Chapter 29
Chapter 29
sword
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: They Pray and Regret (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“What?”
This was the first reaction from the Holy Knights in Team 1 as they headed down the leftmost path.
“A dungeon?”
Eric spoke in a startled voice.
They had come simply to hunt down a single vampire, but the sight unfolding before them was something entirely different.
A vast plaza filled solely with skeletons.
To cross to the other side, they'd have to deal with those undead bastards first.
“At least they're just skeletons.”
Thomas shot back as he drew his sword.
In truth, the fact that this was a dungeon was an unexpected wrinkle they hadn't anticipated at all. But as Thomas said, it was actually fortunate for them.
Holy Knights were the greatest counters to undead like skeletons.
While undead possessed dark attributes, Holy Knights wielded the power of light.
Purely in terms of matchup advantages, Holy Knights with their light attributes held a massive edge.
Knowing this, they couldn't help but smile.
Thomas raised his voice vigorously, lifting his sword high.
“We'll finish this quick—”
Boom—
But Thomas's words didn't make it to the end.
One skeleton soldier charged straight at him... and promptly exploded.
No one remained where Thomas had stood.
Only chunks of flesh and scattered gear on the ground bore witness that someone had been there.
“Everyone, scatter and activate your shields! It's corpse explosion!”
“Fuck! Corpse explosion means there's a lich!”
Lich.
An undead monster capable of using magic—a full-fledged 4-star threat.
They were notoriously tricky opponents, and the reason was exactly this.
Boom— Boom—
The skill that detonated undead monsters in explosive blasts.
Of course, it only worked on monsters of lower rank than the lich itself, but the dungeon interior was still teeming with plenty of 1-star skeleton soldiers.
This was no joke.
Skeleton soldiers would rush toward the Holy Knights, only for the lich to trigger corpse explosion on them.
“Shields up, now! Hold the line!”
Eric grimaced as he shouted.
But how long could these shields hold out?
He could only hope they'd last a while longer...
Everyone was thinking the same thing.
Corpse explosion was ultimately a war of attrition.
A skill that blew up undead monsters—it was basically suicide attacks.
If it kept burning through them like this, eventually there'd be no more undead left to detonate.
And that would leave the dungeon's guardians depleted.
So they just needed to endure a little longer.
That was their line of thinking.
Skeletons weren't infinite, after all.
Boom—
Boom—
“Just hold out a little longer!”
The opposing lich was burning through skeleton soldiers at a reckless pace.
By now, their numbers must have dwindled dramatically.
It was self-destructive in the end, so they bided their time.
A bit more endurance, and victory would be theirs.
But what unfolded next defied all their expectations.
Clack-clack—
Clack-clack—
Thud— Thud—
Suddenly, even more skeleton soldiers appeared from somewhere.
And in far greater numbers than before.
“No way...”
It was utter despair.
At that moment, Eric spotted the lich in his field of vision.
“The lich is over there!”
Just take out the lich.
Then the corpse explosions would stop.
After that, the remaining undead would be easy pickings.
Eric immediately raised his sword toward the lich's position.
“Goddess, please take pity on this young soul and grant me the power to smite evil.”
Pure white holy power enveloped the blade.
And the moment Eric swung his sword wide...
A beam of sacred light in the shape of a sword hurtled straight toward the lich.
Kaboom—
The holy power struck dead-on, sending dust billowing and thick smoke rising from where the lich had stood.
“Yes!”
Everyone cheered.
It had landed perfectly.
Soon, the smoke cleared.
“No!”
Contrary to their hopes, the lich was unscathed.
No—even worse.
Someone had appeared in front of the lich, shield raised to block the attack.
A knight clad head to toe in pitch black.
A monster that had no business being here.
“...Death Knight.”
Everyone froze in place at the Death Knight's appearance.
Why?
Why is a Death Knight here?
They all shared the same thought, eyes darting wildly.
A Death Knight was a 5-star monster.
If one had been present, they should have sensed it long ago.
Yet it had appeared out of nowhere.
As if it had dropped from the sky.
No matter how they racked their brains, it made no sense.
And what was that on the Death Knight's shield?
Eric muttered as he peered at something in front of the shield.
“A maid outfit...?”
A maid dress hung from the front of the Death Knight's shield.
It was the very maid outfit Celia had been wearing.
This S-grade costume came with an option that nullified a whopping 90% of holy power damage.
But since her master had bestowed new clothes upon her, the old one was no longer needed—and now it was affixed to the shield.
This allowed the undead to mitigate their critical weakness to holy power, if only somewhat.
The Holy Knights, unaware of this, could only panic.
“Ha... hahaha.”
Absurd.
This shouldn't be possible.
Eric burst into mad laughter.
Boom—
Boom—
Of course, the battle didn't stop for that.
The lich kept triggering corpse explosions, pressing the Holy Knights relentlessly.
“Get a grip! Eric!”
But Eric, already lost to madness, just kept laughing.
How long did he laugh?
Finally, he stopped.
At the same time, the spark of life in his eyes vanished.
Holy Knight Eric.
Suddenly, he gripped his sword and approached his comrades.
They thought he'd come to his senses.
Stab—
“Huh?”
Eric's sword plunged into his comrade's abdomen.
“Eric! What the hell are you doing?!”
Someone nearby tried to restrain him, but...
Slash—
It was futile, just as before.
Eric began swinging and stabbing at his former comrades one after another.
“Eric, why...?”
The Eric they knew was gone.
All that remained was one under the Banshee's mental control.
The Banshee's signature ability: mind control.
Holy Knights were normally immune to such effects, but the lich's corpse explosions and the Death Knight's sudden arrival had worn down their mental defenses bit by bit.
The Banshee had merely exploited the opening.
“Kehhehe.”
Before long, only one Holy Knight remained here.
His name was Eric.
From now on, he would proudly defend the dungeon in place of the church.
Yet his devotion to the goddess was genuine, so he vowed to guide many others to her side.
“Gaaah!”
Vampire Butterflies swarmed over the Holy Knights' bodies.
Some were being devoured alive by plants.
Others, poisoned by spider venom, were slowly cocooned in webs.
It was hell itself.
If someone asked what hell looked like, you could point to this scene without hesitation.
Berter flailed desperately, swinging his sword at the butterflies.
Where did everything go wrong?
They had come here solely to capture a vampire.
Or more precisely, to chase down the vampire and claim the Cursed Sword.
But what awaited them were horrifying abominations.
Turning the tables now seemed impossible.
Bang—
Bang—
Boom—
Boom—
And the occasional explosions echoing around.
It was clear that monsters infested not just their path, but everywhere.
Berter squeezed his eyes shut.
Could he survive this place?
No—he had to.
There were things he must do if he lived.
He had to eliminate his incompetent brother to protect the family.
He had to drag his father—who had named that fool as heir—from the patriarch's seat.
That was his duty. His goal.
He couldn't die here.
Berter approached one Holy Knight with sword in hand.
The man had only been drained of blood by the Vampire Butterflies; he was still clinging to life.
Slash—
Berter's sword severed his legs.
Then he hoisted the man up like luggage and bolted down the next passage.
I can't die in a place like this.
He would survive.
After running for a good while, a lake came into view.
A fairly large one.
As he skirted the lakeshore toward the opposite side, several figures burst from the water.
Monsters with serpentine lower bodies: nagas.
Berter hurled the Holy Knight he'd been carrying without a second thought.
The Holy Knight's face twisted in despair, but legless, he couldn't even flee.
The nagas thrust their spears into the tossed Holy Knight.
Now!
While their attention fixed on him, Berter sprinted blindly down the opposite passage.
Fortunately, no monster horde pursued.
In normal circumstances, he'd have suspected something off about the unnatural situation.
But expecting such clear thinking from him now was too much.
Berter's mind was consumed entirely by the Cursed Sword.
Thinking only of it, he ran and ran.
Before he knew it, Berter had reached the dungeon's heart.
And there it was.
The Cursed Sword he'd glimpsed earlier, lying on the floor.
“Finally!”
Anyone else would see the blatant artificiality of the scene, but Berter's face was already twisted with greed.
“Heh.”
If he claimed that Cursed Sword, he'd gain power.
Power greater than anyone's!
The Cursed Sword he'd coveted for so long was finally in Berter's grasp.
He drew it out very, very slowly.