Chapter 124: King of the Dead (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 124: King of the Dead (3)
"...O-Oh."
The undead let out a gasp of admiration. He repeatedly stroked his jaw as if he couldn't believe it.
I had used the [Blessing of Regeneration] and the [Blessing of Transfer] to restore as much of his muscle and tissue as possible. After all, I had experience piecing Leon's bones back together before.
Still, I had wondered if I could actually revive that bruised, purplish flesh. The effect of my blessing was 'proliferation,' but what he needed was closer to 'resuscitation.'
Yet, the result was a resounding success. It was practically like bringing a fully filleted fish back to life.
Abel and Shail's eyes widened in unison. It seemed my way of utilizing blessings had a knack for shocking people.
Honestly, even I was quite taken aback this time. It was a skill impressive enough to put most surgeons to shame.
At this rate, maybe I'll end up with a prestigious professional title in this life.
Of course, because the cellular damage was so severe, complete restoration was impossible.
Even so, a much clearer voice leaked from his mouth compared to his barely audible groans from before.
I gestured to the two women, signaling that I would explain later. They swallowed hard and nodded, indicating they understood for now.
After all, that wasn't our immediate priority. I looked forward again. The undead was opening and closing his mouth like a carp.
I watched him for a moment before asking,
"...What are you?"
It was a question meant to test him. By combining two blessings, I had upgraded his completely shattered jaw to merely half-shattered.
Could he actually converse? Did he have enough intelligence left? Above all, the former was what mattered.
The undead, who had been lost in wonder for a while, suddenly bowed deeply to me.
Remaining in that position, he loudly expressed his gratitude.
"Thank you, benefactor...!"
Perhaps due to his damaged jaw, his pronunciation was slurred, but his sincerity was palpable.
Soon, he dusted off his knees, stood up, and bowed politely.
"Greetings, living ones. My name is Mikellan."
Despite his dangling limbs, there was an air of elegance in his gestures. Abel and Shail flinched and took a few steps back.
"...Why are you doing that? Is there a problem?"
"..."
On the other hand, Mikellan tilted his head as if he couldn't understand their reaction. His eyeballs rolled around inside his sockets like ping-pong balls.
His expression was innocent, but his appearance was... well...
Even I, who was usually indifferent to such things, felt a wave of revulsion.
However, there was absolutely no malice coming from Mikellan. Instead, he stared at me, his lifeless eyes sparkling.
Mikellan's eyes were filled with gratitude and awe. Wetting his lips with a tongue that had dried up long ago, he spoke again.
"For about seven hundred years, I have occasionally seen living people visit. But usually, they would scream and run away, or try to draw their swords first. And yet, to think a day like this would come! I suppose one has to live long to see everything."
"...Seven hundred years?"
I asked back, wondering if I had misheard. Mikellan blinked once and nodded.
"Yes. Actually, I counted up to 689 years, but I missed just one year and forgot the rest. I suppose my memory is slipping due to my age, hahaha!"
This undead spoke of centuries so casually.
"I do not know how you did it, but to make it possible for me to even speak like this... it is truly a miracle of God. Having lived as a corpse for seven hundred years... this and that..."
And he was incredibly talkative. He moved his mouth incessantly, as if pouring out all the words he had held back for so long. Every time he did, his jawbone creaked.
...I just fixed that. Is he going to break it again already?
I cut Mikellan off and said,
"If you keep flapping your jaw like that, it might loosen and fall off. If that happens, I don't know if I'll be able to put it back together."
"Hup."
Mikellan quickly covered his mouth with his hand.
"Mikellan, I understand your situation is pitiful, and that you've been trapped here for nearly seven hundred years. But I'm a bit impatient. I'd appreciate it if you only answered what you're asked."
"..."
"If you don't like that, I can always revert you to how you were earlier. I'll leave the choice to you."
"...!"
I tapped my shoulder with my sashimi knife. Mikellan shook his head frantically, his deathly pale face turning even paler.
Suddenly, Abel whispered in my ear.
"...Isn't that a bit too harsh?"
"If I let him be, he'd talk all day. We're already pressed for time; we can't afford to waste it on useless chatter. Well, if you want to keep chatting with that undead, Abel, I won't stop you."
Abel flinched at my words. Just as she glanced at Mikellan and was about to step back again—
A muffled voice leaked through the fingers Mikellan was using to cover his mouth.
"Wait! You, lady over there... those golden eyes... c-could you be a descendant of the Sword Saint, Aaron Nibelung?!"
Abel's shoulders jolted. Shail and I were just as surprised, though we hid it better.
Abel replied, her face filled with bewilderment.
"You know the first head of our family?"
Mikellan nodded instantly. He immediately uncovered his mouth.
"Of course! I was the closest aide of the Sword Saint's...! Well, actually, his cousin's friend, or something like that!"
At that point, aren't you basically a complete stranger?
"My goodness, for such a coincidence to happen once again. God has not abandoned me yet! Oh, thank you."
Mikellan muttered, sounding as if he were weeping. However, Abel caught onto his words and asked back.
"You definitely just said 'once again'."
"Ah, yes, yes. If my memory serves me right, about ten years ago, another descendant of the Sword Saint stopped by. They were with someone who seemed to be their wife, I believe. In all my seven hundred years of life, I have never seen such a handsome and beautiful couple—"
"That."
Mikellan froze at her firm tone.
Step, step. Abel marched forward, one hand tightly gripping the hilt of her sword.
Mikellan gasped. Abel stood tall right in front of his nose.
...A brief silence fell. It was a stillness so profound that even the sound of breathing seemed dead.
Soon, Abel spoke in a low voice.
"Tell me more about them. In detail."
* * *
"...And that is everything I remember."
Mikellan carefully concluded his explanation. He looked around at everyone, trying to gauge their reactions.
"..."
"..."
The atmosphere had grown heavy. Though his salivary glands had dried up long ago, Mikellan went through the motions of swallowing hard.
...Did I say something wrong?
He had lived with his mouth sealed for countless eons.
The vast majority of undead lose their intelligence even before their bodies rot. Out of all bodily organs, the brain is the fastest to decay.
Thus, uttering primitive groans like "Urrgghh, aaargh" was the standard for the undead.
Yet, Mikellan had maintained clear cognitive abilities—for a whopping seven hundred years, no less.
For centuries, during which his bones and flesh should have crumbled and seeped into the soil, he had lived with a dead body and a living mind.
Of course, perhaps because he had talked too much during his lifetime, his jaw area had deteriorated exceptionally fast.
But that benefactor cured it in an instant.
Mikellan's gaze slithered sideways. A boy with black hair and dark eyes stood quietly with his arms crossed.
Was his name Kang Geomma? Mikellan vowed to engrave those three syllables into his heart, even in death.
...Though I'm already dead!
However, as he kept looking, that appearance—the black hair and black eyes—felt strangely familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before.
Mikellan stared at Kang Geomma with renewed curiosity. His memories slipped away like a handful of sand.
Having lived for over seven centuries, it would be difficult to find the memory even if he searched for a long time. Yet, Mikellan did not want to let go of this current sense of incongruity.
As he stared, even scratching his temple, Abel, who had been quiet, finally spoke.
"...I'm sorry, it took me a while to organize my thoughts. Thank you, Mr. Mikellan."
"Ah, no, not at all. It is only natural that you would be shocked, descendant of the Sword Saint."
Mikellan shook his head vigorously.
In his past life, Mikellan was someone who had lived through the 1st Human-Demon War.
Of course, there were probably plenty of such people in the Undead Dungeon, but their cognitive functions had ceased long ago.
Thus, he was likely the only one on humanity's side who still vividly remembered that living hell.
Furthermore, the ancestor of the girl before him—what kind of great figure the First Sword Saint had been—was also vividly etched in his mind.
That martial prowess, which seemed loved—no, favored—by the sword itself.
The human who, alongside the Hero of the Origin, stood at the very forefront of subjugating the demons, and who was the hope of humanity.
Yet, for a descendant of such a Sword Saint to apologize to him? It was unthinkable, something that should never happen.
Though he was already dead, Mikellan still possessed a clear sense of propriety.
Despite his reaction, Abel politely bowed.
"No. Thanks to you, Mr. Mikellan, I was able to confirm once again that my parents did indeed stop by here. To be honest, even after arriving at the Undead Dungeon, I was still skeptical about whether they had truly vanished from this place."
"...This old one only feels apologetic for delivering such unfortunate news."
Mikellan expressed his regrets, and Abel kept bowing her head. A formal exchange of words passed between the two.
Kang Geomma, who had been quietly watching the scene, suddenly spoke up.
"...So, do you know anything about the whereabouts of Abel's parents?"
Mikellan nodded.
"...Yes. Unfortunately, because I was hiding behind a distant pillar, I do not know exactly where they headed."
"Why were you hiding in the first place?"
"Back then, heroes frequented this place. Whenever they entered, they would slaughter the undead indiscriminately. While other undead might have rushed forward, I couldn't bring myself to approach them."
"..."
At those words, Abel lowered her head with a dark expression. Mikellan quickly added,
"However, unlike other heroes, the descendants of the Sword Saint did not slaughter the undead recklessly. In fact, the two of them opposed it. They stayed their hands as much as possible, and even when they did strike, they showed respect. Just like you, descendant."
"...!"
Abel's eyes went wide. She lifted her head.
As if trying to ease her worries, Mikellan curled his purplish lips upward. His pupils were cloudy, but a faint light lingered within them.
Mikellan said,
"Perhaps that is why, when I saw you bow to the dead as you cut them down earlier, my legs moved unconsciously. For a coward like me, it was a courage I could never normally muster, but I believe it was due to a sense of déjà vu from ten years ago."
"I see..."
Abel parted her lips slightly before continuing.
"Mr. Mikellan, is there anything else you remember? Even the smallest detail would be appreciated. Truly, anything at all."
"...Haha, I have already told you everything in my head... I am only sorry I cannot be of more help—"
At that moment, Mikellan spoke up as if suddenly remembering something.
"Come to think of it, I recall a conversation they had. I believe they said, 'We must break the Curse of the Death God.' Their expressions as they said that were extremely dark."
"...The Curse of the Death God."
In truth, her parents' purpose for entering this dungeon had always been a mystery. Why had they come to a mere D-rank Undead Dungeon?
At the time, they were the most famous duo and top-tier heroes, second only to the Seven Stars.
Yet, one day, they set out to subjugate a lowest-grade dungeon. She had guessed there was some reason behind it, but she had no way of knowing what it was.
That was why she had researched and studied the Undead Dungeon—to find the purpose that surely existed.
"We must break the curse..."
Abel repeated those words over and over, engraving them in her mind.
A clue had to be hidden within that cryptic phrase.
"...Why does this always happen?"
Amidst the brief silence, Kang Geomma let out a heavy sigh and muttered. A deep shadow had fallen over his face.
Kang Geomma asked Mikellan,
"Mister, have you ever seen a hidden passage—like a doghole—in the depths of this dungeon that a single person could squeeze through? It... should be loosely locked with a few padlocks."
Mikellan blinked, answering in a daze.
"Yes, I believe there was something like that about a twenty-minute walk from here. But how did you know about it...? Even I only discovered it after five hundred years."
"I read it in a book."
"..."
"For now, please guide us there."
"...Ah, yes."
"W-Wait a moment."
Shail interjected, startled.
"I feel like a lot of explanation has been skipped, Master Geomma."
"You're imagining things."
"...No, wait."
The brief reply cut her off, leaving her words stuck in her throat. Everyone looked dazed at the incredibly rapid turn of events.
Of course, the expression of the one who had spoken, Kang Geomma, was entirely different. With his brow deeply furrowed, he was feeling a complex mix of emotions.
I don't know about 'breaking the curse,' but if we're talking about the Death God, there's only one place it could be.
Kang Geomma was certain of the whereabouts of Abel's parents. Of all things, their paths just had to cross in such a damnably inconvenient way.
Kang Geomma looked around at everyone. His expression was heavy enough to make anyone looking at him feel tense.
"Abel."
Kang Geomma called her name in a low voice.
"Yeah?"
"It seems your parents got involved with something they never should have."
At that, Abel's face froze like ice. She didn't fully understand the meaning behind his words.
Yet, she could feel it just from his tone. Those words were an undeniable, absolute truth. His expression said as much.
"Even so."
Kang Geomma gripped his sashimi knife tightly once more and took a deep breath. Then, he opened his mouth as if to make a declaration.