Chapter 82
Chapter 82
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: Pharaoh of Mahras
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*
-Slash!!
“Kyaa!!”
Sadia screamed as she stared at the axe plummeting toward her head. It was a cunning trap aimed at her collapsed posture right after she’d dodged the pitfall beneath her feet. Facing the approaching death—
-Crunch!
The pitch-black blade of the greatsword sliced through the air. The weathered axe head couldn’t withstand the greatsword’s might and shattered into pieces. Fernandez had drawn and destroyed the axe in the blink of an eye, then caught the falling Sadia with one arm.
“Ah!”
“There’s another trap if you fall that way.”
Fernandez steadied Sadia’s body, helping her regain her balance, then twirled the greatsword with a flick and sheathed it behind his back. He clicked his tongue briefly.
Hadn’t she said she’d been here three times? To him, it seemed like she was navigating virgin territory ever since passing that spot at least twenty minutes ago.
“First time here?”
“...Yeah. This part’s new to me.”
“Starting from here?”
“From a bit ago.”
The Conclave’s third seal. To open the gates of the Necropolis, all five seals had to be undone, and this black pyramid was the third. The fifth seal had already been broken, and the Conclave Paphette slumbering within had been dealt with in the Dane Kingdom.
Now four seals remained—or three, excluding this one. Once the Conclave was fully eliminated, Mumto’s already weakened authority in the Dane Kingdom would diminish even further, making it finally manageable.
It was a perfectly timed mission, dovetailing exquisitely with the Ironsides’ plans. Their stated goal was the destruction of the Necropolis and securing its internal resources.
-What’s their real aim?
‘Who knows? I doubt they need me for any of it, though. They specifically requested me. Unpredictable bunch.’
Here was the problem. Just securing resources? Too many risks for that. In the midst of the tense proxy war between the Empire and Kirzat, launching a massive operation solely for resources? It didn’t add up.
Fernandez advanced while simultaneously grasping the flow of mana, trap positions, and the pyramid’s internal passage layout.
“Trap!”
“Got it.”
-Crush!
He swung his gauntlet-clad fist, smashing the spring-loaded spear trap, and gave a curt reply. Triangulating via mana flow, the structure suggested they’d soon reach the pyramid’s heart.
“Why destroy every trap one by one? Isn’t it a huge waste of time?”
“The others are coming.”
Neither of them would get hurt by these crude traps, but he’d minimize risks as much as possible. Fernandez thought as he wrecked a poison-spraying mechanism.
-Crack!
Paranoid trap placement. Dodge this, and you hit that; survive that, and the one above drops on you. If this wasn’t a seal but an altar, why was it so hellbent on killing visitors?
‘Anyway, we’ll see when we get there.’
Too little info to piece it all together now. Fernandez smirked as he shattered a blade trap. Whatever the answer, the thing at the end was his.
*
The black pyramid’s core ended in a stone chamber lined with colossal skull statues in a circle. Unlike the countless other chambers filled with sarcophagi holding grave goods and cobweb-shrouded skulls, this one held a single bronze coffin.
Fernandez scanned the surroundings sharply. No physical, spiritual, or magical traps registered. Did reaching here mean further resistance was pointless?
Bronze mirrors filling the chamber’s high ceiling scattered moonlight from somewhere, weaving intricate patterns in the air. Below them, giant skull statues loomed over a bronze coffin at the chamber’s center.
“Angelo, those statues. Recognize them?”
“...Hm?”
“Good lord... Those aren’t mere skull statues. They’re not just for intimidation.”
Sadia pointed with trembling eyes at the massive skull directly ahead.
“Look at that skull. Golden Heka and bronze Nekhakha. It symbolizes the sun god. That era’s shield. Behind it, crocodile scales and Nemes—the apocalyptic Apophis. That one’s the ibis, god of wisdom; that one, the earth god.”
“...What’s your point?”
“This is the pantheon of the Shang Asit Empire... A profoundly, profoundly blasphemous pantheon. A temple built by overlaying death onto the images of the gods they once served.”
Beside Fernandez, Sadia traced the hieroglyphs on the stone pillar with a terrified expression, cautious fingers trembling.
“O seeker, revere with joy. As the sun and moon rise and wane, flowers bloom and wither, leaves sprout and fall once more.”
A riddle typical of the Shang Asit? Fernandez eyed the next line.
-All life inevitably marches toward death. O seeker, with joy.
As he read, the hieroglyphs shimmered with an emerald glow. Mana crystals embedded in the script. The mana flow was thickening, gradually, relentlessly.
Sadia continued deciphering, her hand groping lower and lower along the pillar.
‘Why carve it so low?’
In a normal temple or ruin, such proclamations or incantations would be at eye level for easy reading—or high above for reverence. But this chamber’s hieroglyphs were engraved almost at floor level.
“...Prostrate thyself. Great king of Mahras, lover of lions, son between the sky’s falcon and earth’s wind. Bearer of a hundred scorpions’ stings, proxy of hell, ruler of the scales, commander of five thousand legions...”
Sadia murmured the final line, now hunched nearly to her knees in worship.
‘...An altar...!’
-Shallow ploy!
Fernandez lunged, grabbing Sadia’s shoulder and yanking her back. Too late—she touched the last line.
“Pharaoh of the black sun’s city, father of the Third Dynasty, great Altarak... Ah!”
-Click.
A tiny, cleverly hidden bronze needle in the final hieroglyph pricked the tip of Sadia’s index finger.
A single drop of blood fell to the floor. And then—
-Creeeak.
-Creak.
-Clack.
The massive bronze mirrors overhead pivoted one by one toward the ground. The moonlight filling the chamber flickered out, darkness descending.
-Crunched...
The colossi encircling the center shifted poses in unison. White dust clouded the chamber as dirt poured from their joints with the eerie motion.
“What... is this...”
“Not a seal—an altar. Step back.”
Fernandez drew his greatsword in one hand, gripping it tightly while slowly activating the Bronze Throne’s function. Mana writhed, infusing the throne with light. Three times? With careful use, up to four casts now possible after recovery.
-Rumble...
Vibrations shook the chamber, and soon light seeped from below. Emerald mana oozed from beneath the floor they stood on. Winds howled. Mana swirled through the chamber.
“Th-there. That...”
“Stay calm. The Conclave’s reviving.”
Catching the rising light from below, the bronze coffin floated into the air. The coffin, carved with a pharaoh crossing his hands in repose, halted midair.
-Creak.
The lid slid open slowly. Inside lay weathered bones wrapped in ornate burial shroud, buried amid grave goods of every kind. Sadia’s eyes widened; she began to shudder.
‘Presence of the dead.’
A chilling aura emanated from the coffin. Thick, sticky death energy filled the chamber. Sadia’s legs gave out; she collapsed, clutching her pale, trembling hands.
-Thud.
“...!!”
“Breathe. Calm down. The fear’s an illusion.”
The stigmata embedded in Fernandez’s back flashed wildly. Detecting evil, resisting it. It burned like a fresh burn. The saint’s spirituality coursed through his veins, pulsing with his heartbeat, invigorating his body.
-Whoosh.
Faint light haloed his head. A halo—Sadia stared blankly. In that moment, Fernandez seemed impossibly vast. He pressed his thumb to her forehead and whispered.
“Be bold and strong. The Lord has overcome the world. Do you believe, Sadia?”
“...Ha. Inquisitor... If we survive this, I’ll convert.”
-Saintly act’s not bad.
‘If it weren’t just doing favors for others.’
Fernandez shrugged, eyeing the bones slowly rising from the sarcophagus. A strangely sacred sight. Mana surging from below enveloped the bones, igniting them.
The grave goods traced bizarre shapes in the air. Amid them, the bones sat in lotus position—one hand pointing down, the other up.
-Rumble!!!
Emerald mana reflected off the ceiling mirrors, shooting straight up through the ceiling. Like a beacon. Like a waterfall surging toward the heavens!
Blue flames ignited in the bones’ eye sockets.
[...Petitioner, what is your name?]
*
“Captain!! Captain! A beacon’s lit! A beacon from Mosat City! Mana levels matching the records from 30 years ago.”
“Our saint’s done it! All by himself!”
Brandon’s urgent shout made Angela leap from her seat, gripping the railing to peer below. Down on the ground, dozens of mages repaired the magic circle, regulated mana, and finalized preparations.
A city-scale E-rank destruction spell. A masterpiece crafted by Filaineil’s scholars over ten sleepless days, devoted solely to flame and explosion!
-Clap!
Angela clapped atop the railing; the mages looked up in unison. She felt a strange thrill in their gazes.
This one strike would flip the war’s tide, making her a hero of the Empire’s victory. Those damn old fogeys would know exactly who to nominate for next branch chief.
Angela grinned ferociously.
“Men!”
Her finger pointed to the night sky. Toward the faint green flame, stark even in the darkness far off.
The war’s rear—a mid-sized trade city no one cared about. Destroy it, and it’d only spark diplomatic or ethical gripes—a civilian zone.
Thus, toward that undefended soft target. Toward the city where the Necropolis’s high priest had just awakened from long slumber!
“Ignite!!”