Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: The Evil Spirit Crumbles in the Abandoned Mine (1)
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*
Excluding Kylen and the mercenaries, the villagers in the square still hadn't noticed the corpse. They continued to throw themselves at Fernandez, heedless of their lives. Their numbers dwindled rapidly, gradually revealing gaps in their ranks.
-Slash.
Within the square, only Fernandez had spotted the corpse. A horrific pressure and loathing seeped from the burned-out barn like smoke. The villagers' blood soaking the ground slithered toward the barn like snakes.
Etching strange patterns into the dirt floor. Swirling. Ever more fiercely.
Fernandez now used his entire body to shove, slash, and batter the villagers aside, toppling them. None of them deserved to live. It wasn't about cannibalism or human sacrifice.
-Once fallen into hell, there's no escape.
'Except for us, right?'
-Except for you.
Fernandez let out a short laugh at Feizashi's words and fixed his gaze ahead. His eyes locked onto the corpse standing amid the barn's ruins. The corpse's pale, cloudy pupils glared at Fernandez.
Its torn jaw twisted. Probably grinning. Fernandez watched as the corpse raised its arm, slowly killing off Kylen and the mercenaries one by one—those who trembled helplessly, unable to resist.
-Crunch!
As he severed a villager's shoulder, the longsword's blade ground audibly. It was already clogged with fat and blood, losing its edge. But it didn't matter. All Fernandez needed now was sanctified steel.
[Who are you?]
Silence fell over the square at the corpse's words. Only then did the villagers look toward the barn in horror.
"W-What's that?!"
"O-Oh, ooooh, Savior!"
The villagers crossed themselves and prostrated themselves. The corpse chuckled and placed its foot on the head of a villager groveling at its feet.
[What do you feel when a fly rubs its hands at you?]
"...?"
[Loathing.]
-Crush!
An olive-green blade pierced the villager's throat. The corpse shuddered briefly, then turned its head toward Fernandez.
[You're the only one I'm interested in. Knight. I'd like to hear your name.]
"You there. Can you move?"
Without taking his eyes off the corpse, Fernandez addressed the mercenary cowering and shaking nearby. It was Melmed, the mercenary captain. His pants were stained dark.
-Kick!
Fernandez kicked a pebble at his feet, striking Melmed's head. Melmed flinched and looked up at Fernandez.
"Run to the nearest village. Find any church. Request an exorcism."
"Y-Yes?!"
"Go."
-Shing.
Fernandez extended his fingers, wiping the blood from his longsword. Feeling the blade quiver, he murmured a quiet prayer.
[You think I'll let you go that easily?]
"You're no demon."
[...Huh?]
"Not the demon these fools worshipped, at least."
Fernandez eyed the olive-green blade in the corpse's grip. A Necropolis relic. One he'd seen countless times in his past life.
And seeing it countless times meant it wasn't rare. Fernandez slowly raised his sword.
"Wraith Monk."
[Intriguing. I'll play by your rules.]
The corpse twisted its head and laughed. Ignoring the fleeing Melmed, it advanced on Fernandez.
*
Angela inwardly grumbled, convinced the mission had failed. After three days of staking out and striking at the perfect moment with the optimal ambush, that idiot knight and his squire had botched it.
...
He fights better than expected. That was Angela's impression of the knight. He was butchering the villagers with beast-like senses and strength.
Of course, she could do it more efficiently. It was an improbable fighting style for his slender build, but that didn't make it effective. It was like using a cattle butcher's cleaver to kill chickens.
The knight's movements weren't suited for human opponents. His swordsmanship seemed prepared for something larger, more powerful. Each motion was broad and forceful. He'd tire out quickly like that. Inexperienced.
-Pierce!
Suddenly, an olive-green blade erupted from the chest of the villager Angela had been targeting. Instinctively, she formed hand seals.
"It really appeared..."
She'd planned to watch a bit longer and slip away, but now the plan was in ruins. At the very least, she had to recover the blade the corpse wielded. It matched the style she'd seen in the ruins with her comrades.
"What are they saying?"
Too far to hear the exchange between it and the knight. She debated inching closer, then froze.
"Huh...?"
The corpse had suddenly stabbed itself in the chest! Angela ducked as mana swept through the air. She felt eyes upon her from above.
-Rumble!!!
A dreadful pressure began crushing her. Unable to twitch a finger in the tension, Angela dropped to one knee and stared at the square. The corpse's body started crumbling.
"A ghost...!"
The corpse swelled, shedding its shell like molting. What emerged was a massive specter cloaked in a translucent green shadow.
*
-Rumble!
Wraith Monk. Fernandez sensed the mana swirling in the sky. This was how it always went when Pertus's Undercatacombs entered the fray. In his past life, it had been grander, more intense. The sensation of Nightmare Mumto gazing down from its seal.
-The Lands of Death. It's been ages. Thought I'd never see it again.
'Undercatacombs active at this time... meaningful intel, Feizashi.'
-Clatter.
The corpses of the villagers Fernandez had slaughtered began rising one by one. Their flesh melted away into the ground, leaving them as staggering skeletons caked in blood.
At this horrific sight, even the survivors descended into madness and chaos. Fernandez ignored the corpses encircling him. He glared at the olive-green ghost looming before him, looking down.
[Earlier than I expected, but shedding the flesh is a joy.]
The ghost sang from above like a bard. With each wave of its hand, corpses lurched to their feet one by one.
"How did you break the Necropolis seal?"
[Heh heh. Tell me how you know of the Necropolis seals, and I'll answer.]
Survive to ask me, or serve me in death. Beneath great Mumto's gaze, no one dies completely. The ghost laughed, swinging its warped longsword through the air.
-Clang!
Fernandez's blade intercepted the ghost's longsword. Its attack was half-ethereal, but his weapon was full saint-metal! Effective against all foul things.
-Grind, clang!
Like silk fluttering in the wind, the ghost's arm sliced through the air toward Fernandez. Blades clashed, black sparks flew. Fernandez's blade warped.
-Clang! Clang! Clang!
Accelerating, the ghost's sword carved the air. Fernandez didn't retreat an inch, parrying the frantic strikes.
"Kirhas! Cover me!"
"Yes, milord!"
At Fernandez's shout, Kirhas burst through, cleaving skeletons. She wildly swung her blade, fending off those approaching Fernandez. Her back pressed against his.
Perfect timing for support. Fernandez grinned and raised his sword higher.
-Clang! Clang!
-Grind!
[Annoying!]
As the deadlock dragged, the ghost shrieked and flailed wildly. Even what Fernandez blocked transmitted shock to Kirhas. She staggered with each hit.
Her body wasn't fully Demonica yet. She needed time to fight at peak form. Lacking total experience. Fernandez smashed a skeleton she'd missed with one arm while blocking the ghost.
[Try blocking this, wretch!]
The ghost's sword cleaved down from the sky. Its form billowed, disrupting Fernandez's vision. For a split second, his keen Demonica sight became poison. Relying purely on instinct, Fernandez kicked backward.
-Thud!
"Ghck?!"
Kirhas flew back from the sudden impact. She looked at Fernandez in confusion.
"M-Milord?!"
An olive-green blade protruded from his gut. In that brief moment, he'd shielded Kirhas and taken the blow. The ghost's blade glowed deep blue, devouring the spirituality embedded in Fernandez's body.
-Screee...
The blade wailed. The saint's blood and spirit seeped into it. Fernandez stared at the blade jutting from his stomach—
-Does immortality work in Mumto's domain?
'Something else to test first.'
Feeling his blood chill, Fernandez smiled. Death loomed. Mumto's gaze from above burned fiercer than ever. The world drowned in gloomy green flames.
Half his soul slipped into Mumto's grasp. The scent of the dead thickened. Rotten flesh, ancient dust, dried tears.
The Necropolis blade's curse destroyed and absorbed souls. Even this common relic bore such potent malediction.
Fernandez smiled, sensing Mumto's glare from the darkness.
A saint's soul rejects black magic.
Demonica blood rejects mana circuits.
Thus, all his methods had been circumventions. Indirect mana shaping via the Bronze Throne—nearly his only option.
But if the Necropolis blade destroyed his soul? If blood ran too low? If space opened in his body for magic?
-Magic leaves traces, doesn't it?
'Only when cast externally.'
-Zzzzt...
Etching mana circuits into his body was simpler than any task. Introspecting his flesh's depths, Fernandez slowly opened his eyes.
For eighty-seven lives, he'd started each day sorting his circuits as a mage. Inscribing mana along them was unconscious habit.
-Zzzzt!!!
The Demonica blood within him boiled. Heat surged through his cooling body. One foot in death's door, his vision cleared.
The realm of the dead split, revealing the ghost's face. Even in its expressionless hood, its panic was clear.
"Pray to your god, Monk. Beg Mumto."
[You're no knight...]
Demonica blood still gnawed his circuits, boiling. But too much blood lost to ignite the full mana. His veins blackened with fever.
Dizziness hit. Fernandez gripped the hilt, aiming at the ghost. His circuits rebuilt and shattered endlessly. His insides were mush, tearing apart.
Yet Fernandez could still smile. He'd reclaimed magic. Severely limited, but real.
[You're a mage!]
'Yes.'
Hearing the ghost's tearing scream, Fernandez raised his empty hand. Dizzy vision, blood pulsing against mana, fingers twisted and trembled.
One finger folded. Then a second, third.
A hand seal formed, deliberate and slow.
'Even at Pertus of the Crown of Thorns' peak, and when he brought the full Undercatacombs conclave...'
-They couldn't handle me.
Feizashi's hand merged into Fernandez's trembling one.
Half his soul scattered, sucked into the blade.
Feizashi smiled through Fernandez's face.
Our souls aren't just one.