Chapter 169
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Translator: Prime Works
Chapter: 169
Chapter Title: The Truth of the Philanthropist (2)
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“Grrr?”
A torso turned toward him.
But there was no head atop it.
The severed, rotting stump of its neck twitched.
Its two limp arms spread toward him.
The zombie kicked off the ground.
“Grraaah!”
“……!”
It was a speed that defied common sense.
The moment he widened his eyes.
Unlike its limp movements, the zombie was already charging right up to him.
Blackened claws flew toward his face.
However, the zombie’s target was Haviel.
In other words, it had picked the worst possible opponent.
Crack!
Just before the zombie’s claws could rake his face.
Haviel’s leg moved first.
A front kick shot out like a beam of light, striking the zombie’s solar plexus.
“……Grk!”
A grotesque noise issued from the stump that had once been its throat as the zombie went flying.
No, its spine shattered from a single blow, sending it bouncing back about five meters.
It slammed into the opposite wall.
Crashed into it.
Crunch. The sound of its entire body’s bones breaking echoed loudly.
At the same time, the doors lining both sides of the second basement level’s corridor flew open all at once.
“Grraaah!”
“Grk!”
Headless zombies poured out from the open doors.
There were roughly sixty of them.
A bitter smile tugged at Haviel’s lips.
“……Looks like I won’t be able to avoid being the butt of jokes back in the territory for a while.”
Suddenly, he recalled the bet he’d made with Lloyd.
Something about Cannavaro having secrets.
That there was something shady about him.
Lloyd had insisted on it relentlessly.
But Haviel had thought the opposite.
That Lloyd was just being unnecessarily suspicious.
That Cannavaro wasn’t the type to deserve such distrust, and that giving such unjust orders was wrong.
So he’d made the bet.
‘Whew. To think I have to wear that outfit on the way back to the territory.’
Lady Ella.
The angel in a simple apron.
Or the goddess star of the ration depot.
He’d have to wear that on the day they returned to Frontera Territory.
That was the penalty for losing the bet.
“…….”
Best not to think about it.
It gave him chills.
Haviel shuddered his shoulders.
He lifted his gaze to a sight far less chilling than the praises for Lady Ella that would soon echo through Frontera Territory.
“Grraaah!”
Over sixty headless zombies charging toward him.
The phlegm-rattling noises were deafening.
The killing intent even more overt.
‘Enhanced zombies, huh.’
They were far too fast for regular zombies.
Which meant their strength surpassed that of ordinary ones as well.
But it didn’t matter.
To him, a Swordmaster, zombies—enhanced or not—were nothing more than walking corpses.
Even if he held a mere wooden club instead of a sword.
Snap!
He reached out.
Broke off a table leg.
Thus, a fine club was ready.
Did he need a weapon?
No.
He just didn’t want to feel grimy hitting zombies barehanded.
Crunch! Snap! Grind!
His legs moved in simple basic steps.
With each step, he swung down, chopped, spun.
Thrust, uppercut, backhand, stomp, shake, brush off.
Boom! Crash!
As he advanced down the corridor, three or four zombies at a time slammed into the walls in heaps.
All sixty enhanced zombies were neutralized.
And Haviel kicked down the door at the end of the corridor.
Bam!
The entire door ripped free and flew into the room.
It crushed the man inside who had just drawn his weapon.
“Gwaaack!”
It was a heavy iron door weighing at least twenty kilograms.
With momentum behind it, it was a lethal weapon.
The man pinned beneath it fainted instantly.
But Haviel showed no mercy.
Crack!
He smashed down on the fallen man’s legs with the club. Shattered them. At the same time, he kicked backward with his right foot.
Crunch!
“Guhk!”
The jaw of the man lunging from behind dislocated with a snap. He collapsed and passed out.
Then Haviel thrust his club forward.
Aiming for the third man’s forehead.
His eyes flashed like icicles.
“Tell me what you were doing here. What scheme you were plotting. Your connection to Cannavaro. Spill it all.”
“……H-Hiiiik.”
The third man trembled, hunching his shoulders.
He was so terrified his pants soaked through instantly.
‘W-What kind of monster is this?’
The man couldn’t believe the situation.
The silver-haired intruder who’d entered the second basement.
At first, he thought it was Cannavaro returning.
But it wasn’t.
The moment the first zombie slammed into the wall, he realized.
He immediately unleashed all the remaining zombies.
He peeked through the small window in the door at the corridor.
Up until then, he’d held hope.
Sixty enhanced zombies, no less.
They’d tear the intruder limb from limb.
He’d finally hear the screams of a living human again.
His heart raced as he watched the fight in the corridor.
And that’s when he saw it.
The unbelievable sight of all sixty enhanced zombies slamming into walls in mere seconds. The silver-haired intruder who’d done the impossible racing toward him in an instant.
Perhaps that’s why.
The man desperately racked his brain.
And barely recalled the name of the intruder aiming the club at him.
“E-Ella! Miss Ella?”
“…….”
“W-What’s going on? You know me, right? I’m the one who works at the ration depot in the mornings…….”
“One more time uttering that name, and you’ll never speak again.”
Click.
Eyes colder than ice.
Cowed by Haviel’s gaze, the man clamped his mouth shut.
And he realized.
Lady Ella or whatever, none of that mattered.
No clever tricks would work now.
No compromise would sway the silver-haired man before him.
“W-What do you want.”
“The truth.”
“…….”
“I asked before. What you were doing here. What plot you were hatching. Your ties to Cannavaro. All of it.”
“…….”
The man’s eyes darted around.
He took in the pitiful state of his two fallen comrades.
But that was a mistake.
Crack!
“……!”
The club flew without warning, smashing one knee.
“Gaaahk!”
He collapsed, clutching his leg.
But Haviel’s eyes looking down held no pity.
“Those headless zombies. You made them, right? But why no heads? Where’d you use them? I have a feeling I know.”
It flashed through his mind.
A few nights ago, perhaps.
A story he’d heard from Lloyd.
About digging up a ton of skulls from underground.
That jewels condensed with mana had been inside them.
Skulls.
Mana-infused jewels.
Headless zombies.
Was this the feeling of a dreaded puzzle taking shape before his eyes?
“Speak. Every hesitation, irrelevant chatter, or lie costs you one broken bone.”
A faint mix of contempt and anger seeped into Haviel’s eyes looking down at the man.
The kneeling man felt it clearly.
He meant it.
No bluff or empty threat.
“I-I……!”
In that instinctive terror.
The man’s mouth flew open.
“I’m an undertaker. Me, these guys too, all of us, y-yes.”
“Undertaker?”
“Y-Yes!”
“Am I wrong? Undertakers handle funerals for people, not make zombies.”
“Th-That’s, we learned from Cannavaro!”
“From Cannavaro?”
“Yes!”
“Details.”
Haviel’s eyes gleamed coldly.
The man’s answers sped up.
“A-As I said, we were originally undertakers. But late last year, Cannavaro approached me obliquely. Said there was a hugely profitable job. That he’d appreciate my help. The pay would be g-generous, beyond imagination…….”
“So you learned to make zombies?”
“What skills do we have for black magic? W-We just, just processed the bodies Cannavaro provided.”
“Then the spell to create the zombies?”
“Cannavaro and…… other people…….”
“Who?”
“Gordo, Michelangelo too, and m-mostly people from the trading post. So, the ones managing the trading post and keeping the books with Cannavaro…….”
“Trading post staff are black mages?”
“Y-Yes, yes! I couldn’t believe it either…….”
“But why no heads on the zombies?”
Edge crept into Haviel’s voice.
The undertaker’s throat bobbed violently.
“That’s…….”
“Answer.”
Crunch.
The club gripped tight.
The undertaker’s hesitation vanished.
“We processed the heads separately.”
“Details.”
“W-Well, when a body arrived, we’d remove and prep the head first. Said the skulls had special uses. R-Removed everything inside the skulls, left just the bone…….”
“And then?”
“Soaked them in various solutions. Y-Yes, solutions Cannavaro provided. I don’t know details. Just heard they were precious magic reagents…… About fifteen kinds.”
“Fifteen kinds?”
“Yes. Each solution about two days. So one skull took nearly a month in reagents. Of course, with multiple solutions and chaining new skulls every two days…….”
“And after?”
“Cannavaro and the trading post folks cast all sorts of spells on the skulls. No big visible changes, though. Still, they all looked very satisfied taking them away. That’s all I know about the skulls. Really.”
“No, there’s more.”
Haviel’s expression hardened.
“I get how the skulls were made. How the headless zombies came about. But one thing’s still unclear. Where’d the bodies for the skulls and zombies come from?”
“That…….”
“Tell me.”
“S-Sorry. Truly sorry. I’ve committed a grave sin.”
The undertaker burst into tears.
But Haviel’s eyes didn’t waver.
He continued staring down coldly.
Flinching under that gaze.
The undertaker wiped his tears hastily, shoulders shaking.
And confessed.
“……Refugees.”
“What?”
“The refugees Cannavaro was caring for. They were already sick. Ill or badly injured…….”
“So you killed them.”
“……Yes.”
“You know saying they were already sick isn’t an excuse.”
“Th-That’s…….”
“And you lied to the remaining refugees?”
A chill settled in.
Amid that feeling, Haviel recalled the past few days.
Refugees at the ration depot often chatted.
So-and-so had been moved to such-and-such shelter. That shelter was much warmer and more comfortable, great for recovery. But limited capacity, so they couldn’t take everyone at once……
‘Most refugees hoped to go there. Wished those who went first would recover and free up spots. They’d been counting the days.’
And that place was here.
This den of death.
No cozy shelter had ever existed.
Haviel felt his nose wrinkle involuntarily and asked.
“I heard there were nearly two hundred.”
“Huh?”
“The jewels. The number of skulls holding them.”
“…….”
“I never heard of two hundred refugees so gravely ill they were at death’s door.”
“Th-That’s…….”
“You didn’t kill even the mildly sick ones, did you?”
“…….”
“You did.”
“Th-That’s!”
The undertaker cried out desperately.
“H-He said it was medicine to ease their pain! I really thought so! So, so!”
“You fed it to them. To the refugees. That’s how you killed them.”
“I truly didn’t know!”
“Truly?”
“Y-Yes!”
“Sincerely?”
“……Huh?”
“Who entrusts patients to undertakers? Easing medicine? And after they ‘ease,’ the undertaker nurses them? Doesn’t that sound ridiculous even to you?”
“That…….”
“No more lies disguised as excuses.”
“……Sp-Spare…… spare me!”
The undertaker prostrated himself.
His back twitched as he sobbed.
“I didn’t know it was like this! I just followed orders. S-So, mercy just once……!”
“I won’t kill you.”
“Huh?”
“I said I won’t kill you.”
“Th-Then…… th-thank you! Thank you!”
The undertaker banged his head on the floor, shouting.
But Haviel’s expression grew icier.
“I won’t kill you. But remember what I said earlier.”
“Huh? What…….”
“Every lie costs a broken bone.”
“W-Wait, I……!”
Thwack!
The club sliced the air.
Smashed the undertaker’s shoulder.
His face crumpled with the breaking bone.
“H-Huuuaaaack!”
He collapsed clutching his shoulder.
But Haviel looking down showed no mercy.
“Easing medicine. Didn’t know. Just followed orders…… Too crude and base for excuses. Wanted to stay the good guy to the end? That fat stack of cash from Cannavaro doesn’t suit such a pure heart, though.”
“Th-Guhh! Sp-Spare…….”
“I said I won’t kill you.”
“……!”
Haviel raised the club.
Dull thuds followed in quick succession, four or five times.
♣
A moment later.
Haviel emerged from the basement.
His outfit had changed in the meantime.
The straight wig and simple apron were gone.
Instead, he donned a black hood hung on the wall by the black mages.
His expression beneath the hood was utterly grim.
‘This isn’t the time to dawdle.’
The truth gleaned from the basement.
The situation realized while punishing the undertakers.
‘Far worse than I thought. Cannavaro and the trading post black mages. They’re plotting something. Can’t just let it be.’
He considered informing Lord Lloyd and the Namaran Count.
That would be the proper protocol.
But Haviel judged now wasn’t the time.
‘They might catch on to our response.’
That was likely.
If knight orders and troops moved to arrest.
If they made a fuss searching Cannavaro’s mansion.
They’d miss the chance to catch the black mages.
They’d hide or flee first.
So……
‘Lord Lloyd, forgive me. I’ll handle them first.’
Subdue first, report later.
The Swordmaster set off toward the trading post with that policy decided.
A single sharp sword nestled coolly against his chest, hidden by hood and cloak.