Omen 7
Omen 7
When Eugene headed straight for the Wandering Castle to save Might, the remaining forces entered the city of Tripol.
That was because, aside from reporting the subjugation of the champion who had been the greatest threat, the taxidermy work was urgent.
-The queen is far larger than we thought, isn't she?
-We don't have enough preservative.
It was not only the sheer bulk, but the snake body meant a wide surface area, requiring a great deal of preservative. The amount the expeditionary force had brought was hopelessly inadequate.
The tribal warriors were half out of their minds with worry that the corpse would rot on the way to the city.
"You have truly done great work! The deeds of you warriors shall be passed down forever in this city. We have secured the finest lodgings, so please rest quickly..."
"Out of the way! This is no time for leisurely sleep!"
The tribal warriors shouldered the welcoming officials aside and threw themselves into the work without even sleeping.
"Bring more!"
Empty barrels rolled about the workshop floor.
"Don't skimp on the preservative. I said pour it on thick."
"I've lost count of how many barrels we've used. This must be a record among all the work I've ever done."
Through the consideration of the officials, they had borrowed the city's largest dye-works in its entirety.
"Hey, you idiot! You sewed the grain in the wrong direction!"
"Ah!"
The snake hide where shattered lower-body bones had punched through was seamlessly repaired with the tribe's secret techniques.
"Bring more sandpaper. It's torn again."
The nails that bore a black luster were sharpened keener than they had been in life.
"What about this? It's far too sunken."
Fat was vulnerable to decay and had to be removed first during taxidermy.
Thanks to that, the Lamia Queen's absurdly massive breasts had caved in. It went beyond merely looking unsightly; the balance of the entire specimen had been ruined.
"What do you mean, what about it? Stuff it!"
"But stuff it with what? This is my first time dealing with this."
Even the tribal warriors who were experts in taxidermy were at a loss with one another. At that moment, the human mercenaries shouted in unison.
"Leave it to us! We'll find anything!"
The mercenaries, who had only been watching, rolled up their sleeves and threw themselves into procuring materials.
They scoured every corner of the city, searching for materials to resurrect the Lamia Queen's breasts—bundles of straw, wads of cloth, animal hides, and more.
"This is the most fun I've ever had as a mercenary!"
Would there ever again be a drinking-story this good to regale other mercenaries with at future gatherings?
The finished specimen was magnificent enough that even a king would covet it. The Lamia Queen herself was impressive, and the display beneath her was excellent as well.
-Cut off all the tails of the ordinary lamias and gather them up, too.
-Castle Lord? They are not particularly profitable parts, however.
-Decoration is what matters in any work.
-Deco... what did you say?
The tribal warriors were puzzled, but for the time being they simply did as Eugene ordered.
After stacking the tail-rattles they had cut off like an altar, the queen's preserved body, coiled atop it, was mounted. Around her neck hung that great necklace of hers.
"This, even though we made it ourselves, is truly..."
At the request of the city's nobles, the preserved body was displayed in the square, where it seized the gaze of all who passed by. It was almost akin to an idol symbolizing serpent-worship.
"The rumor that a champion appeared was real!"
The golden scales glittering in the sunlight, the protrusion on her brow like a crown, and the lion's forepaws with their sharp, catlike grip.
She possessed a fearsomeness befitting her infamy as an agent of the evil god. A majesty that only a tiny handful of great warriors could receive in life was now unveiled to those unworthy.
"With a monster like that lurking about, no wonder the outside world's gone to hell."
"Look at the tail-rattles below. How many did they even kill?"
"That torso! It could easily swallow dozens of grown men."
The tribal warriors, who had received special permission to bear arms within the city in order to prevent damage or theft, held their heads high and stiff.
"Let's ask the Castle Lord to make sure we can take this to the next tribal festival."
"That horse golem that appeared last time was fairly good, but it's nothing compared to this."
If they could just bring it, victory was certain to belong to the Black Hand House. Even in their exhaustion, the tribal warriors grinned at one another.
A few young merchants from great trading companies also approached with ambitious faces, asking if they would sell the Lamia Queen's preserved body for a high price.
"You crazy bastard, do you really want to die?! Shall I cut off your head and add it to this altar? You should covet only what's fit to covet—how dare you spout such bullshit in front of me?"
"Eek!"
The merchants fled in a fluster from the tribal warriors, who were running wild with murderous fury.
"Tch. Low-born wretches, as ever."
"They think everything can be had with money."
Knights and nobles traveling through the city clicked their tongues at the sight.
What was truly valuable was honor, not gold coin. A symbol of such a great feat could never be handed over to some trading company. No matter how impoverished, that was something a noble could never do.
"Herald. Which house is that?"
The nobles took an interest in House Meyer's banner fluttering behind the Queen's preserved body. A house capable of such a feat was one they had to remember.
* * *
While Tripol was consumed by excitement, a new life stirred into being deep within the Wandering Castle.
The pond that came up to Eugene's shins and the bud at its center. Within it, Might, who had been dying from the curse, lay curled up.
Thump-thump.
Dozens of petals pulsed. Composed not of fiber but of protein, they called to mind the membrane of a bat's wing. Indeed, blood vessels had even risen upon them.
Before Might had been placed upon it, they had been faint as capillaries, but now they were clear and thick. Liquid was flowing fiercely inside.
The dead blood and bodily fluids drained away, and in their stead, other things filled Might's interior.
But the process of rebirth was not entirely smooth.
Twitch!
Might, which had been calm, suddenly convulsed its body.
It was because the Wandering Castle's womb, which had been granting new life and strength, also infused it with wicked energy.
"Might!"
Hideous fine hairs, like those of a spider, began to sprout. From neck to back, thorns that refused any rider began to rise.
The place where the Wandering Castle had drifted for ages was the depths of the Otherworld. The essence of this living castle was boundlessly close to evil. It had naturally tried to gestate evil by instinct.
"Castle! My other self! Stop this at once!"
Despite Eugene's voice laden with strong power, Might's sinister mutation did not cease.
It was because, apart from the Wandering Castle's will, the energies of the Otherworld lingering everywhere had infiltrated the womb as they pleased.
[Pure souls shall be immortal.]
At that moment, the sublime voice of Vanas rang out. The unclean energies that had sought to gnaw at Might's soul were driven out before that sacredness.
The thorns that had been about to sprout lost their strength and withered away.
The virtues of loyalty, perseverance, and unity, which had been fading, regained strength and settled throughout Might's flesh.
Vanas's grace attuned the castle's womb, like a midwife guiding the mother in labor.
Unfurl.
At last, as the transformation ended, the dozens of petals unfolded one by one. Each time, Eugene felt the intense Mystery wafting from within.
Now Might had been reborn as a warhorse that harbored magical power.
Might, who had been lying prone on the flat receptacle, looked up at Eugene.
The skin where the hide had peeled away to reveal muscle fibers was now covered in a new hide, firm and glossy.
"You've changed a great deal."
Not the black eyes of before, but violet pupils gazed at Eugene bearing a mysterious bond.
Crumble.
With each step Might took toward its master after rising, bits of horseshoe crumbled and fell away.
When the darkly lustrous hooves struck the floor, a metallic sound rang out.
'It seems there will be no need to reshoe him from now on.'
Halt.
Eugene carefully stroked Might's cheek. Teeth that jutted like a crocodile's. The breath of hell leaked between them and warmed his palm.
"You're not warm anymore."
Yet the skin was neither cold nor hot, as though touching a reptile.
"And your hide's hard."
To the eye it was a dark-hued hide, but it was as hard as bread frozen in bitter cold—hard enough to deflect any arrow or bolt.
But just one thing.
Lick.
The habit of licking Eugene's fingers when he scratched under the jaw remained exactly the same.
The violet eyes looked back and forth between the passage and Eugene.
"Do you want to run outside?"
Bang!
As if in answer, Might stamped the floor with a forehoof, and a considerable shock spread outward.
Might's violet eyes blazed like the sun, gleaming with light.
* * *
Rumble-rumble!
Eugene mounted Might and charged down the corridors of the Wandering Castle. Since it was a forbidden zone, it was empty, and they could run as they pleased without worrying about colliding with anyone.
It was hard to believe that when they had arrived at the castle, Might had been half a corpse, groaning in agony.
'Incredible. At this speed, it could catch any monster and shake off any army's pursuit.'
Only a creature that flew through the sky seemed capable of matching the current Might.
Moreover, even running at a terrifying speed, the recoil did not bounce Eugene's body upward. It felt almost as though a strong gravity bound the two of them into one.
"I only imagined a sturdy, robust warhorse, but this is beyond anything I imagined."
Because his body did not bounce up and down, he could speak comfortably even during fierce riding.
Ordinarily, the risk of biting one's tongue greatly hindered conversation. But from now on, even during high-speed maneuvers, he could shout orders to his subordinates without difficulty.
The speed was so tremendous that they broke through the forbidden zone in an instant.
"Castle Lord?!"
The dark elves who spotted Eugene paid their respects and swiftly drew back.
Beyond them, the entrance hall came into view. Servants and maids were there, clutching various cleaning tools and diligently sweeping and scrubbing the floor.
"Uh-uhh?"
"Wh-what is that?!"
"What do you mean, what is that? It's the Castle Lord! You irreverent fool!"
While everyone panicked at the sight of a cavalryman suddenly charging through the castle interior, only the head maid reacted commendably.
Yet even she, who had been through every hardship imaginable, froze before the fearsome momentum exuded by the duo of Eugene and Might.
'Good heavens, was there ever such a horse?'
A knight of massive build mounted upon a warhorse so large that other horses might be considered mere foals. It was a compressed, extraordinary sense of pressure that overwhelmed all who beheld it.
"Castle Lord!"
"R-rein him in!"
The Hammer Brotherhood dwarves guarding the entrance came running in a panic. It seemed the bewildered servants and maids stumbling about would be trampled underfoot.
Bang!
At that moment, Might kicked off the ground and soared into the air.
"Huh?"
By the time everyone's gazes drifted dazedly upward, Might had already cleared most of the hall and was landing at the entrance.
Rumble-rumble!
He bolted straight out and vanished into the forest bordering the shore. It happened so swiftly that the dwarf guards could only stare blankly at each other.
* * *
A lone rider and steed pierced through the forest like a single gale-force wind.
The constraints of the past—having to ride carefully along a set path, wary of every obstacle—were gone.
"Might! It's dangerous!"
Eugene warned Might when he spotted a fallen tree ahead, but Might only accelerated as if to say it was fine.
Crash!
The crash echoed and wood splinters scattered as the log was sent flying.
Eugene shuddered at the shock of the impact that traveled up through Might's legs and back.
It felt like he was tasting again the sensation from the Siege of Codon, when they had pushed the battering ram and smashed through the gates.
Even when a great rocky hill appeared, Might did not stop.
"W-wait!"
Without stirrups, Eugene was thrown off balance as the slope tilted sharply.
But he wrapped his powerful legs around the barrel and held on. An ordinary rider would have tumbled straight off.
They crossed the rocky hill—a task that would have taken even an expert adventurer some time—in under ten seconds, and Eugene could find no words.
"Fine. Do whatever you want. Hahaha!"
Might defied every convention of horsemanship he had ever known. Giving this creature any sort of command felt laughable.
Crossing a valley was no different from a bulldozer at work. An ordinary horse would have been slowed by the resistance of water reaching up to its thighs, but...
Fwoosh!
Might's legs did not merely part the valley waters—they destroyed them as he charged straight through. There was none of that feeble splish-splashing.
And Might's legs carried more than just raw, violent power.
When they reached the shore, the charge transformed into smooth sailing. He raced across the sand without sinking into it, gliding like a ship over water.
Eugene glanced behind him and saw that not even hoofprints remained.
Snort!
Might snorted as if boasting that brute strength was not all he had.
Drunk on overflowing power, Might had been racing endlessly across the world—and it was a single affectionate word from his master that brought him to a halt.
"Might. I fully understand how incredible you are, so just stop for a moment. I want to throw my arms around your neck and smother you with kisses."
Thud.
Crashhh.
The two came to a stop on a stretch of beach far from the Wandering Castle.
"I'm truly relieved. Thank you for coming back to me."
They shared their warmth for a long while, locked in an embrace.
The joy of reunion.
Perfect freedom.
Together, they could reach anywhere in the world. There was nothing to fear.
On this day, the mightiest knight and the noblest warhorse were bound by a single, true destiny.
* * *
When they returned to the Wandering Castle, Varda was waiting at the entrance.
"You let yourselves get far too carried away."
Her golden eyes were narrowed at the uproar that had swept through the castle. It was the look one gave a child who had been naughty.
"Any knight who rides this fellow will turn into a child."
"And you charged out without a single escort."
"They couldn't have kept up anyway, could they? I wanted to run with all my heart and strength."
Eugene dismounted.
"Might. Do you remember me?"
A careful question from the beautiful elf maiden. Might answered by approaching Varda and rubbing his cheek against hers.
"Oh, I was so worried."
When he had run with Eugene, Might had been a warhorse and a warrior both.
But now he nestled into Varda's embrace like a foal nuzzling its mother.
"But now, I suppose we can no longer call him a mere Barsian warhorse."
A body grown 1.3 times larger than before.
Hide that gleamed with a luster like armor.
Violet eyes that revealed wisdom and magical power.
Protrusions rising from his head in a crown-like form, similar to the Lamia Queen's.
A mouth split open like a crocodile's, lined with rows of vicious-looking teeth.
"He's far beyond a Barsian warhorse—it's hard to tell whether he's even an herbivore or a carnivore."
"Exactly."
When Eugene touched Might's teeth, the creature shook his head as if to say stop it.
"Unicorn, bicorn, pegasus. He doesn't belong to any kind I know."
His appearance matched no mythic species known to the world.
"We have never seen this kind either."
"I thought I knew every breed of horse there was. Tch."
Rex and the tribal warriors, who had dashed out in a single sprint, shook their heads as well.
"It is a warhorse created by the Imperial Guard of the Ancient Kingdom."
The one who knew the answer was the summoner Marbas.
"How did you know?"
"As I was researching records on the Wandering Castle, I read through various traditions tied to the Ancient Kingdom. Might now looks exactly like one described in an old text."
Marbas was captivated by the mystical power emanating from Might's entire body.
"It was a precious being crafted through magic and elixirs applied to a specially bred bloodline horse. A creature that vanished into history with the fall of the Ancient Kingdom. Who could have imagined I would see one again like this."
"By any chance, did the records preserve a name for the breed? I suspect I'll be asked about it constantly whenever I ride around on him from now on."
Famous breeds—the desert warhorse, Barsian, Shire, Fjord, Thoroughbred—each had a name for their bloodline.
"I am not well-versed in the ancient script. But if I read it correctly, it would be World Charger."
"Charger of the world? That's a rather strange name."
Varda, who had been listening quietly, stepped forward.
"In the ancient script, the word for warhorse is 'war horse.' The cavalry of that era wielded swords, shields, and mounted javelins as their primary weapons. The adoption of the lance charge came only in the period shortly before the kingdom's fall. The notion of treating warhorse and charge as a single concept is a culture that arose in later generations."
Varda, well-versed in ancient script and history, provided a detailed explanation.
"Then what of 'World Charger'?"
"Interpret it just as the name states."
Varda bent down and plucked a splinter of wood clinging to Might's leg. Mighty pillars of steel stood planted firmly on the ground.
"The one who charges against the world (World Charger)."
Varda nodded at Eugene's murmured words.
"According to the records, the driving force behind the Ancient Kingdom's unification of the continent was the Imperial Guard Knight Order that protected the royal family. I had assumed they were simply knights of extraordinary skill, but seeing this today... perhaps the true reason lay elsewhere."
Had it been too much, so soon after his rebirth? Might's violet eyes flickered with fatigue.
"Let's go inside and rest for today."
Eugene led Might to the castle stables.
Neigh!
Snort!
Horses that had been lying about comfortably here and there all turned their heads toward the entrance in an instant.
The stable, moments ago filled with whinnies, the sound of something being chewed, farts, snoring, and the cries of males courting females, fell into silence.
"Why have these fellows suddenly...?"
The tribal horse keepers were flustered by the abrupt shift in the horses' mood.
Even a skilled keeper could not fully control everything beyond a certain point, due to differences between species.
That gap evaporated the moment Might stepped inside. The easy, pasture-like atmosphere vanished, and tension spread among the horses like raw recruits entering a barracks.
"Might. Don't keep them on edge. They need to rest when it's time to rest, too."
Snort.
Only after Eugene gently massaged the nape of his neck did the oppressive presence that had weighed upon hundreds of horses lift.
* * *
Afterward, Eugene went to visit the statue of the Goddess Vanas.
"I thank you for your devotion. Without your guidance, Might would never have returned to my side as a loyal warhorse. He would have become a creature steeped in hatred and twisted beyond recognition—a monster who could not even recognize his own master."
Eugene keenly realized that the Wandering Castle's essence lay in evil.
It was a castle that housed demons as its residents, a being that had obtained life and returned from hell. The malevolence of the otherworld coursed through its every interior space, like breath inhaled and exhaled.
It functioned as a comfortable haven only because it was under the control of a powerful master like Eugene. The danger was not something to be forgotten.
'It was a good thing we enshrined the Goddess Vanas here.'
This was a matter separate from Might's transformation. A sacred being radiating benevolent energy was necessary even for the sake of safety.
"To honor you, I have brought a relic obtained by defeating the raksha tribe. Please accept this offering as nourishment."
Eugene received the skull staff from the priestess and presented it before the goddess statue.
The relic, tempered over long ages by the blood, agony, and death of countless sacrifices, was awash with an intense mystery.
Eugene heard a scream brimming with ecstasy resonate from the goddess statue.
Crack!
A crack appeared on a part of the skull staff. Soon after, it rapidly rotted and crumbled away. Having had every last drop of its divinity absorbed, it was now nothing but refuse.
"The goddess shall rejoice at the Castle Lord's offering."
The priestess kissed the top of Eugene's foot, praising his devotion.
"It begins small, but its end shall be vast."
"May the name of Vanas spread across the entire continent."
The other faithful who had joined them offered prayers reverently. They yearned to see it grow into a great order standing shoulder to shoulder with other major religions.
Eugene gladly accepted their respect and gratitude, but he was harboring a different thought.
'That would be troublesome.'
Eugene respected the Goddess Vanas, but he had no intention of striving to place her at the summit.
When a religion becomes a major one, the grace that falls upon each individual believer diminishes accordingly.
The candy is limited, and when mouths multiply, even handing out one piece apiece becomes a struggle.
'It's enough if she remains my own little goddess.'
The true value he sought from a god was favoritism.
From the moment the statue of Vanas took its place within the castle, the goddess had become both Eugene's master and his slave.