Chapter 82
Chapter 82
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: Trust in the Darkness
-----------------------------------------------------------------
No answer came. However, the black dolls slowly stirred and closed in.
“D-dear.”
Henri’s voice trembled as he called out to Evelyn. Even someone as lacking in imagination as him could tell what those things were.
“Grraaah.”
“Grrraaah.”
“Th-the corpses!”
They entered the range of the torchlight. They were corpses. Unlike the ones seen underground, these zombies reeked of decay as they shambled forward, emitting a foul stench.
Evelyn didn’t retch once as she tallied the items she had gathered. One bottle of holy water remained. Only three black swords left.
She glanced at her husband, frozen in fear at the sight of the zombies, and made her decision.
“Dear.”
“Y-yes?”
Evelyn tossed the torch aside and uncorked the bottle, splashing its contents over her husband. The sudden cold water snapped Henri to his senses.
“You’ll be safe until the water dries. I’ll handle this quickly.”
The zombies were almost upon them. Evelyn hurled one sword behind the zombies and gripped another, swinging it immediately.
The blade tip traced a semicircle. There were no constraints for her like difficulty swinging a sword in a narrow corridor. Instead, she used the tight space to her advantage, single-handedly blocking one passage and holding back the surging zombies.
“Eek!”
But Henri let out a startled gasp at the sight of white hand bones rising from the floor.
The grotesque sight of the skeletal hands flailing about as if searching for living flesh was horrifying.
Holy water might block zombies controlled by black magic, but it couldn’t dispel illusions conjured from outside.
Evelyn wasn’t fazed by the situation, so no mere illusion could invade her mind. But Henri was different.
Amid the constant sounds of flesh being sliced and something being crushed, maintaining sanity was no easy task.
He was already gripped by fear, making him even more susceptible to hallucinations.
Henri’s teeth chattered loudly, and Evelyn noticed her husband’s state.
“Dear, there’s no need to be afraid. The Lord is protecting us.”
Her voice rang out clear and bright in the dark corridor.
Henri took a deep breath.
He believed in the existence of God, but not in divine salvation. It was doctors, not gods or priests, who saved the sick.
No matter how much the ill prayed, God didn’t perform miracles.
‘But…….’
In a trembling voice, Henri uttered those words.
“I believe in you.”
He didn’t believe in a God who wouldn’t appear. But he couldn’t help believing in his wife, struggling valiantly in the darkness.
The long mistrust that had begun with doubts about whether Rachel was truly his daughter came to an end. All suspicions had stemmed from his own mind—Henri resolved never to doubt his wife’s words again.
Only then could Henri calm down. Looking around carefully, he saw nothing near the torch Evelyn had thrown behind them.
“Hoo. Hoo.”
Henri lifted his heels to avoid the hand bones and moved toward the torch. Lifting it illuminated his feet, and the white bones vanished. The hand bones had been hallucinations.
Evelyn’s words were true—darkness made one prone to illusions.
“I am the weak one.”
Henri gripped the torch pole tightly and murmured.
Henri was an ordinary man who had never encountered monsters or bandits from the borderlands.
Facing monsters suddenly wouldn’t suddenly fill him with courage.
Yet the one fighting those monsters was none other than his beloved wife. He mustered courage he didn’t know he had and walked toward where his wife was battling.
Chunks of rotten flesh writhed on the floor, chopped to pieces. The vomit-inducing sight made Henri want to turn away, but he held up the torch to light the path ahead.
Evelyn’s sword didn’t stop. It gleamed crimson in the torchlight, severing zombies’ upper and lower bodies. The separated torsos piled up on the floor, wriggling, but Evelyn crushed their skulls with her heel. Rotten brains splattered, but she paid it no mind, smashing other heads and fingers.
Watching her mechanical, waterwheel-like motions repeat, Henri realized the zombies were slower than they appeared.
He even sneered inwardly at himself for trembling in fear based on their looks alone.
“Evelyn, I’ll handle the hands.”
Swinging the sword once more would help them escape faster than wasting time stomping them.
Henri made a quick judgment and burned a zombie’s hand with the torch.
The hand touching the flame stopped moving. Evelyn confirmed it and readjusted her grip on the sword.
“Then I’ll leave it to you.”
After that, Evelyn focused solely on swinging her sword. She kicked heads to prevent bites and left the hands to Henri.
As Henri burned zombie hands, he heard someone retreating from the far end of the corridor.
“Someone’s heading that way right now!”
“The culprit behind this is escaping.”
The number of zombies wasn’t infinite. It seemed the black sorcerer had judged he couldn’t stop Evelyn and Henri with them and had begun fleeing.
“Shouldn’t we catch him?”
“It’s fine.”
Rachel had tasked her with rescuing Henri.
Evelyn suppressed the urge to chase the black sorcerer and finished off the remaining zombies.
“I hear water sounds from over there. Let’s get out now.”
Perhaps the black sorcerer had opened an exit while escaping—rain sounds began to pour in. Only then did Evelyn tightly grasp Henri’s hand and head outside.
The exit connected to the building opposite the one they had entered.
When Evelyn and Henri emerged, it was dark outside. Henri clasped his hands in joy despite the pouring rain.
“We escaped alive!”
At Henri’s cheer, the clank of metal sounded. Henri tensed, thinking pursuers had come, but a silver-haired youth appeared leading a small group of knights.
“Lady Evelyn!”
“He got away.”
Evelyn, meeting Enoch, let out those words like a sigh.
“A black sorcerer just slipped out of here.”
At Evelyn’s explanation, Enoch looked around. But it was already too late.
***
Soldiers and knights in silver armor surrounded the building.
Rachel watched the scene from the carriage before turning her head.
Across from her sat Henri, wrapped in a blanket, and Evelyn hugging him tightly.
“There was a black sorcerer?”
“Yes. But we were too busy escaping to catch him.”
“That’s fine. I was surprised you were this prepared.”
Rachel bit her thumbnail. An unexpected big fish had been here.
‘The one who ambushed me with Crowe before.’
Abyss, who had come with her, clenched his fist so hard veins bulged.
From the mention of controlling dozens of corpses, he guessed the opponent was the black sorcerer he sought.
‘I didn’t know they were this closely connected!’
The information guild had searched relentlessly but couldn’t uncover his identity, so Abyss assumed he was deeply hidden. He never imagined he’d personally target Henri, who had only recently become a baron.
“Anything else you remember?”
At Rachel’s question, Henri rolled his eyes.
“Th-that Viscount Noema called him Hel.”
“Hel. Hel.”
“And his accent was quite aristocratic. I suspect he was raised in an old noble house as a child.”
Even using the same letters and language, differences in region and status led to variations in vocabulary and accent. Though brief, Henri had heard Hel’s speech and thought him the scion of a historic noble family.
The rest matched the information learned through Le Keia.
“We’ll have to capture Viscount Noema and interrogate him.”
Outside the carriage, knights began moving. Only after soldiers sealed the area so not even a rat could escape did the knights enter the club.
The Silver Knight Order, led by Enoch and composed of temple knights, were unmatched against black magic.
Even if moving corpses remained and attacked, they faced no danger.
Arresting the people inside ended swiftly. Viscount Noema was dragged out by soldiers.
“Multiple bodies were found inside the building.”
“Some are known missing persons from the capital…….”
“Traces of black magic…….”
Soldiers’ reports continued. Enoch examined each captured individual.
Rachel and Abyss stepped down from the carriage to check their faces. Doctors, judges, mathematicians, poets, philosophers—even theologians. People from diverse professions.
They were well-educated and could wield significant societal influence.
Why they were drawn to black magic was unknown, but left alone, they would have greatly aided Damian in becoming king.
Abyss approached Viscount Noema and grabbed his collar. The viscount, hands bound and kneeling, was seized by Abyss.
“I know one black sorcerer escaped. Who is he?”
“Black sorcerer? We merely held a salon gathering. I have no idea why the Silver Knight Order is persecuting us.”
Viscount Noema said this while glancing at Enoch.
“Your Highness the Fourth Prince, have we offended you?”
Viscount Noema denied it from the start. The captured were influential figures in various fields. It seemed he intended to deflect and tarnish Enoch’s reputation.
“Don’t make me laugh! With black magic traces reeking from the building, do you think that excuse will fly?”
“Black magic traces? How would we know about such things? It could be the Silver Knight Order’s fabrication.”
“Multiple bodies were found. People previously reported missing from the capital.”
“I know nothing about it.”
Even at Enoch’s words, Viscount Noema deflected.
“I’ll make you confess!”
Abyss pulled something from his bosom. Rachel recognized it.
‘Truth serum. He must have gotten it from Carian somehow.’
The drug she had once force-fed to make someone spill nonsense.
Abyss, urgency overtaking him, tried to shove it straight into Viscount Noema’s mouth.
The viscount seemed to know what it was and clamped his mouth shut.
“Open your mouth!”
“Mmph!”
Abyss forcibly pried open the viscount’s clenched mouth. He poured in the drug, then pressed his head and jaw to prevent spitting.
“Swallow!”
Finally, Viscount Noema’s throat bobbed. Only then did Abyss release him and press.
“What’s the black sorcerer’s identity? Which family is he from!”
But Viscount Noema gave no answer. The moment Abyss’s hand lifted, he had bitten down hard on his own tongue, severing it.
The partially severed tongue dangled. Despite the pain, Viscount Noema gurgled laughter from his throat. His garbled speech made any response unintelligible.
“You mad bastard!”
Enoch shoved the furious Abyss aside and infused divine power into Viscount Noema. His tongue reattached.
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“To fulfill Lamia’s wish!”
Everyone froze at those words. Lamia—she was the name of the former First Queen who had died.
The woman who died alongside the crown prince and was also Enoch’s mother.