56. The Collapsing Mine of the Undead (2)
*
– Ah, damn this body.
Faijashi forced his twisted fingers to bend and chuckled. The Blood of Diemonica was boiling, pushing out Faijashi’s soul moment by moment. Fernandez gripped the blade piercing his stomach. What needed to be done was clear.
– Squelch.
“Ugh…”
Pain flashed through his head, and blood spilled from his lips. His insides were shattered by the shock, and as he pulled out the blade, his hair stood on end, and chunks of flesh clung to the sword. But he didn’t stop.
“Huu…”
– Squelch.
Survival instinct, fear, pain, and despair. Even as his soul was torn apart by the blade of the Necropolis. Even as he stepped into Mumto’s Domain and bore his gaze. He never stopped. He had lived his whole life like this.
– Squelch!!
“Kuh… ugh… ha!!”
Finally, the blade that had been carving his soul was completely pulled out of his body. Fernandez knelt on one knee, leaning on the blade of the Necropolis, gasping for breath. With each breath, torn organs caused blood to gush out.
[You!! You wretch! I am Sialankris, a high priest of the Necropolis! Reveal your name!]
As Fernandez pulled the blade from his body, Faijashi used his trembling left arm to block the creature’s movements. Black chains wrapped around its body. [Kasard’s Black Shackles]. One of his master’s patented techniques.
– Crackle!!
[You—monster!!!]
The Wraith howled. The clash of magical forces briefly balanced before breaking apart. With just a handful of magic, using only one arm, and without fully utilizing his vocal cords, this was the best Faijashi could do.
– Buy time.
‘What should I do?’
– Fernandez. You lack imagination.
Faijashi chuckled. The sensation of laughter bubbling up in his head felt strange. As the Wraith regained its freedom, a blue scythe slowly formed in its hand.
[Annihilation]. Faijashi raised his left arm and drew a smooth curve in the air. Delicate and graceful. A beautiful Beastman’s form, despite his trembling hand.
– It’s not that it’s free. I let it go.
[I will take your head and demand your identity in my master’s Domain, mortal!]
Fernandez, gasping for breath, slowly stood up. His weakened legs stumbled several times. He staggered and slowly lifted the Necropolis sword from the ground. The tip of the blade wavered.
Amidst the intense pain and exhaustion, he felt the surge of magic in his left arm. His heart pounded fiercely.
– Thud, thud, thud.
To expel the magic, his heart pumped, spreading the Blood of Diemonica throughout his body. He coughed, and more blood gushed from his stomach. Yet, even then, his left arm continued to trace the Beastman’s form. [Residual Strength].
“Necropolis’s Lace Monk. Which pillar do you guard?”
[…You’re quite knowledgeable. I’m growing more curious about your identity. Harvesting your soul will greatly please my master.]
– Whoosh!!
– Squelch!!
The Wraith swung its scythe. Fernandez’s sword barely managed to block it. Fortunately, the sword’s inherent strength allowed him to maintain the clash.
– Clang! Clang!
[Your death will not be the end of your life, human! Your soul now belongs to the Necropolis forever!]
– Squelch!!
Fernandez’s strength was fading. He could barely parry the incoming scythe. Blood continued to pour from his torn stomach. He gasped and shouted.
‘Not yet?’
– Now’s the time.
As Fernandez deflected the scythe and caught his breath, his left arm stopped moving after tracing a curve in the air. Three times, twice, and finally once more. Then, with a strong grip on the air—
– [Flesh]
Finally, Fernandez understood what Faijashi’s magic was aiming for. He laughed briefly in disbelief. I guess I lacked imagination. If only my magic had returned, I could have tried this.
– Auxiliary spell, Three Heads Six Arms.
Faijashi felt the Spirit Form rising behind him. This brought him close to the peak of his magical prowess.
*
Angela knelt under suffocating pressure, watching the scene unfolding in the distant plaza. A wounded knight swinging his sword against a Wraith.
– Clang! Clang!
The knight, Albert, fighting against the creature was like a miracle. Despite his terrible injuries, he stood firm, protecting his fallen squire without moving an inch. He swung his sword like a hero from an epic.
Strong power and grand movements. Attacks as if facing a larger opponent? Exactly. No matter which organization or group Albert belonged to, they must have been trained to face such beings.
– Squelch!!
Even from this distance, the metallic clash of the Wraith’s scythe and Albert’s sword was clear. Despite taking such powerful strikes, Albert did not fall.
“Ah…”
Angela trembled with hope at the sight. Under this sky weighed down by death and fear, Albert alone seemed to sing of victory and hope.
Tears blurred her vision. The scene distorted, and light seemed to spread behind Albert as if wings were sprouting.
*
As if wings were sprouting one by one, arms rose from Fernandez’s back. A faint Spirit Form slowly materialized. The withered, twisted hands of an old man spread like wings in the air.
If there weren’t enough arms to trace the Beastman’s form, or enough mouths to chant the spells. And if, while manipulating more than one body, the skill to finely control magic without error was sufficient.
Under such a concept, Faijashi had created this magic. In his prime, he had never struggled with a lack of magic. But his breath, stamina, and the limits of his aging body could no longer handle his power.
In his prime, he had the power to seal Vaitas’s Four Archangels. Six arms tracing forms simultaneously, three heads chanting spells at once. Replicating that fully now would be difficult.
Auxiliary spell, Three Heads Six Arms
Finally, three arms wrapped around him from behind.
He stepped forward. Translucent spirits, maintaining faint forms, each pointed at different beastmen.
At the end of it, four distinct spells were being completed. A level of difficulty no ordinary spellcaster would dare attempt. Quad casting meant coordinating all these spells simultaneously, with entirely different flows of magical energy, without a single misstep!
[What… is that…?]
The monk of Necropolis. If he was a priest of Mumto, it was natural he had some knowledge of magic. The specter, forgetting to attack, stared at the knight before him. Every time the knight’s left hand moved, the three hands behind him simultaneously pointed at the beastmen!
-Mana Purification.
As the first hand pointed, the oppressive aura flowing from Mumto’s domain weakened significantly. Mana Purification. The process of purifying mana with foreign attributes, making it more suitable for magic. Even the Great Demon’s mana was being dispersed and absorbed!
[How… How can you do that?!]
-Spirit Theft.
The second hand pointed. The specter trembled as it felt its existence rapidly fading. It couldn’t even resist. The connection to Necropolis grew faint, and in its place, chains belonging to someone else extended.
-Click, clack!
[You… bastard!!!]
The specter stared at the knight with trembling eyes. Not at him, but at the one residing within his body. Not the pale mortal flesh, but the essence! The specter’s gaze met the end of the chains binding it.
A grand mage who opened an era and ended it with his name. The specter shrank further as it met the eyes of the grand mage who had reached the pinnacle of magic.
-Banishment.
Finally, the third hand pointed at the last beastman. As if carving out the sky. In that moment, Mumto’s gaze, which had enveloped the village, vanished completely. The great magic formed by the combination of these three spells. [Pertas’ Theft].
A spell that forcibly transferred ownership of a summoned entity. The arm floating behind Faijashi gradually faded and disappeared. The specter collapsed with a scream.
[You… banished the Great Demon…?]
-Click, clack!
Fernandez’s left hand roughly pulled on a glowing, dark green chain. The shrunken specter was dragged along weakly. It crawled on the ground, gasping.
-Thud.
Fernandez stepped on its head and laughed.
“Now it’s time to answer.”
[…Why was Necropolis’ seal broken?]
“No, what you’re plotting here.”
[If I tell you, will you let me go?]
“I can make it comfortable for you.”
Fernandez laughed, looking at his bleeding stomach. Diemonica’s body truly was beast-like. Even the wounds torn by Necropolis’ blade were healing moment by moment.
[Whose minion are you…? The Insect King? The Seven Crowns? The Serpent Empress?]
“Divine Warrior.”
[Hah… Vaitas.]
The specter sobbed. How had such a devilish being appeared? The specter slowly knelt, looking at the chains binding its chest.
[The Round Table was so close…]
The specter sighed with self-mockery.
[Those who released our seal were the ones you humans call the ‘Church of the Underground Burial’. They brought my lord out of the seal and dragged him to this damned eastern backwater.]
“Your lord? Mumto was released from the seal?”
[No, my lord is his fifth bishop.]
“Conclave! The Necropolis Conclave has been released in this era?”
[…You know a lot, mortal.]
The specter showed a moment of wariness. But with the chains of control binding it, it couldn’t lie to Fernandez’s questions.
-Don’t be fanatical. You can still avoid answering.
Faijashi, now in spirit form, whispered beside him. Fernandez chuckled at that. As if I’d be fanatical about a Necropolis specter. He pulled the chain.
“Right. It’s obvious what they offered. To release Necropolis’ great seal?”
[…Yes. And the price…]
“The dissolution of the Round Table?”
[No.]
The specter laughed darkly.
[The resurrection of the Founding King.]
Hearing the answer, Fernandez, who had been about to strike, froze. He stood still, holding the blade aloft.
“What?”
Someone had beaten me to that role?
*
Kirhas lay on the ground, gasping, watching Fernandez fight. The overwhelming pressure and presence left her unable to move.
She looked up at Fernandez with awe. The way he effortlessly handled the massive specter, which she couldn’t even dare to oppose… He was like the legendary hero from her tribe’s myths!
Fernandez easily subdued the specter and seemed to converse with it briefly. She couldn’t follow the conversation’s context.
Soon, Fernandez swung his blade, tearing the specter apart.
-Crunch.
[Y-you said you’d spare me!]
“How can you spare an undead?”
Fernandez laughed as if joking.
[You baaastard!!! My lord will punish you!]
-Crunch!
As he crushed the specter’s last remnants with his blade, Fernandez chuckled. Such a typical last word. He leaned on his sword, collapsing.
“Your Excellency!!”
Kirhas shook off the pressure and ran to Fernandez. She embraced him, startled. His body was burning hot!
“H-he’s burning up! What do I do? What do I do…? Your Excellency! Snap out of it! Ah, ah, what do I do??”
“Don’t fuss, Kirhas. It’s nothing.”
Fernandez twisted his dry lips to reply, trying to muster strength. He had already accurately diagnosed his condition. Excessive blood loss, spirit damage, organ rupture, multiple fractures, and external wounds were being healed by Diemonica’s body, which was functioning beyond its limits.
The fever was just a side effect. I won’t collapse from this. Fernandez thought dazedly with his feverish head. Kirhas’ fingers were cold. It felt good. If only she’d press a bit more on his forehead.
-Clip-clop…
In his hazy mind, he heard the distant sound of galloping horses. Fernandez sighed deeply. No rest. Never had been. He slowly gathered strength and adjusted his posture.
“Y-your Excellency?! You need to rest!!”
“Shh, Kirhas. Just help me up.”
“…Huh?”
He knelt on one knee, placing his sword in reverse grip before the remnants of battle. The clouds summoned by the specter dispersed, and a brilliant dawn shone down. Perfectly, the light formed a pillar above Fernandez’s head.
“How many survivors are around?”
Fernandez whispered quietly, eyes closed. Kirhas, still flustered, stammered.
“About seven villagers, two surviving mercenaries, one merchant, and that strange woman.”
“Good. Enough witnesses.”
-Clip-clop…
The sound of hooves grew closer. Fernandez steadied himself. To meet the king’s conditions, he needed to remain a knight.
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