Chapter 58
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 58
But the girl no longer possessed the reason to make such a judgment.
As if in response, the man reached out toward Lara.
It happened in an instant.
A massive sword strike tore through the space between them.
The air cracked and the floor splintered, the sounds merging into a deafening roar. The ground where the strike had passed was gouged so deeply it was a miracle the entire structure didn't collapse.
The shockwave of sword energy whipped Lara’s golden hair into the air.
Severed strands fluttered to the ground.
“Both of you, stay still.”
As Patrick muttered those words and sheathed his sword, a dull thud echoed in Lara's ears.
It was the sound of the man’s outstretched arm, cleanly severed, hitting the floor.
“Ah…”
Not a single drop of blood spilled from the severed wrist.
Having collapsed onto her backside, Lara scrambled away on her hands, desperate to put distance between herself and the man.
“…You said… salvation…”
“Of course I intend to save you.”
Only then did the man begin to walk.
“I shall cast the silence of the dead over this territory and cleanse the filth left by you lowly insects. You, too, shall live on as one of the dead. Being granted such an undeserved honor is the only true salvation for you humans.”
With every step he took, the mana enveloping his body gradually dispersed. The ‘true form’ hidden beneath the false human skin slowly revealed itself.
Rotting flesh clung tightly to skeletal bones.
The visage of a Lich.
“I am Uhomel.”
The Lich pointed a finger at Patrick. The black energy he unleashed was powerful enough to reach the very edge of the room.
“I am a messenger of Lord Erebos, the sovereign of the dead, carrying out his will from my place at his very feet. I will acknowledge your insolence and grant you an answer. You are correct. Everything is proceeding exactly as Lord Erebos wills.”
“Ah, honestly, I didn't expect this at first. Most people think of the undead as a race that just pushes forward with sheer numbers. I had no idea you’d infiltrate so systematically.”
The voice filtering through the helm was still playful. Uhomel studied Patrick, intrigued.
“O anomalous one. I have been interested in your nature from the very beginning. I also offer my praise for exceeding my expectations and defeating Masham.”
“First time I’ve seen an oddball who praises someone for killing his own ally.”
“Amusing. I have grown curious about your identity. O anomalous one, why is it that you, a fellow undead, do not serve Lord Erebos?”
Hearing Uhomel’s question, Patrick glanced at Lara. Perhaps her willpower was stronger than her fragile appearance suggested; though she was crawling on the floor in terror, she had not lost consciousness.
The girl mumbled through parted lips.
“…A fellow… undead…”
She definitely heard that.
Patrick let out an annoyed sigh. He had honestly planned on keeping the lord alive. In the current situation, she was irreplaceable.
If he killed this young lord, there would be a power vacuum before the next human arrived to inherit the territory. He wanted to avoid any further delays.
And yet…
He checked the lord's expression again. She was looking at him with the exact same terror she directed at Uhomel. This was not a situation he could just gloss over.
“Ah, at this rate…”
I'll have no choice but to kill the lord, too.
In a flash, Patrick raised his sword and slashed diagonally. A sharp shhhk sliced through the air, and Uhomel's remaining wrist fell to the floor.
“Suddenly, I’m in a bad mood.”
His previously playful voice dropped to a low, menacing register, dripping with blatant irritation. Striding up to the Lich, Patrick poked Uhomel’s abdomen with the tip of his sword. The blade pierced the skin, clinking against bare ribs.
Pressing his helm close to Uhomel’s rotting face, Patrick’s eyes flared with a cold light.
“From now on, you’d better do exactly as I say.”
A sneering laugh escaped Uhomel's lips, which had seemed frozen just a moment before.
“Do you truly believe threats will work on the undead?”
“Of course not. Under normal circumstances, that is.”
Undead were creatures that knew no fear. Their emotions were worn down to nothing, and they couldn't even feel pain. Threatening them with physical suffering was impossible.
“But right now, you have quite a lot to lose, don’t you?”
“…”
“As you probably know, if you’ve done your research, I didn’t come alone. And for the record, my companion is a bit stronger than you might think. Strong enough to completely overturn your plans.”
“Intriguing. Yet, O anomalous one, if you were to act on your words, you too would end up harming the humans.”
“You’re deeply mistaken. Sorry to break it to you, but we aren't on the humans' side. What I'm saying is, if we can come to an understanding, I'm willing to reach an agreement without a fight. So, let's not waste our energy on useless squabbles.”
“What is it that you want?”
“The whole truth about this situation.”
“Hooh.”
“The corpses underground, the isolation of the territory, and even the religion. You're going to tell me if this was all your work, and if so, why you did it. Oh, and of course, you'll have to tell me what your boss, Erebos, is plotting.”
“Very well. I shall provide the answers to your questions.”
This time, Uhomel answered immediately. “I like that you don't hesitate,” Patrick replied in a low voice, lowering his sword. It was a display of confidence, a clear sign he could cut the Lich down at any moment without even needing to take a stance.
Uhomel continued.
“Do you know how an ‘Elder’ is created?”
“Don’t ask me questions. Just spit it out.”
“…A Dullahan is born from the lingering grudge of a warrior decapitated on the battlefield. A Lich is born when a scholar of immense magical power offers their soul to eternal magic for the sake of immortality. Ghouls, Banshees, and even Bone Dragons share similar origins. None of them are easily made.”
Of course, it was not entirely impossible for ordinary humans or elves to become an ‘Elder’. However, even in those cases, it required a coincidence bordering on a supernatural phenomenon, or a corrupt hatred deep enough to transcend everything.
They were an extreme minority among the undead.
Possessing strength that allowed a single individual to rival dozens of armed skeletons or hundreds of zombies, they were known as ‘Elders’.
“Lord Erebos is an almighty being capable of creating such ‘Elders’ through magic alone.”
Hearing this, Patrick fell silent for a moment. After a brief hesitation, he spoke.
“I've never heard of such magic.”
“How foolish. It is possible precisely because it is Lord Erebos.”
If those words were true, then the term ‘almighty’ was more than fitting.
After all, it was an ultimate magic capable of shattering the balance between races.
There were not many humans who could defeat an Elder.
If Elders formed groups, and eventually a legion, it was highly doubtful that even the combined military might of all human nations could stop them.
“Then isolating Hastin and creating the religion was also…”
“To create an ‘Elder’ with Lord Erebos’s black magic, we require humans who are physically alive but possess weak souls. By isolating the territory, we intensified the famine to devastate their minds.”
Blocking all solutions to the famine and starving hundreds to death—that alone was enough to break their spirits.
“We gave the humans hope through religion because there is no soul weaker than one that has seen its only hope revealed as a lie.”
“I think I get it. Then what are those corpses in the underground dungeon?”
“They are for mass-producing Elders in the future.”
Silence fell as Uhomel finished speaking.
Patrick thought for a moment. He had originally intended to doubt everything Uhomel said, but the explanation made most of the pieces fall into place.
Though it was questionable why the Lich was spilling everything so easily, the chances were high that these words were the truth.
“…Very well. It doesn't sound like a lie. Now, tell me what you're plotting.”
“We will destroy the Empire.”
Once again, Uhomel answered without hesitation. His voice was filled with solemn resolve.
“Hastin is the optimal location for our scattered kin to gather. Once the army of the dead swallows this territory, all the undead under Lord Erebos’s command will march toward the imperial capital. We will trample worthless villages and capture those suitable for creating Elders.”
By the time they reached Riaze, the number of ‘Elders’ would likely be in the hundreds, perhaps even thousands.
“Wow, that's not good at all.”
Patrick spoke his thoughts aloud. If thousands of Elder undead invaded Riaze, could the humans of the capital even stop them?
It would be impossible. Simply holding off thousands of Elders would be difficult enough, but there would also be hundreds of thousands of regular undead following in their wake.
If the Empire fell and all those humans became undead, what would Erebos do with such immense power? Who would be the biggest thorn in his side then?
The other Great Evil Caves.
It was obvious how an opportunist like Erebos would act. Now that Patrick knew the truth, he couldn't just stand by.
“And, O anomalous one.”
As if he still had more to say, Uhomel addressed Patrick, who was lost in thought.
“Realization always comes too late. < Veritas est semper tarda>.”
In an instant, a dark energy surged, dominating the surroundings. Patrick immediately realized the gravity of the situation, but it was too late. The moment Uhomel finished speaking, the spell activated. There was no time to dodge.
The magic Uhomel used was < Power Word>.
The high-tier magic, < Sprawling Dark Curse>.
A black pool several feet in diameter materialized beneath Patrick. Shadowy arms rose from its depths, grabbing his legs and wrenching the sword from his grip.
These were not things that could be shaken off with physical strength. Every outstretched hand was a mass of dense mana.
“Did you think cutting off my arms would prevent me from using magic? How foolish, O anomalous one.”
“Hahaha. A Power Word… you sure know how to use some impressive stuff.”
Patrick looked down. As expected, Uhomel’s severed arms were gone. He had clearly used the fallen limbs as a sacrifice to cast the spell.
Stepping back a few paces from the bound Patrick, Uhomel chanted another Power Word. From the stumps of his wrists, new arms made of black mana surged forth.
“I can only pity you for wandering in delusion. Why do you think I revealed the truth?”
He immediately cast a simple spell with his new arms. In response, a rotting wooden staff materialized before him.
“Because you are weak and incompetent. Even knowing the truth, there is nothing you can do but watch.”
Mana condensed around the staff. The intricate magic circle indicated that the spell manifesting was a high-tier magic.
“Helplessly falling victim despite knowing everything—you are no different from the humans. Despair in your reality.”
“Just a word of advice, since you seem a bit too excited, but I'm not so weak I’d die from a spell like that.”
“You overconfident fool. Do you believe there is anyone who can thwart Lord Erebos’s grand design? The only ones with even a sliver of a chance, the ancient monsters, go into hiding for decades after they make a single move. Under these circumstances, no one on this earth—including you—can stop my master’s plan.”
Having finished casting his spell from a safe distance, Uhomel extended his arms. Scattered flames gathered into a single point, taking the shape of a sharp spear.
“Ah, there is one thing I forgot to mention. No matter what you do, you and your companion cannot escape our grasp. Soon, the magic enveloping this entire territory will manifest, meaning not even a single rat will be able to leave. Lament your helplessness and die.”
“…Let me ask you one thing.”
Patrick, who had been listening quietly, lowered his head. Ignoring Uhomel—who had taken another step back at his serious tone—Patrick threw off his helm with both hands.
“So, to sum up…”
The helm he cast aside hit the black pool with a splash, sending dark droplets flying.
“Doesn’t that mean if one of those ancient monsters shows up, both you and Erebos are completely screwed?”
The blue light in the eye sockets of Patrick's revealed skull glared coldly at Uhomel.
What…!
Just as Uhomel realized what was happening—
CRASH!
The ceiling collapsed.
Lara screamed amidst the endless shower of falling debris.
At the same time, an immense torrent of mana erupted from the floor above, expanding in all directions with a deafening roar as it was unleashed.
And at the center of that chaos, brushing aside the thick dust, Swallow and Melju appeared.
“Talk about perfect timing,” Patrick muttered, enjoying the dawning panic on Uhomel’s face.