69. The Four Knights of the Apocalypse
69. The Four Knights of the Apocalypse
The undead.
Beings whose decaying, withered bodies still moved—creatures that could never truly be called alive.
Their physical movements were nothing more than their corpses reenacting their own records, replaying the actions they had performed in life.
"U-hyoooo...."
As such, aside from directives from higher entities or their summoner, their behavior inevitably centered around past memories—especially the lingering regrets they held in life.
That was precisely why common undead obsess over the living.
All undead inevitably retained a survival instinct, which instinctively drove them to thirst for and claim the blood and warmth of the living.
"U-hyoooo...."
However, on rare occasions, a small number of undead would emerge who had awakened egos driven by purposes that went beyond this one-dimensional survival urge.
Whether it was revenge, honor, love, or a sense of mission to carry on a tradition.
In any case, a powerful lingering regret that transcended the survival instinct overcame even the attachment to life itself, granting them a purpose they were compelled to fulfill.
"U-hyoooo~ U-hyoooooo~!!!"
One of the beings who had wrought such a miracle was now screaming at the undead assembled in the temple's prayer hall, a sight that caught the eye of Briton IV as he passed by.
A man wrapped head to toe in white leather, wearing a crow-shaped mask.
He tilted his head, chin propped on his hand, watching the undead pray before the holy image with great interest.
"Truly fascinating power. The dead ordinarily think of nothing but their own regrets, so how does this power forcibly ransack their minds and alter even their speech and behavior?"
The Plague White Knight, Blight.
For someone who still carried the mindset of a scholar, to show such interest surely meant that a phenomenon too significant to overlook had occurred.
"Say there, Archbishop. A moment of your time, if you would."
"U-hyooo...?"
Sensing his curiosity deepen, Blight gave an order to one of the undead.
As the archbishop's gaze followed his beckoning hand, Blight wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him closer.
"Yes, Archbishop. I'm speaking to you. I have a question. Could you tell me what memory currently stands out to you most vividly?"
Undead cannot defy the will of higher entities and summoners.
As one of the Four Horsemen, a direct subordinate of the Corpse Lord, Blight's words were absolute to any mere undead.
Even if this figure once held the highest rank barring the Pope, without an awakened ego, he was ultimately nothing but an equal among the dead.
"U- uuu...."
But even such a being, though survival instinct took priority, surely possessed some lingering regret from life.
In response to Blight's inquiry meant to pick apart that regret, the dead man soon conjured up his most vivid memory and gave voice to it.
"U-hyoooo...."
"Pwahahaha!! Yes!! U-hyoooo!! Is that more important to you than your own old memories!?"
Blight burst into uproarious laughter at that answer and slapped the archbishop's body with fervor.
The blow snapped his neck bones, but the dead, who feel no pain, pay no mind to such trivialities.
The moment he was released from control, the archbishop calmly stepped away as if nothing had happened, clasped his hands before the holy image, and simply prayed while murmuring "U-hyo."
"This is truly remarkable. The memories of corpses consumed by our lord's power—a power that can dye every living thing on this continent in death—endlessly repeating nothing but the name of a single human! What a bizarre, common-sense-defying phenomenon!!"
Finding this discovery immensely fascinating, Blight spread his twisted hands wide and began to vent his delight.
"For now, it's merely the reciting of a name, but this trifling discovery might one day lead to a grand conclusion. Therefore, I, Blight, who first recognized the value of this phenomenon, hereby bestow upon it the name 'U-hyo Disease'!! U-hyooooooo~!!!"
"...You're unusually energetic today, Blight."
U-hyo Disease. Seriously.
It was a name that would surely dismay the young man in his memories, thought Briton IV as he approached from behind. Only then did Blight notice his presence and shift his attention.
"Oh, if it isn't His Majesty the King."
Pleasure leaked from his voice.
He placed a twisted hand over his chest and opened the gaping beak of his mask to offer a greeting.
"Ahh, the great and wise fourth king of Britten. Your loyal vassal and humble scholar, Blight, greets you for the first time in a long while~"
"Of course, the kingdom you sought to protect, and its people, all rotted away and fell long ago. Puhaha! Hahahahahaha~!!"
Despite his lifeless, corpse-like form, the atmosphere he exuded was exceedingly playful and clamorous.
Briton IV, recalling the quiet and intelligent figure of the past, concealed his pity and maintained a dignified attitude.
"...If that too is my fault, then it is something I must accept."
"Oh, my, you're reacting too sensitively. It was a joke to lighten the mood. When jokes aren't taken as jokes, it makes things rather awkward on my end."
Chuckling, Blight tapped Briton IV on the back.
In truth, he harbored no resentment toward the one standing before him.
Some might have awakened from death due to such resentment, but Blight found more satisfaction in his existence as one of the dead.
"Well, you and I have always had an ambiguous relationship when it comes to trading jokes. It's rather dull just the two of us talking, so let's head straight to the altar. The others should be waiting there."
"...Very well."
Answering quietly, Briton IV crossed the remainder of the temple with Blight.
Their destination was the place once used as the ritual altar. Now, however, a hole gaped in the ceiling, revealing the gloomy sky in full.
Scattered beneath that sky were bone fragments that had not even managed to become undead.
In this place, where flesh had long since weathered away leaving only piles of bone, a gaunt dead man in a black hood and a heavily armored knight sat silently before an old coffin.
"Haha~ The Red Knight and the high-school grad already beat us here!?"
Blight offered a cheerful greeting to the two dead men.
What the dead man, bristling at that overly friendly attitude, returned was a swing of his longsword aimed straight at Blight's neck.
-Crraaack!!!
Blight's head was severed without mercy.
His rotting body collapsed to the floor, but the dead man who had swung the sword only wept with uncontrollable fury.
"You damned crow! Has your brain rotted so thoroughly you can't even remember my name!?"
The Black Knight of Famine — Gorgon Zola.
The moment his sobs erupted, the mouth of the severed head rolling on the floor opened wide, and laughter began to spill out.
"Kahyahya! My apologies! No matter how much I was called 'Doctor' in life, it seems my memory's grown quite hazy since I've been dead for so long~?"
Laughter rang out from the severed head.
And the body, sprawled on the floor, began to crawl on its own.
The grotesque sight of it moving its joints abnormally to retrieve the head was bizarre, but Gorgon paid it no mind and simply focused on venting his feelings.
"Fine. If your senility has made you so forgetful, then I'll tell you again, clearly. My name is Gorgon Zola! Not 'Gojol' — Gorgon Zola!!"
"Oh, Gorgon Zola. Right, that was your name."
-Clack.
Blight reattached his head, aligning the joints, and propped up his chin.
After a brief silence, he replied.
"Your name's too long, which makes it hard to remember. Can't I just shorten it to 'Gojol' for convenience?"
"Don't shorten my name to Gojol! Not if you value your death!"
"Khahahaha! We're already dead, so what are you going to kill again!? You don't even realize that, which is why you're a Gojol! You moronic high-school grad!"
"Grrraaah!! I can't take it anymore! I'll shove your ugly face back into the grave today!"
As always, Gorgon raged and made ready to charge with his sword drawn.
What restrained Gorgon's actions was Briton IV, who had been silently observing the usual situation.
"Gorgon. I understand you're angry at Blight, but might you spare a moment?"
"...What is it all of a sudden, you dethroned fool."
Gorgon ground his teeth, his glare fierce.
Yet Briton IV simply conveyed his intentions with his characteristic solemnity.
"If there is something about me that angers you, please tell me now."
"What?"
"I asked you to tell me now if there's something you don't like. If there's something I can fix, I'll do my best to fix it."
"...See here, Four-Life King."
Gorgon felt baffled by Briton IV's self-accusation.
He even set aside his usual sarcasm; the situation was just that absurd to him.
"Why are you suddenly saying that? I do always call you 'dethroned,' but that's just a literal statement of fact. It's not like I mean anything negative by it against you."
"But a moment ago, didn't you say you disliked me?"
"Did I?"
"Just now, you said this: 'Don't shorten my name to Gojol, not if you value your death/Death Knight.' As in...."
"What kind of senile nonsense is this dethroned fool spouting now!!"
-Crunch!
Gorgon's longsword split Briton IV's skull in two.
Watching this, Blight burst into laughter, slapping his belly.
"Puhahahaha! Your Majesty, I didn't think you had it in you, but your jokes are excellent! Why, if you've come down from the throne and joined us as a vassal, you ought to get used to playing the Clown like this fellow here!"
"You insolent cur, why are you seeking solidarity with me there!? I am not a Clown, I profess to be a professor...."
-Kwaaang!!
As the three knights gathered and clamored noisily, a crimson greatsword swung.
An ominous red magical power transformed into a sword aura that flew forth, scattering the bodies of the two dead men into dust, leaving only their heads behind.
"...Can you wretches not wait seriously until Mother has finished her preparations?"
War's Red Knight.
To her, who found such commotion unpleasant, Gorgon, having barely restored his ruined body, cried out as if feeling unjustly wronged.
"See here, Red Knight. I'm the victim. This crow fellow here started it in the first place...."
"If you're a victim, you should've at least graduated university and gotten your bachelor's. Ah, but this world is in such a state that all universities have completely collapsed, so that's an achievement you'll never be able to earn for the rest of your eternal life. Pahahahaha!"
"Kyaaah!!! That damned academic credential drivel! If that qualification is so necessary, I'll kill you right here and plunder your doctorate!"
"Do you think an academic degree is something you can steal by winning a fight? This is exactly why you're a high-school grad...."
-Kwang!
The Red Knight launched another sword aura at the two dead men attempting to fight again.
It was a common occurrence, but finding it as distasteful as always, the Red Knight turned her attention away from the two fools and toward Briton IV.
"I can overlook those two idiots, but King of Britten. Why are you playing along with their foolish antics?"
"...Please refrain from calling me 'King.' Now, I am merely a knight serving the same lord as you."
Using the greatsword in his hand as a cane, the King of Britten raised his decrepit body.
After steadying himself, he quietly offered his reply to his fellow vassal.
"And while their behavior is hardly commendable, whatever the past, I now stand on equal footing with you all... As long as our lord has given no command, joining in that atmosphere may well help in understanding them, wouldn't you say?"
"......."
Wordlessly, the Red Knight shifted her gaze away from him.
Where her gaze fell, the two simpletons were now nothing but regenerated heads, facing each other and speaking frankly.
"Crow. I admit you're a scholar with far better academic credentials than me. But now, with every university and everything collapsed, there's no way to earn a degree even if I wanted to. If you mock my efforts to achieve an impossible dream in a dying world, of course I'm going to feel like crap, no?"
"Hearing you talk so grandly, you must have a fierce dream indeed. Why not open up and tell me here and now?"
"First, I'll wander the world and recruit suitable slaves... no, graduate students. Then, when someday I drive all on this land into death, I'll establish an eternal, indestructible graduate school atop it, pursuing eternal inquiry with the graduate students I recruited. That way, I'd be called Dr. Gorgon Zola forever, wouldn't I?"
"Oh, so you want to become Dr. Zola?"
"Yes. I want to become Dr. Zola!!"
"That's a goddamn fierce dream you've got there. Puhaha~"
Nothing but heads, the two simpletons continued their idle chatter.
Watching them, the Red Knight let out a dry sigh and even lowered the hand that had been about to swing her sword.
"Why does Mother keep such lacking specimens by her side...?"
If she had the authority, the first thing she would do was put those two, who stood in positions equal to her own, in their proper place.
As she silently watched them, ruminating on her irritation, Briton IV turned his attention back and belatedly posed a question to her.
"I... have something I've been meaning to ask you."
"What is it, King of Britten."
"Do you... still not recall your own name?"
"......."
"...It may seem trivial to you, but to us dead, a name is something important."
For the undead, who relied on their regrets and lived for those regrets, their own name was essential in order not to lose themselves.
That was why they never tried to forget themselves, no matter the moment.
The names Blight, Gorgon, and Briton IV—the name he himself still used—all served to maintain that identity.
"...It doesn't matter."
And yet, she did not cling to her name.
As if her past, lived through regret, meant nothing at all, she fixated solely on earning the acknowledgment of her Mother (her lord).
"A name means nothing. We defied death and awakened for no other purpose than to fulfill Mother's heartfelt wish. No more, no less."
"...If that is your conviction, then I shall simply watch over it."
As she said, those gathered here had awakened from death for a necessity.
Whatever their ideology or purpose, it was a clear fact that they must obey the words of the lord they served.
-Click.
Yes, the being now revealing her presence in this space was the very existence they served.
The moment the old coffin, left neglected atop the altar, opened, the four knights felt an overwhelming presence and immediately straightened their postures to pay their respects.
"Everyone......"
What emerged from the coffin was a woman with pale skin.
Gazing at them with unfocused eyes, she parted her dry lips and began to speak in a frail voice.
"I am glad... that you have all gathered safely again today. My loyal knights."
The Corpse Lord — Gwen Hwibar.
The being who aimed to erase every living existence in this world and reign over them as their king.