The Echoes of a Blind Hero

Vargore, Rank 7 of the Abyssal Palaces, the Tomb of Faith. It was a name that would make the Church grind their teeth in sheer fury. As if losing the Holy Sword wasn't enough, the dungeon's very name was a direct insult to their faith. Having been branded by the Church, I eagerly anticipated support from the Castle of Pleasure, but even after two days, there was still no word.

I could understand, though. Two days was just a rough estimate; in reality, it would probably take longer. Since I didn't know how things were over there, it was better to wait patiently rather than rush them. Of course, my reluctance to meet Rosesha also played a part. I was uncomfortable around her, constantly worried she might devour me. There was still no news about the assembly of the 72 Dungeons either.

At this point, the probability of either the Subjugation Command or the Church invading was close to zero. They had lost two of humanity's ultimate weapons, the Heroes, in such a short span of time—they would have to be insane to charge back in so soon. Even if they did, they would only come after making absolute, thorough preparations. So, for now, I had nothing in particular to do.

"Kirik! It is the Great Chieftain-dak!"

"Long live the Great Chieftain-dak!"

"Mm. Keep up the hard work."

"We greet the Supreme Boss. Are you on patrol?"

"Yes. Keep up the hard work."

I moved between the floors, inspecting the current state of the dungeon. The insectoid workers were busy with restoration work on the eighth and ninth floors. Meanwhile, the vampire pack was diligently on guard duty on the first floor.

"Balutak."

"Kiek!"

I thought Balutak was fulfilling his duties as a guardian, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it turned out he had been caught slacking off. I wondered why Isabella wasn't by his side for once. Well, she was probably doing fine somewhere.

Finally, I quietly opened the door to the Adjutant's room and stepped inside. I saw Charlotte at her desk, deeply engrossed in studying the Necronomicon. The room was filled with grimoires lined up on bookshelves, a crystal ball the size of a human face, neatly arranged fountain pens, and newspapers and documents stained with ink here and there. But there was one more thing I hadn't seen before.

An obsidian nameplate with elegantly engraved lettering. When on earth did she make this? Despite her consistently expressionless face, it seemed she was actually the most excited of us all.

"You're working hard."

"...Ah. You've arrived, Boss."

Charlotte had been so immersed in her research that she hadn't even noticed my entrance. With this level of academic zeal, she might reach Level 90 in no time. It wasn't just wishful thinking; the possibility was highly realistic.

In just two days, Charlotte's level had gone up by one. Gaining a level in the 80s was an immense leap forward. Once again, I felt glad that I had given her the Necronomicon.

For reference, the Necronomicon consisted of three volumes in total, categorized into Death, Decay, and Regression. The volume Charlotte currently possessed was Regression, which focused heavily on turning subjects into the undead.

"Your progress is remarkably swift. Have you attained some new enlightenment?"

Her pupils, shaped like magic circles, dilated in surprise. Charlotte gasped softly and bowed her head.

"I am deeply honored that you noticed. As expected, nothing escapes your eyes, Boss."

The magic circles in her eyes sparkled. It was a sparkle born of profound, heartfelt respect.

"I believe our highest priority is turning Wilhelm into an undead. To that end, I am currently studying Dullahans."

A Dullahan was a higher-tier counterpart to a Death Knight. Their base level started at 70, and if the subject was a Hero, they could easily surpass Level 80. Even the mid-boss Dullahan of the Castle of Pleasure was a former Hero, sitting at Level 88.

There were three strict conditions to create a Dullahan. First, the target must have been over Level 70 in life. Second, the corpse must have been decapitated. Third, there could be no other major wounds on the body besides the decapitation.

Wilhelm's corpse, which perfectly satisfied all three conditions, was currently kept frozen solid by Charlotte's ice magic.

"Using my mistake with Valmonk as a lesson, I will make sure to succeed this time."

Since a Dullahan was an undead on par with a High Lich, attempting the ritual with clumsy necromancy was out of the question. Even if the conditions were met, the caster's capability was the deciding factor. The success of the Dullahan depended entirely on Charlotte's efforts. But as a Demone who had studied the Necronomicon, Charlotte was someone I could fully trust.

"I look forward to it."

"I will not fail your expectations."

With that, I left the Adjutant's room, not wanting to disturb her further.

So, what now? I wanted to enjoy some personal time, but this body was undead. A cursed vessel that could neither eat nor sleep. Hm. Maybe I should take this opportunity to learn magic like Charlotte. Or perhaps mastering swordsmanship wouldn't be a bad idea either. Setting aside my Advanced Swordsmanship trait, my EX-grade soul-bound item was a sword, after all.

In the southern part of the Empire lay Solarion, a city-state ruled by the Papacy. Although geographically within the Empire's borders, the Pope held independent sovereignty. The city was divided into archdioceses and dioceses, each managed by cardinals and archbishops like feudal lords, making it practically an independent nation.

If the Empire had its capital, Solarion had the Holy Land. In the Papal Palace of the Holy Land, the headquarters of the Church, the cardinals and archbishops representing each diocese had gathered. The reason for this assembly was singular: the death of Wilhelm.

"Your Holiness. This is an opportunity."

A cardinal openly voiced his inner thoughts. An opportunity. Yes, in a way, it was indeed an opportunity.

Although Wilhelm was officially affiliated with the Empire, strictly speaking, he was a Hero directly under the Church. He had died under the orders of the Subjugation Command, and even his awakened Holy Sword had been usurped. Using this failure as leverage, the Papacy could hold the Command and the Imperial Court accountable, demanding reparations. Yet, this was merely the tip of the iceberg. For those who desired complete independence as the Sovereign State of Solarion, this was a golden opportunity.

"We would no longer be a sovereign state in name only. Is this not the perfect chance to be officially recognized as an independent city-state?"

The Empire's stance toward the Papacy had always been ambiguous: We will recognize your autonomy in normal times, but we will still interfere whenever we please. Even Wilhelm's deployment had been semi-forced due to pressure from the Imperial Court. The leadership of the Papacy had long ground their teeth at this patronizing attitude, yearning to break free and establish a fully independent city-state as soon as possible. And now, the moment had arrived.

The Subjugation Command was a core institution of the Empire—a legacy of the Unification War that the Imperial Court actively backed. For such a powerful command to stumble so heavily? Moreover, they had dealt an irreversible blow to the Papacy by losing their Hero. There was no need for further debate.

"Your Eminence, that cannot be."

At the archbishop's objection, the cardinal's brow furrowed.

"What? If not now, then when else will we ever gain our independence?"

"At this juncture, it would not be independence, but mere ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠division. Your Holiness, may I speak?"

The Pope, who had been sitting silently at the head of the table, gave a slight nod.

"The Empire is currently reeling. As we all know, the cause is the newly emerged Rank 7 Palace of the Abyss. When everyone in the Empire is trembling like helpless sheep, what would happen if we declared independence amidst such calamity?"

Declaring independence while humanity's situation was rapidly deteriorating would undoubtedly be perceived as fracturing mankind's unity.

"Instead, we must unite with the Empire. While we could seize upon their blunder to force our independence, we could also earn the Imperial Court's official recognition by proving the Church's indispensable merit."

"A valid point."

The Pope had already been of the same mind.

"My children, we exist for the sake of humanity. Therefore, our independence must also be for the sake of humanity."

At this point, the Pope made his final decision clear.

"The Holy Sword of the late Sir Wilhelm. Retrieving it must be our absolute priority for now."

The Tomb of Faith was a newly emerged Rank 7 Palace of the Abyss. The Church's strength alone was far from enough.

"We must join hands with the Empire to bring this to an end."

A heavy silence settled over the chamber. It was a silence of agreement. From the beginning, there was no heretic among them who would dare voice dissent against the Pope's conviction. The meeting seemed to be drawing to its natural conclusion.

"But to think an undead wields the Holy Sword..."

An archbishop's murmur voiced the unspoken thoughts of everyone present. The Holy Sword had slipped from Wilhelm's grasp into the hands of an undead. And that undead was the boss of the newly emerged Rank 7 Palace of the Abyss. It wasn't just one witness, but dozens of holy knights directly affiliated with the Church who had spoken of this in unison. How could they dismiss it as a lie?

"That undead... could it be Lucas?"

At those words, heavy sighs rippled through the room. Lucas Deontri. The former Hero of Solar, the man who had once harbored the most brilliant light. The other knights had all agreed with the testimony of the sole holy knight who had returned from the Palace of the Abyss.

"T-The Holy Sword's divine power was far more brilliant than even the Commander's! Just like that man from ten years ago!"

From the very creation of the Holy Sword until now, its most radiant light had only ever shone in the hands of one man. Lucas. His awakened Holy Sword had boasted a brilliance that rivaled the sun itself.

"I am of the same opinion. It is not just any Holy Sword, but an awakened one. In all of history, have there not been only three Heroes who managed to awaken the Holy Sword?"

According to the knights, the Holy Sword had slipped from Wilhelm's grasp and flown directly into the hands of the Death Knight. This meant the Death Knight's authority over the Holy Sword was vastly superior.

"But still, how could a Hero..."

"Is it not the most plausible explanation? A mere Death Knight serving as the boss of an Abyssal Palace is normally incomprehensible. But if that Death Knight is a former Hero, the story changes entirely."

If that Death Knight was indeed the Hero, his position as the boss of the Abyssal Palace made perfect sense. For a corpse to naturally resurrect as an undead without a necromancer, one prerequisite was absolute: a vivid, burning hatred for humanity. Even a dungeon core of an Abyssal Palace could not act as a caster; thus, any undead transformation triggered by a dungeon core also had to be fueled by intense hatred. And there was only one Hero in history who had died harboring a deep hatred for humanity. Lucas.

"How tragic."

"In the end, it all comes back to those witches. If not for them, Lucas would never have met such an end."

"Indeed. It is all because of those wicked women, tsk!"

As the topic naturally shifted to witches, everyone in the room began to chime in.

Lucas's execution took place ten years ago. It was also ten years ago that the Witch Massacre erupted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠across the Empire. Back then, there was a witch village hidden deep within the forests of the northern frontier. It was a small, secluded sanctuary where witches gathered to live in secrecy. But no secret remains hidden forever. The moment their location was discovered, the Imperial Court mobilized the Hero and the holy knights, ordering a merciless subjugation.

"Archbishop Kelln. Were you not deployed alongside Lucas ten years ago?"

"Yes. I shared a deep bond with Lucas."

Archbishop Kelln closed his eyes, recalling that fateful day.

"Lucas... was truly a pitiful man."

A Hero does not easily lose to holy knights. Had Lucas been in perfect condition, subduing the knights, ensuring the witches' safe escape, and fleeing himself would have been child's play. Yet, the Hero was defeated by the knights and arrested.

"I still remember it vividly. At the scene, a young witch's mana went completely out of control, reducing the forest to absolute ruin. The magical storm was so fierce that none of the knights dared to draw near. I was no exception."

The only person who had approached the young witch was Lucas. Without a moment's hesitation, he threw himself into the raging inferno. Though he ultimately succeeded in stopping her rampage, he lost both of his eyes as the price for saving her. Taking advantage of his blindness, the knights split up to hunt down the remaining witches and managed to subdue the sightless Hero.

"If not for that young witch, things might have turned out differently. Lucas might still be alive today, living in hiding somewhere."

"What a foolish man. To die because of the very witches he tried to save. You say he even lost his eyes protecting some young wench? Why on earth would he go so far for them?"

"That wasn't a noble sacrifice; it was a dog's death, plain and simple."

It was the height of the Witch Massacre. Defending witches and turning his back on the Empire made Lucas's execution an inevitable consequence. While Archbishop Kelln could not comprehend Lucas's choices, he still felt a deep pity for him. Even now, he could not forget Lucas's final words upon the guillotine.

"Bring the witches out this instant!" Infuriated by Lucas's words, the Emperor ordered the immediate execution of the imprisoned witches right before his eyes. The slender necks of women and children were severed one after another, rolling across the stone floor before being impaled on pikes. The imperial citizens watching the execution dipped their bread in the witches' blood, devouring it greedily. Men, women, young, and old alike threw stones at the decapitated heads of the witches.

The blind Hero could see none of it. Yet, the vivid, agonizing screams and the thick stench of blood allowed him to feel their suffering ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with every fiber of his being. Tears of blood streamed from Lucas's sightless eyes. Just before the blade fell, the words that escaped his lips were neither a sob nor a scream, but a curse.

Archbishop Kelln shook his head, forcing the memory away. To think that the very Lucas who had uttered those words had returned as a monster of the Abyssal Palace... Could it be? The awakened Holy Sword. A divine revelation. It had fallen into the hands of the undead Lucas. No. That cannot be. Though a seed of doubt sprouted within their faith, it withered in an instant. Surely, God would always watch over humanity.