Chapter 45
Chapter 45
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: Power Thief
-----------------------------------------------------------------
To the north of the Empire stood a colossal wall blocking the lands beyond. They said that even riding a horse day and night without rest for seven days straight, you couldn't reach the far end.
All the Empire's soldiers stationed there were consumed like torches lighting up the darkness beyond the barrier. Over the 300 years since the Demon King awakened, they had shielded the Empire from the magical beasts and demons trying to scale the wall.
The life granted to those soldiers followed the law of the jungle: only by surviving two years and proving their strength could they escape that grueling duty at the wall and be reassigned elsewhere as battle-hardened veterans.
The problem was that in every era, there were always those who couldn't endure such harsh military life.
Those men naturally deserted, staking their lives on it. Rather than face the fangs of darkness wolves tearing at their throats, they preferred the chance of being caught and hanged—if it meant surviving just a little longer.
Of course, most deserters died for countless reasons.
Some were caught by northern patrols and summarily executed on the spot. Others were seized by Empire search parties and used as bait on blizzard-swept battlefields, their tendons severed to lure in magical beasts.
At times, bounty hunters or villagers chasing the reward on deserters' heads would capture and drag them off to die. That was why, along the northern wall, they were derisively called "mountain corpses."
A year ago, unable to withstand the march of the Lich Legion Commander's corpses, countless mountain corpses fled the battlefield. Most met their ends right there—slain by Empire knights' swords or swept away by waves of corpses that sensed the fear in their hearts.
But amid that sea of worthless deaths, one group didn't flee behind the wall. Instead, they crossed it into demon territory.
These three men were childhood friends from a village near the wall—close enough to be called sworn brothers. Raised on terrifying tales from the village's cranky old crone, they had a faint idea of how to shake off corpses and survive beyond the wall.
The three men firmly believed they'd made a wise choice right after deserting the field.
The unit they'd abandoned had its lines broken, and the comrades they'd fought beside moments ago were devoured by corpses. But had they stayed, their exhausted selves would have ended up the same—chewed up and turned into the Demon King's minions.
The first man was a hunter. Tall and with natural leadership, he even had a fiancée back in their home village waiting for marriage.
The hunter said that even if the Empire won the battle, they wouldn't be found amid those corpses. They just needed to survive three months beyond the wall.
The second was a carpenter. A head shorter than the hunter, he was a descendant of the long-extinct dwarves, skilled with his hands and brimming with strength and stamina.
The carpenter built their hideout, repaired the weapons they'd fled with, and knew how to prepare for potential fights against magical beasts.
The third was a thug. Scrawny with no real skills, he was the type to waste his days nursing a single beer at the village tavern for his daily meal.
Always blaming his misfortunes on others, the thug had eagerly volunteered as the first recruit when the draft officer arrived, seeing it as his big break. Now, half-mad, he was little more than a parasite gnawing at the food the other two scavenged.
But the hunter and carpenter didn't blame him. What they'd endured at the wall was a nonstop chain of horrors. Recalling the thug's old tavern boasts even lifted their gloom a bit.
The three spent quite a while beyond the wall. By the two-month mark, even the broken thug felt a shallow hope, his eyes regaining focus.
But luck didn't hold. The final month was pure hell. The blizzard blanketing the north showed no signs of letting up.
In this land tainted by demonic energy, the few edible plants were frozen deep underground, impossible to dig up. On the rare days the storm eased, magical beasts swarmed the area.
Huddled in their cramped underground burrow, the three shoveled endless snow into their mouths, enduring days of terror and thirst. They comforted each other, clinging to the belief that once the blizzard passed, they could return home.
But even faint hope meant nothing against the hunger and fear closing in. After two weeks, no one spoke.
By the third week, starvation gnawed at them, and the ceaseless howls of magical beasts day and night left them sleepless. They couldn't tell if they were in reality or a nightmare.
On the fourth week's deep night, the hunter awoke to faint sobbing. He couldn't tell if he was dreaming or awake.
Moonlight filtering through the cave mouth—carved from logs—outlined a vague human shape. Puzzled, the hunter sat up.
"What's going on... Has the blizzard finally stopped?"
Slice. Slice. The sound of something being cut. Still groggy, the hunter couldn't make out what the moonlight fell on. A chill unease gripped him, and he barely managed to rise, placing a hand on the figure's shoulder.
"What are you doing... Don't eat the fur clothes, you'll freeze to..."
The huddled shape was monstrous. The sight beyond its shoulder hit him, and the hunter thought he was trapped in one of his nightly horrors.
The thug was carving into the carpenter and eating him. His twisted frame grotesque, drooling a vile mix of the carpenter's blood and saliva from his mouth, eyes gleaming with savage joy as he devoured the long-craved meat.
Ahh. The hunter let out a metallic screech from his throat, stumbling back. Beyond the wooden door bathed in moonlight, he sensed the eyes of magical beasts peering in. The blizzard that had masked the human blood scent had ended tonight.
What a horrific nightmare. The hunter wore a helpless smile, wishing he'd wake soon.
By the end of the month, the thug was no longer the man they remembered. Was it the endless demonic energy from the Demon King's domain snow he'd consumed, or the sweet voice that whispered a contract in his ear the moment he abandoned his humanity?
The being that appeared before this thug was the Lich, once one of the Demon King's legion commanders.
"They say humans create solitude like this—trap venomous insects in a jar and let them devour each other until only one survives. Then, the ultimate tool is born."
The eerie red glow from the empty skull gazed fondly at the tool it had forged. In its endless immortality, the Lich's sole amusement was twisting mortals into its creations.
In that sense, this "solitude" was a fine work. Using three worthless wretches it hadn't even expected much from, the result was so warped it brimmed with unpredictable demonic energy—even the Lich hadn't foreseen it.
Whether from huddling to survive, it cloaked its demonic energy so well that even the Lich, observing from right in front, struggled to sense it without focus. Yet its eyes, flashing toward him, held a remnant of humanity preserved solely for its own desires.
"Humans call wretches like you mountain corpses, don't they?"
The Lich beckoned lightly, and Solitude approached like a beast, bowing its head. Beasts and men alike recognized those who held their life and death. A beast in human form or a man wearing a beast's skin would do the same.
"I like that nickname. I'll call you Mountain Corpse."
With a gesture, a small gem floated from the Lich's robe and embedded in Mountain Corpse's forehead. It clenched its teeth against the agony. The power surging with the pain sweetly filled its endless desires, bringing ecstasy.
"Go. Steal the powers of those beasts who call themselves gods. Use that strength to turn the place humans call the Academy into hell. Etch the horrors you endured deep into their minds."
Mountain Corpse nodded. Pain drowned half the words, but its warped senses, tainted by demonic energy, told it that obeying would sate its bottomless cravings, if only a little.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Daniel, son of an Empire noble house, rode in a carriage toward the Academy. As the second son of an earl's family, this trip filled him with delight.
With his capable administrator older brother all but confirmed as heir, Daniel had never been able to stand tall in the family. But the Academy would be different, he dreamed happily.
He might befriend boys his age, discover his talents and strike out independently from the family with pride. Perhaps he'd even enjoy a sweet romance with a proper girl.
His family knight escort was quiet, but reliably sturdy. The third strongest in the house, assigned by his father for any contingencies.
So surely, tomorrow he'd arrive at the Academy for a joyful new start. He should have.
"S-spare me! I'm a noble! My father will pay my ransom!"
Horse and coachman sprawled dead on the ground, the knight who'd charged out against the sudden bandits lay with both arms torn off after not even a minute.
"Please, our family has mines, and we're not far from the capital—we can pay handsomely. So please...!"
Perhaps Daniel's true talent was reading the situation.
Instead of freezing or fleeing in panic on wobbly legs at the surreal scene, he dropped to his knees, holding back tears, and spilled every detail of what he could offer.
"...Money? Mines? Noble?"
The thing—human or otherwise—with eerie yellow eyes muttered as it eyed him. Daniel nodded vigorously. At least it wasn't a mindless monster, as he'd hoped.
"Yes! Yes! Truly, enough to live off forever! So please, just spare my life...!"
If he survived, his father would send pursuers. Maybe even pay the ransom to free him. As long as he lived, the Academy could wait—next year or the year after.
"...Enviable. So envious. Truly envious. Must be fun, right? A happy life?"
Hearing his own words echoed back, the creature began muttering jealously.
"Wh-what do you mean? I can give you money..."
"Money's nice, but I'm jealous of something far more valuable..."
Thud. Thud. The shape approached. Under the moonless dark night, it was hard to discern.
But it resembled less a monster and more a wicked fiend from a fairy tale. If you imagined the worst, ugliest human form, this was it, Daniel thought.
"What's your name...?"
"Daniel! Daniel Hagenherz!"
At the reply, the monster's mouth split into a grin. It gently stroked his shoulder, its gaze warming. For a moment, Daniel felt relief.
"From now on, I'm Daniel. Daniel Hagenherz."
Crunch.
With that, Daniel Hagenherz died. Mountain Corpse felt no particular value in it.
Instead, as mana and vitality rose from Daniel and the knight's blood, enveloping it, Mountain Corpse's form began to shift. Moments later, it became "Daniel Hagenherz."
A new ability gained after stealing power from a massive beast. By consuming those it killed and absorbing their strength, Mountain Corpse could "steal" their memories and appearance.
"The Academy, hee hee. Now I'm a noble young master too. Hee hee, fun school life!"
How fun would the Academy be? The more he imagined, the harder it was to stifle his laughter.
Suddenly feeling the need to hurry, "Daniel" bolted toward the port in a grotesque running stance. Faster than a horse, uglier than a spider—but no one could sense its presence.
Surely tomorrow, he'd arrive at the Academy for a "new beginning"—full of joy.