, unbearable for a child’s body, made his head feel as if it would split apart.

[The world hasn’t abandoned me! Demon Lord’s minions! Did you truly think your pathetic interference could stop our sacred mission to revive the Immortal King?!]

Urban legends are often nothing more than a collection of absurd nonsense.

But occasionally, among them, stories closely tied to the truth are born.

[Now, surrender your body! Your remaining life will be used gloriously for His honor!]

Will Succession Magic.

A type of magic distinct from resurrection, where one’s will or purpose is condensed into an ego and embedded within a personal belonging.

It was a form of necromancy, where the ego of a deceased Black Mage manifested with intent.

Drip.

A nosebleed began to flow.

The knowledge of the Black Mage directly invaded his mind.

It was a question that had plagued mages for ages.

If one were to transfer all their knowledge and memories to another body, would that still be ‘me,’ or would it be ‘someone else’?

Yes, the Black Mage had planned to seize the body of someone who would one day find this place, creating a form of succession distinct from resurrection.

At the very moment he was about to complete the full inheritance by transferring all his knowledge and memories—

Thump.

The boy’s heart pounded loudly.

Every person is born with their own unique talent.

Whether it’s singing well,

Drawing beautifully,

Or excelling in swordsmanship or magic.

However, the magnitude of such talents varies from person to person, and society often labels those with immense talent as “geniuses.”

The boy’s talent began to awaken.

A dimension of magic that humans instinctively reject.

Like a sponge, he absorbed it, devouring every piece of knowledge the Black Mage had infused.

This was a talent even the boy himself had been unaware of.

And a tiny seed of that talent had just been planted.

The abundant nourishment caused the seed to sprout in an instant.

This was both coincidence and destiny.

Something that was bound to happen eventually.

That monstrous, irrational talent had its awakening accelerated by a series of coincidences.

The boy standing before the Black Mage discovered his talent for the first time and took a bold step into the field of black magic.

[What is this…?!]

In an instant, everything was taken away.

It wasn’t even the main body of a high-ranking Black Mage.

It was merely the lingering spirit and wraith he had left behind.

That weak ego couldn’t overcome the boy’s dominance, and as it stared into the boy’s now violet eyes, even as a spirit, it felt as though its breath had been stolen.

An overwhelming pressure, as if nonexistent lungs were being squeezed shut.

A chilling sensation, like facing death despite already being dead.

“Die.”

At the boy’s quiet murmur, the Black Mage vanished completely from this world without leaving a single word behind.

“……”

The boy took a deep breath, sensing the tiny remnants of magic and knowledge left behind by the Black Mage.

That small trigger rapidly absorbed all the surrounding magic, and the dead began to rise from their graves, hastened by the arrival of a new king in this world.

Creak.

Countless bones knelt before the boy in reverence.

Accepting it more lightly than expected, the boy picked up the smartphone that had fallen next to the now-powdered booklet.

Then, scratching the back of his head as if nothing had happened, he walked past the skeletons.

“So, who are you? And what’s this Immortal King nonsense?”

This was the beginning of a legend.

The moment one of the absolute rulers who would dominate the continent awakened his talent.