Chapter 124

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: MadScientist

Chapter: 124

Chapter Title: Desmond

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Desmond.

He was the third person I encountered while cleaning this ruin. The first was Erzsebet, and the second was Dry.

He had been commanding undead in the underground layers of this ruin. After awakening from a long slumber, he had lost his memories just like me and was scouting the surface when he unexpectedly took a finishing blow from a skeleton soldier on behalf of that disciple of Glory.

...
Thinking about it now, it pisses me off. If that bastard hadn't outright killed that Crison guy or whatever back then, Glory wouldn't have lost his mind and come charging in like this, right? If they'd just captured him as a prisoner or something.

Anyway, what's done is done. Back then, Desmond lost consciousness due to the combo of cleaning tools starting with the [Ghost Vacuum Cleaner] and the contract overwrite from [Employee] registration, ending up as Dry's nutritional snack.

After that, I hadn't paid him much attention...

"...He's still alive, right?"

"This is pretty bad."

I'd remembered Desmond after a long time and come to check on the guy I'd handed over to Dry.

Desmond, who was said to be a unique race positioned between undead and the living called an 'Archlich,' originally had the appearance of a handsome man showing no undead traits.

But the current Desmond...

"Has he fully turned into an undead or something?"

His body was skin and bones from having his nutrients excessively drained—literally just a skeleton left. He used to emanate some eerie ghostly aura or whatever, but now I couldn't sense even a shred of that power.

"Dry. Can I take this guy back now?"

"Mm. Nothing left to eat."

Dry said there was nothing edible left anymore and casually uprooted Desmond, whom he'd planted in the ground like some crop.

"He won't wake up, right?"

"Hmm... I'm not all that knowledgeable about undead ecology or contracts... but at least ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he won't wake up anytime soon."

And even if he did wake, Erzsebet showed no wariness toward this Archlich without any minions, claiming she could suppress him easily.

Well, yeah. He barely had any power left anyway.

"Pandora? Here."

"What is this? A corpse?"

Pandora, who had been preparing to head back to the witches' dungeon on my orders, panicked at the sight of the 'corpse'—no, Desmond—that I handed her.

"Not a corpse. He's alive..."

Wait, as an Archlich, he's technically dead to begin with?

"...Anyway, he's not dead. Next time you head to the dungeon, have him touch the dungeon core."

Though unconscious, Desmond was still a legitimate 5-star employee. I could send him outside with Pandora via the [Employee Dispatch] function, and a shriveled-up Desmond like this would be easy for her to carry.

'Somehow, it feels like the employees I found in this ruin... if I have the presumed Seven Deadly Sins touch it, something different might happen?'

Nothing had happened when Pandora touched it. The [Sub Quest] remained unchanged.

But these individuals discovered here—presumed to be Seven Deadly Sins and apostles of the Demon God or something like that. What if I had them touch the dungeon core, also called a fragment of the Demon God? Might there be a different outcome?

'It's just a hunch, though.'

For now, I'd scraped together every last bit of trash inside the dungeon over 24 hours to barely cover Lil's salary. There was no more trash to be found.

So this [Sub Quest] was my last remaining hope.

'Even if the sub quest covers the points I need right now, I still need a long-term method to generate points.'

Lilith's ability, which was practically an infinite point generator, had been reduced to a tenth. And now, even inside the ruins, there were no spots left that could yield large amounts of points. I'd have to find a sustainable way to procure points going forward.

"Ah, welcome! We of the dungeon 'Walpurgis Night' have been awaiting your return visit."

Once the [Employee Dispatch] reuse cooldowns had fully elapsed.

Pandora, lugging a massive bundle on her back, was once again sent to the witches' dungeon by her master's authority.

"M-May I ask why you've come back...?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Y-Yes, got it..."

Upon hearing that their new master—and subordinate of that terrifying, overwhelmingly powerful dungeon—had visited two days in a row, the witches' leader and master of Walpurgis Night, Margaret, personally came out to greet Pandora.

Pandora, who had treated Eugene with utmost courtesy and an oddly sinister demeanor, now faced the witches and treated them coldly, as if their polite attitudes meant nothing to her.

'Ugh... H-half-blood...!'

Margaret's expression stiffened at Pandora's attitude, but she forced herself not to show it, steadfastly maintaining her courteous demeanor. Especially upon seeing Pandora's hair, an instinctive discriminatory impulse welled up, but she gritted her teeth and suppressed it.

'What’s her relationship with that master? Family?'

The being who had taken them as subordinates was also a black-haired half-blood. And seeing how he sent only this one half-blood woman to their subordinate dungeon, she must hold a fairly high position there.

Thus, Margaret speculated that this half-blood woman might be the dungeon master's family or equivalent and treated her with excessive politeness.

Of course...

"Where's the dungeon core?"

"P-Pardon...? The dungeon core again...?"

Pandora's attitude of demanding the dungeon core right upon arrival nearly made curses spill from Margaret's lips despite herself.

'This crazy bitch! No matter that we're your dungeon's subordinate, casually asking to be shown the core, which is essentially the dungeon's heart?'

It was an outrageous rudeness and an incomprehensible demand. Even if she served under Eugene, brazenly asking to see the dungeon core crossed the line.

The moment Eugene—or this woman—changed their mind and smashed the core, the witches would lose their home and the power granted by the dungeon. So that demand naturally had to be firmly refused...

"...You don't want to...?"

Just as Margaret was about to firmly reject Pandora's demand, Pandora grinned darkly and began mumbling something.

"Must follow master's orders but master needs it and it's essential for protecting master so those guys are threatening master."

"We'll guide you..."

The moment Pandora showed displeasure, a vicious wave of hostility naturally spread in response to her emotions. The witches' faces turned pale as they fled, and only Margaret swallowed her urge to cry and accepted Pandora's proposal.

'A-Anyway, I showed it yesterday too! And nothing happened yesterday!'

Recalling how yesterday, after casually sharing some magical knowledge, Pandora had suddenly demanded to see the dungeon core, and when refused, this woman—clearly unhinged—had nearly gone berserk, Margaret tearfully relented and guided her.

Feeling the sorrow of a weak dungeon, and thinking their lord, that merciful-seeming half-blood man, had sent this madwoman instead, Margaret cautiously led Pandora to where the dungeon core was located.

Eugene had trusted Pandora because, despite her sinister side, she got the job done thoroughly and behaved obediently around him... But to Pandora, anyone not black-haired—in other words, not the same 'half-blood' kin—were none of her concern.

Thus, the bulldozing Pandora and teary-eyed Margaret arrived at the dungeon core's location.

-Thud!!

"Um... Lady Pandora? That luggage of yours is...?"

Pandora halted before the dungeon core and began unpacking the bundle from her back.

Though fearful of her opponent, Margaret harbored resolve to attack if any harm came to the core and slowly watched what Pandora pulled out...

"C-Corpse...!"

"Not a corpse."

She was stunned, on the verge of fainting, at the sudden sight of a male demon corpse emerging from the bundle. Who carries a corpse on their back like luggage?!

Pandora denied it, recalling Eugene's words, but to Margaret's eyes, it was unmistakably a corpse. No heartbeat, no breathing, no pulse... and one drained completely dry by something.

Margaret, a dungeon master talented only in alchemy rather than combat, shrank back even further, trembling as she watched Pandora's actions.

Ignoring Margaret's demeanor entirely, Pandora dragged Desmond over and made contact with the dungeon core.

'Is this it?'

Having received no further instructions on what to do next, Pandora simply left Desmond stuck to the core and waited endlessly. Just as boredom began to set in, an anomaly occurred at the dungeon core.

-Thud! Thud!

"The c-core...?"

The dungeon core, covered in dark red flesh ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that vaguely resembled a heart, began to pulsate. The chunks of flesh hanging from its surface started vibrating.

"Urk... Y-you...!"

"It's al-alive...!! Hnng..."

Forgetting her vow to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠protect the core, Margaret rolled her eyes back and fainted at the sight of words spilling from what should have been a corpse. If any other demon saw this scene, they'd instantly understand why southern demons were so despised.

Corpse or whatever, Pandora—uncaring since it wasn't kin—pressed Desmond even closer.

From Desmond's chest—where a normal being's heart would be—an ominous aura of death surged forth, defying Eugene and Erzsebet's assumption that all his energy had been drained.

Unconsciously pouring out ghostly energy from the life vessel in his chest, Desmond bestowed tangible death upon the wildly pulsating dark red flesh mass.

"Begone...!"

His body was still wretchedly frail from the excessive draining, practically a corpse, but the ferocity of Desmond as he suddenly glared wide-eyed and unleashed his aura was incomparable to when Eugene had faced him in the underground layers.

Unable to withstand his dense ghostly energy, the flesh masses rotted away. In their place, only a clear, transparent gem-like core remained, floating serenely. Energy then flowed back from the transparent orb, infusing power into Desmond's corpse-like body.

All things in this world are equal. Except for oneself.

Everything lies beneath one's feet. All must kneel before oneself and rightfully serve.

That was Desmond's ingrained common sense and ideology. He viewed even fellow Seven Deadly Sins as beneath him. Truly equal to him existed only one: his creator.

Thus, he never called his creator 'master.' He truly believed himself equal to his creator.

Because of that attitude, he clashed daily with the other Seven Deadly Sins, souring relations particularly with them, but Desmond didn't care at all. The pinnacle is lonely by nature.

After all, he had his sole understander: his creator. And the one who was his parent. So he figured it didn't matter.

But...

"Creator! My creator! What in the world...!"

That day. The day everything collapsed and turned upside down. Desmond lost his one and only understander. The sole existence he deemed his equal in the world.

Why make that choice? His only understander, the loftiest being in the world—how could they abandon everything?

Desmond endlessly called for his creator. But he couldn't break their stubbornness, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the end, his creator vanished from the world.

In despair over that fact, Desmond glared at the sky with eyes full of hatred.

Far off. That being visible through the rift in the sky bursting with bright light. That loathsome existence. Just looking at it induced nausea and overwhelming revulsion. That existence...!!