Chapter 71
Chapter 71
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: Aftermath (1)
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Spiritual realm.
Thousands of restless spirits surrounded the Necropuppeteer.
- Stay away! Don't touch me, I said!
The soul of the high-ranking black mage, the Necropuppeteer, was enormous.
The restless spirits were pushed back by his intimidating presence and couldn't approach easily.
But it was only for a brief moment. The spirits seized the opportunity and swarmed toward the Necropuppeteer's soul like a tidal wave, encircling it.
- Stop! No! Don't do it!
The spirits were too feeble and small individually, but the Necropuppeteer's soul was vast enough to accommodate them all clinging on.
Thousands of restless spirits began tearing into the Necropuppeteer's soul simultaneously.
- Aaack! Kuaaaack!
The pain of a soul being ripped apart was dozens of times more agonizing than having one's entire body torn to shreds.
Even one spirit latching on caused such torment, yet thousands were shredding his soul at once.
It had long surpassed the limits of human endurance.
- Please... stop... Just let me vanish like this... End this pain, I beg you...
The Necropuppeteer pleaded desperately with them. But they merely sneered, harboring deep grudges against him.
The spirits had no intention of letting the Necropuppeteer's soul dissipate easily. They planned to make him suffer indefinitely.
- Kuaaaack! Aaaack!
This was the spiritual realm.
The flow of time here differed greatly from the real world.
In this place, the Necropuppeteer endured torment for what felt like an eternity.
* * *
Demian silently watched the Necropuppeteer suffer at the hands of the restless spirits.
The Necropuppeteer screamed for a long while before finally rolling back his eyes and going still.
Only after confirming his death did Demian dispel the black magic. The iron chains protruding from the ground scattered entirely.
The puppets bound in dark smoke were freed as well. But they lay motionless like corpses, no longer moving.
With their master, the Necropuppeteer, dead, all functions had ceased.
"I'll leave the disposal of these flesh golems to the Church."
That way, Demian could claim credit with the Church, and they could study the flesh golems—mutual benefit.
Next, Demian began gathering the black mana in the cavern.
His original black mana reserves, the black mana released from the destroyed flesh golems, and the Necropuppeteer's black mana—all were sucked into his bracelet.
"Now it's getting dangerously full."
He had consumed a significant amount during the battle, but he'd acquired even more.
The bracelet's capacity, which he'd thought bottomless like an abyss, was now nearly filled.
"If only I could get another artifact like this."
Demian knew it was a pipe dream.
He'd never seen such an item even in his previous life. It was too rare to obtain another.
At that moment, Demian spotted a hole in the opposite wall.
It was a neatly carved tunnel, sized for human passage.
Out of curiosity, Demian headed toward it. As he entered, a gruesome sight greeted him.
Dissection diagrams of various creatures littered the area, organs preserved in reagents lined the shelves, and half-finished flesh golems lay on one side.
"...So this was the Necropuppeteer's laboratory."
Wondering if anything useful remained, he surveyed the room.
There were many items, but most were materials for crafting flesh golems. Nothing worth taking for Demian.
"Hm?"
Suddenly, Demian noticed a map pinned to the wall.
As he examined it, a sense of familiarity struck him.
"Ah, this is where Yulan's secret warehouse is."
He'd seen this place in the memories of Yulan's leader and executives before.
He'd planned to visit someday but had completely forgotten.
Now was the time, he thought, and pocketed the map.
Demian ventured deeper. There, he found a massive mirror.
It reached the ceiling, extraordinarily large.
The moment he saw it, Demian felt as if struck by lightning.
It was inevitable. This was the magic tool Archlich Dorgo had made to communicate with his subordinates.
"To think he had this..."
With this alone, he could see Dorgo's face and speak directly.
His heart pounded fiercely.
Demian placed his hand on the mirror. But soon, disappointment clouded his face.
"It hasn't been contacted in a long time."
Upon inspecting the tool, he found many requests from the Necropuppeteer, but no responses from Dorgo's side.
"The Necropuppeteer was someone Dorgo valued enough to appoint as a legion commander. Yet Dorgo cut off contact...?"
The first hypothesis was that Yulan's downfall had made Dorgo sense danger and sever ties.
Due to Demian's actions, Yulan had collapsed far quicker than in his previous life.
Dorgo might have deemed Yulan hopeless and cut the Necropuppeteer loose.
"...No, that doesn't make sense. Dorgo wouldn't abandon him for that reason."
The Necropuppeteer had even imposed restrictions on himself to keep Dorgo's identity secret.
Dorgo wasn't the type to discard such a loyal pawn. He'd use it until it was irreparably broken.
"Or maybe he's immersed in some research?"
As a black mage by nature, Dorgo had a habit of sealing himself in his lab and cutting off external contact when engrossed in study.
That could explain the long silence.
"That seems far more likely."
Demian clicked his tongue in regret.
Once Dorgo holed up, he wouldn't emerge for at least a year.
Clinging to this mirror would be pointless.
Putting aside his disappointment, Demian headed deeper into the lab.
There, he discovered something peculiar once more.
A small-statured human was shackled and seated.
Its appearance was so androgynous that gender was indeterminable.
"...A person?"
At first, Demian thought it was human. Unlike the flesh golems, there were no stitching scars on its body.
But it felt too off to be human.
Upon closer inspection, Demian realized it was a flesh golem.
"Remarkable. A flesh golem identical to a human."
The Necropuppeteer's 'masterpieces' sometimes resembled humans superficially, but anyone could quickly tell they were flesh golems.
Stitching scars covering the body, mismatched skin tones, asymmetrical features.
Above all, they mutated into monsters when revealing their true nature.
Yet this flesh golem had fooled even Demian momentarily.
Examining it, Demian noticed a magic circle on the floor that blocked black mana.
The circle was designed for activation and deactivation.
"Using this orb should deactivate it."
Demian grabbed the orb on the wall and infused it with black mana. The magic circle ceased functioning.
The instant it deactivated, the flesh golem's eyes snapped open.
It immediately lunged at Demian.
But sturdy shackles on its limbs prevented it from reaching him.
Each twist of its body shook the entire lab.
It was rattling the room with pure physical strength, without using black mana.
-#%@$#%@!
A guttural roar erupted from the flesh golem's mouth. It was filled with pure hostility and murderous intent.
"Remarkable. A flesh golem that has awakened ego."
Flesh golems are made from creature bodies.
Thus, the lingering thoughts of those creatures inevitably mix in.
This isn't usually a problem. But rarely, an ego emerges from the tangled thoughts.
This flesh golem was such a case.
"Moreover, it hates black mages despite being a flesh golem."
Through awakening its ego, it had become aware of hatred.
In a way, it was natural. The thoughts that birthed this ego stemmed from grudges of those sacrificed to black mages.
That must be why the Necropuppeteer had shackled it—he couldn't control its hatred.
-%@#$#@$!
The flesh golem rampaged even more violently. Its wrist skin tore against the shackles.
But in the next moment, the torn flesh began regenerating instantly.
Demian Haksen's eyes widened slightly.
Flesh golems are undead stitched from dead bodies. He'd never heard of undead with regeneration.
"Is this regeneration why the stitching scars vanished?"
Not only terrifying strength but such regenerative power. It was an eerily superior flesh golem.
"He couldn't erase the hatred after all."
In his previous life, the Necropuppeteer had never used a flesh golem of this caliber.
He'd likely discarded it, unable to find a way to remove the hatred.
-@##@%@#$!
The flesh golem strained desperately to bite Demian.
Likely due to the traces of black magic it sensed from him.
Using black magic consumes black mana, leaving residual echoes on the soul or body.
Weaker black mages leave stronger residues.
For someone like Demian, it was negligible, fading completely after a short time.
The flesh golem was raging over that faint trace.
"I do use black magic, but I'm not a black mage."
At those words, the flesh golem froze.
-@$@#$@!
It roared as if calling bullshit.
"I've never desecrated graves for black mana or tormented human souls. You should know that's true."
If Demian had done such things, the grudges from the spirits hating him would cling.
Born from thoughts hating black mages, this golem couldn't fail to sense them.
-......
The flesh golem fell silent. As if acknowledging Demian's truth.
"Above all, I hate black mages. I killed the Necropuppeteer who made you like this."
The flesh golem's eyes widened at that. It glared as if calling it a lie.
"Ask the restless spirits if you don't believe me. Born from their thoughts, you should hear their voices."
The flesh golem stayed still for a while. Then its eyes widened.
......Kyeng?
The roar vanished, replaced by a fox-like whimper.
As if questioning if it was true, Demian nodded.
"Yes, I killed the Necropuppeteer. To be precise, the restless spirits did."
The flesh golem slumped to the floor. With its hated target gone, it lost purpose.
"So rest in peace."
Demian drew his holy sword to shatter the flesh golem's core.
Just as he was about to pierce it, the flesh golem grabbed the blade.
The holy sword's divine power began burning its flesh. Yet it didn't let go.
"Why resist?"
Demian asked, baffled.
"It might sound cruel, but you're undead. You shouldn't remain in this world."
At Demian's question, the flesh golem's eyes turned fierce again.
Not toward Demian. Toward black mages.
Its hatred wasn't just for the Necropuppeteer.
It was for black mages as a whole.
"You want to stay in this world to kill black mages?"
The flesh golem nodded. Demian pondered.
A flesh golem of this performance would be a huge asset.
But in his previous life, Demian had been forcibly modified and used by Dorgo.
Using this golem would make him no different.
"Kyeng! Kyaeng!"
The flesh golem let out a sharp cry, as if urging him not to hesitate.
On second thought, it wasn't the same coercive master-servant dynamic as with Dorgo. It could be cooperation or a transaction for mutual goals.
Their purposes aligned somewhat, and the golem refused true death until its grudge was settled.
After long deliberation, Demian swung the holy sword. The shackles binding the flesh golem snapped.
"Let's get along."
Demian extended his hand. The flesh golem tilted its head, as if questioning the gesture.
Demian realized he'd overlooked its circumstances.
Having just awakened ego, it naturally didn't know handshakes.
Demian took its hand and shook. The flesh golem's eyes went round.
......But how do I take you with me?
The subjugation force blanketed the dungeon inside and out.
If Demian exited with an undead?
"Kyeng? Kyeng!"
The flesh golem headed somewhere, rummaged in the lab, and brought something to Demian.
A leather travel trunk.
Aged, with a deep, rich hue.
"What's this?"
The flesh golem opened it. Darkness filled the interior.
"Kyeng!"
As it approached, it was suddenly sucked inside.
......Oh?
Demian immediately inspected the trunk. He soon discerned its magic.
"A subspatial magic tool designed for transporting undead."
Unlike his subspatial ring, it only held undead.
Limiting to one type granted immense capacity—enough for hundreds of flesh golems.
Moreover, this trunk could be stored inside other subspacers.
Normally, subspatial magic repels each other, preventing nesting.
This one overcame that by specializing in undead.
"This is how the flesh golem evaded the Church all this time."
Demian opened the trunk again. The flesh golem popped out from the darkness.
"Kyeng!"
It wore a proud expression. Demian praised it.
"Did you remember seeing the Necropuppeteer use it? You're clever."
"Kyeng!"
The flesh golem nodded smugly.
Suddenly, Demian noticed writing on the collar around its neck.
"Nine?"
At the name, the flesh golem's face crumpled.
It tore off the collar, threw it to the ground, and stomped it repeatedly.
Likely despising the name the Necropuppeteer gave it.
"You'll need a new name."
The flesh golem's face lit up expectantly. Demian thought for a moment before saying.
......Miya?
Pleased, the flesh golem nodded.
"From today, you're Miya. Let's kill all those damned black mages together."
Miya nodded at Demian's words.