Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: The Enforcer of the Wasteland
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-Groooar...
A corpse riddled with wounds that had turned black and festering, swarming with maggots, staggered through the village. Through its shriveled, clouded retina, it groped for fresh flesh. Of course, there was none to be found.
-Groooaaargh!!
One corpse unwittingly stepped out from the shadow of a wall into the sunlight. Its skin blistered white and burned away. It writhed in resistance before collapsing limply.
The village was utterly desolate. Nothing stirred but dust and dirt. The corpses huddled under eaves or in shadows, avoiding the scorching sun. Then, far in the distance, dust rose on the horizon.
A small village on the outskirts of the Barbes Barony. This place along the trade route skirting the Widow Spider Coastline saw occasional use.
An Inquisitor was coming.
*
“Benefactor! That looks like the village!”
“You’re sure this time? It’s the third one already.”
Fernandez and Kirhas raced toward the village, caked in dust and exhaustion. The horses they rode were half-dead from severe dehydration.
“This time it’s really, really it!”
“Yeah... I hope so...”
It was a barren village. Not even a stray dog in sight—a ghost town. Fernandez dismounted at the entrance and lightly smacked the frothing horse on the rump. The horse startled and bolted off somewhere.
“Live long!”
“What about the way back?”
“I don’t think that one’s making it back.”
Fernandez entered the village entrance slowly as he spoke. Kirhas scanned the surroundings at his side.
“No one’s here, Benefactor?”
“They’re here.”
In the direction Fernandez pointed, corpses sat motionless under the eaves of roofs, glaring at them. Kirhas shuddered, her ears twitching upright.
“Those are corpses?”
“If they were corpses that died in that position?”
Fernandez looked around as he spoke. Under every roof, every eave, every shadowed wall... corpses sat in every patch of shade. In the same posture, staring solely at them. A chilling sight.
“Why are they just sitting there? Don’t Walkers lack reason?”
“Either there’s a shaman nearby, or those aren’t Walkers.”
-Shing.
Fernandez drew his sword. Kirhas swiftly followed, adopting a stance as she unsheathed hers.
“Not Walkers. Ghouls.”
Damn it. The things you hope won’t show up always do. Fernandez grimaced. An abnormal number of ghouls.
That meant a mad vampire suffering from Red Hunger was lurking nearby.
Fernandez strolled casually into the shade. At once, countless ghouls lunged as if they’d been waiting.
-Slash!
Fernandez’s blade cleaved the neck of the charging ghoul. Before its head hit the ground rolling, another ghoul’s torso fell, followed by an arm and lower jaw from yet another.
-Slash, slice!
“Eek, Benefactor!”
Kirhas positioned herself at Fernandez’s back, slashing at those coming from behind.
The mindless charging was the same. But Walkers were living people infected with disease, while these were truly dead.
“Kirhas, these die only if you sever the neck.”
“Got it!”
Kirhas sliced a ghoul’s shoulder, then ducked low to thrust upward. The ghoul, jaws gaping wide, was pierced from chin to crown.
The ghoul slumped without convulsing. No neural reflexes—truly a corpse.
Her thrust and withdrawal were flawless, no wasted motion. With perfectly restrained movements, she carved through the ghouls.
“Your skills have improved a lot.”
“You too, Benefactor. Must be steady sword practice!”
Had he? For Fernandez, swordsmanship was half hobby, half excuse to dodge Demonica strength training.
As he cleaved a ghoul’s crown, Kirhas flushed and said,
“Impressive. With a Demonica brother’s body, technique usually takes a backseat...”
In Kirhas’s mind, Demonicas were beasts incarnate. Tractors pulverizing foes with superhuman muscle efficiency, reflexes, and senses!
Yet Fernandez stood out among them. Like a wolf among sheep, wielding a body that could slaughter dozens, honing technique to wield it masterfully.
And in the last mission briefing, she’d seen his shining intellect. To her, he embodied the lion’s courage, crocodile’s strength, and egret’s wisdom!
Lutmagar the hero who swallowed the sun from tribal legends!
“Uh... yeah? Thanks for saying so.”
Fernandez replied awkwardly, bisecting the last ghoul charging him. Seemed they’d cleared all the ghouls in this building.
Like most undead, ghouls were weak too.
Ghouls were even weaker than Walkers. Unlike Walkers that retained muscle and reflexes, ghouls were mere victims of vampire necromancy.
Knights felled by this lot? Fernandez entered the building without sheathing his sword.
His mana sight warned of vampire-specific magical residue.
*
“Don’t vampires usually sleep underground?”
“That’s a myth. Normally, they sleep in beds. Prefer high places. And blackout curtains.”
Fernandez spoke as he sliced two armored ghouls. They’d ambushed from the stairs to the second floor.
Already slow and weak, the ghouls in armor moved even more sluggishly.
-Clang!
The headless torsos crashed down, chainmail clattering. Fernandez shoved the bodies aside and ascended. In the heat of battle he hadn’t noticed, but his sharp hearing caught a sob.
“Definitely upstairs.”
“Yeah... crying.”
Catfolk were famed for keen ears too. Fernandez eyed Kirhas’s pointed ones.
Catfolk—truly wondrous folk. Sounded speciesist, but human features with furry upright ears. Fernandez couldn’t resist stroking Kirhas’s head.
“Eep, Benefactor?!”
-Stroke, stroke.
His gauntleted hand dulled the feel. Still, when with Kirhas, he’d sometimes pet her ears. Due to his height, she looked up from chest-level, eyes moistening.
“Mmm, uh... Benefactor. Not here...”
“Ah, right. Sorry.”
Fernandez swallowed hard. Cats... He’d had a friend who doted on one...
-Marcus. Golden Marcus. He cherished that cat to death.
‘Oh yeah, I remember. Heard he screamed when the heroes killed it.’
-Keh keh, fool. For a mere beast...
Fernandez slowly opened the door from which sobs emanated.
-Creeeak...
*
“Krgh... Hngh...”
In a pitch-black room barring all light, a man sobbed in the corner. His tattered uniform still gleamed with luxury, white curly locks shimmering even in darkness.
“Hey, vampire.”
“Hic...”
The man’s head lifted slightly, revealing glowing red eyes glaring at Fernandez and Kirhas.
Red liquid dripped from his eyes. Red Hunger symptoms.
“There?”
“...Blood...?”
“Huh?”
-Crash!
The man vanished. Fernandez whipped his sword to his eyes. The man reappeared before him, dodging the blade to lunge at his throat.
“You... bastard!”
-Thud!
“Grk!”
Fernandez swung his shield-hand, batting the charging man away. The man clawed the floor, skidding back into position.
“Benefactor!”
“Watch out!”
-Crash!
The man vanished again. Even Fernandez’s sharp eyes caught only an afterimage.
Fernandez barely tracked it, extending his arm. The man lunging at Kirhas took a shield to the jaw and rebounded.
“Guh!”
“Damn you!”
“Th-thank you!”
Kirhas snapped alert, tensing. The man’s speed was unnatural. A true monster that devoured two knights.
“Krgh...”
“Hey, Franzrit. Snap out of it.”
Still somewhat human-looking, not fully consumed by bloodlust... Fernandez needed to know why this one wandered Franzrit territory in this state. Time was short.
‘Franzrit bloodline means they’ll send a purge squad for sure.’
Had to escape before they arrived. Daylight still held, no guarantee they’d come tonight, but time wasn’t plentiful.
“Fran... zrit...”
“Yeah, that’s it. You can talk!”
“Fraaaanzriiiit!!!”
“Shit.”
-Bang! Bang! Bang!
Frothing mad, the man swung at Fernandez. Withered, twisted thick fingers raked the shield like blades.
How such strength from that scrawny frame? Even Fernandez’s might felt the impact.
‘High noble.’
No other explanation. But why would a high noble starve to Red Hunger?
Red Hunger afflicted vampires denied blood too long, driving them mad with thirst and stripping reason.
Such vampires lose control, feeding indiscriminately, dooming villages—or cities. A threat to the bloodline, so high clans dispatched executioners.
Lost reason never returned. This one would crave living blood till death.
Killing it here was mercy—for it and the village.
Yet Fernandez needed answers.
(1) In his past life, Franzrit devoured not just this region but half of Dane Kingdom as a great lord.
(2) No overnight feat, yet in this life, at this time, Franzrit hadn’t emerged from Serpents’ Isle.
(3) Had to uncover how the Franzrit bloodline grew so vast—and stop it.
(4) Meanwhile, a seeming Franzrit vampire starved outside a village.
There was a connection. Better to nip it now while Franzrit was just a local power.
“Hold still, I’ll just hit you a few times!”
“Krgh?”
Seemed it needed education to regain some sense, even briefly. Stimulate survival instinct to grasp reason momentarily.
Worked on werewolves, should on vampires. Fernandez seized the lunging man’s collar and slammed him down.
-Boom!
“Krhaaa!!?”
Stomping the writhing chest, Fernandez’s gauntleted fists pummelled the face.
The floorboards shattered under the vampire, splinters flying. Kirhas recoiled at the fury.
“The bear’s savagery...”
-Boom! Bang! Boom!
Blood and wood sprayed in horrific violence! Fernandez hammered away, saying,
“When you snap out of it, smack the floor twice with your hand!”
“Grrrrraaah!!!!!”
-Bang! Bang!
Fernandez’s fists didn’t stop. The vampire convulsed, pounding the floor repeatedly. Plea to stop, or reflex?
“Ah, twice, I said.”
-Bang!
One final blow to the brow, and Fernandez stood. Blood dripped from his gauntlet. The mangled-faced vampire trembled, glaring.
“You bastard...”
“Oh, talking now.”
“The egret’s wisdom...”
Fernandez smiled, dragging a chair from the corner to sit. The vampire spasmed into the corner.
Knees to face, it eyed Fernandez in terror.
“Alright, vampire. What’s your name?”