Chapter 70
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 70
Was this salvation just the groundwork for his own exploitation? Was that all it was?
The thought sent a deathly pallor across Lara’s face. The aura radiating from the skeletal knight before her was profoundly unsettling.
Patrick let out a dry chuckle.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to live?”
What for? What a ridiculous question. Everything, naturally, was for the Primordial Core.
“If you want to live,” he whispered into the Lord’s ear, “I suggest you don’t overstep your bounds trying to learn more.”
*
“What a shame.”
Six tails pierced straight through Erebos’s body. Not a single drop of blood seeped from his rotting flesh.
As the tails, formed of a bizarre dark energy, lifted him, Erebos’s decaying body was hoisted helplessly into the air.
“First one, then another… Why does everyone keep bothering me when I’m just minding my own business?”
A hint of irritation laced Swallow’s voice.
The wounds from the stakes had long since vanished without a trace. Yet, as if the spots still itched, Swallow scratched his back vigorously.
Devoid of the concept of pain, Erebos spoke in a flat, indifferent tone, even while impaled.
“Ancient Monster. Once again, I marvel at your strength.”
“Don’t need your marveling, thanks.”
The horizon was slowly brightening; the sun was about to rise. Turning his gaze back to Erebos, Swallow continued.
“Let me ask you one thing. Of all places, why Hastin?”
This was the one question that had been nagging at him.
Erebos surely knew that the forest of Graphenia lay right next to Hastin, and that the Primordial Core was located within that very forest. In fact, according to Bathory, he had even encroached upon the territory of Cheite Castle.
—Erebos had marched through that territory despite knowing of the Great Evil Caves' existence.
If Erebos had never passed through Hastin, Swallow wouldn’t have even dreamed of interfering with the undead invasion. He probably wouldn’t have noticed until Patrick, who spent his days reading human newspapers, brought it up. And even then, he had no intention of stopping it.
Why would he go out of his way to stop them when the undead army was supposed to be near Riaze? He couldn’t leave his post, and even if he could, he wouldn’t. He lacked the motivation to travel such a vast distance.
So why did Erebos choose such a dangerous path?
“Hastin is the most suitable region for the undead army to gather,” Erebos explained. “Beginning our encroachment on human villages from there is the most optimal route for invading the Empire.”
“No, not that nonsense.”
The moment Erebos finished, a single thorn erupted from Swallow’s body, skewering his flesh.
“You must have assumed I wouldn’t show up. Did you really bet everything on that one assumption?”
Silence fell, broken only by the faint rustle of sand stirred up from the ground. Light surged from the black magic circle on the floor.
Just as before, Swallow released his bizarre energy, but while the mana tangled, the magic wasn't dispelled.
The spell had already been cast. This was merely the aftereffect of magic unleashed moments ago.
“What do you think it was for?” Erebos laughed, breaking the silence.
The King of the Dead, who had never once smiled, wore a chilling grin.
Before that grin could fully form, countless thorns erupted from Swallow’s body. They pierced the already impaled corpse again and again, tearing away at the tattered flesh until it vanished completely.
As if that weren’t enough, Swallow glared up at the remains of Erebos, still caught on his tail.
At that moment, a spell accompanied by a deafening explosion swallowed Erebos’s entire body, leaving only a fragment of his head.
Everything else vanished. The piece of his head fell to the ground.
That was the end.
“…Oh. So it wasn’t teleportation magic.”
Well, whatever. He was going to kill him anyway.
Feeling slightly awkward, Swallow stood in place for a long while. Only after confirming the sun had risen higher did he survey the ravaged hill.
Craters pockmarked the landscape, and the vegetation was thoroughly corrupted. In the areas where Swallow had revealed his true form, not a single blade of grass remained. The site of the undead legion’s annihilation was so densely packed with bodies there was barely room to step. To exaggerate only slightly, the fluids oozing from the corpses flowed like a river.
The land was now utterly useless unless the soil itself was completely overturned.
—Cleaning up after a battle was entirely the Primordial Core’s responsibility.
“This is all because of that guy… Ah.”
He was about to blame Simon again, but the damn corpse was nowhere to be seen. It was likely buried somewhere in the mountain of bodies or had been completely vaporized. With so many corpses piled up, there was no telling who was who.
Just then, two silhouettes appeared in the distance. Patrick and Melju were approaching.
Judging by the way Patrick was swinging his sword wildly as he walked, he seemed more than a little pissed off.
“Hmm.”
Picking up the fragment of Erebos’s face to use as proof, Swallow muttered to himself in a trembling voice, “Now that is a bit scary.”
Epilogue. 1
“Lord Swallow!”
A bright, cheerful voice echoed through the quiet dungeon.
Ignoring the tea that splashed from her hastily set-down cup and stained her apron, Rene sprang to her feet.
At the three-way intersection in the distance, the face she had been yearning to see finally came into view.
“You’re back! Rene was waiting patiently for you!”
Rene’s steps were light as she scurried toward him. Too shy to run straight into his arms, however, she stopped right in front of him, clasped her hands behind her back, and smiled brightly.
“You know what, Lord Swallow? While you were away, Rene cleaned the entire dungeon!”
No sooner had she finished speaking than stalactites rained down from the ceiling in the distance.
Spinning around in a flash, Rene threw her blades, shattering the falling rocks before they could hit the ground. She turned back to Swallow and declared in a perfectly calm voice, “…I cleaned it all!”
“Uh… right.”
“Did everything go well?”
“Yeah. I smashed it all to pieces.”
“He even ruthlessly smashed a village he wasn't supposed to touch,” Patrick chimed in from the side.
Rene flinched at Patrick’s interjection but quickly beamed again.
“A-anyway, you worked so hard… L-Lord Swallow. So, um…”
Her face flushed. Glancing at Melju, who had collapsed from exhaustion the moment they arrived, and then at Patrick, who was sighing heavily in the back, Rene twiddled her index fingers together and leaned in close to Swallow.
“Um… w-would you like to have dinner first? Or would you like your bathwater first?”
“Excuse me? Miss Rene?”
Isn’t there something subtly off about that question?
Patrick, who had been watching quietly from behind Swallow, questioned the offer made by the crimson-faced Rene. Shifting his gaze past her, he spotted Bathory, who had been enjoying tea with her.
She was desperately turning her head away, trying to avoid eye contact out of sheer embarrassment.
—Miss Bathory, what on earth did you teach her?
Leaving the flustered vampire love guru to her crisis, Patrick glanced back at Rene. She continued in an even shyer voice.
“Or… would you like Rene first…?”
“I’ll drink the bathwater.”
The answer was delivered without a shred of hesitation.
Hearing this, Bathory spat out the blood she had been holding in her mouth. As if the situation was too painful to watch, Patrick quietly slipped away and approached her.
While her familiar wiped up the splattered blood, Bathory asked Patrick, “…Even if he didn't choose Rene, isn't it normal to say you'll eat first in that situation?”
“You clearly haven’t tried Miss Rene’s cooking yet. With all due respect to Miss Rene, I would rather drink bathwater too.”
“…There’s such a thing as basic manners when treating a lady. Is it really that bad?”
“I believe Miss Rene’s cooking is a greater threat to the Boss than Erebos ever was.”
As Patrick replied, he looked over at Swallow, who seemed to be struggling. Rene’s tearful voice drifted over to them.
He didn’t look that flustered even when he was facing Erebos.
It wasn’t that Rene didn’t put effort into her cooking. It was more that she simply couldn’t make it taste good, no matter how hard she tried.
I suppose it can’t be helped. She’s a homunculus.
Rene was designed from birth with a warped sense of taste that allowed her to find even garbage delicious. She would never be able to make “normally delicious food.”
“It is a tragic tale that one cannot listen to with dry eyes.”
“…What do eyes have to do with listening?”
Staring in disgust at Patrick, who was pretending to wipe away tears, Bathory asked, “So, is the incident resolved?”
“Yes. If you combine the humans who starved to death with those killed by the undead, it comes to about three thousand. Aside from that and a portion of the village being completely destroyed, it was resolved fairly cleanly. Ah, though the fact that most of the humans are on the verge of starvation and that the Lord found out our secret is a bit concerning.”
Bathory spat out her blood once again. It was a live demonstration of a noble vampire’s image crumbling in real-time.
Only then did Swallow turn around. Leaving behind a dejected, head-bowed Rene, he snapped at Bathory.
“Why do you keep spitting all over my dungeon floor?”
“No… Swallow, what on earth did you do in that village?”
“Cleaned up the undead.”
“Are you sure you only cleaned up the undead?”
“I cleaned them up perfectly.”
—No, I mean, what exactly did you clean up so “perfectly”?
As if she was no longer in the mood for tea, Bathory snapped her fingers, and her familiar retrieved the teacup.
Having finally managed the situation with Rene, Swallow let out a sigh of relief. Judging by Rene’s bright, final “Yes!”, he seemed to have successfully coaxed her.
“Stop beating around the bush and tell me properly. What happened?” Bathory finally asked, her tone serious.
Exchanging a glance with Patrick, Swallow tossed her what he was holding.
Though it flew with considerable force, Bathory caught it effortlessly. Upon seeing it, she asked in a slightly shaken voice, “…Is this real?”
“I told you. I cleaned it up.”
He had handed her a fragment of Erebos’s head.
As if that alone was explanation enough, Swallow left the frowning Bathory and headed toward his sleeping quarters. Though it was embarrassing to call it a bedroom when it lacked even a blanket, it was the perfect place for an ancient monster.
Just before Swallow could lie down, Bathory spoke up.
“Swallow, wait a minute.”
“What is it now…”
“This is just a shell.”
It was a brief remark. Though she hadn’t spoken with any particular emphasis, everyone in the cavern froze.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Bathory added with a hollow chuckle, “Don’t tell me you just beat him up a bit and brought this back, thinking you killed him?”
* * *
“So he’s not dead.”
“He did cast some spell at the very end.”
Night fell. Only after Bathory had departed could they bring up the subject again.
“No matter how I look at it, this is a total mess, Boss.”
“What is?”
“The cleanup. It's bad enough that a human Lord knows the truth, but now Erebos isn’t even dead? What on earth did we even go to Hastin for?”
“Hey, she said at least seventy percent of his life force was shaved off.”
“Well, that’s true, but…”
So that final spell wasn’t for teleportation, but for transferring his soul using a Life Force Vessel? At any rate, Erebos’s physical body and most of his life force had been obliterated. Since they had also wiped out about half of the known undead army, he wouldn’t be running rampant anytime soon.
“Ahem. In any case, you need to be careful from now on, Boss. Regardless of the cause, friction has now occurred between Great Evil Caves.”
Well, since Erebos was incapacitated for the time being, nothing major would happen.
“And besides that, do you realize the dungeon has been an absolute mess lately? I didn’t want to say this, Boss, but it’s about time you pulled yourself together.”
“At least I don’t lose my mind so much that I leave my ribs behind somewhere.”
“Hey, that’s a completely different story.”
Frustrated, Patrick banged a fist against his armor before pulling out his ribs to double-check. Fearing he might lose them again, he had tied his two detachable ribs to his other bones with a string.
It was an utterly insane solution.
“Even if I handle all the cleanup for Hastin, recruiting monsters is still your job, Boss, just as I said last time. Shouldn’t you finish your work before you rest?”
“…”
“Am I doing this for myself? I’m saying this so our dungeon can thrive. Ah, I hate nagging like this too, Boss. Hello? Boss, are you even listening to me?”