Chapter 221
Chapter 221
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 221
Chapter Title: We Are the Rock (2)
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From the farthest outskirts settlement, even farther west, and all the way to Libye, Fernandez never stopped running for even a moment. No matter that he was Demonica, the distance was too great to cover at speeds beyond a horse's.
His breath rose to the back of his throat. Panting, Fernandez pushed into the refugee column, shoving the refugees aside as he charged forward.
"Halt! Maintain order! Enter one by one...!"
"Out of my way."
-Bam!
The guards roughly thrust their spear shafts to block him, but Fernandez grabbed the shaft and swung it, knocking the guard aside. The guards flew back powerlessly, crashing into the gate.
"What's all this commotion!"
A knight who appeared to be the guard captain shouted. He blocked Fernandez's path with a stern face. Fernandez paused to catch his breath and growled.
"Where is the Duke's daughter?"
"W-What are you...?"
"I am the messenger of the Great Chieftain. The situation is urgent, so we'll skip the procedures. Take me to the Duke's daughter!"
At his shout, the knight shrank back. The words "situation is urgent," coming from a heavily armored man with clear battle scars... it sounded like the battlefield was in dire straits.
Chaos spread instantly among the refugees. They surged toward the gate in a frenzy. Fernandez clicked his tongue, shoved the flustered knight aside, and dashed inside.
-Rumble...
An explosion sounded from the direction of the battlefield once more. When the sun rose, the battle would end, and if the Duke's forces could safely return, this chaos would be nothing but a minor incident. So before that, he had to do what needed doing.
He had to secure the Duke's daughter's safety.
With all the servants and attendants evacuated, the Archduke's palace felt desolate. At a time when most of the guards who should have protected the palace had been pulled for outer wall defenses, the Archduke's palace met the quiet night.
Gripping his sword hilt, Fernandez walked the empty corridors of the palace. His keen senses picked up presences. Two upstairs, one above that. And... three on these stairs.
"Sent by the Emperor?"
Standing in the lobby, Fernandez looked up the stairs and said. Soon, a whistle sounded.
"Your mind games are impressive, Inquisitor."
A man shrouded entirely in black cloth revealed himself on the landing. An assassin. Fernandez guessed from the man's well-developed musculature.
"Do we have reason to fight, Inquisitor? This is more a matter of politics than religion."
"The moment the heresy investigation was requested, I should have expected Inquisitor involvement."
"Heh, if you're intervening because of a heresy investigation, shouldn't you be out there dealing with those specters rampaging outside?"
The man smirked and crossed his arms. It seemed relaxed at first glance, but Fernandez could almost see the tense muscles coiled like arrows nocked under the man's loose robes, ready to fire.
A man like a venomous serpent, poised to sink its fangs into any gap shown, even for a moment.
"Well, the surprise is that the heretic hid in the Archduke's chambers, of all places."
"What a shocking affair. Does that mean the Elector has colluded with devil worshipers? I'll inform the Imperial Council and take immediate action!"
"No need, Ironside. I'll take action first."
-Sring.
Fernandez drew his sword and spoke. The man, who had been mocking him, narrowed his visible eyes.
"I'll say it again. This is the Empire's politics, young Inquisitor. Judging by your build, you're Heretica. Stay out of this."
"You know I'm an Inquisitor, yet you block my path? And not as a civilian, but as an organization of a whole nation?"
-Step.
Fernandez took a step forward. At the same time, the man crouched low. He assumed a posture ready to spring at any moment. Their gazes locked.
"Religious court jurisdiction, summary execution of heretics, military command delegation for exorcism, supreme authority over church sacraments. By the powers granted by the Holy Pantheon, I shall execute the heretic trial."
"You're crossing the line, Heretica."
"The Abbot says, 'One who attacks an Inquisitor cannot but be a heretic.'"
"Attack!"
-Clang!
At the man's word, men in black cloth leaped from the lobby corners and ceiling. A sharp strike. No ordinary human could block this sudden, perfectly coordinated ambush.
But Demonica could hear even the rustle of clothing in enclosed spaces. The moment the men hiding in the shadows leaped out, Fernandez swung his greatsword.
-Slash!
One man's waist was severed, his body spilling guts midair onto the floor. Organs stained the corridor tiles as they scattered. And next—
-Krunch!
A man who had closed in on Fernandez's face, dagger raised, took a fist straight to the chest. The steel gauntlet crushed ribs, shredded lungs inside, and pulled out. Blood and organ fragments splattered across Fernandez's face.
Fernandez closed his eyes and turned his head. Seizing the opening, the first man lunged from his bosom. The unexpected force mattered little with vision blocked—
"Gahk!!"
-Crack!
The dagger aimed at Fernandez's throat halted abruptly. Inches away, Fernandez had seized the man's wrist. The man gnashed his teeth, struggling to pull free.
"What... strength...!"
"First. I am Demonica."
-Crack!
"Arrrgh!!"
The wrist crumpled, and the dagger clattered to the floor. The man screamed and gasped. Fernandez raised his longsword hand high above the man's head.
"I pronounce death upon the accused. Ironside."
"The Empire will remember this!"
"The Church will remember this too. Especially the imperial house has much to remember now."
-Bam!
The pommel crushed the man's skull. In an instant, it caved in, blood streaming from his eyes as he collapsed. Fernandez tossed the limp body aside and headed for the stairs.
The higher he went, the thicker the black magic residue grew. A familiar trace. Fernandez read the fragmented structure of the floating mana remnants before his eyes. Manderson's work.
A black mage must be adept at concealing their traces. And Manderson was among the most cunning and seasoned of such mages. For such a mage to leave traces like this...
-Trouble, huh.
'Can't be helped.'
Mass resurrection of the dead. Commanding a legion-scale undead, even if only for one night, was an enormous burden on the individual. Even without great mastery in necromancy, it was beyond common sense.
The higher Fernandez went, the rougher the mana residue felt. The necromancer's mana quality was vividly palpable. The mana carried the despair and screams of the dead.
-Kiiii...
Mana thick enough to materialize as specters. It was so clear it was better described as leaking from the body. Fernandez smirked as he passed the residual thoughts growling at him.
'What on earth made you so desperate.'
At the deepest part of the palace. Before the Archduke's chambers. Fernandez grasped the doorknob. Sizzle—the knob, tainted by necromancy, burned the living flesh in resistance. Fernandez ignored it and opened the door.
-Creak...
Rusty hinges groaned. Necromantic mana rapidly aged surrounding objects. Wool rotted, iron rusted, oil oxidized, organics decayed. Such mana poured out thickly like mist.
In the midst of that green mist, on the Archduke's throne. On that throne, so fogged and grayed with rust it seemed ashen, sat an old man at an angle.
"Manderson. Long time no see."
"You... know... me...?"
The old man, skin and bones nearly a skeleton, clattered his jaw as he spoke. His clouded eyes swept Fernandez's face. He shook his head.
"I don't know you. Inquisitor. Who are you."
"You joined hands with the imperial house, Manderson. Set up a fine laboratory too. Must have been a satisfying deal."
"What... are you saying...?"
"Mages wield mana. The line between black mage and devil worshiper, why I don't treat those who call themselves 'mages' as such devil worshipers—it's right there. Whether you wield mana, or mana wields you."
-Step.
Fernandez stepped forward. The necromancer's thick mana coiled around his arms and legs. Fsssh... The clothes wrapping his body slowly rotted into dust.
"Devil worshipers are puppets wielded by devils, and the magic they wield is mere trifling favors shown by devils. Tricks played with souls as collateral. But a true mage explores the world's mysteries himself, pursues wisdom, crosses taboos. A mage wields mana, masters the arcane. That's why we were noble. Despite oppression, regulation, pursuit, and interrogation. We were noble beings."
-Shaaa!
A cluster of mana lunged at Fernandez. Mist shaped like vengeful spirits bit at his throat. Fernandez casually shook it off. In that brief moment, three mudras formed through his fingers.
-King!
With a clear ring, the charging mana dispersed. A lightning incantation. Fernandez approached the old man, mudras still formed. Bewilderment crossed the old man's face.
"Mana wedge... Profound knowledge of... necromancy. Inquisitor. Isn't that... heretic wisdom...?"
"You're pathetic now, Manderson. The Kalmburg Magic Academy was a gathering of scholars pursuing great ideals and the most hidden mysteries. You were a member of that noble academy. Once, you were great."
"I... don't know... what that is. Who are you?"
"Someone who was once great alongside you."
-King!
Mana lines snapped, the aura leaking from Manderson's body scattering. Fernandez's hands swiftly formed other mudras, severing Manderson's bindings one by one.
"What did you hope for, to play the puppet? My old friend."
"The Emperor... promised me..."
"What."
"Eternal youth... immortality. Infinite time to explore great mysteries. A land brimming with vitality and beautiful wives... infinite time..."
The old man cackled. Fernandez looked down at him with a coldly hardened face. Greed burned on the old man's features.
"All I had to do was one simple thing. If you hadn't shown up. This territory would be mine, and I would become the Empire's Elector, remaining eternally great alongside the Emperor. Experiments scraping bile from corpses in dark backrooms could now be freely conducted under imperial protection. That was the Emperor's promise."
"For such trifles, you abandoned your own nobility and willingly became the Emperor's dog, a puppet?"
"Who among us can claim not to be a puppet? We are all puppets. Of nations, organizations, society, hell, the Holy Pantheon, or fate..."
-Kuduk.
Greed and madness enveloped the old man's face. Hellish mana rose from his feet, coursing through muscle and bone. Squish, crackle—unpleasant twisting sounds wrapped the old man.
Flames erupted. Ebon-green flames engulfed and consumed his body. Fernandez did not retreat but met them with opposing mudras.
From within the flames came the old necromancer's voice.
"This territory is mine. This land, this body! Even my fate! All shall be mine!"
"You've lost your soul."
The price for commanding a massive undead legion with necromancy. It was surely power bought by handing his soul to a hellish devil. Fernandez sighed.
The Emperor. Luring the necromancer to topple Duke Erb, using the Duke's daughter to turn all of Libye into his puppets. Too elaborate a trap just to check one Elector.
The Emperor was elected. And Emperors wished their power passed to their house. For that, he thought the Empire's next goal was the eastern kingdoms.
But other schemes were afoot. The Emperor being elected. The electors holding that vote. That meant...
-Control more than half the Elector houses, and the Emperor's power lasts forever.
'The Electors trapped aren't just Duke Erb.'
-The Empire will fall.
As Feizashi said. In the previous great war, even in that fierce downfall, the Empire had upheld human civilization. Now, in this era, it teetered on collapse.
Rene Philippa. Emperor of the great war. The indomitable hero who repelled two barbarian invasions and led the great war. She was needed. Fernandez drew breath, staring into the flames.
-Sring.
The key-sword slid from its sheath. Against hellish mana, it shone brighter than ever. Fernandez pressed his forehead briefly to the blade and whispered.
"My karma."
She had averted the 50-year war. This led to the Emperor's fall, unable to bear his power's severance. In his previous life, before Rene Philippa ascended, the imperial house was not his concern. He didn't know what kind of man he was.
But that ignorance meant, at least, he hadn't dabbled in black magic or devils' secrets. The imperial house had been closer to Feizashi's enemies.
If the house had fallen to corruption now... perhaps it was the consequence of averting the war. Like a butterfly's wingbeat birthing a storm on the world's far side. Hadn't his actions drawn a vicious cycle?
He wanted to save his son. To do that, he would save the world. Such thoughts, such actions. But what were the results? This world crumbled far faster than in his previous life.
'Was it doomed to perish anyway?'
-There is no fate, Fernandez. We tested it.
'Our first experiment. Yes. There is no fate.'
Regret is a mark of weakness. No time for regret or lament—he would rise and run. Fernandez lifted his forehead from the blade and gazed at the necromancer reveling in hellish mana. His flesh twisted and grew as devils clung to it.
"Pray, Manderson."
He had never lived complacently. Even at the precipice,
"To any god, any words. Earnestly."
So this time too. Even choosing the lesser evil over the worst. Always.