Dark Wasteland #3
A [Cursed Marionette] endlessly wandering the dark wasteland, dragging countless coffins behind it.
The group approached it first, intending to investigate what lay inside the coffins.
The [Cursed Marionette] resisted reflexively, but its stats were zero. It lacked the power to harm anyone in the group—and above all, Isabella stepped forward.
"It's all right, young master."
Her hands gently soothed it as she embraced the [Marionette].
"We're not here to damage the coffins."
As the puppet slowly stopped struggling, Beltum and Georgia began opening the coffins one by one.
Kreeeeak...
Dust billowed up like smoke from ashes as the lids lifted. They coughed lightly and waved it away, finally revealing the contents.
"...This is."
Georgia, who had tensed expecting corpses, narrowed his eyes and muttered.
Inside were puppets. Made of wood like the [Cursed Marionette], but unlike it, these bore no black magic runes. And they were far more meticulously crafted.
Their facial features were sculpted with exquisite precision, as if modeled after real people. The one eerie detail: every single one had its eyes wide open.
"And there..."
Georgia frowned at the unsettling figures but focused on the clothes most wore.
The material was unknown, but clearly not simple cloth—tough and durable. Patterns of brown, green, and gray blended together; tossed into a deep forest, they'd be nearly invisible at a glance.
"What is this?"
"Some kind of—uniform, I suspect. Most are wearing the same—attire, aren't they."
"No magic on them... but making and outfitting these outside the academy would cost a fortune."
Too unrefined for a rich noble or merchant's private guards. Yet the material seemed too exotic for a knight order.
Why would such things slumber in the heartscape of Ricardo, son of a provincial count? Georgia recalled the [Cursed Marionette]'s abilities, feeling a disconnect from his common sense.
Ricardo being undead was nonsense not worth considering. So had he truly died and come back? Were these mystery clothes remnants of that 'past life'?
It was absurd. Death was absolute.
"Don't—get fixated on one thing already. Georgia—Professor."
"Professor Beltum."
"There's still—much to examine. Clinging to one fragment in such—a situation isn't wise, is it."
"...You're right. My apologies."
"Let's continue—. The puppets' conditions seem poor—aside from the clothes."
"Indeed."
Some had holes punched through their foreheads—tiny dots from the front, but devastating up close. The back of the head was blown open fist-sized, the coffin floor littered with shattered porcelain-like shards.
Others were missing their lower halves—not designed that way, judging by the ragged tears on the torsos.
One missing an arm, another shattered to pieces and scattered inside.
"Mm..."
Beltum let out a low groan. These coffins dragged by Ricardo's avatar likely symbolized people he'd once known.
Their mangled forms suggested miserable deaths he'd witnessed. And he still hadn't escaped them.
Beltum swung his staff to open a coffin at the procession's innermost end.
"This one..."
No puppet inside. Not even scattered pieces. Only silhouettes of humans clinging desperately, pressed as pitch-black shadows against the coffin's interior.
Even Beltum, who had lived the longest, had never seen such traces in reality or heartscapes.
But he felt a storm of emotions: despair, rage, sorrow, love...
A thick, intense knot of feelings, heavy as the abyss. Who had been here? How had they faded so completely, leaving no proper trace even in the heartscape?
Judging by its position nearest the [Marionette], perhaps family, Beltum surmised.
Weeeeeeng...
Then, a siren wailed from distant [Lost World].
Like a creature's cry from ocean depths, it snapped Beltum's thoughts. He gripped his staff tighter.
"Prepare—. Something's—coming."
Thud—.
As he spoke, he slammed his staff into the ashen wasteland. His mana spread in a turtle-shell pattern, shielding the group.
Isabella layered ice magic, Georgia support spells, forging a sturdier barrier.
Fortunately, it formed swiftly, protecting them from the immediate catastrophe.
Boooom———!!!
Flash. Explosion. A blast swallowing the world erupted from [Lost World]'s center, tearing the black sky.
Georgia reflexively raised his hand; his bones glowed through skin. Only the triple mana barrier saved his sight.
"Hmph!"
Beltum grunted shortly. His staff slam was drowned, but the translucent barrier thickened visibly—he was pouring power in.
Kuuuuh...
The storm passed. The group stared blankly at the massive mushroom cloud rising from [Lost World]'s heart.
It resembled a demon's claw ripping from hell.
Then, elongated shapes extended from the flash connecting earth and sky—like wings.
Weeeeeeeng——!!!
"No way..."
Isabella murmured amid the piercing siren. Georgia asked,
"Got an idea?"
"...Yes. I've never seen it in a duel myself."
"In a duel?"
"As far as I know, young master never once drew that card during a duel."
A card Ricardo had never used. Georgia instinctively sensed it was a dragon card.
[Machinery Abyssal Dragon - Nautilus]. [Machinery Siege Dragon - Gustav Dora]'s successor, the third dragon.
"Sea, land... sky next, huh."
His sigh-like words rang true; the silhouette in the flash gained form.
As if wielding darkness, its body was nearly invisible beyond the outline. Ironic, emerging in bone-revealing light.
Visible: wings vast enough to blanket the heartscape, two legs beneath, gaping maw, crimson eyes sharp even from afar.
Kuuuuh!!
The sky dragon of darkness slowly ascended. Its red eyes locked on the group.
"It's coming!"
Fwooooosh—!!
The black form rent the sky. Oppression dwarfing [Nautilus] or [Gustav Dora] crushed them from afar.
As Isabella, Georgia—even Beltum's knees buckled,
The colossal shape streaked overhead at terrifying speed.
Just that. No attack. But all felt it viscerally.
It was death. World-ender.
Wooooh...
A dirge-like wind moaned as it banked.
Its darkness-shrouded maw yawned, killing intent flashing within.
"Stop."
Crack...
Then, the [Cursed Marionette]'s face carved away in real time, morphing into a boy with ashen platinum hair and red eyes.
"Young master...!"
"Bardi!"
"Don't touch these people!"
Ignoring the calls, Ricardo snarled with unprecedented fury.
Beltum's eyes widened. The unconscious avatar awakening ego? Unprecedented in 80 years; the old professor felt awe.
'A will to protect.'
Despite such ruin, bearing such weight, still guarding his own.
"Begone, Enola Fortress!!"
Ricardo bellowed at the sky dragon. Beltum rolled his massive eyes toward it.
The named [Enola Fortress] stared down blankly. Its camera eye flickered red in the dark—eerie.
'That's his fear and rage.'
Born from Ricardo's depths, this death-form was part of him. The darkest emotion, buried beyond control. Its totality.
Sensing intruders, it had instinctively bared fangs.
'But his will to protect surpassed it.'
Then there's hope. Beltum's eyes gleamed.
Mastering [Enola Fortress] would free him from this darkness.
Clunk! Clunk! Screeech...
The coffins Ricardo dragged shuddered. Puppets burst lids, lunging to throttle, claw, pummel him viciously.
"Young master!"
"It's fine, Bell."
Ricardo endured the irrational violence silently, even stopping Isabella from intervening.
"This is mine to bear..."
Like an ascetic.
Normally, he'd never say that even to her. But now, on consciousness-unconsciousness's edge, raw innermost thoughts spilled—no surprise.
"Don't talk nonsense, Bardi!"
Georgia roared, prying off a puppet's strangling arm.
"No student needs to carry this crap!"
"Professor, but I—"
"Your past doesn't matter! You're my student!"
"..."
"He's—right, Bardi."
Beltum added calmly. His staff pointed at puppets reaching for Ricardo.
"I'd wager—they were dear to you. Right?"
"...Yes."
"Then—do they resent you?"
"..."
"To me—they don't seem their lingering will. More like phantoms—from your aimless guilt."
Ricardo's eyes quivered.
"Think—carefully. Do they truly resent you? Or are you self-harming through their forms."
"...!"
"If the latter—don't sully them further. Bury them. For the dead—not being laid to rest, dragged endlessly... how torturous?"
Weeeeeeng——!!
Sensing its master's turmoil, distant [Lost World] screamed.
The ashen wasteland's edge blackened abruptly; a massive dragon head surged through like breaching waves.
[Machinery Abyssal Dragon - Nautilus].
Rumble...
The ground quaked. A huge cannon barrel thrust up.
[Machinery Siege Dragon - Gustav Dora].
[Siren Tower], [Katyusha Grad], [Apache]—mech beasts swarmed, assembling beneath [Enola Fortress].
Poised to obliterate the mind-confounding intruders.
"Young master."
Isabella grasped Ricardo's hand. Cool, faintly trembling.
"If you can't set it down now, share the burden with me."
Yet her smile was firm, warm.
"I'm ready."
"Bell..."
Ricardo stared blankly, then grinned, gripping back fiercely.
"Prepare two sacrifices."
"Yes, young master."
Her resolute will summoned the card instantly.
"Match Girl."
Soon after entering Bardi County, unable to sleep in the unfamiliar home, Ricardo had recited remembered fairy tales to Isabella.
[Match Girl] lingered deepest for her.
"Please."
Her sole fire-type card, the [Girl] nodded. She lit matches without hesitation; in the glow, two plates of succulent turkey appeared.
"Thanks, Bell. ...I offer these two as tribute to summon Atomic Core!"
The turkeys dissolved into the ground; a dazzling orb rumbled up.
"Return to Lost World now."
Ricardo, standing on the [Atomic Core], addressed the mech horde led by [Enola Fortress] quietly.
"But soon, I'll come myself."
His red eyes met [Enola Fortress]'s.
"We'll settle it then."
He drew a magic circle card.
"Deploy magic circle! Trojan Horse!"
Neigh—!!
A colossal wooden horse burst from earth, encasing the [Atomic Core].
It charged [Lost World] and the mechs.
Then—light.
The flash illuminated the heartscape as the group's minds ejected to reality.
[Enola Fortress] watched Ricardo to the last, as if waiting. Come if you dare.
His fading mind replied.
Anytime.