Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Act 1 of the Play, Abandoned Mine Where Evil Spirits Roam (4)
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*
Let me correct myself. Calling them scum like the Religiosa Demonica might be an excessive insult to the upstanding members of the Special Forces. Fernandez chuckled softly.
‘Without a Demonica’s body but with a Demonica’s temperament—that would truly be a horrific insult.’
-I see how you view your ‘brothers.’
Ignoring Feizashi’s mocking voice, Fernandez turned to Angela. Her face was cold and mechanical, like a doll’s. It wasn’t suited for infiltration or assassination.
“So, Angela. What brings the Imperial Special Forces here?”
The Kingdom of Dane was one of the Empire’s allies, continuously providing supplies and troops for the Empire’s wars. Moreover, this village was an illegal settlement outside the kingdom’s laws. It could escalate into a diplomatic issue.
Angela lowered her voice, furrowing her brow slightly as if discussing something utterly repulsive.
“Have you perhaps heard of an organization called Necropolis?”
“...Huh?”
Necropolis Undercatacombs...? Their activity was around the peak of his previous life’s era, wasn’t it? And in this time, there was no Pertass. Fernandez was plunged into confusion.
Did the Empire know about the Undercatacombs’ existence before Pertass broke their seal?
-Was the Hundred Years’ War the Empire’s scheme, then?
‘Isn’t that too much of a leap? The Empire gained nothing but ruins from the Hundred Years’ War.’
-Not yet.
Looking at Fernandez’s face, Angela nodded.
“It’s unfamiliar to you. Even our Special Forces consider it a low-credibility myth... But half a year ago, we discovered evidence of them.”
“...A heretical organization?”
“Similar, but far more wicked. We can’t pinpoint their identity or their bases. The ruins our Special Forces found were at least fifteen hundred years old.”
Angela sat at the table. She pulled a small piece of paper from her bosom. It depicted something grotesque.
“Fifteen hundred years ago, there was a black mage who called himself the God of Death. It’s a legend passed down. Have you heard of the being called ‘Mumto of Nightmares’?”
I know him better than you do, at least. Fernandez swallowed slightly. How much of this did the Empire grasp?
In ancient times, there was a black mage at the pinnacle of necromancy. Some said he was of royal blood, others a lowly beggar. It doesn’t matter.
He turned his city into a land of death that even the hellish abyss would fear. A place where the dead rose, where immortal skeletons and corpses roamed. The city of the undead. Thus, all came to fear it as ‘Necropolis.’ The city of the dead.
It’s said the current west was a prosperous paradise flowing with milk and honey back then. As legends go, probably exaggerated. But the death legions that necromancer unleashed left scars of devastation, turning it into wasteland. A barren wilderness where no one could live.
After countless purification attempts, the undead no longer roam the wasteland now. Just endless barren plains. Yet beneath it sleeps the Necropolis, sealed by the heroes of that era who sacrificed their lives.
The documents warning of them vanished into history, and the horrors they wrought were buried under the wasteland’s dust. The one who became a devil in life. The grand archmage at the peak of humanity. Mumto of Nightmares. He slumbers there still.
‘If the Necropolis seal had broken, we’d know about it.’
-They said ruins were excavated.
Angela continued, watching Fernandez lost in thought.
“You seem to have heard of it after all. You’re no ordinary knight, are you?”
“Do you have to phrase it so amusingly?”
“It’s occupational habit. Bear with it.”
Angela spoke like a soldier and tucked the drawing away.
“Anyway, that makes the story easier. Mumto of Nightmares. An ancient heretical group led by that wicked being. The ruins our Special Forces found were beneath the western wasteland, Imperial territory.”
Angela leaned closer to Fernandez, bowing her head. Her green eyes gleamed like emeralds.
“About thirty years ago, we learned that something escaped from those ruins. The Special Forces immediately formed a team to track their traces.”
“Then you being here means...?”
“Exactly. We haven’t reported to the higher-ups yet. Their traces clearly point toward this kingdom. The other agents were dispatched to other regions, but I suspect this area.”
She said that, but her eyes showed conviction, not suspicion. She looked at Fernandez.
“I won’t pry into your identity. You have your reasons. But I request your assistance.”
“How do you trust me?”
“I don’t.”
She shook her head firmly.
“I trust no one. But you recognized that ‘mark’ on the villagers.”
“They’re the ones I’m hunting.”
“As expected!”
At that moment, Fernandez thought he needed to tweak the direction of his play. From a young, righteous knight to a young agent of a righteous secret organization. It was close enough to the truth, anyway.
-Your loathsomeness has doubled. Impressive.
‘Don’t be impressed yet.’
Chuckling inwardly, Fernandez tried to maintain a rigid expression. Whether his effort worked, Angela looked impressed, with a camaraderie like one professional eyeing another.
“Do you know their identity?”
“The Decaders. A worldwide devil-worshipping cabal. This doesn’t seem to be their main branch, so I might not need your help.”
“From my investigation, you will.”
Angela spoke expressionlessly, but with confident tone.
“The Decaders are a smokescreen! I regret making your pursuit futile. The ‘being’ I’m tracking possesses a Decaders executive!”
‘What the hell is she saying?’
-Things are getting fun?
Fernandez slowly pondered Angela’s words. Piecing together what this Special Forces agent had said:
1. This village worships a Decaders-affiliated devil cult.
2. The Decaders sect leader controlling this area is possessed by a Necropolis evil spirit.
3. Thus, this village is a Decaders outpost pretending to be an ordinary mining hamlet, but actually under Necropolis influence—disguised!
An intriguing situation, but one problem.
Fernandez stared at Angela, deep in thought.
No evidence. That was the biggest issue. For Decaders, the butterfly-knot necklaces the villagers wore sufficed. Other proof could be gathered later.
But for Necropolis, it was just Angela’s claim of ‘tracking them.’ Moreover, Decaders and Necropolis had too few common links!
“Can you prove it?”
“Ah, I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”
Angela spoke with confident voice.
“It’s been nearly three days since I infiltrated this village. Behold what I’ve prepared!”
She rolled up her sleeve, revealing her white forearm. Black letters densely covered her pristine skin. A familiar magic circuit was etched there.
Among the Levaainter Empire’s magic schools, it bore the structure of the fanatics focused on destruction and explosions.
‘Philainenail University?’
The crest of Philainenail University, known as the Empire’s school of destruction magic! A magic factory churning out mages with the full backing of the Imperial military! Fernandez struggled to keep his expression neutral.
A Special Forces agent from the den of bomb-mages who could explode anytime... She reeked of danger. Fernandez recalled the destruction those bomb-mages wrought in his previous life.
And the magic etched by that mage, prepared over sleepless nights for three days—it couldn’t be mild!
“Wait, that’s not...?”
“You know magic? Your identity intrigues me more!”
Angela’s eyes sparkled dangerously. With an expressionless face, she formed hand seals as if indifferently pressing a detonator. Straightforward and mechanical, befitting Philainenail alumni.
No minimal triggers to hide the seal formation, mana structuring, or spell manifestation. Just seals focused purely on activation.
‘Type E Basic Destruction Magic 3.’
-Don’t block it. I’m curious.
Feizashi’s grinning face was vivid in his mind. Fernandez clicked his tongue briefly and gripped his sword hilt tightly. What would happen next was predictable.
-Rumble...
Vibrations rose from deep underground.
-BOOOM!!!
-CRASH!!
A roar erupted from one corner of the village. The massive quake shook the walls, tore off the roof, and rained dust and stones.
*
-Rumble...
Kailen stared at the swaying lantern on the table and jumped to his feet. An earthquake? He swiftly grabbed the violently swinging lantern as it fell.
-RUMBLE!!!
“Gaaah!!”
A massive tremor followed. Kailen crouched as glass cracked and fell from the window. He crawled under the table. Earthquake!
What a goddamn unlucky day. Trolls on the road, nearly robbed blind selling goods in this mining village, and now an earthquake?!
Then, a colossal explosion rocked the earth!
-BOOOM!!!
-CRASH!
“What the hell!!!”
It happened in an instant. The roof flew off, walls crumbled, and a hot gust slapped his cheek. Trembling, he peered through the dust-choked street. Far off, a burning barn!
Flames from the barn spread to spots around the village. The village’s scant food supplies were burning. Kailen, with a merchant’s instinct, assessed the remaining wealth.
The quake and blast were mere side effects. The culprit had expertly torched the village’s sole food storehouse.
With the long spring and summer approaching, the starving mining village folk couldn’t survive it. Kailen quietly made the sign of the cross. Starvation or mob violence leading to subjugation—their only paths.
“P-Put out the fire! Hurry!!!”
“Gaaah! Fire! Extinguish it!!”
Men rushed out, dousing the barn with blankets or water. In the dry early spring, the flames didn’t die easily.
Kailen slipped quietly outside. He needed to gather his servants and mercenaries. Staying longer was dangerous. This was no longer a refugee camp—it’d turn into a bandit den.
*
Fernandez brushed dust from his clothes and looked at Angela. To her, they were just lowly foreigners. No guilt in killing them. She was Special Forces.
Deep inside, anger flickered. There was no clear proof the entire village was swayed by the devil cult. Just a few villagers wearing cult symbols around their necks.
Perhaps out of desperation for food, or hope. Poor serfs fleeing heavy taxes—the cult’s approach was obvious. Providing food or sweet lies.
Not all were innocent. But none deserved death en masse.
-You’ve gone soft.
Even as Feizashi grumbled. Fernandez stared at Angela.
“Is this your method? Burning their only food storehouse?”
“Your anger is justified. You’re more righteous than I thought.”
“Then you predicted I wouldn’t cooperate?”
“No. Do you know what this is? What kind of meat?”
Angela stirred the thin porridge on the table, dusted white from the fallen roof. A small chunk of meat caught on her fingertip.
She tore it carefully. The tough fibers split apart.
“Judging by the part... perhaps an arm.”
“...What?”
“Human flesh.”
Angela’s face hardened coldly. She wiped her fingers on the table and stood. Pointing at the food storehouse where villagers gathered, she said.
“This is the main reason I infiltrated and began my work. Look, sir. In those flames, through the gaps—see nothing?”
The burning barn, through crude cracks in the inferno, for a brief moment.
In the Demonica’s sight, unmistakable traces.
Fernandez’s fist clenched. A familiar scene.
The smell of death. The acrid stench of burning flesh. Screams mingling with flames, the foul odor always there in such moments.
The smell of human burning.
Angela declared.
“This village hunts people for meat.”
It was all too familiar to Fernandez. From further in the past than now. Farther in the future from this era. A common sight then.
Where people hunted and ate people.
“Kirhas.”
“Benefactor!”
As if waiting, Kirhas Hearttaker burst in from hiding. She glared at Angela with wary eyes. Fernandez twisted his dry lips.
“Torchman. Time to work.”
“Yes, Benefactor.”
Not in the plan, but it was time for the Inquisitor.