Chapter 463
Chapter 463
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Another Solo Play (22)
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Pffft,
Ziiing—
Somewhere in the holy lower city. A blade fitted with intricate magitech devices pierced through the blood membrane covering the ground.
‘I need to find the path. The route.’
Once the canyon’s darkness lifted, the elite infiltration team waiting with me would set out.
The darkness exposed to the Emperor’s curse would take a little time to fully dissipate.
‘The only thing I can do is find the direction for the mutants chasing right behind me.’
Kauld had sent me alone to test my skills, but he probably hadn’t anticipated this.
As he’d said, the other mutant lords besides Kauld didn’t seem to grasp tactics.
Professor would have become the path itself, but I wasn’t him.
I lacked the brute force, but the ones following behind had plenty.
‘Being a good fighter doesn’t mean your brain has to be ironclad too.’
Observe, judge, lead.
That was my realization in the cold darkness.
-Squelch!
Reaching through a tear in the blood membrane overhead, my hand met not solid stone but a damp, squishy texture.
I poked my head out as quietly as possible, and in the darkness where sight had been neglected, my sense of smell and hearing probed the surroundings first.
Sniff. Sniff sniff.
The blood stench I didn’t want to get used to, and the sickly sweet odor I never wanted to recall again.
The moment my nose wrinkled, thousands—no, tens of thousands—of shrieking voices stabbed into my eardrums.
“....Means they made it in fine, and things are going well.”
The revoltingly sweet smell signaled I’d reached a dense cluster of cursed flowers, and the roar of battle meant a massive clash was underway.
Only after my nose and ears processed the situation did my eyes begin analyzing what lay before me.
My eyes, just starting to adjust to the light, took in two things: a city blanketed in crimson and violet.
“....More wretched than I imagined.”
This was the pinnacle of splendor and elegance, where the empire’s most powerful nobles vied to pour their fortunes into lavish mansions.
Now, it writhed ceaselessly under layers of flesh and blood membrane.
....Thud!
The membrane coating a marble statue of the Goddess of Mercy burst a massive blister, spraying pus-filled blood.
Sssslip—
Gurgle gurgle!
The scattered pus-blood was absorbed into the membrane, traveling through vein-like structures into the flesh mound and membrane.
“....Phew, huuuuh—”
“Huu, cough! Huuuu—”
Holes sprouting over what were once beautiful gardens belted out a chorus of breathing I wanted to erase from memory forever.
The capital’s citizens, reborn through the curse solely to exude life force.
Gleaming jewel rings and necklaces sparkled from within the flesh mounds clinging to ornate buildings, refusing to let go of my gaze.
“All of them.... nobles of the capital.”
....Why? Didn’t the Emperor avoid the curse to protect the empire?
Turning the empire’s high officials into mere flesh lumps?
It made no sense.
Best not to dwell. Like the canyon’s darkness, the curse’s fog would rot my thoughts and muddle my head.
Find the path. Whether this scene toward the imperial palace is good or bad news—that’s all that matters.
Squelch. Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.
Roads, buildings, alleys—all buried under flesh mounds that were once nobles. Those who once looked down on the masses now sprawled on the streets, ready to be trampled.
‘This is good news.’
No knight presences nearby, and the battle noise from behind swelled even larger in scale.
The air crackled from aura compressed to its limits, and I spotted the insane sight of a bone whip wrapping around a collapsing building, lashing out in all directions.
No knights. That meant the full-scale decoy had successfully drawn out the city’s knights.
Sniff sniff. Sniff. Ugh,
‘Good news. Means I’m closing in on the curse’s source.’
The source of the nauseatingly sweet fragrance was indeed the curse flowers. Slicing through the skin-net clogging the alley revealed clusters of them blooming wildly atop the red flesh.
A fork in the road. Toward the holy lower city, still vigorously producing life force as the source of the undead army? Or toward its master, the Emperor?
‘The curse. What was the role of these curse flowers in 3rd World?’
Think, think! Please! I’m no expert, but Professor was something of a magecraft authority!
As the blood stench and flower fragrance, sweet as syrup, increasingly addled my brain, I gulped holy water and desperately dredged up old memories.
=========
‘W-where did you find that?’
‘Grok. Picked it up. In the city.’
=========
Notum had discovered it. We called it luck back then, but now I realized it was her overflowing talent guiding her to it.
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‘A curse is black magic at root, and black magic is just another branch of magic, isn’t it?’
‘The curse or black magic is the dream of a mage made manifest. The difference from regular magic? Maybe just that once you step into that dream, it’s so vicious you can never escape.’
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Black magic. Magic. Ultimately, overlaying the reality a mage dreams onto the real world.
Mea Maria had used the endlessly spreading curse flowers to embrace all souls in the world into her bosom. Without discrimination, equally.
‘Then what does the Emperor dream of?’
Different.
Same curse foundation, but the Emperor’s curse differed from Mea Maria’s.
Maria’s spread without end, but the Emperor’s halted at the capital’s borders.
Those ensnared by Maria’s curse were collected as equally fallen souls, but the Emperor’s victims were coldly sorted.
From commoners to nobles. The powerless became breathing flesh lumps, or a living city itself.
Soldiers. Knights. Nobles who’d cultivated force as one of their virtues—shoved into near-immortal flower-vessel bodies as the Emperor’s chess pieces.
Mea Maria’s curse flowers sought to blanket the world, but the Emperor’s didn’t even reach the servant city.
Thus, they bloomed all the more profusely in the holy lower city and imperial palace.
Pffft—
Huff huff—
Even now, flesh mounds blanketing a lavish mansion beside me heaved labored breaths, producing life force.
The profusely blooming violet flowers—curse flowers—absorbed life force, sprouted new ones, and spread the curse.
Turning the capital’s tens of millions into mere flesh components.
Knights who’d sworn eternal fealty to the unyielding banner of aura—souls rooted in cursed flesh, repeating endless death as chess pieces.
And after grinding the entire ‘imperial capital’ into life force like that, the Emperor’s forces had merely defended the palace passively? Stationing their true might—the knight orders and imperial guards—only around the palace?
Not pushing back the mutants to reclaim imperial territory?
“The curse wasn’t a means to protect the empire.”
The conclusion hit me, and a hollow voice escaped unbidden.
Curse flowers densely blooming around the palace at its center. Curse catalysts collecting the life force they drew forth.
Treating the city, nobles, knights, citizens like pieces tossed onto a board.
“....It was a means to seize the empire completely.”
The capital was the empire’s symbol, embodying 700 years of history.
Curse flowers were black magic that absorbed the power of their rooted spot and passed it to newly sprouted flowers.
If the Emperor hadn’t unleashed the curse seal as a last resort to keep the empire from mutant hands?
If, as the incarnate lord of this vast empire, he doubted not that it all belonged to him—naturally reclaiming it all to be reborn as a god?
“....Ignore everything and charge for the palace.”
Then, Professor’s method of smashing the power sources first was pointless. The flesh mounds and curse flowers had already fulfilled their roles over the past three years.
Countless citizens, soldiers, all knights stationed in the palace, and knight orders from across the empire who’d rushed to reclaim the capital over those three years!
Those who fell short of victory had all become massive power sources, absorbed by the monster that deemed itself the empire.
Squelch squelch squelch squelch!
‘....Good news.’
If the Emperor sought to become a complete being through power concentration, the number of cursed knights would be fewer than expected. Fewer obstacles for our elite team than we’d thought.
Hopeful signs grew prominent as I pressed forward.
Among the myriad paths ahead, routes avoiding combat stood out clearly. Torn blood membranes, crushed flesh mounds, crumpled knight armor—they lined the way like signposts.
‘....The third force! Right, not every knight order from across the empire could’ve been wiped out!’
Some knight detachments that chose paths other than the canyon might’ve survived in another stronghold, biding their time. Just as we aimed for the Emperor while the enemy focused on our main force, knights might’ve pushed for the palace while mutants tied down the Emperor’s army.
Clunk!
A corpse snagged my foot.
Kaaang!
Riiiing—!
Beyond the thick violet mist, sounds of fierce combat echoed. Please, stay alive until I get there.
Thwack—!
....As I struggled through flesh mounds sucking at my feet, the sounds ahead cut off with a brutal impact.
“Guh, gurooooh....”
The knight had lost. Cursed knights’ death cries were always praises to the Emperor.
‘Stay alive. Please, just until I arrive!’
One more alley to the palace front. The open moat street.
The instant I burst from the alley at full speed, reaching for my sword to swing,
“The Goddess speaks: our frailty is no sin.”
A quiet voice flowed in, seizing my ankle.
Clank. Clank.
“Guhk, uuuuh....”
A groan. Definitely the loser’s, but cursed knights didn’t groan.
“....She deems us precious, so we humbly consume ourselves.”
Thwump!
No praying litanies, no corpses spewing that flesh-rending splatter.
Neither the fallen nor the victor was a cursed knight.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
“Once our use is spent, only then does She grant us rest.”
Above all, the voice was familiar.
“Pew, huuu— pew, hwoooo—”
The labored breaths of the flesh mounds surrounding me even now.
[....You know the way, right?]
[Go on ahead. We’ll.... follow soon.]
The holy knight’s eyes sunk to unknowable depths, his voice thick with regret.
[Thud. Thwump. Thud. Thud.]
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud....
The lonely flesh-rending sounds that had clung to my fleeing head.
Like a hammer driving nails into my brain—clear as day—the sound of one Knight of Mercy fulfilling his duty.
I moved toward that memory, praying my horrific imaginings remained just that.
A thick bloody scent wafted from the dense mist ahead.
A headless man.
A man with arms and legs torn off.
A man impaled on a broken flag,
A man bisected, sword still gripped in staring death.
The common thread: all pulverized to the point their entire bodies clung to the ground.
Thwump—
The wet striking sounds paused, sensing my presence.
“Huu, pew hoo—”
“Cough, huuuu—”
Flesh mounds wheezed labored breaths into the mist.
Beyond it loomed a sturdy frame.
Armor once pristine, now caked in blood, filth, and oil beyond recognition.
And.
....Drip. Drip.
A clearing where human, building, flesh—anything breathing had been crushed to stillness, exceptionally silent around him.
“....Latura.”
The disheveled hair and armor, the mace dripping blood from its tip—the monster recited his litany in a voice I knew.
“....Frauk.”
The Knight of Mercy. The one who should’ve died alone in the temple was massacring at the palace gates.
Crushing Emperor’s forces, knights, mutants—without distinction.
Though brief, the emotions shared with this knight who’d remained purely human to the end weren’t few. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I asked.
A smart mind was a curse sometimes. Mountains of questions, but I instantly knew all but one were meaningless.
“....Need a hand?”
Severed joints, burst muscles, eyelids torn away exposing full whites, mouth ceaselessly murmuring prayers.
He who might’ve slain with his own hands the knights who came this far with him stared at me a moment, then spoke.
“....Mercy.”
“Yeah.”
I gripped my sword, aiming it at him.
Siiiip—
....Huuu.
I exhaled the lingering emotions with a sigh.
“Uwaaaaaaaaah!!!!!”
That faint breath set the mad holy knight charging.
Kwaaaang!
Unimaginable strength from his shattered body ravaged the clearing he’d made.
What Frauk thought, or I who faced him—I had no idea.
“Aaaaaah—Laturaaaaaah!!!!”
“....Latura.”
The words on our lips matched.
Likely, our thoughts too.
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