Chapter 454
Chapter 454
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Another Solo Play (13)
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****
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap—
‘5472. 5473. 5474. 5475—’
Each time his sweat-slicked hand pressed against the wall, he counted the numbers in his head. In this darkness that scattered even his sense of direction, his steady stride measured the distance, while the parallel walls of the ravine on either side served as his only guide to orientation.
It was a thought that struck him anew, but he was glad he’d hitched a ride on that salvage ship. Thanks to the underwater breathing gear he’d scavenged from it, he could breathe properly in this ravine filled with stench and gas.
‘5500 steps. From the moment I entered the fissure, I vaguely spotted the capital’s walls.... This should put me right under the battlefield where I saw those Mutation Blood and the Emperor’s forces earlier.’
He strained his ears just in case, but not even a fragment of screams or explosions reached him. It was probably the effect of that ancient curse said to blanket this ravine.
[I’ll help you however I can. Whether you will it or not, for my own needs.]
[You just need to get to the imperial palace with my help. I’ll follow the path you take on my own.]
‘Black Mage Darik. He said he had business in the imperial palace too.’
The keyword [curse] naturally brought to mind that suspicious figure he’d just parted from.
Darik. The black mage whose face had half-melted away, leaving no trace of features.
The man who’d admitted to ties with the Emperor’s curse, who was heading to the imperial palace because of it, and who’d offered to help him and trail behind for that reason.
Could he be trusted? Absolutely not. There was no way for him to verify the facts Darik had shared, no means to prove them. Even if it was all fabricated nonsense, there’d be no way to tell, so he was inherently untrustworthy from the start.
‘But... whether I can use him.... That’s worth considering.’
Tap. Tap.
As the rhythmic sound of his hand on the wall continued, the pieces of information in his mind began to fall into place.
If there was one thing trustworthy about Darik’s actions, it was that he needed him. With a bit more leeway, that he wanted him to reach the imperial palace.
‘His words. His actions. The flow of events so far—all point to that much being true.’
Darik had guided him to the Temple of Mercy. Thanks to that, he’d learned of the safe path created by the Mercy Church, obtained plenty of holy water usable even deep in the curse-ridden capital, and in the end, after uncovering the bishop’s atrocities.... He’d caused the Temple of Mercy—which had held out for three years—to fall into the Emperor’s forces’ hands. The Emperor’s troops swarming the servant district had rushed to the temple now stripped of divine protection, which explained why the residential passage he’d used had been so eerily quiet, or so Darik claimed.
Tap. Tap.
Among the information slotting into place one by one, a very old memory suddenly surfaced.
[Isn’t it natural for someone like me—a black mage closer to the undead—to have no presence?]
The ability of the man who’d appeared out of nowhere by his side time and again. A definite presence at the tip of his sword or fingers, yet somehow ghostly, and yet capable of clear interaction with him.
Long ago, he’d seen something very similar.
=========
‘This child is Nell. My ill-fated sister who became a wrathful spirit, the one who turned me into a black mage.’
=========
‘...Wrathful spirit. It matches Aldrich’s wrathful spirit—his sister Nell’s—in many ways.’
He’d heard that black mages were born by patching fragments of other shattered souls into their own torn ones.
In the case of Aldrich’s sister, the wrathful spirit Nell, she’d appeared out of nowhere at Aldrich’s call, attacked enemies with a clear physical form, and vanished back into the void once the deed was done.
Now that he thought about it, Black Mage Darik’s way of appearing and disappearing seemed strikingly similar.
The only difference was how vividly self-aware it was, compared to Aldrich’s sister’s spirit.
[I have business in the imperial palace too!]
[I can’t move in places touched by the Emperor’s curse.]
‘What he wants is in the imperial palace.’
‘He’s deeply tied to the Emperor’s curse.’
The imperial palace was the epicenter of the curse blanketing the capital, and the wrathful spirit (presumed) Darik was rejected by that curse.
‘...If the Emperor wields the curse, then the current Emperor ranks among black mages who can control it.’
‘Could Darik be a wrathful spirit possessing the Emperor’s soul?’
It was speculation, but with his current knowledge, this was the limit of his deductions.
Even so, the mere fact that he was rejected by the Emperor’s curse spanning the entire capital made his existence exceptionally unique in this cursed land.
Even if only half his deductions held true, Darik was undoubtedly a key to resolving this crisis.
‘Better to keep him trailing behind after all.’
It was the same conclusion as before his deliberations, but in the terribly silent darkness where stray thoughts whispered like intruders, it had an excellent effect in clearing his mind.
****
-Clang!
‘Ugh!’
Around the 12,000-step mark.
As he hurried along, something metallic snagged the tip of his boot.
Clang clang—clang—
‘...A helmet?’
By the sound, it was hollow metal. While the faint echo faded into the darkness, he groped the floor and lifted the helmet that had tripped him.
Grope grope—
Rough engravings caught his fingertips. The wooden emblem symbolizing the Empire.
A T-shaped visor slit. Different from the eye-slit helmets of the Empire capital guards or the mesh visors of the Mercy Church’s holy knights.
‘Traces of the external knight orders that arrived after the curse spread through the capital.’
To someone endlessly groping through this maddening darkness, such a change was like rain in a drought.
‘Let’s see....’
Whoosh—swoosh—
Clang!
‘Here too.’
Clang—
‘And here.’
As he swung his sword ahead like a probe, things began snagging on its tip one by one.
A broken sword.
A dented breastplate.
Sturdy wood. Or bone.
The traces indicated a battle had taken place here.
‘The source of the stench was this spot?’
If a mass of corpses blanketed in curse were rotting away, it made sense for the ravine’s updraft to carry the stink, but oddly, only bits of armor and metal caught on his blade—no decaying matter.
Tap tap—
‘Footsteps!’
Instead, something else had taken the bait.
‘Barefoot. Half my weight. Wide stride, quick movements.’
Movements so stealthy he wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t on edge. If the foe planned to ambush him, best to play ignorant for now.
Ssssh—
‘Scraping against stone. It’s feeling along the wall too. Vision’s just as bad for it.’
Twenty steps.
Clang!
He deliberately struck a sprawled breastplate, and he felt the direction of the presence in the darkness sharply turn toward him.
‘It’s coming.’
Ten steps.
In the darkness rippling like heat haze with his eyes shut, a faint but distinctly different shadow shifted.
Five steps.
Three.
One.
‘...Now!’
Splat!
“Gaaah!”
The sheathed Paringsword swung like an axe smashed into the enemy’s knee. The instant he felt the light feedback amid the thin, shrill scream, a sharp whoosh sliced toward his nape.
Sssht!
Instead of dodging, he lunged forward, letting it graze his neck. In trade, he shoved the off-balance foe into the wall. Such brutal close-quarters wasn’t his style, but against a lighter opponent, it was brutally effective.
‘From the wound, its attack is claws. Or gauntlets with blades.’
Crack!
“Grk!!”
He snapped what he guessed was elbow and wrist, then hurled the arm—and whatever it attached to—far away. The light foe crashed into the opposite wall.
“Guh, grrr....”
He heard it writhing with broken knee and arm.
He waited.
“Urk, aaa....”
Waited more. Until whatever lurked in the darkness reacted.
.
.
.
.
.
“...Wasn’t the warning about making noise meant for them?”
Aside from the groans suggesting a female or female beast, nothing changed.
Darik had clearly said to keep quiet.
He’d confirmed on the way that footsteps or rolling pebbles didn’t provoke ‘something,’ so he’d assumed it reacted to living creatures’ sounds.
He’d planned to toss noisy bait that way to divert it, but the darkness remained as still as ever.
“Grr, urgrr....”
“Then... it’s warning me—the one who came hunting by sound—to stay alert...? Nah.”
Sure, it had ambushed him, pinpointing his location by sound alone in this pitch black, which was noteworthy. But combat-wise, by Empire capital standards, it was pathetic. Single-note attacks, not fast enough to leverage its light weight, and those oddly long limbs snapped easier than expected.
“A defective Mutation Blood that tumbled from above.”
Given the fierce battle between Emperor’s forces and Mutation Blood up top, it fit.
“Grk, uuu....”
“Anyway, thanks. Now I know I can talk. Muttering to myself will make it less boring.”
Just as he moved to mercifully crack its skull painlessly in gratitude—
“Kheuu.... Mercy..... Mercy ple....ase, hu-man.... Kkh!”
He froze.
The voice from its throat halted his descending blade.
Rustle rustle!
He pinned its abdomen and shoulder with his knees, its neck with one forearm, and swiftly groped the fallen, groaning form.
‘Skeleton. Joints a bit higher than a normal human. Different rib count too. Cheekbones, forehead, eye spacing—all slightly off.’
‘Some beastkin I don’t know? No. Even variants like Isena couldn’t have such a mishmash skeleton. The broken wrist is almost healed. Definitely a Mutation Blood....?’
Vision blocked, he couldn’t be certain, but no other creature matched this patchwork of alien yet perfectly fused skeleton, muscle, and skin texture—save the Mutation Blood.
“Mercy.... To this lowly o-one—....”
The problem: these things, already chattering in their own tongue up above, were now clumsily speaking human words too.
‘No way. A named one?’
[Talking Mutation Blood] was the classic nickname for named Mutation Blood in World 3. But the one pinned beneath him was nowhere near named-tier strong.
“Mi, mis-take-, my queen.... Wrong....”
It even apologized.
‘What Mutation Blood apologizes to a human?’
Intelligent ones abounded, but none ever lacked hostility toward humans. Their blood ran deep with ancestral hatred, making coexistence impossible by doctrine.
‘...Hey. Can you hear me? If you understand, stomp twice.’
“Eek, eek, eek!”
Screech—
Flail flail!
“B-broken....”
“You really understand.”
He eased his forearm choke, and it gasped raggedly.
“You a Mutation Blood? Or another race born in this capital?”
“Cough cough! Mutation Blood? Race? Uh.... Dunno.”
“Not too bright, huh.... Then, of the two races fighting up top—which side are you?’
“Left!”
“Mutation Blood it is.”
A small cheer and sigh of relief mingled inside. He’d considered it might be a curse-warped human, but thankfully not.
‘The foe is a communicative race.’
‘No blind Mutation Blood hatred or loathing toward humans.’
A possibility utterly unexpected from a Mutation Blood.
Suddenly, an intriguing thought hit. Tied to the question that arose when he first saw the capital’s outskirts swarming with Mutation Blood hordes.
“Hey. What’d you mistake me for?”
“Urgrr.... Catch fallen Emperor’s men. Can’t let ’em go inside.”
“Emperor’s men. With that skill? They wouldn’t crumble from a fall from up top.”
“No lie! Flowers! No fog here, flowers panic heads up! Slice slice before late!”
“Instinct drives them to seek fogless spots, exposing flowers—then pick ’em off. Makes sense.”
Two facts from this chat: This weakling Mutation Blood’s role was blocking fallen Emperor’s troops from entering the ravine depths.
Meaning some higher power assigned it that role, and something inside the ravine needed guarding from Emperor’s forces.
Black Mage Darik said survivors’ stronghold lay somewhere in this ravine’s depths.
This odd Mutation Blood bore no hostility to humans, inexplicably.
‘...Any more of your kind inside?’
“Yes! Lots!”
“Good. Then....”
Cautiously, alertly, he raised its hand to his face.
“Any like this living together?”
In this place where stench numbed smell and living darkness blinded sight, touch was the sole way to gauge form.
Still unhealed, the Mutation Blood feebly groped his face.
And nodded.
“Mutation Blood and humans living together. Right?”
“Uh.... What? Dunno.”
Even after mapping his features, no suspicion of the difference between Mutation Blood and human forms. It meant they lived together oblivious even to the species divide.
“Your kin fighting up top think the same?’
“Mm, uh, probably? King taught us so?”
Thud.
One casually dropped word pierced his chest.
The question nagging since arriving at the capital.
Unlike past Mutation Blood, how had World 4’s Mutation Blood—each lord practically a separate species—coalesced so massively, diligently hammering the Empire for three straight years?
Smart lords aplenty matched their power—why fixate on the rotting Empire, ignoring vast lands beyond?
‘King. The king taught us so.’
Possible with an absolute ruler.
One with dominance to rewrite Mutation Blood’s ingrained human hatred. Could unify the noble-warlord-like Mutation Blood into one army.
But—at least by his knowledge—Mutation Blood were traditionally matriarchal.
“There’s a king.”
“Yeah!”
“A queen too, then?”
Please.
“Yeah!”
Damn it all.
Its voice, wheezing joyfully just naming her, battered his crumbling spirits.
“Queen Nigmi binds us all! King Aud teaches and leads us!”
....Who?
“King Aud and... Queen Nigmi?”
“Yeah! Mother of hearts!”
“Uh.... Scaly, snake-like?”
“Yes yes! Beautiful scales! Even Lord Bartlan who made me got one?”
Uh,
Uh....
Huh?
The tale flowed naturally to Mutation Blood king—then flipped at queen.
‘Her? Queen?’
He’d heard she survived.
Even escaped that mad Professor somehow.
But her as queen? World 3 named, famed for poison and underwater fights—‘Coward Nigmi’ as queen?
“Shedding-less snake, queen who forsook all! We serve her here!”
The slender Mutation Blood’s voice brimmed with reverence.
Heavens. That craven named Mutation Blood, queen of this vast horde. Named offspring of Mutation Blood queens lacked fertility, though.
And far from hating humans, sheltering and accepting them into her horde.
‘What’s she thinking?’
What future did Queen Nigmi envision?
How had she dominated them, why doggedly assault the Empire?
Why protect humans, fold them into her ranks?
‘...Let’s find out.’
A gamble.
Maybe a trap; follow blindly and get shredded by waiting claws.
No human hatred didn’t rule out personal grudge. Quite the old grudge, even.
But undeniable opportunity too. Counter to that thick cursed host.
Know why Nigmi attacked Empire—maybe even ally?
‘...Hey.’
“Yeah?”
“Before me, any others like me enter this ravine? Wearing that armor, carrying swords like this?”
Clang clang!
Tapping armor with his sheath, the Mutation Blood nodded vigorously.
“Many! Not recent though!”
‘...No choice then.’
That sealed it. Time to test the waters.
“Nigmi. From named to queen....”
Whatever the king bit, or the weird prefix before this one’s name.
He just hoped she’d forgotten old grudges.
Since she’d met—and fled—the Professor.
The one identical to him.
****