Chapter 56
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 56
Simon didn’t raise his head until the monster birds had scattered and vanished into the night sky, leaving nothing but emptiness before him.
‘I shall leave it to your judgment...’
If one thing weighed on his mind, it was the intruder’s identity. However, Simon was a gatekeeper who held Erebos’s absolute trust.
When he had crossed blades with the man, he had panicked for a moment, thinking of that monster. But that was impossible. There was no way that monster could be here.
And unless the intruder was a monster of that caliber, there was nothing they could do.
The plan was on such a massive scale that no one could interfere. Left alone, Simon felt a thrill of anticipation.
Everything on the surface—even the darkness blanketing the sky—would soon belong to the dead. Before long, the undead would reign over all under the rule of the Undead King.
“Our Lord.”
I shall not disappoint you.
*
A dark blue silhouette slipped into the castle, unseen by the guards.
Hiding behind a tree in the garden, Patrick scanned his surroundings before taking a breath.
Having been here twice already, he had a good grasp of the castle’s layout.
The internal security was surprisingly lax. As long as he muffled his footsteps and stuck to the paths he knew, he encountered no real trouble.
‘Now, where should I start investigating?’
If Patrick’s hunch was correct, most of the clues were hidden somewhere inside the castle. He intended to find them.
During the day, he had learned the Lord’s identity and confirmed the existence of a suspicious man. Tonight, his goals were to find the food storehouse and uncover that man’s identity.
If he could determine the amount of food available, he could roughly estimate how long the Lord intended to hold out in the castle.
If necessary, he could even steal the food to provide relief for the residents of Hastin, playing the part of a righteous thief.
Of course, the most important task was to identify the suspicious man.
By investigating the man lurking behind the Lord, he could finally determine whether he was a Necromancer or an undead.
Patrick muffled his footsteps, gripped the balcony railing, and climbed to the second floor. According to the layout, the second floor had the most rooms, so he planned to start his search there.
He first headed toward the most secluded area of the second floor.
It was when he was halfway to his destination that he smelled that scent again.
“……”
Patrick silently turned his head, looking outside.
Peering down from the railing, he saw the spot where he had landed to avoid the maid on the night he first arrived in Hastin.
It was also where that scent was coming from.
The entrance to the dungeon.
The smell stirred his undead instincts, and Patrick slightly adjusted his helm.
It was thick.
The nauseating stench of rotting corpses wafting from below was definitely much thicker than when he had first smelled it.
‘I brushed it off the first time I smelled it, but...’
There was a pit outside the castle walls where corpses were gathered, piled so high they formed a small mountain.
Didn't that sight speak volumes about the situation in Hastin? In this village, a human dying was no longer a significant event.
With the residents' corpses piling up like mountains, was it likely the prisoners in the dungeon would be spared?
Besides, a dungeon was bound to be the pinnacle of filth and poor hygiene, so the smell of corpses was an entirely natural phenomenon.
Anyone, not just Patrick, would have thought the same.
‘Logically, there’s nothing wrong with the situation, but...’
There was no other specific reason.
The smell was simply too thick.
To the point of being bothersome.
‘Curiosity isn’t always a good thing.’
After agonizing over it for a long moment, Patrick finally looked up.
The moon had not yet crossed the mountains. There was still some time before it set and the sky turned red with the dawn.
“...Stopping by for a moment won't cause any problems.”
After muttering to himself, Patrick made his decision and leaped lightly from the railing.
When he landed before the dungeon entrance, filth splashed in all directions, just like last time. Patrick frowned slightly, detesting the grime on his armor.
After staring into the darkness beyond, he pushed open the closed door.
It swung open easily with the screech of rusting iron.
It looked blatantly suspicious, as if someone had visited not too long ago.
From the entrance, Patrick was greeted by pitch-black darkness without a single speck of light.
Even the candles that should have been burning on both sides of the stairs were extinguished, covered in a layer of dust.
Why aren't the entrance lights lit? With a flicker of suspicion, he quickened his pace, reaching the bottom of the stairs in less than twenty seconds.
The dungeon was shallower than he had expected.
If not for the winding spiral staircase, daylight might have reached this far down.
“The structure is simpler than I thought.”
The first thing that caught his eye was an underground waterway.
The water flowing through the channel wasn't just dirty; it was completely putrid.
...Even though it was flowing, it was saturated with the scent of the dead.
The playfulness vanished from Patrick’s face as he took in the scene.
Severed human body parts were being swept away by the current. As he followed the waterway with his eyes, he began to hear a rhythmic, dull thud, thud sound.
Patrick looked straight ahead.
Something was there, far off in the darkness.
The moment he realized this, he walked forward. Every single cell door was open, the iron bars twisted as if someone had forcibly broken them.
Naturally, the cells were empty. As for where the prisoners had gone, some were now floating in the waterway. The rest... were up ahead.
“There sure are a hell of a lot of them. No wonder the smell is so bad.”
He spoke to the entity before him, but no answer came. Patrick chuckled.
“I knew I was right.”
All the clues were right here in the castle.
*
He took in the sight before him.
Dozens of corpses were arranged at regular intervals on a massive table.
Every single one of them had their limbs severed.
Thud. Thud.
Hearing the dull sound from beyond the table, Patrick spoke in a voice tinged with nostalgia.
“...It’s been a while since I’ve seen a Cleaver.”
The dull sound echoing through the dungeon was the sound of meat being struck by a large butchering knife—a Cleaver.
Patrick walked forward, his gaze fixed on the creature busily swinging the blade.
At the same time, the two oozing eyeballs of the massive undead holding the Cleaver, a Butcher, turned toward Patrick with a squelching sound.
Butchers had low intelligence. Furthermore, its body was heavily mangled. It was more accurate to say it was moving under someone’s forced command rather than its own will.
“Sorry to interrupt your work, but who is your master?” Patrick asked. Of course, he didn't expect an answer.
Reacting to his voice, the Butcher stopped what it was doing and moved its massive frame. It raised an arm as thick as an average person’s thigh.
Instead of an answer, the Butcher swung the Cleaver down at him.
The blade, driven by the creature’s immense weight, sliced through the air with a heavy whoosh! It was a ponderous blow that certainly lived up to the creature's size, but that was all.
There was no way he would be hit by such a sluggish attack.
He dodged the Cleaver with minimal movement, but a second strike immediately flew toward his chest.
Clang.
This time, there was no need to dodge.
The massive blade of the Cleaver was caught helplessly between Patrick’s two fingers.
The Butcher’s body began to tremble as it strained to pull the Cleaver back. Watching with an expressionless face, Patrick’s thoughts raced.
‘The fact that they’re openly doing this in the castle’s dungeon means the situation in Hastin is definitely linked to the undead. The man behind the Lord is undoubtedly involved, and the Lord himself is almost certainly an accomplice.’
This meant there was no longer any reason to act covertly, worrying about worst-case scenarios.
A little digging into the Lord or the man would immediately reveal the truth.
‘Once I’ve properly assessed the situation, I’ll have to report to the Boss immediately.’
Having finished his thoughts, Patrick released his grip on the Cleaver.
He had no intention of wasting time on a low-ranking undead that had nothing to offer.
When Patrick let go, the Butcher, which had been pulling with all its might, couldn't overcome its own momentum and tumbled forward.
Looking around, Patrick picked up another Cleaver that was lying on the table. He was just about to strike the Butcher’s neck.
In that split second.
A dense, dark energy poured down from above.
By the time he looked up, an enemy that had dropped from the ceiling was already right in front of him.
Reflexively, Patrick swung the Cleaver. The assailant swung a sword down to meet it.
Their gazes locked in the instant before the blades met.
Following that fleeting moment, the two swords collided.
Klang!
A sharp, screeching impact, like a scream, rang out.
Sparks flew from the point of contact along with the grating sound of steel on steel.
The unexpected force of the impact vibrated through his fingertips and into his very armor.
Having exchanged a single blow, Patrick and the enemy withdrew their blades simultaneously.
The second strike followed immediately.
Once again, the sword’s scream echoed. This time, Patrick was pushed back several steps.
The impact on the blade was exceptionally severe. When he checked the Cleaver he was holding, it was badly chipped.
—After only two attacks.
“You’re strong.”
Patrick looked at the enemy, his voice filled with pure admiration, not a hint of mockery.
As he had confirmed when their gazes crossed, the enemy was a knight.
A knight clad in ink-black armor, wielding a massive sword, and exuding a powerful aura of the undead.
There was no helmet, nor a head, visible above the armor.
‘A Dullahan... I see.’
Furthermore, it wasn't an ordinary Dullahan.
Patrick had been reasonably serious during those two attacks; if the opponent had been an ordinary Dullahan, it would have been overwhelmed, likely smashed into the wall behind it by the first blow alone.
Above all, the evil spirits clinging to the Dullahan’s sword were a testament to its strength.
Even before the contest of strength, the difference in their weapons was too great. The Evil Sword held by the Dullahan possessed the power to corrode an opponent’s blade.
“Just what on earth are you preparing?” Patrick asked, pointing at the corpses.
If an ‘Elder’ entity, which could easily serve as a dungeon boss, was guarding a place like this, the scale of the operation was much larger than he had anticipated.
...Who was behind this?
Why target Hastin of all places, and why were they ‘eroding’ the village instead of ‘invading’ it?
“I’ll have to ask the Lord everything as soon as I see him.”
While Patrick organized his thoughts, the Dullahan took its stance again and lunged. The evil spirits clinging to its sword let out cackling, mocking laughter that shook the dungeon.
‘Getting cut by a sword like that would certainly hurt quite a bit.’
In that case, all he had to do was not get cut.
Patrick’s eyes glowed as he watched the Dullahan charge.
Low-level magic: 〈Glide Panel〉.
The simple spell created nothing more than a slippery surface on the ground.
Lowering his stance, Patrick stepped onto the panel and smoothly ducked.
Perhaps unable to follow the unexpected maneuver, the Dullahan’s sword sliced through empty air.
Gracefully circling behind the Dullahan, Patrick immediately turned and swung his Cleaver. The Dullahan, having already recovered its posture, also turned and swung its sword with full force.
Once again, two full-power attacks collided.
—But this time, the sound of the collision was different.
Weak Sword: Forceful Cut.
The sound of bending steel and a momentary flash filled the dungeon. A massive shockwave paralyzed the Dullahan’s body, stopping it in its tracks.
It was a brief moment, lasting less than a second.
Tossing aside the shattered Cleaver, Patrick drove his elbow down into the Dullahan.
His target was its wrist.
Struck squarely, the Dullahan dropped its sword.
It moved simultaneously to snatch the weapon back, but it was already too late.
Patrick snatched the sword first and raised it high. The Dullahan couldn't even follow the sequence of events before he brought it swinging down.
‘There’s no point in dragging out a disadvantageous situation. So...’
“I’ll settle this quickly.”
He swung the sword.
Greatsword Taechuk.
Everything in a straight line was cleaved apart.