Chapter 5
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 5
"I'm sorry for dropping by so suddenly. I feel like I'm always imposing on you."
"Don't be silly, there's nothing to be sorry about. It's only natural for neighbors to help each other out. Besides, I was bored out of my mind."
With a sharp snip, a few strands of Rene's silver hair drifted to the floor.
Erzsebet Bathory, the master of Cheite Castle—one of the Seven Great Evil Caves—smiled warmly. The hair shears in her hands moved with practiced speed, and with each snip, Rene’s body trembled slightly. She kept glancing down at the floor, perhaps because the locks of hair seemed longer than she’d expected. Unconcerned by Rene's anxiety, Bathory simply hummed a cheerful tune.
"Just as I thought. When the canvas is this pretty, anything looks good on it. The inside of your dungeon was quite damp when I last visited. It’s practically cheating to have such lovely skin while living in a place like that. It’s times like these I truly envy homunculi. You don't even age."
"You say that, but you look incredibly young yourself, Miss Bathory. And your skin is much paler than mine."
"Don't even get me started. Do you have any idea how much blood I go through in a single day just for my beauty routine?"
Rene offered an awkward smile at Bathory's lament. It was impossible to deny, given the overwhelming stench of blood that wafted from every corner of the castle. The foul odor, present from the very entrance, was sharp enough to make one's nose sting. It was the smell of blood layered upon older blood that had long since rotted and hardened into a dark brown crust—a smell that conjured vivid images of the slaughter that produced it. While a metallic scent also lingered in the Primordial Core, this was on a completely different level. Judging by the smell, it was a mixture of livestock and human blood.
Just then, a faded Iron Maiden caught the edge of Rene's vision. No matter how she looked at it, the device was thoroughly saturated with the scent of human blood.
And it was a fresh scent, as if it hadn't been long since it was last used.
"There, all done," Bathory said, placing her hands on Rene's shoulders. A phantom in the guise of a maid brought a full-length mirror and set it before Rene. As the cloth covering the mirror was pulled away, her reflection came into view.
"...Miss Bathory, how do I look?"
"You are the most beautiful woman I've seen in a long time. So beautiful it could steal a soul. You look just like I did in my youth."
"Do I really look that good?"
"I guarantee it. There isn't a single man alive who could reject you looking like this."
"Hehe..."
No words of thanks came. Instead, Rene's shyly blushing face spoke for her. Bathory gazed at Rene's reflection with an equally satisfied expression.
Reflected in the glass was not a slaughter-stained homunculus, but a shy, ordinary girl.
"By the way, Rene, who are you getting all dressed up for? Don't tell me you're going to confess to someone?"
"A confession... I like the sound of that. Yes, I'm going to confess."
"Huh? For real? I was only joking. Who is it? Surely not a human?"
"No. It's Lord Swallow."
"My, you say such shocking things with a straight face."
"It's not a joke. I'm going to confess to Lord Swallow. This time, for sure."
With a look of dismay, Bathory waved a hand. The phantom holding the mirror nodded and vanished. Only after turning to confirm they were alone did Bathory lean in and whisper to Rene.
"...Are you serious? You're really going to confess to Swallow? What do you even see in him? It's hard to find anything good about that man, isn't it?"
"He has plenty of good points. He's reliable."
"Reliable... Well, yes, I suppose he's the most reliable being in the world. He looks like he could protect you even if a great flood swept the earth. But he's so lazy it completely overshadows his reliability. And to make matters worse, his sheer size just makes his laziness stand out even more."
"Yes, he is lazy. And big. He eats like a glutton, does whatever he wants, and sleeps all day. He even snores. He's completely oblivious, and when I checked recently, I noticed he's even getting a bit of a belly."
"For someone about to confess, you're being awfully harsh," Bathory chuckled. At that, Rene smiled warmly as well.
Seeing the look on Rene's face as she held that smile, Bathory was certain of one thing: a girl with that expression wouldn't hear a single bad word about the man she loved.
"So you like Swallow enough to love him, even knowing all of that."
"Yes. I love him."
"Then I'll hope for the best. Though honestly, in my eyes, you're far too good for him."
Turning her head, Rene looked into the full-length mirror once more, then smiled at her reflection with satisfaction.
"Thank you. I will definitely succeed."
Reflected in the mirror was a girl in love. Nothing more, nothing less.
* * *
Riaze, the capital of the Empire.
Though designated as a city, its size surpassed that of several ordinary cities combined. It was an exceptional case—a single city that had economically and politically pressured its neighbors, encroaching upon them and absorbing them until it swelled like an over-risen loaf of bread. Eventually, it had risen to become the capital. Because of this, some even referred to it as a city-state.
With enough wealth and military power for a single city to stand against a border nation, it was the final destination where all culture and riches gathered. The Emperor's city. The heart of the Empire. To put it simply, it was the Empire.
Thus, the finest things in the Empire were all in Riaze, and its most important institutions were gathered there as well.
The Dungeon Subjugation Union Headquarters, which managed countless subjugation squads and served as the hub for all vital information on dungeons, was no exception.
The grand conference room was a massive chamber decorated with carpets and curtains embroidered with golden shields and silver sickles, while flags symbolizing the Empire were draped from every wall. At a glance, it had the atmosphere of a grand banquet, but at its center lay not a stage, but a large, magnificent round table.
Those gathered around it were, without exception, individuals of noble birth. One could gauge their status just by looking at the opulent chandelier hanging directly above the table's center, or the luxurious glass cups placed before each seat.
Yet, the things one would normally expect in such a place—personal bodyguards or coats of arms representing their family's power—were nowhere to be found.
Instead, a chilling dread wrapped the chaotic room.
It had been two days since the subjugation squad led by Bern Hishultz, one of the Empire's three heroes, had set out for the Primordial Core.
Not a single person had returned. The foul energy radiating from the Primordial Core remained unchanged.
The humans, Bern Hishultz, and his subjugation squad...
"...are presumed to have been wiped out."
They had been defeated.
Though phrased as a presumption, no one took it as anything less than a definitive death sentence.
That brief, official announcement was the signal. The anger and screams they had been suppressing erupted from all sides. The sight of nobles, who usually put on such refined airs, screaming at the top of their lungs was quite a spectacle. It was a complete madhouse. And naturally so; not a single person at this table had ever imagined things would turn out this way.
Questions flew back and forth amidst the chaos, the aimless, wandering anger directed entirely at the young man who had delivered the report. As if he were the one at fault, a barrage of accusations rained down on him.
To the question of how they could claim the squad was wiped out when no bodies had been found, the reply was that not even their corpses could be recovered. To the question of whether they hadn't easily defeated the gatekeeper, the answer was that communication had been severed immediately afterward.
To the question of how it made any sense for Lord Bern to die at the hands of mere monsters—no answer ever came.
It was a chaotic mess of nonsensical questions.
In the midst of it all, Paimore du Bellai, a peerless investor who had kept his mouth shut in sheer disgust, let out a heavy sigh. The white hairs visible among his slicked-back gray hair spoke to his immense stress.
Idiots, the lot of them.
Even in this disastrous state, the majority of them still hadn't grasped the reality of the situation.
The Primordial Core was not a particularly large or complex dungeon. While each of its chambers was exceptionally vast, the dungeon itself was not so massive that it would take days to traverse. Because of this, the subjugation squad led by Bern had set out without even a single day's worth of rations. Carrying too much baggage would reduce their agility, which would directly translate to a loss in combat power. It wasn't a dungeon that would take days to clear anyway.
Once you entered, you either killed everything or died trying—all on the same day.
And yet, two days had passed since they entered.
Still, they asked, "How can you say they were wiped out?" Had he really been sitting here all this time, debating with fools who carried birdbrains on their shoulders and treating them like experts? What a tragic age to live in.
Unable to bear the frustrating situation, Paimore rubbed his forehead. Sweeping his irritated gaze around the room, he locked eyes with the young man sweating under the barrage of questions. Clearing his throat, Paimore asked in a refined tone, "Is there anything else that has been uncovered? ...Yes, what of the Hishultz family's treasured sword?"
"...It appears that the 14th Masterpiece, Tanabella, is also unrecoverable. Since communication was presumably cut off in the heart of the Primordial Core, we only know that it is somewhere inside."
"Sigh."
Even Tanabella... This really is the worst-case scenario, Paimore muttered to himself, clicking his tongue.
Bern was dead. The Hero Bern, who was called the strongest in the Empire.
This defeat was on a completely different level from the failure of a mere subjugation squad. In dungeon subjugation, the name Bern Hishultz had always been synonymous with victory.
The two Demon King castles that numerous subjugation squads had failed to conquer, the boiling Agrmund, the ice witch of Undermountain, and even the magic dragon of Tamiel in the forbidden lands—Bern had cleared them all. He was a man called the Undying Hero. Even after suffering injuries so severe that he should never have been able to hold a sword again, he would miraculously recover. Above all, possessing skill, presence, virtue, and humility, he was the one who had been bestowed the highest honor of 'Hero' by the Emperor himself.
Yes, Bern was a Hero. He was the spiritual pillar of the Empire's citizens.
And that Hero was dead.
Where did it all go so wrong?
A blue vein throbbed on Paimore's forehead. The 'symbol' had collapsed. With Bern, the symbol of the Empire's hope, gone, the hope of its citizens would vanish as well. At least, that was how the people would perceive it.
Furthermore, this was not a situation that affected only the common folk. Since 'Hero' was a title bestowed directly by the Emperor, the Imperial Family regarded the Hero as their own property. Their logic was that the Hero existed for the citizens, and since the Emperor was the master of the citizens, the Hero also belonged to the Emperor.
When Bern Hishultz declared he would conquer the Primordial Core, who among them had tried to stop him? Hadn't most of the people in this room welcomed it with open arms? Hadn't they cheered, thinking that Bern losing was utterly unimaginable, dreaming of the wealth and glory that would return to them tenfold?
Yes, we drove the Hero, whom the Imperial Family cherished so dearly, to his death. It doesn't matter what we claim; if the Emperor deems it so, then so it is.
As if that weren't enough, they had also lost Tanabella, one of the 36 Masterpieces that the Empire's leadership, including the Emperor, kept a watchful eye on.
Could any living soul bear the weight of such a sin?
As his head throbbed, the noisy voices echoing around the room snapped Paimore back to reality. Perhaps the initial shock had subsided, as the investors and nobles who had been throwing a fit just moments ago were now engaged in a heated debate.
It was a discussion on whether they should continue the subjugation of the Primordial Core.