Chapter 71
Chapter 71
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Underground Exploration (2)
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After the bats passed by.
With the exploration proving easier than expected, I decided to venture a bit deeper.
Once they were gone, the ceiling returned to its gray hue.
Thanks to that, the corridor brightened up, making it easier to see.
'Any other messages?'
I glanced at the wall.
There was a storage box there, the kind wardens used to jot down checklists after patrols.
Nothing much different from the ones used upstairs.
But soon, my expression turned serious again as I spotted the final item.
「…….」
「…….」
「…….」
No prison checklist ever asks about the warden's own state.
That meant some eerie force threatened even the wardens themselves.
I swallowed hard and flipped the checklist paper front and back.
And then.
I found messages left by previous explorers on the back.
'Hmm... Should I leave something behind too?'
They all fled when they spotted me, though?
I pulled out a fountain pen and scrawled a note in elegant script.
Afterward, I slipped the checklist back into the storage box and pressed on.
"......"
After the new Warden departed.
A crimson aura of mana flickered in the storage box.
Blood-red ink began scrawling replies to the note he'd left.
"...Seems like we've gone pretty deep, but no holding cells yet."
No sooner had I spoken than a door materialized before my eyes.
I gripped the worn, ancient doorknob and pulled.
With a chilling screech like a woman's scream, a forgotten holding cell came into view.
'The stench of blood is overwhelming.'
Sure enough, the atmosphere here was worlds apart from the upper floors of Berryhill Prison.
Those areas felt like cozy private rooms, but this was a textbook prison vibe.
Countless iron bars lined both sides, and the cramped corridor reeked of zero human rights.
'Judging by the state, no prisoners left, huh?'
Just in case, I peered intently between the bars.
Tiny spaces without a single window.
As expected, no survivors inside.
Just fishy bloodstains and crumpled meal trays.
Well, with vampire bats swarming the entrance, who could still be alive?
Anyone breathing would be the suspicious one.
Eerie phrases scrawled in blood.
At first, I thought prisoners had left them.
But...
Looking closer, the handwriting matched the previous wardens' from the entrance.
As if they'd been possessed after encountering the vampire bats.
A complete reversal from when they'd written at the entrance.
The dissonance made me furrow my brow.
"Who is 'She'?"
The Messiah from the Holy See?
Or the Empire's Emperor?
Puzzled, I turned my head.
And in that instant...
At the dark corridor's end, a blue flame flickered like a wraith.
"...?"
Clank.
Clank.
Cold metallic sounds grew nearer.
Soon, a massive silhouette loomed from the shadows.
'An armored knight?'
Knights in armor isn't odd.
But something deeply strange: his armor style was from 200 years ago.
"An intruder."
The armored knight wore a red scarf around his neck.
Red scarves symbolized the Eastern Knights Order.
In other words, he was likely an Eastern knight from 200 years back.
A veteran from their heyday.
"Five years since the last one. No one's come since then."
"Not an intruder. I'm the new Warden."
I pointed to the golden lion badge on my uniform.
But whether 200 years had dulled his eyesight, the Eastern knight ignored it.
"The Imperial family lost the Empire's dignity long ago. I won't recognize their appointees as Warden."
"Then who do you serve? You look like an Eastern knight."
The man inside the armor fell silent for a moment.
"Unlike the other idiots, you've got sharp instincts. Correct. I was the Eastern Knights Order Commander 200 years ago."
The Commander from their peak era?
Why was someone like that locked in this prison basement?
As memories from my past life surfaced, suddenly Hakim Andalusia came to mind.
The one royal who'd spent his entire life in prison.
"Could Hakim Andalusia be your lord?"
"......"
The ghostly knight's silence stretched longer than before.
He placed a hand on the sword hilt at his waist.
"Once, yes. But not anymore. A far greater one resides here now."
"Another royal?"
"Curious, aren't you? You'll learn soon enough."
"...?"
His cryptic words made me tilt my head.
That moment.
"The Progenitor has taken an interest in you."
The ghostly knight drew his sword in a flash and swung at me.
"...!"
A lethal wind tore through the air.
That split-second timing alone told me he was no weakling.
Clang!!
The rusty blade clashed against the bars, sparking wildly.
It must have been a fine sword once; even missing teeth, it held firm.
"Progenitor, huh. No idea what that is, but definitely some heretical god slumbering in this prison."
"Heretic? That's blasphemy against Her."
His techniques blended Eastern sword arts with Imperial styles—flashy yet decisively ruthless at key moments.
I barely drew my sword in time to clash, but the strength gap was immense.
Kiiiiiing—.
Anje's treasured sword got caught in the ghost's jagged blade.
It devolved into a contest of raw power.
"You... remind me of that capital defense knight from before."
The ghostly knight muttered something incomprehensible.
Looking closely, his armor bore the name "Hammus."
'Right. The former Knights Order Commander who served Hakim.'
Records listed him as a Swordmaster.
Even as a ghost, minus his prime power, he was overwhelming.
"Urgh..."
No choice—I twisted my body in that instant.
As the opposing force buckled on one side, Hammus's body tilted toward it.
That moment.
I drew the dagger strapped to my thigh and...
Delivered a precise strike into the narrow armor joints.
"...!!"
The ghost flinched, thinking I'd caught him off guard.
But.
"Foolish. Think vital strikes work on my immortal body?"
The ancient wraith laughed heartily and turned to me.
Then, using his thick armor as a weapon, he shoulder-checked me.
Boom!!
My body flew like I'd rammed an Eastern elephant.
Back slamming the bars, pain throbbed everywhere.
"This is Her power. She has transcended mortal concepts like life and death."
Commander Hammus shrugged with a metallic clank.
Tricky indeed.
Most I'd killed were humans turned into bloody messes.
"Run or hide, it's useless. Thanks to Her blessing, I sense your body heat even in darkness."
Never dreamed I'd be fighting a wraith in my life.
But now that I knew a mastermind puppeteering this monster lurked deeper...
As Warden, I couldn't just let it slide.
"Fine. I'll check this 'great one' myself."
I pulled a glass vial from my uniform's inner pocket.
Bit the cork off with my teeth.
A bone-chilling frost billowed from the vial.
I downed the light blue liquid casually.
Then, wrapped Clea's glowstone to snuff its light.
"Idiot. Think you can strike me in the dark without Her power?"
The deep holding area plunged into utter darkness.
From within, I spoke.
In the voice of my assassin leader days, more at home in shadows than light.
"Yeah, I can."
The former Commander, now a ghost, chuckled darkly.
His blue-flame eyes focused, seeking the novice's body heat.
But.
For some reason, no warmth registered anywhere nearby.
Instead, even his spectral form felt sluggish from the encroaching chill.
"Looks like your master didn't grant you quick wits either, huh?"
"...!"
Hammus reflexively swung toward the voice.
Several sturdy bars sheared off like twigs.
But in that gap.
"Grraaah...!!"
I'd already crouched low, daggers at the ready.
And jammed them into his armor's joints.
"You rat! How dare you scheme against me!"
Hammus tried to swing and smash me.
But with multiple blades wedged in his joints, his armor slowed.
He couldn't bend his knees—the iron chunks in the pivots locked him solid.
"Grrraaah...!!"
Legs sealed, he swung his thick arms with all his might.
But flailing at an unseen foe just exposed his weakness.
A single thin 'thread' linking the back of his helmet.
That let me realize.
This so-called divine power was mere puppetry.
"Your 'god' is pretty lame. Can't even properly use a famed Knights Order Commander."
Suddenly, a whisper tickled his ear.
He raised an arm toward it, but futile.
My hands were already on his helmet.
"Time for rest, knight of a bygone age."
Just like with the downfall's culprits, I twisted the helmet.
With a screech of metal, the helmet separated from the armor.
"......"
Ripping it free, Hammus's hulking frame began to wobble.
The daggers jammed in his joints toppled the armor at last.
"Grrrk..."
The blue flame in the helmet groaned faintly.
As if the controlling thread snapped, the flame's hue cleared.
"Feeling more yourself now?"
"First lunatic I've seen drink freeze potion straight. Isn't that for freezing foes?"
"Heat-sensing security still works down here. Had to lower my own temp to bypass it."
Each word I spoke carried frosty breath.
His unchanging expression amid the pain prompted the blue soul to question back.
"Who the hell are you? Why does a Warden wield assassin skills...?"
His voice regained some humanity compared to first sight.
I replied in gentlemanly tones once more.
"Compared to you lot rising from the dead, it's nothing special. What controlled you?"
"......"
Hammus fell silent awhile.
Unfortunately, he couldn't recall details of his ordeal.
But soon, regaining his wits, he offered a plausible account.
"There's a heretic ritual site in this basement."
"I know that. So some petty heretic god controlled you?"
"No mere heretic. Black mages who wield blood and corpses."
"They recovered your body and turned you into this monster to guard someone deep below?"
I frowned as I asked.
"Exactly. To protect a certain being resting in the deepest level."
"Sounds like no ordinary being."
Black mages' notoriety precedes them—no forgetting zealots worshiping hell's demons and earthly beasts.
"They called her the Progenitor. That's all I know."
"Is she still watching us?"
The helmet clicked toward the ceiling.
Black eyes now peered down at us from above.
"Of course. This deep holding area is already her domain."
Deepest level of the depths.
Unlike the worn, damp elsewhere, red carpets blanketed this place.
"Intriguing."
Someone lounged in a black leather chair, gazing down at a man.
The new Warden who'd effortlessly crushed her controlled Knights Order Commander.
"First you scared off my bats, now you've smashed my favorite puppet?"
A hand white as fine jade, petite and graceful.
As it moved elegantly, the silver-haired man's face magnified.
"Up close, even his face is pretty cute."
Green tresses, red eyes.
And sharply pointed fangs.
The girl in a pitch-black gothic dress giggled from her throne.
"Let's see if he's worth turning into kin."
The dainty girl, looking about 15, clapped her hands.
And then.
Torches ignited across the vast temple.
The floor teemed with corpses of past Wardens and guards.
Hoses pierced their necks; the green-haired girl slurped their blood through a straw.
"If not, he'll just be juice."
She covered her lips, giggling.
But her mirth vanished utterly.
The man she'd spied on with red eyes had thoroughly bruised her ego.
A wet-behind-the-ears human whelp critiquing her puppetry.
Cold blankness bloomed on the girl's face.
"Can't wait. Wonder how humiliating it'll be when a loudmouth like that ends up as a pleasure slave."