70. The Longing of a Fallen King
70. The Longing of a Fallen King
Undead.
These beings—mere moving corpses—only came to be recognized as a threat in this world when a certain transcendent existence revealed itself.
Starting with raising the countless corpses of a fallen kingdom, it extended its influence outward, elevating itself into a "Great Calamity" targeting humanity... an existence more horrifying and grotesque even than the Demon King when it came to the fear it directed at mankind.
"Have you all been well in the meantime?"
As their sovereign rose from her coffin and offered this greeting, one knight stepped forward before her and began to pay his respects.
"Kheuheu, well, of course we have."
The Plague White Knight—Blight.
Though he always adopted a facetious and flippant manner, in this moment his attitude toward her contained what could be called courtesy and loyalty.
"It would be strange if we hadn't been. So long as your authority endures, there is no chance of us ever being buried back into the earth, is there? Those who perform divine miracles may be a dime a dozen, but even that requires sufficient capacity to pull off, wouldn't you say?"
"As he says, so long as you exist, there will be no occasion for us to vanish from this land."
Picking up his words and offering his own respects—Gorgon.
Though he coveted more than anyone and based his lingering attachment on ruling over others, he knew all too well that even this could not take precedence over his loyalty to the one before him.
"Some might call it blasphemous to command this rotting flesh, but they would surely understand if they were to become bodies like ours. That an unfulfilled attachment, even without warmth or reason, is worth refusing rest and waking for, just to see it realized."
"So, Mother of all the dead, feel no hesitation in making use of us."
Following that, War's Red Knight bowed his head in salute. A former hero who had even cast aside his own name, he prostrated himself before her and continued.
"Merely shedding the earth that had confined us is sufficient reason for us to act on your behalf."
Three knights displaying their loyalty toward her.
The sovereign wore a conflicted expression at this sight, but given that they too held expectations toward her, she must not openly display her own feelings.
"...Yes. If you are ready, then I shall briefly read your memories."
The Four Horsemen felt a strange power flowing from her hand, rifling through their minds.
Yet this was merely an act that sifted through the memories they possessed and extracted their contents.
Once this process was complete, without having to listen to lengthy reports, she would not only know the events and details they had experienced, but could also share those lingering echoes with the other undead.
"Sir Red Knight and Sir Black Knight... It appears you have been smoothly proceeding with the dungeon assaults as I instructed."
She felt no hesitation in showing courtesy to the vassals whose memories she thus read.
For remembrance must include respect toward the dead, and that very fact was what you might call the lingering attachment she, a deceased soul, possessed.
"Yes. We retrieved the corpses buried in the spirit chambers and laid them to rest in the mortuary. Under your authority, they shall become our dependable allies."
"We made no effort to subjugate the dungeons that remained thereafter. Foolish humans will belatedly attempt to clear the places we have swept through, but since we have planted your magic in them, anyone who meets their end there will naturally join our forces."
If an expedition party were to fail and be annihilated, they would automatically be revived as undead and subsequently exit the dungeon to naturally merge into their forces.
Humanity would catch on soon enough, and yet they would not close off the dungeons they had passed through.
No matter how many of those inside died and joined the undead legions, the temptation of a dungeon's vast treasure vault was not something they could easily shake off.
"Kheuheu, humans truly are such hopeless things. Which is why we must make them into the dead as soon as possible and recruit them into the university I shall establish, to awaken their wisdom...."
—Crunch!
The Black Knight was crushed by the Red Knight's greatsword.
Turning her vacant gaze from him, the Corpse Lord looked toward Blight, who was cackling beside him.
"Sir White Knight. Your research has also progressed further."
"Yes, it is nearly there. If I can obtain a powerful physical body suitable for testing my research, you will be able to achieve your long-cherished wish more swiftly and efficiently."
"As for that, an opportunity to put it to use will arise soon enough."
"Yes~ Seeing as you have just shared their memories, I find it perfectly opportune. I shall await the time when the order is given. U-hyohoho~"
—Crunch!
A greatsword descended upon the head of the laughing Blight.
His head split in half, Blight restored only his mouth and spat out his irritation at the Red Knight.
"See here, Red Knight, did you get tired of beating on the uneducated brat and suddenly decide to attack me instead?"
"Shut your mouth, Blight. How many times have I told you not to let out such frivolous laughter before our Mother?!"
"And you think it is fine for you to commit violence before our Liege? And you, crow boy! How many times have I told you not to call me that!"
The three knights began to brawl, leveling their blades at one another.
The Corpse Lord, long accustomed to this spectacle, turned her attention to Briton IV, who had maintained his silence.
"...And lastly, Sir Blue Knight. It seems the operation to seize the leadership of the Anti-Human Alliance has ended in failure."
—Flinc!
The eyes of Blight and Gorgon, crushed by the Red Knight, flew open in that instant.
Memories they had been too preoccupied to consciously register until now began gradually surfacing, triggered by these words.
The Corpse Lord's very first vassal, failing a command personally issued by their sovereign? Was such a thing truly possible?
"...My deepest apologies, Your Majesty."
To those words, Briton IV added in a tone of shame.
"Heeding your command, we waged all-out war against the beastmen. But their resistance proved far fiercer than anticipated, and I had no choice but to order a retreat."
"No, you did well. Even though they have died once, all who are revived are deserving of respect... For the casualties to mount in an overreaching battle would be to profane their own deaths."
Victory alone is not everything.
Their purpose was to "save" just a few more beings.
For that salvation, sacrificing someone who must also be saved is a decision that must be made with the utmost caution.
"But while death is equal, life is not. And so for some, the period before entering their rest grows long, yet even in this very moment, the hour of destruction draws near."
Indeed, there is no hope left for this world.
Demonic beasts spawned by dimensional distortions; undead; dungeons... And in addition to vampires and beastmen, even demonkind from other worlds are invading.
But even if humanity could somehow fend all of that off with its own strength, they would never be able to stop the very beings that are the root cause of these phenomena.
Much less those called "Outer Gods"—beings that once descended upon this land but re-ascended and vanished for reasons unknown...
"Thus, in a world fated for destruction, to save even a few more, any stagnation of the plan must be avoided...."
"...You are about to begin, aren't you."
"Yes. Should this plan succeed, we will be able to save many more people."
The goal was to hasten the destruction of all sentient beings, including humanity, before the promised time arrived, and to draw even a few more into their own forces.
Having reaffirmed this far-reaching ideal in this moment, the Corpse Lord quietly closed her eyes and spoke softly toward them.
"With the exception of Sir Blue Knight, the three of you may withdraw for now. I shall convey what is necessary through him afterward and have it shared."
"Yes, then...."
After paying their respects, the Red Knight seized Blight and Gorgon by the scruffs of their necks and dragged them away.
Thus left alone at the altar, Briton IV soon faced the Corpse Lord, seated upon her coffin.
"...Your name."
No, when they were alone, he was to call her Gwen, not his sovereign.
"Do you still... remember your name?"
Gwen Hwibar.
The moment her clouded eyes turned toward him, Briton IV quietly lowered his head and answered.
"I am Briton IV...."
"Yes, you were the greatest of kings."
"A powerless leader who could not prevent this land's decline."
"You did your utmost. It was simply that the calamity which arrived upon this land was something no mere human hands could have managed."
As if chasing the reverberations of such an existence, Gwen's hand soon began to reach out toward Briton IV.
"Forgive me for reviving you in this way for my own sake. Yet if I do not do this, I will end up forgetting you."
"...Gwen."
"Even in a body such as this, I cherish the glorious days I spent with you. If, even in this moment, within the crushing burden of the dead's memories, I were to fail to recall the cornerstone that is you... I would become a monster that has lost all conviction."
"...."
"So even now, I recall you. So that the traditions and history left behind by humanity, even in a world of ruin, and the profound fact that our beautiful life existed—may all be preserved...."
Softly, a frail finger traced upward along his armor.
Eventually, it cupped his skull—devoid of flesh, devoid of blood—and began to draw it toward her.
"...Worry not. My liege."
His head fell forward at the strengthless pull.
At the end of it, against his clenched teeth, he began to feel the sensation of her cold, chilled lips.
"Though even now I feel my very self dissolving into the lingering attachments of the dead, forgetting my love for you will be the very last moment of all."
No, it surely would be.
The only thing permitted to a wraith that can no longer do anything but recollect even its own senses as mere memories... was the single fact that he had once shared a passionate love with her.
"So you as well, do not lose yourself."
Having thus recollected such memories and driven a wedge into her own mission, she laid her frail body back into the coffin and prepared herself for slumber once more.
"Forget not, that the purpose of every living being's life is to leave their mark upon this land. And...."
Even as she felt her consciousness fading, she taught him that love for him had existed.
And hoping it would be eternal—
"And so, seeking to follow those teachings of yours... forgive me for profaning your noble end."
"...."
—Clunk.
Quietly, he closed the coffin lid and for a long while gazed down at it—Briton IV.
Afterward, he bent his knee before the coffin and, gazing up at the open ceiling above the altar, began to retrace his own memories.
"I am... the King of Britannia."
A king. A husband to a woman. A father with children, a leader who strove his utmost to govern his people.
But in spite of all those efforts, the prosperous kingdom crumbled under a disaster that struck without sound, and having entered the path of ruin at last, he too met his death.
It was a life that should have ended there.
Without knowing what those who remembered him might do in his absence to leave behind their own marks.
"It is not just this land that the calamity has spread across."
Even now, a calamity spreading beyond their fallen kingdom and across the entire world gnawed at it, yet no one could be certain they could stop it.
And so, at the end of it all, nothing would remain.
No history, no homeland, no one's memories...
"Therefore, they must be preserved."
Even a little of this world's beauty—someone's life—must be preserved.
That very ideology, having always emphasized the importance of life, was something he understood better than anyone. And yet...
"In order to preserve... is it truly a permissible act to preemptively eliminate that which exists?"
Did they truly have the right to dishonor the living, to steal away their story with these very hands, all in the name of preserving the tales that the living would write?
Was filling the world with nothing but walking taxidermy something that the heavens could truly forgive?
"......Woo Hyosung."
As days where such respect for the dead warped into skepticism stretched on, the fallen king gradually felt this sentiment transform into a longing for the living.
Among them, the protagonist of a name he still could not forget—even that desperate resistance that had surfaced when the Four Horsemen had previously shared their memories—was performed because there was something he still sought to achieve.
"With each passing day, I grow envious of you."
Yes, death.
No matter how beautiful the road to reaching that moment—it could never compare to the desperate struggle of a powerless, living soul...
***
And then, time passed.
The Great Forest, located in the northern mountains of the Empire.
—BOOOOM!!
The moment an explosion resounded at the entrance of the bandit fortress that had established its base upon those hills, the bodies of the bandits guarding the front were hurled backward and sent sprawling to the ground.
"Ke-heck! W-what the hell?! What on earth is going on...."
"Call the boss, right now! We can't handle that bastard on our own!"
The terrified voices of the bandits guarding the entrance. Fellow bandits, sensing their alarm, began to voice their confusion as they laid eyes on him.
"Can't handle him on our own? Who the hell is that guy?"
"It's that guy who's been making a name for himself lately. The Hero Killer, U-hyo...."
—BOOOOM!!
As if spurred by their hullabaloo, the attacker swept through the surrounding area.
Then, clearing the smoke away with his spear, he raised the magical output rippling from his armor and spear and spoke.
"It's not Hero Killer, you bastards. It's Hero Hunter Woo Hyosung."
Hero Hunter.
A veteran adventurer who had spent the past three months across the Empire primarily hunting down those designated as "Fallen Heroes" and, in recognition of these achievements, had recently been promoted to high rank.