The Flow of Death

The longer the battle with the skeletons dragged on, the more I could feel them adapting.

They actually learn, huh.

My greed began to stir again. Training dummies that grew on their own and fought back? That was training optimization, pure and simple. Even as I marveled at my own genius idea, I started turning the problem over in my head.

Should I go find a necromancer?

Hmm, that was probably a no. Necromancers were officially branded heretics by the Empire — worse, I'd end up slamming headfirst into the Church's furious opposition.

Still, it'd be nice to have something similar.

At first, I felt nothing. All I understood was that they regenerated through mana.

But as time passed, something caught my eye.

Every time those things reassemble, certain parts come together first.

The core around the chest came first, then the left shoulder, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pelvis, the right shoulder, the arms, the legs — always in that order.

It's a kind of circulation.

The flow of mana dwelling in those creatures was beginning to look like an assembly process.

It's not that they reassemble nearest to the core first. It moves like blood circulating through a body…….

It flowed. Outward from the core, through the whole body.

The moment that truth clicked into place—

I can feel it.

I began to sense the current of deathly energy running through them. And the instant I did, the flow of the surrounding mana began to register against my senses as well.

Ah, so they use mana to move, too.

And regenerating takes quite a lot of it?

Tarian's mana is scattered all over the place out here.

Realizing that, I could suddenly feel the mana flowing through my own body as well — spreading outward from my dantian to every limb.

Along with that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠realization, the intoxication of reaching a new plateau flooded through me from head to toe.

So this is the gaze the knights were talking about?

Actually moving it, actually wielding it — that would have to wait. But that, too, was only a matter of time.

Somehow or other, I'll make it happen.

With that thought, I looked down at the skeletons, which had all but stopped regenerating altogether.

"Can't I really take these guys home?"

"You may not."

"Shame."

There was hardly any mana left in their cores to begin with. I walked over slowly and drove my sword into each one's core, and the skeletons began crumbling away into dust.

"Hoooh……"

The soldiers heaved sighs of relief — and I'd barely finished chuckling at the sight when I heard it.

The deep, weighty voice of the iron sword rumbled as it wrestled with its own doubts.

Reading the notification that appeared, I slid the sword back into its sheath.

Mercy, toward a training dummy.

Using them for experience points is the mercy.

It had eaten up quite a bit of time, but I had grown beyond all doubt. Completing the Covenant was satisfying in itself, yet what struck me hardest of all was the simple fact that I could now feel mana.

There it is.

The moment I perceived mana, my bearing had risen as well. I had finally climbed to a level where I could legitimately be called a knight-candidate.

Measured against a normal playthrough, it would be no exaggeration to call this a downright insane growth rate.

Speaking of which — Rare-grade swords.

By the grading system, they ranked just above Common. But a few of them possessed performance so outstanding they rivaled the next tier up — weapons that could stand toe-to-toe with Epic-grade.

And Frostfang is exactly that.

The cold it carried in its very steel was potent enough to affect even the frost-resistant monsters of the North. For the early game, there was simply no better weapon to get your hands on.

At that moment, Tarian's mana came hurtling toward me like a wedge.

I flinched, startled, and my hand tightened around the sword grip again.

"So you can feel it now, my lord."

There stood Tarian, staring straight at me.

"You catch on fast."

"……I suppose I shall have to redesign your training regimen once more."

I shrugged at him as he said it.

"That's exactly what I was hoping for."

Then I slowly turned my head and looked ahead. The dungeon was far from over.

I'm looking forward to this.

If things were already like this from the very first chamber, whatever waited deeper in was bound to be interesting.

After the skeletons were dealt with, the survey of the dungeon proceeded quite smoothly.

"Nothing's showing up, huh."

"Presumably the dungeon judged that the skeletons could hold us long enough," Tarian replied.

"Fair. There was a decent amount of mana pooled in that first section."

Now that I'd awakened my sense for mana, one glance at the dungeon's ambient flow told me it was heavily concentrated toward the entrance. Though that was hardly all of it.

"You think they'll be all right?"

"What troubles you, my lord?"

"The mana keeps getting thicker."

I glanced back at the soldiers. They weren't even fighting the skeletons anymore, just following behind us, yet their faces were growing darker by the step.

"It's a foul mana for common soldiers to endure," Tarian said.

"W-we're fine!"

"Compared to sparring with you, my lord, this much is……"

I burst out laughing at them.

"Well, if you can still crack jokes, I suppose I can raise the intensity next time we spar."

"What?"

"Kidding."

But even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as I laughed, I couldn't help worrying. This was thick deathly energy — an unmistakable debuff. Considering that, it was only natural the soldiers were struggling.

The one mercy is that it isn't demonic miasma.

In the future — or more precisely, at the point where the game began — this dungeon would be swallowed by demonic miasma. Naturally, the first things to appear then wouldn't be skeletons but demon-kin.

Come to think of it, these skeletons were probably corpses steeped in that miasma until they twisted into demons themselves. And that fate wouldn't be reserved for skeletons alone.

If this place had already turned into a demon realm, these soldiers would be in real agony right now.

And it wasn't just the soldiers. Cold Heart granted me considerable resistance to debuffs of this kind, but if this had been true demonic miasma, I would have had anything but an easy time of it myself.

"We're almost there. Hold on a little longer."

"Yes, sir!"

As I urged the soldiers on, the dungeon soon began rushing toward its end. Aside from the occasional trap, nothing of any real threat had appeared since that first wave of skeletons.

Getting this deep, I can tell for certain now.

The layout itself hadn't changed much from Last Savior. Straight ahead lay the boss room. In the game, this place had held not merely demon-kin but a genuinely powerful demon individual.

But that's not the era we're in right now.

Which meant something else would be waiting as the boss. With that thought, I calmly walked to the end of the thickening mana — and a massive door emerged from the gloom.

"This must be the heart of the dungeon."

"It would appear so."

Tarian agreed at once. Judging by the mana seeping from within, this was certainly not going to be an easy fight.

"Like I said — only step in if it gets truly dangerous."

"It may well become truly dangerous."

"Don't care."

"Hah…… I knew you would say that."

I shrugged as Tarian sighed and forced out a wry smile. It was only natural. I had no intention of letting a dungeon this perfect for training slip away.

"Remind me — who was it that kept insisting real combat experience was everything?"

"I did not ask for this much, my lord."

Tarian advanced slowly toward the door, wearing an expression caught somewhere between exasperation and a smile.

"You lot wait here."

"What? But……"

"You're having trouble just standing upright as it is, aren't you? And something could come bursting out from behind us at any moment."

The odds were slim, but I couldn't rule it out. The skeletons we'd dealt with earlier might yet come hunting again, swayed by the deathly energy saturating this place.

"My lord, we are here to protect you—"

"I know. That's exactly why I need you watching our backs."

Tap, tap — I patted each soldier on the shoulder in turn and smiled.

"Then I'm counting on you?"

"……Understood."

In their current state, having them along would only get in the way. They seemed to realize it too, nodding with grim, stiff faces.

"Once we're back, we'll have to train even harder, I suppose."

"It would seem so."

"Damn it. Can't argue with that."

I could see the other soldiers sink into quiet despair at the words of the one who'd logged the most sparring matches with me — but hey, as long as they had the will to train, that was all that mattered.

Before stepping inside, I reviewed every skill I'd learned so far. Honestly? Not bad at all.

Only three skills, sure — but factoring in the time I'd spent, that beat every game I'd ever played.

"Is your preparation complete, my lord?"

"It is."

My condition was at its peak. My breathing hadn't changed so much as a hair since I first entered this dungeon. No fatigue to speak of — and no shortage of strength, either.

"Then, I shall open it."

Grrrnnk—

The colossal door swung open, revealing the chamber within.

The moment we crossed the threshold, a vast cavern of ice unfolded before us. Jagged icicles ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hung from the ceiling like stalactites, flowers and grasses of living ice sprouted from the frozen ground — and at last, the countless weapons that lay strewn in the distance rose up, entombed in great pillars of frost.

There it is.

And among them all, thrust into the highest point of all — a single sword. That was Frostfang. The greatest reason I'd come to this dungeon, and the weapon that could raise my bearing another step.

"Ha. That's one hell of a pretty grave."

"Indeed it is."

And standing in its midst — one man. He was no ordinary corpse, either. Even at a glance, rot festered across every inch of his body.

Not a skeleton.

Flesh decayed in patches, some of it frozen solid as stone — but he was no skeleton.

"……"

Without a word, the dungeon boss slowly raised his head — and I gripped my stolen sword tight. The very blade one of the skeletons had been wielding, liberated from its owner by force.

With the new Covenant materializing before me, the boss began to advance, slow and deliberate.

"Another…… warrior has…… come to be…… tested."

"You can talk?"