The Goddess of the Black Swamp (3)
"Hic… the Undead King… and the Goddess of the Black Swamp…"
Baron Manfred's study.
No one was admitted besides the Baron and myself.
I relayed to him everything I had discussed with the Special Task Force of the Heresy Inquisition.
That the Undead King had taken an interest in the Goddess of the Black Swamp. That his thralls might already be roaming these lands. And that the Special Task Force wanted my help because of it.
By the time my report was finished, the liquor seemed to have drained clean out of the Baron.
"Damn it. Why do dark magic mongrels keep getting tangled up with a backwater like this?"
The Special Task Force had classified everything related to the Undead King as confidential. But they had agreed with me that, given they were taking the lord's own son, they could hardly keep it from the lord himself.
"Karl. I can't assign any of my people to you this time. This matter… I'd better be the only one who knows."
"I agree. If rumors about the Undead King start spreading, it could cause needless panic."
"It's less that and more that if your mother finds out you're going to the Black Swamp… no. Never mind."
So Lady Manfred would worry. Fair enough. Her son had spent a lifetime curled up in bed, and now he was suddenly poking around in dangerous places. Of course she would be concerned.
"We'll have to make something up for everyone else. I'm not thrilled about sending you alone, but… you're taking Dorothy, right?"
"Yes. Dorothy alone is enough. You know better than anyone how strong she is, Father."
The Baron was a swordsman ranked among the best on the entire continent. Dorothy in her wolf form could hold her own even against him. And though I could hardly flaunt them in front of others, the illusory beings I had created by combining the Curse of Illusion with the Curse of Obsession were more than powerful enough. At this point, your average dark mage was no longer a match for me. I didn't need an escort.
"Right. I know. There's that priest from the Papal Court as well, so even if you take a few hits it shouldn't be a problem. He'll be more skilled than our own freeloading monk, at least."
"Probably."
"Good. Come back safe. If things get dangerous, run like hell no matter what happens to anyone else. Your old man believes in you."
"Thank you."
When I stepped out of the Baron's study, Dorothy was waiting for me outside. I took her with me and headed back toward my room. Along the corridor, we ran into Veronica.
Black hair and red eyes. The captain of the Special Task Force.
Her hair was still slightly damp — she must have washed not long ago. Bound by the Curse of Severance, speaking caused her pain, so she offered no verbal greeting, only a silent nod.
Her gaze flicked downward, checking whether I was wearing the silver ring. She clearly had something she wanted to say. Without that consecrated ring, anyone conversing with Veronica felt the pain as well. The problem was that I had taken the ring off to wash and still hadn't put it back on.
"…I can't remember the last time I rested this comfortably away from home. …I really ought to thank you properly."
Confirming the ring was absent, Veronica stared into empty air as though no one stood before her, murmuring to herself. So she could speak that way without inflicting pain on the other person. Back at the cathedral I hadn't given Dorothy a ring either, since she had only been listening. Apparently just hearing Veronica's voice wasn't enough to trigger the pain. But the way she still paused between phrases told me this method did nothing to spare her own suffering.
I offered a light smile and walked past her.
We set out from the Baron's castle in the pre-dawn dark, before the sun had properly risen. We were heading beyond the borders of the barony; leave too late and we wouldn't arrive before nightfall.
Agnes had transformed into her black bear form and was pulling the carriage. Whether something hauled by a bear still counted as a carriage was debatable, but for convenience's sake we called it one. I had wondered if the Lumenic Church simply refused to provide horses, but apparently Agnes just had too much surplus stamina and needed somewhere to put it.
It was a four-seater. Myself, Veronica, Alexander, and Priest Patrick — the Special Task Force's escort officer — filled it completely. Veronica sat beside me; Alexander and Priest Patrick faced us across the cabin. Dorothy would follow in her wolf form. For now I still had to control her through the Curse of the Puppet. Even as a werewolf she had enough intelligence to understand an order to keep pace with a carriage, but there was always the risk she might lose herself to hunger mid-journey and veer off somewhere else. Once this business was done and I altered the Curse of the Lycanthrope, the Curse of the Puppet would no longer be necessary. From then on, her intellect would remain intact even in wolf form.
"Um… Y-Young Master…"
Alexander, hooded beneath his cloak, called to me in a small voice.
"What is it?"
"On top of Miss Dorothy…"
I looked out the window at the enormous wolf racing alongside the carriage. Someone was perched quite naturally on her back.
My younger sister, Clara Manfred.
Why had she followed us? More to the point — I hadn't told a soul besides the Baron when we were leaving. How had she even known?
Our eyes met, and Clara flashed me a smile brimming with inexplicable confidence.
"Was the young lady meant to accompany us as well?"
Priest Patrick asked me.
She most certainly was not. But we were already a fair distance from the castle, and with no horse to spare, sending her back alone felt wrong.
"Ah… yes… well… she's a mage, so… she'll be useful."
"…Hmm."
Veronica looked displeased by the unplanned addition, but seemed to have decided not to press the matter.
"Incidentally, Young Master — how much do you know about the Black Swamp? Priest Thomas said he doesn't know the place in any real detail either."
"The faith of the Black Swamp has spread as far as this territory. Since it's a superstition the local people believe in, I've looked into it to some extent."
In Luke's Biography, I had explored the Black Swamp myself. I had a rough idea of what was required to enter it, and how to meet the Goddess.
"Then do you already have a plan for where to begin the investigation?"
"Once we leave the barony, we head for the nearest village. From there—"
— GROOOAAARR!
A black bear's roar split the air, and the carriage lurched to a halt.
"What's going on?"
"Th-there's an emergency, she says…"
We all climbed down from the carriage. A acrid smell rode the wind toward us. Not far ahead, a village was burning.
"That's the village I just said we needed to go to."
I said it flatly. Priest Patrick's face filled with dread.
"Brother!"
Clara, who had been riding atop Dorothy, came running toward me. She looked nearly as unsettled as the priest.
"Why on earth did you come?"
"I'll explain later—"
She never finished the sentence. Dark shapes were pouring out of the burning village, racing straight toward us.
"…Thralls of the Undead King. …They've noticed us."
Veronica assessed the situation and spoke.
"…We'll handle the fighting. …All of you, stay close to Alexander."
"I-if you're near me… you won't be attacked…"
The altered power of the Curse of the Hermit, no doubt. Alexander was afflicted with a curse that erased his presence. He must have altered it so that the effect extended to those around him as well.
"Dorothy and Clara can help too."
Veronica glanced once at Dorothy, then at Clara. Dorothy was already growling, straining to charge. Clara wore an expression of grim resolve.
"…I appreciate it, but I'll only accept Miss Dorothy's assistance. …Mages are difficult to fight alongside."
"Understood."
— SKREEEEEEE!
The thralls of the Undead King closed the distance. Even at a glance, there were dozens of them.
Slaves of Death.
Corpses of humans whose lives had already burned out and crumbled away, risen again stained black by unholy power. The magic capable of creating thralls like these belonged to a realm only the Undead King had ever reached.
— GROOOAAAAARR!
The moment Veronica unhitched the reins connecting her to the carriage, Agnes the black bear charged. Several Slaves of Death shattered to pieces as though a massive war chariot had plowed straight through them.
I gripped the catalyst of the Curse of the Puppet — a fang threaded with Dorothy's hair — and issued my command. Dorothy surged after Agnes, carving through the Slaves of Death with her blade.
Then, from the direction of the burning village, a black beam of light shot skyward. Clara and Priest Patrick's faces went white with horror.
The black beam arced and plummeted in a straight line toward Agnes — but it never pierced her. Mid-flight, the beam bent sharply and veered toward Veronica at the rear.
"Dark Prey."
A dark magic that redirected the target of every spell onto oneself. Veronica had cast it. As if being cursed weren't enough, she used dark magic too. Were these Special Task Force people even really part of the Lumenic Church?
The black beam punched through Veronica, yet she showed no sign of injury whatsoever. That was the altered power of the Curse of Severance. The curse's original effect didn't stop at causing pain when she spoke — it also prevented her own attacks from harming anyone else. She had altered it so that no one else could harm her either.
Several more black beams followed. Each seemed aimed at Agnes or Dorothy, and each time, without fail, the trajectory bent mid-course toward Veronica.
"Father! That beam — that's holy magic!"
"I-I don't… I don't understand how…"
Clara was right. The color was black, but that beam was unmistakably holy magic — most likely reinforced through Dark Amplification. Just as the dark mage who had used the Curse of the Puppet had once amplified sky magic with Dark Amplification to create black lightning. But Dark Amplification was typically used to empower World Magic. I knew of cases like Jeina, who could wield both holy magic and dark magic — opposing forces — but I had never heard of anyone fusing the two into one.
— GRRAAAAAAH!
Another wave of Slaves of Death came flooding from the village. Among them loomed a massive shape, letting out a grotesque wail.
A Death Mire.
An agglomeration of Slaves of Death, their bodies so rotted they were melting together. Ordinary attacks barely worked on the thing. It had to be burned. Dealing with a Death Mire would require Clara and Priest Patrick to step in — but that meant Veronica would have to drop Dark Prey, leaving them exposed to those black beams. I had no intention of accepting that kind of damage.
"Priest Patrick."
"Yes?"
"It seems the Special Task Force members use dark magic."
"That's correct… Their use of dark magic is not to be reported."
"Then I'd appreciate it if you'd look the other way while I use some myself. Given the circumstances."
"…I beg your pardon?"
"Brother?"
I wasn't affiliated with the Lumenic Church to begin with, so using a bit of dark magic wouldn't get me punished. An illusory being, once designed, could be conjured in an instant. I drew forth the residual thoughts of terror I had experienced through the Curse of Illusion, then gave them form through the Curse of Obsession.
Black energy poured from my body and swelled in a heartbeat, becoming a monster well over several dozen meters long.
— KRRRRRRRK!
A head crowded with dozens of eyes and a maw packed with massive teeth. At every segment, legs like human arms and feet like human hands, each joint studded with a huge, bloodshot eye. A black centipede.
"AAAAAAAH! Brother! What on earth are you doing?!"
"Merciful heavens! O God, have mercy!"
A monster born of illusion — with the minor flaw of terrifying allies as thoroughly as enemies.
My proud creation revealed itself once more.