Chapter 237: King of the Dead Subjugation (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 237: King of the Dead Subjugation (1)
Deep within a vast underground expanse, eerie blue flames flickered from candlesticks lining the walls. The space had been transformed into a grand subterranean throne room, creating a macabre and bizarre spectacle.
A massive man dressed in pristine robes sat atop a throne adorned with skulls.
This was Calgart the Necromancer—the demon who commanded the Undead Legion, once feared as the King of the Dead.
Though he had been resurrected as a mere skeleton, Calgart had gradually recovered his strength. Flesh had knit itself over his bones, transforming him into a muscular man with copper skin. However, the long, curved horns protruding from his temples and his abyssal, pitch-black eyes proved he was anything but human.
Surrounding him, the Undead Legion stood in perfect formation, their bodies saturated with dark mana. When a white-haired man suddenly stepped into the throne room, the legion shifted instantly into a defensive stance.
Despite the acrid stench of decay permeating the air, the white-haired man remained unperturbed, coming to a halt before the throne.
Calgart glared down at the intruder with emotionless eyes.
[This is no place for a mortal to tread.]
The white-haired man possessed skin so pale it looked ghoulish. Though he appeared to be an adult male, he had extra eyes embedded in his cheeks—a grotesque feature typical of high-ranking demons.
He scoffed, locking his mysterious silver gaze with Calgart’s void-like eyes.
[How dare a mere demon judge where one of noble birth should stand?]
Calgart simply extended a long finger toward the man.
[Kill him.]
At the command, the Undead Legion manifested black magic circles. The air grew heavy as a barrage of dark magic was unleashed.
Kwagagagang!
The dark magic erupted like a tempest—a torrential downpour of shadow and flame that tore at the white-haired man relentlessly, leaving nothing but shreds of his form behind.
Yet, the man stood still, a smile playing on his lips as he absorbed the brunt of the assault. Even when massive undead warriors charged forward, swinging weapons the size of human bodies, he did not flinch.
As the relentless assault finally tapered off, a thick cloud of dust and residual dark mana hung in the air. The white-haired man’s body, largely disintegrated, swayed like a reed in the wind.
Saaaaaaa!
Suddenly, a brilliant, sacred light—pure divine power—swirled into a vortex.
The undead warriors who had closed in recoiled, their instincts screaming in the presence of the holy light. The divine energy dispersed the dark dust and instantaneously restored the white-haired man to his original form.
Kwaak!
[Gwaaaa!]
The white-haired man reached out with a long arm, seizing the head of an undead warrior that had tried to strike him. Divine power surged from his palm. The undead creature let out a harrowing groan, writhing in agony as the holy energy seared its very essence.
[What a barbaric welcome,] the white-haired man remarked with a leisurely laugh.
Calgart’s expression remained stony. Logic dictated that this man could not be killed. It wasn't a matter of insufficient firepower; the enemy was simply an immortal. This was a heavenly being, blessed with the grace of eternal life.
[…Who are you?] Calgart asked.
The heavenly being threw the undead warrior aside and made a casual sitting gesture. Divine power coalesced in mid-air, forming a chair that radiated a gentle, celestial glow. The man sat down and crossed his legs, looking like a serene sun in the middle of the dark throne room.
[I am Vuel.]
Vuel extended his arm, pointing his index finger toward the ground. To achieve his ultimate goal, there was something he had to accomplish in this world.
[Summon Mephisto, Calgart. We have matters to discuss.]
*
The Ropenheim Barony was located in the opposite direction of Märchen Academy.
It was a pleasant land of pastures on the outskirts of the Empire. However, beneath the peaceful scenery, a sinister darkness festered. Baron Adrian Ropenheim operated a massive human trafficking ring across his territories, and many children were currently being held, waiting to be transported.
Isaac had already dispatched his subordinates to various branches of the trafficking ring. These locations were all disguised as ordinary taverns, serving as secret hideouts for the Baron’s thugs.
Using his [Clairvoyance], Isaac had already pinpointed the locations of the captured children. He intended to rescue every single one of them.
One such hideout was in a small village directly on the route between Märchen Academy and the Ropenheim Barony.
Isaac entered the tavern to gather intel and secure the children. Alice Carroll waited outside, leaning patiently against the exterior wall.
The tavern looked clean from the outside. The two-story establishment was bustling with men enjoying the night—an unusually high number of patrons for such a remote area. The air was thick with the smell of grease and cheap ale, filled with boisterous laughter and rough shouting.
“Welco—”
A young waitress caught her breath when she saw Isaac. A handsome youth like him was a rare sight in this backwater village. She smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she approached.
“Welcome, Sir. Are you alone?”
“Yes. Can I sit over there?”
Isaac smiled back, pointing toward the bar where the middle-aged owner stood. The waitress led him to the stool directly in front of the owner, and Isaac took his seat.
The owner, busy pouring drinks, glanced at him.
“A young face I don’t recognize. You look like you’re still in your teens. A traveler?”
“Yes, you could say that.”
To the owner, Isaac looked like a gentle, bespectacled boy. His clothes weren't particularly expensive, and his hands showed the calluses of hard work. He certainly didn't look like a pampered noble.
Slowly, the conversations of the burly men in the tavern began to quiet down.
“What can I get you?”
“Before that, I have a question,” Isaac said calmly, his smile never wavering. “Are all these people your men?”
“…”
The owner’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That answer is good enough for me.”
Isaac used [Psychological Insight] to confirm his suspicions.
“And do you know how many children have already been sent to the Ropenheim Barony? I thought you might have a tally.”
Isaac’s [Clairvoyance] hadn't been able to penetrate the barrier surrounding the basement of the Ropenheim mansion. Calgart’s power was clearly involved. Knowing the exact number of children held there would help him gauge how much time remained before Calgart’s curse was fully activated.
While flying directly to the barony on the Frost Dragon, Hilde, and raiding the place was an option, it was far too conspicuous. If Calgart—whose exact location was still a mystery—detected the Ice Sovereign’s approach, he might flee with the children or set an ambush.
The tavern owner stopped moving, staring at Isaac in a heavy silence. The atmosphere turned frigid. The owner knew he couldn't let this boy leave alive.
The waitress watched with a flicker of fear, though she shared the owner’s sentiment.
A muscular man at a nearby table stood up, pulling a hand-axe from his belt. He walked over to Isaac and sat on the stool next to him.
Isaac met the man’s gaze with his dark red eyes. The man slammed his hand, still gripping the axe, onto the table and raised an eyebrow.
“Up close, you’re even younger than I thought.” The man chuckled. “You seem to know what our business is, but since you’re asking about the shipment count, you’re clearly not one of us.”
The last of the chatter died out. The air grew thick with hostility as every eye in the room locked onto Isaac.
“Kid, who sent y—”
“You haven’t answered my question yet,” Isaac interrupted, his tone nonchalant.
The man next to him laughed in disbelief, and the other thugs joined in with mocking smirks.
“Haha! Hey, look at this oblivious brat… I was just as fearless at your age. Back then, I couldn't tell the difference between courage and stupidity. Kid, you should learn your place, don't you think? How about I give you a lesson on the harsh realities of life?”
The tavern roared with laughter.
“Did you even have a childhood, you ogre?”
“That kid looks like he’d snap if you tapped him!”
As the men ridiculed him, the young waitress whispered to the rugged man next to Isaac. She told him to subdue the boy, finish their business, and then lock him in the back room for her. The man, catching her drift, grinned and nodded.
Suddenly, the man’s expression hardened.
“No more games. If you want to die without too much pain, speak up now. Who sent you?”
“Do you really not know how to answer a question?”
“You little punk! Fine, let’s see if you can keep that attitude after you lose an arm!”
Swing!
The man swung the axe at Isaac’s shoulder.
In a blur of motion, Isaac ducked back to evade the blade and unsheathed a dagger.
A sharp, tearing sound echoed through the room. Isaac drove the dagger through the man’s hand, pinning it deep into the wooden table.
The man let out an ear-piercing shriek.
“Kaaaargh!!”
He was stuck, his hand impaled alongside his axe. The laughter in the tavern vanished instantly. Blood gushed from the wound, pooling on the counter.
“Arrrgh!!”
Isaac twisted the blade, drawing out an even more desperate scream.
The man tried to swing his free fist, but Isaac caught the thick wrist with ease. He squeezed.
Crunch.
The sound of shattering bone filled the silence. The man’s wrist turned a sickly shade of purple, deforming under the pressure before finally crumpling like wet paper. Isaac’s strength was ruthless—monstrous, even.
“Stop, please stop…!!” the man sobbed, collapsing against the table.
“I’ll ask one more time,” Isaac said, his voice cold and cynical. “How many children are there right now?”
The sound of chairs scraping against the floor echoed from every corner of the room. Every man in the tavern drew their weapon and began to close in.