The Cruelest Miracle

A shadow fell over Charlotte's face as she kept her eyes closed. Her soul binding with Valmonk had severed. That could only mean one thing.

"He is completely dead."

"Kirik? Who are you talking about-dak?"

"Valmonk."

Even as a ghoul, Valmonk possessed the body of a Hero. Naturally, he was a supreme specimen. A ghoul capable of slaughtering an entire subjugation force single-handedly had been slain in a single blow. Since their opponent was the Hero of the awakened Holy Sword, she had expected this to some extent, but the looming sense of crisis still chilled her to the bone.

"A-Are we in big trouble...?" Isabella trembled like a leaf, her face a mask of despair. She looked so pitiful that if she were to beg for mercy, an ordinary opponent might have spared her. Unfortunately, the subjugation force was not one to be swayed by pity.

"We must draw up a new plan." Originally, they had intended to bury undead in the ground and execute guerrilla tactics to pinch the subjugation force from both sides. The dungeon was vast and deep, and traps were scattered throughout, so she had believed they could succeed if they disrupted the enemy's advance. It had been a massive miscalculation. The Hero's party had detected the presence of the undead long ago. Furthermore, they treated the traps like mere pebbles, charging through the dungeon without pause. The Hero's strength was so far beyond imagination that their makeshift tactics couldn't buy them any time, let alone execute a grand strategy.

"...We must all retreat to the tenth floor." If they dispersed their forces across the floors, they would undoubtedly be defeated in detail. Currently, the three of them were on the eighth floor, maintaining a defensive posture based on the enemy's movements. She had thought they might stand a chance if they utilized the defensive advantage, which was several times more favorable than attacking. However, even that required a baseline level of strength to be viable.

"We are no match for him." The sheer power of the Hero, which she had felt through her soul binding with Valmonk, was completely beyond expectation. Looking at the situation objectively, the three of them could never defeat the Hero.

"Our only option is to make the tenth floor our stronghold and block them at the narrow passage." A last line of defense had been prepared on the tenth floor for just such an occasion. Since the thick walls left no room for flanking, holding out in the narrow, single path would at least buy them some time. They had to hold the line as long as possible and endure until the Boss returned.

If he returns, I will have no face to show him. Allowing the enemy to penetrate all the way to the tenth floor was the absolute worst-case scenario. It meant the Dungeon Core in the boss room would be threatened, and ultimately, the Boss himself would have to step in. Charlotte knew this all too well, but she had no other choice. It was deeply shameful that she had failed in her duties as the Dungeon Deputy. Yet, for the sake of the Boss and the dungeon, this was the only viable measure. She would have to postpone paying the price for her incompetence until later.

"Lady Isabella. When we descend, evacuate the worker insectoids to the deputy's room. Take the vampire thralls with you as well."

"Y-Yes!" Leaving them behind would only turn them into moths to a flame. Using them as disposable shields might buy a fraction of a second, but Charlotte was a human, not a monster. A tiny sliver of humanity still lingered within her, proving she was, without a doubt, human.

"Let us go." They needed to descend to the tenth floor and prepare their defenses as quickly as possible. It was at that very moment.

Crash! Suddenly, a thunderous roar echoed from above, and the ceiling collapsed. Debris rained down as a thick cloud of dust blanketed the area. The dust storm was so blinding that it was difficult to even keep their eyes open. Ptu! Ptu! The three of them spat out the grit that had flown into their mouths. Through the impenetrable haze of dust, a single silhouette emerged. Even in the darkness, there was no mistaking the identity of the entity radiating such brilliant light. It wasn't that the floors and ceilings of each layer had been poorly constructed. It was simply that none of the dwarf artisans could have ever anticipated the destructive power of the awakened Holy Sword. As the dust cleared, Wilhelm stood before them, his Holy Sword pointed directly at them.

"Kieeeek!" The moment he spotted the intruder, Balutak lunged forward. It was the primal instinct of an insectoid reacting to a clear enemy. Unfortunately, his lack of an instinct to gauge the overwhelming gap in their strength would prove to be his downfall.

—! Wilhelm, who had been standing perfectly still, vanished. Not even a trace of his movement could be seen before a flash of lightning tore through the air. Only after a single stroke of light was drawn in the void did Wilhelm reappear. In less than a heartbeat, Balutak's chest was impaled by the Holy Sword. Gush. Dark green blood poured from the gaping wound. Balutak didn't even understand what had happened. Unaware that he had just received ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a fatal blow, he merely tilted his head in confusion. Then, the delayed agony struck, and a mouthful of blood erupted from his maw.

"Cough, kuek! Ki, rik... Kieeeek..."

"A mere insect dares to bare its fangs at me?" As the staggering Balutak began to collapse, Wilhelm did not let him fall. He grabbed Balutak by the neck with a single hand and lifted him effortlessly. It was a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠display of superhuman strength. Balutak's legs dangled helplessly in the air.

Slash! With a single stroke, Balutak's upper body was severed from his lower half. Dark green blood sprayed in all directions as the two halves of his body crashed to the ground. The cut was so clean it formed a perfect, straight line.

"Kirik..."

"Stubborn thing," Wilhelm muttered, clicking his tongue as he looked at the still-breathing Balutak. Flick! With a furrowed brow, he swung his Holy Sword, flicking the blood off the blade.

"Y-You...!" With a wave of Isabella's hand, the dark green blood on the floor rose, sharpening into lethal crimson blades. However, just before her blood magic could reach its target, Wilhelm vanished once more. By the time she realized what had happened, his hand was already clamped around her throat. His curved fingertips dug into her delicate neck, drawing a trickle of blood. When did he—? That was Isabella's final thought. Crash! Wilhelm hurled her aside as if she were nothing but a broken toy. Isabella crashed straight through a stone wall, collapsing into unconsciousness with her eyes rolled back.

"Are you finished casting?" As if in response, dozens of pitch-black arrows of dark magic surged toward his back. But that was all. Futilely, every single one of them bounced harmlessly off his holy armor. Charlotte's dark magic could never pierce the Hero's sacred plate. Even leaving a scratch would have been a triumph. In the blink of an eye, Wilhelm closed the distance and seized Charlotte by the throat. A choked gasp escaped her lips as she struggled for air. Wilhelm's gaze down at her was utterly freezing.

"So you are the necromancer. To think you were a human. A witch, perhaps?" He loosened his grip slightly, as if demanding an answer. Charlotte drew in a shallow breath and let out a mocking sneer.

"You seem terribly upset. I take it you liked my gift?"

"...You wretched witch."

"Wasn't it deeply moving to reunite with your dear friend? It was a little present from me, and I do hope you enjoyed—" Before she could finish, Charlotte was lifted into the air. Slam! Even as she was violently slammed onto the stone floor, the smirk never left her face. Wilhelm ground his teeth.

"I will make sure you do not die easily. I will make you suffer. You will die in agony tens of times worse than what Valmonk endured."

"I look forward to it. And how, exactly, do you plan to do that?" Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut as a sudden, searing pain flared. When she opened them, her gaze fell upon the stump where her right arm should have been.

"Like this."

"...You must be thrilled. Enjoy it while you can." Despite losing her right arm, Charlotte continued to mock him without a hint of fear. Yet, contrary to her composed attitude, her vision was beginning to fade, and it was becoming difficult to keep her eyes open. Through her dulling senses, she heard the approach of numerous footsteps.

"Commander, what is the situation here?"

"It is finished."

"Is that woman the necromancer? The one who desecrated Sir Valmonk..."

"Yes. And she will not have an easy death."

"Did you handle all of them yourself, Commander? From the looks of it, these monsters seem to be executives of the Seven Abyssal Palaces."

"Every single one of them was pathetic. Compared to Bango's Dark Abyss, this is enough to make me yawn. I could have cleared this place entirely on my own."

"Pfft." A chuckle escaped Charlotte's lips despite herself. Even under the glaring eyes of the holy knights, she smirked.

"How foolish. You see the trees but miss the forest."

"What are you babbling about?"

"We are indeed the newly born Seven Abyssal Palaces, but you have overlooked one crucial detail. The origin of this Abyss Palace lies solely within our Boss." The relaxed expressions of the holy knights stiffened. Her words implied that the Boss alone possessed power rivaling the entirety of any other Abyssal Palace.

"Hero of Solari. You are correct. Compared to the other Seven Abyssal Palaces, we are indeed insignificant. However, in this place, the Boss is the dungeon, and the dungeon is the Boss."

"...Your Boss will soon fall by my hand as well."

"No. You will not even be able to touch a single hair on his head. You will die as helplessly as Valmonk did."

Thuck! The Holy Sword pierced through Charlotte's shoulder, its blade stained with deep crimson blood. Charlotte merely furrowed her brow, refusing to let out even a single groan. Yet, blood poured unstoppably from her shoulder and the stump of her missing right arm. Her breathing grew ragged, and her eyelids fluttered as if she were on the verge of passing out.

"You endure pain well. Let us see if you can endure this as well."

Clank, clank. It was at that moment that the heavy sound of clanking metal echoed from the darkness. The knights, who had been glaring at Charlotte, turned their gazes toward the source of the sound. Wilhelm, looking in that direction, swallowed hard. The Boss of the newly born Seven Abyssal Palaces was an irregular Death Knight.

"This place shall be your grave," Charlotte sneered, already sensing his presence. "He has arrived." Standing there in the shadows was the Death Knight, his eyes burning with a cold, blue light.

"Well then, I shall see you again."

"Give my regards to Rosesha."

"I will." After watching Drabule step through the portal, I turned around. Even though it was a dark, dreary cave, it felt incredibly welcoming simply because it was my home. Of course, to an undead, darkness was as cozy as a warm bed, but still.

"Whew..." I exhaled a breath of icy air that sounded like a sigh and dragged my weary body forward. Since I was undead, physical fatigue didn't accumulate, but mental exhaustion certainly did. Honestly, meeting Rosesha had been far more exhausting than dealing with Calandas. At the very least, Calandas hadn't tried to flirtatiously grope my body.

"It's awfully quiet, though." It seemed the others weren't on the tenth floor. I wanted to see Charlotte right away. In my hand, I held a highly ominous-looking black book—the Necronomicon, the ultimate compendium of necromancy. With this, surely I could crack that stoic, expressionless face of hers. Anticipation put a light spring in my step as I began to ascend the stairs.

And in two days, the reinforcements from the Castle of Pleasure's Ninth Legion will arrive. Once they got here, I wouldn't care if the Hero himself showed up. The reinforcements would easily handle them for me. On top of that, I had the Necronomicon right in my hands. Things were going far better than I had ever anticipated.

Thud. A brief tremor shook the ceiling. My neck snapped back instinctively, and my gaze drifted upward. "...What was that?" Either the ninth floor or the eighth. Whichever it was, some kind of commotion was definitely happening upstairs. Was Balutak throwing another one of his wild tantrums? At first, I tried to think optimistically.

Boom! The ceiling shook violently as a thunderous roar echoed. A chill of unease crept down my spine. Thump, thump. I couldn't tell if the continuous, heavy pounding was coming from the ceiling or if it was the sound of my own heart beating. It had to be the former. After all, as an undead, I didn't have a beating heart. Swallowing my rising anxiety, I slowly climbed the stairs.

Crash! The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ninth floor was empty, but small fragments of debris were raining down. The source was undoubtedly the eighth floor. What on earth was happening up there? Ominous premonitions were never wrong. Was it an invasion by the subjugation force? Or perhaps an attack by Calandas's forces? Part of me wanted to run back to the boss room and hide, but that would only delay the inevitable. I tapped my temple and steeled my resolve. Whatever was happening up there, I had to face it. If the upper floors were breached, they would reach the boss room in no time anyway. Whether it was the subjugation force or Calandas's army, they would surely come for me. I slowly made my way up to the eighth floor.

Paradoxically, as I drew closer, the noise subsided. It seemed the situation had already concluded. Instead of the loud clamor echoing through the cavern, faint groans reached my ears. And those voices were painfully familiar. The clicking groan of Balutak. Followed by the quiet, strained voice of Charlotte. The moment I witnessed the scene, my feet froze in place. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dark green and crimson blood splattered everywhere. Balutak lying on the ground, his upper body completely severed. Isabella slumped against a shattered wall, unconscious. Charlotte, her right arm gone, drenched in blood. And standing around her were dozens of holy knights.

Charlotte's weak gaze drifted and locked onto me. Instantly, her eyes widened, and her lips curved into a faint smile. "This place shall be your grave. He has arrived."

Oh, shit. By the time I thought about taking a step back, it was already too late. The holy knights turned their heads in unison. Naturally, the gazes of over twenty elite knights locked onto me. Yet, upon seeing me, the majority of them flinched, and even the few who didn't showed trembling pupils.

"Is that monster the Boss of the Abyss Palace...?"

"C-Commander."

"Hold your ground, everyone. Do not move without my command."

They stood perfectly still, warily watching my every move. But I was in a completely different state. The moment I saw the old man, Wilhelm, standing at the forefront, my body froze. When my eyes fell upon the Holy Sword radiating brilliant light, my mind ground to a complete halt. Why on earth was the Hero here? He came back in less than a single day? A chaotic whirlpool of questions swirled in my head. I wanted to believe it was a lie, but the vivid reality stood right before my eyes.

Wilhelm, who had awakened the Holy Sword, was at a staggering Level 91. His individual martial prowess was on par with the bosses of the Seven Abyssal Palaces. Against an undead like me, he was even more lethal. The levels of the surrounding holy knights glowed orange. However, Wilhelm, the most threatening of them all, glowed a deep, dark red—a clear sign of absolute, unwavering murderous intent.

I wanted to run. I wanted to scream and flee without looking back. But doing so would only mean dying in a single step. To Wilhelm, I was nothing more than an insect to be crushed underfoot. Snapping out of my panic, I focused my gaze on Wilhelm's Holy Sword.

...My only lifeline. I looked around. Charlotte and the others were on the brink of death. The only remaining combat force in this dungeon was me. Even if I blew up the Holy Sword, would I survive? Aside from Wilhelm, there were over twenty elite holy knights. If I destroyed the Holy Sword and bluffed my way through... No, even if I destroyed all their gear, could I win? Even unarmed, a Hero was still a Hero. I would probably be killed by one of the holy knights before Wilhelm even got to me. The best plan I could think of right now was to blow up the Holy Sword, put on a massive bluff, and force them to retreat of their own accord. But if you asked me whether destroying the Holy Sword would make them all run away in terror...

...No. Every single one of their faces was filled with a grim determination, as if they had already prepared themselves for death. The first subjugation force I encountered had been a ragtag bunch of cowards who fled with their tails between their legs, but...

The holy knights before me were, without exception, the absolute elite. Not only their martial power, but their sheer resolve was on a completely different dimension compared to a mere subjugation party.

Whirrrrr— A halo of light began to gather around the Holy Sword in Wilhelm's hand. The already blinding light intensified into an even greater radiance. The space around it warped like a heat haze. As the light of the Holy Sword flared, Wilhelm's murderous intent burned just as fiercely.

"Vile, wicked evil! Today, I, Wilhelm, shall avenge my dear friend!" Wilhelm bent his knees, preparing to spring forward. Faced with this sight, there was no room for hesitation, no other choice. My only option was to blow up the Holy Sword and bluff with enough intensity to shatter their will to fight.

I had absolutely no doubt that the Holy Sword would explode. What happened next would depend entirely on my ability to bluff. All sorts of dramatic lines and actions swirled in my head. I had to pick the most arrogant, intimidating words possible if I wanted to survive.

"...What?" For a moment, I thought I was seeing things. No, it had to be a mistake. The Holy Sword was enhanced? At a mere 1% chance?

"Burn to ashes in the light of the sun!!" Ah. One percent. The heavens had abandoned me with a one percent chance. I was dead. An undead cannot close their eyes. Even as the Holy Sword lunged directly toward my face, I was forced to watch every single detail. Thus, my death would be clearer and more vivid than ever before.

Just as I humbly accepted my demise, the Holy Sword came to a sudden halt. To be more precise, it flew straight into my grasp. "...?" I stared, unable to believe my own eyes. Yet, the sensation of the hilt pressing against my palm was undeniably real. Why on earth was this in my hand? Even when I loosened and clenched my fingers, the Holy Sword remained perfectly snug in my grip, as if it would never leave my hand. As I tried to look around, a lengthy notification window materialized in my field of vision.

"...Ha." The Holy Sword in my hand was now a bound item. Right. That was why it had flown into my hand. The Holy Sword of Solari was now held by none other than a Death Knight. As the notification window faded, I saw Wilhelm staring at me with a completely hollow expression. He wasn't the only one. Everyone in the cavern was expressing their shock in their own way. An undead, who by all accounts should have burned to ashes upon mere contact, was holding the Holy Sword without a single scratch. They couldn't possibly understand, but as the bound owner, I was an exception to the rules. In fact, I was now the only one who could wield this sword.

Clank. Clank. Amidst a silence thick with dozens of different layers of shock, I slowly walked toward Wilhelm. Even as I drew closer, not a single person dared to move. In this space, time seemed to belong to me alone. Whoosh! The solar light of the enhanced Holy Sword blazed with an even brighter radiance. It was a brilliance far greater than when Wilhelm had held it. The gaze of a man who had lost everything remained fixed on my Holy Sword.

"O-Oh God... Why... how..." Thud. Wilhelm fell to his knees. He had completely lost his will to fight. No, it was more than that—he had lost his very will to live. What had been taken from him was not just the Holy Sword. His faith, which was the entirety of his life, had been torn away from him root and stem.

"God has abandoned you." To me, an undead, the ultimate enemy of his faith.