Chapter 32. Undead (4)
Kwaaang!
Galliark shot forward, clashing with the Wailing Knight.
Their speed was almost too fast to follow with the eye. The Undead, missing one arm, allowed most attacks to land, yet endured solely with its undying body, aiming relentlessly for Galliark's throat.
The spatial chamber constructed by Verden began to shatter.
As some parts collapsed, the space where the other subjugation squads were located came into view. Most of them looked exhausted, some were badly injured, but there was no time to worry about that.
"Die!"
Shatter.
The axe slammed downward in a vertical strike toward the Undead. Though blocked by a sword, the impact could not be avoided.
The Wailing Knight's legs sank into the ground, and Galliark pressed down on the axe with one hand, while throwing a full-force punch with the other.
Jjeooong!
The Knight of Death was driven back, leaving scars across the ground. The crack across its chest widened slightly.
"Tch. Filthy tough bastard."
The feeling was unsatisfying. Was it absorbing the shock?
If not for that damned black armor, he would have already hacked its limbs apart and ended it. Galliark twisted his expression as he glared at the Wailing Knight.
At that moment, the creature's form began to blur.
A deep killing intent flared from behind. He twisted his waist reflexively, but was a bit late. The blade of malice aimed for Galliark's spine.
But thanks to Verden's magic, it only grazed his side.
"How dare you…!"
For a mere Undead to use such strange techniques.
Furious, Galliark threw his axe aside and locked the Undead in a crushing embrace.
"Haaaap!"
Kwaaaaang!
With overwhelming strength, the Wailing Knight was smashed headfirst into the ground.
The earth quaked, part of the terrain rising up. He could feel it, but couldn't be sure if that was enough to kill it.
"Move."
"Wai—damn it!"
Galliark quickly rolled away.
Then came Verden's Fireball, fired in rapid succession at maximum output to ensure certainty. The acrid smell of burning and smoke stung their noses.
Verden landed heavily, breathing raggedly.
As they watched in tense silence, the shadow inside the smoke stirred.
"What kind of corpse bastard clings this hard…?!"
Whoosh! The sword hurled by the Undead cut through the smoke, flying straight toward Galliark.
He caught the blade between his knees and elbows, but it wasn't enough. The sword pierced his abdomen, slamming him against the wall.
And already, the Undead was closing in on Verden.
He spun his staff with all his strength, striking its skull, but a foe that even Galliark's blows couldn't faze wouldn't be shaken by him.
"Damn it."
Thunk! Verden was struck in the face, rolling across the ground.
Thanks to the necklace's automatic barrier, he avoided a fatal wound. Still, part of it shattered, leaving him injured.
'Good thing it doesn't overload.'
The necklace's effect was separate from a directly cast mana barrier.
Even if broken completely, it only required time to restore, without burdening the circuits directly.
"Urgh…"
Verden pushed himself up, leaning on his staff like a cane.
His shoulder was dislocated, his body suffering mana depletion. His vision blurred, and he had to brace himself on the floor.
'That armor is the problem.'
Somehow, that pitch-black armor had to be pierced.
But with its strange movements appearing from behind out of nowhere, it was impossible to land a decisive strike with powerful spells.
Verden raised his head. Blood streamed down his forehead, painting his vision red. From within that haze, the Undead dragged its legs forward.
Then, three streaks of shining light bound the creature.
The ranged attackers of the subjugation squad all focused their fire on the Wailing Knight. Spells and arrows rained down. But the black armor didn't suffer even a scratch.
"What the hell is that black armor?!"
"Grgh! Not even the Church has records of such power, I do not know! It may be an entirely different Undead entity from the Wailing Knight itself!"
Maros and the priests clenched their teeth, pulling hard on the ropes of holy light.
The Wailing Knight twisted and writhed to break free from the sacred power. The divine force, tainted by darkness, slowly began to weaken.
At that moment—
…Crack. The fissure across the Undead's chest widened.
It was faint, barely visible, but to Verden it looked like a gaping hole. Wiping the blood from his eyes, he shouted toward Galliark.
"Galliark!"
"I know already!"
Having stuffed dirt into his wound to staunch the bleeding, Galliark emerged from behind the wall.
The Wailing Knight tore free of its bindings, yanking the rope back with force. The priest lifted into the air saw sharp claws rushing toward him.
"G—God!"
"Not on my watch!"
Kwaang!
Galliark charged in, smashing the creature's head into the ground. The adventurers barely managed to catch the flying priest.
"No one else interfere! You'll just die!"
Their arms trembled with strain as Galliark shouted, locked in a contest of brute strength. The Wailing Knight raged wildly.
Behind them, Goad swallowed hard, raising his staff.
'I know that monster's weakness too!'
The crack in its chest. If an Earth Spear landed there, victory was theirs.
Arrogance, courage, or jealousy—he didn't know. But Goad believed he could do it.
Thud! The Wailing Knight shoved Galliark aside.
And as it slowly rose to its feet—
Goad's spell shot forward.
...But his judgment was wrong.
Verden might be a Third-tier Mage, but in overall ability he far surpassed that level. To the point Iris and Goad mistakenly believed him to be Fourth-tier, and exceptional even within that.
In contrast, Goad was ordinary.
Even if he used the same spell as Verden, the magic power infused was different. Its speed and force inevitably lagged. On top of that, there was the matter of whether or not one wielded a magic tome.
Crack! The Wailing Knight shattered the stone spear.
"Ah…!"
A chilling bloodlust scraped Goad's neck. The Undead vanished, and something sharp traced across his throat. A line of crimson marked his neck.
Blood sprayed from his clutching hand as he collapsed helplessly. The Undead moved to trample him, but Galliark struck it aside.
"Bring a potion! Now!"
"Y-Yes!"
Mirna rushed in, pouring a potion into Goad's mouth, while the priests invoked the miracle of healing with divine power.
Galliark clicked his tongue, casting a glance at Verden. The man was resting, waiting for the opening Galliark would create.
'Yeah, that opening. I'll give it to you, perfectly.'
Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaang!
A hand-to-hand brawl without weapons, Galliark pummeled the Wailing Knight with his bare fists. Though he allowed a counterattack to his abdomen, knocking the breath from him for a moment, the Butcher did not stop. With monstrous strength, he slammed the Undead into the ground.
Jjeoong! His elbow struck down vertically onto its chest.
At last, the black armor cracked, leaving a gap just wide enough for a hand to slip in.
"Got it…"
Crack. Galliark's ribs broke.
He spat blood as he was hurled away, no longer able to move. The Wailing Knight once more took up its rusted sword.
Clang. A magic arrow grazed across the armor.
"Your opponent is me."
Whether the provocation worked or not, the red glow wavered.
Its form began to blur, and a chilling presence was felt from behind.
'Got you.'
The moment it closed in was the opportunity, and that moment was now. Verden twisted his body swiftly, thrusting his right hand toward the gap.
But the sword's trajectory twisted in midair, its tip turning toward Verden's head. It was clear which would land first.
Yet Verden was not alone.
Iris squeezed out her mana.
The First-tier ice spell she had learned from Verden struck the Undead's hand.
A feeble impact.
But decisive.
Ka-ga-ga-gak! The sword scraped against the automatic barrier with a shriek, and at the same instant, Verden's hand pierced into the Undead's chest.
From within the dark armor, a red heat poured out.
"Just die already."
Fwoooosh! The flames erupted from inside, consuming both Verden and the Wailing Knight.
***
...Srrrk.
When Verden opened his eyes, a golden light filled his vision. Holy power? As he tried to rise, Maros restrained him.
"You mustn't move recklessly, we've only just finished healing the burns."
"That's right, senior, please lie still for a while."
Right after using a potion, one mustn't move too much.
Not only does the effect diminish, but one might even faint. Thanks to the priest's healing, his wounds had barely been restored, but it was still too early.
Verden looked around.
Galliark sat with his back against the wall, eyes closed, while Goad, whose neck had been cut, lay on the ground. His chest still moved, so he hadn't died.
"Fortunately, the cut on his neck was clean, so they were able to save him. Though it'll take some time before he wakes."
"What happened to the Undead?"
Iris turned her head to the side.
The Wailing Knight, its body nearly in ruins, lay sprawled. Verden immediately rose and approached it.
"Senior…!"
"Wait."
It had been wise not to rush and finish it earlier. No one knew what trick that monster might have pulled.
He reached out to end it. The fading flames of the Undead's soul stared at Verden, trembling faintly.
[Wai… t…]
A small but distinct voice from the Undead.
The subjugation squad doubted their ears.
"Th-The Undead spoke?"
"This is… this is impossible! An Undead with intelligence! Sir Asher, step back! Purify it at once…!"
The surroundings grew noisy, but Verden's focus remained solely on the Undead.
The Wailing Knight's trembling hand pulled something out from its armor. A rusted, charred, worn necklace. With skeletal fingers, it pressed the pendant, revealing a small picture inside.
A family, sitting together in peace.
Though old and decayed, making the parents' faces unclear, the boy with golden hair and green eyes sitting between them was perfectly visible.
'You want me to take it?'
Verden hesitated for a moment, then reached out his hand.
If it were a human, he might have cut off their arm and taken it by force.
But from this Undead—who just moments ago had emanated hatred and killing intent—there was nothing. Only emptiness.
"Wait! You mustn't touch an Undead's belongings—"
Chwarrrrk. The necklace slid into Verden's hand.
At the same time, the Wailing Knight's body began to turn to dust. Complete annihilation. It would never rise again from death.
"Urgh…?!"
Suddenly, a headache struck, along with memories he had never known.
It lasted only an instant—so brief he thought it an illusion. Yet Verden's memory seized fragments of the vision.
The flag of the Kingdom of Estiria, a live burial, and the name of the boy in the picture.
"…Lorian."
"Are you alright?!"
Maros rushed to check Verden's condition.
His eyes still shone with clarity.
"Phew, thank goodness. Rare though it is, there are cases of people losing reason or going mad after touching items connected to Undead… but you seem unaffected, Sir Asher."
That was why he had warned against it beforehand.
But Maros did not say it aloud.
Because of their ability to command Undead, the Church considered the Wailing Knights extremely dangerous. Or perhaps this one, clad in black armor, was a different kind of Undead altogether—but the fact remained, they had nearly died. And the mage who defeated it was their benefactor.
If not for him and the Butcher, he himself would surely have been abandoned by God and left to wander in death.
'As long as nothing happens, that's fine.'
No need to complain. After all, the intelligent Undead was dead.
Maros nodded inwardly.
"Ah, then I will take that and keep it safe—"
"I'll keep this."
The spoils of subjugation. His firm tone silenced Maros.
Verden tucked the pendant into his robe, glanced once more at the dust that was the Wailing Knight, then turned away.
The Undead subjugation of the Viron Territory.
There had been unforeseen dangers, and the legacy left behind by the Wailing Knight left him with a troubling feeling. But the request had been successfully completed.
It was time to return.
'Ah, come to think of it, there were still some left.'
His mana circuits had stabilized somewhat, and he had regained a little magic power.
Verden quietly manipulated the terrain, collapsing the underground where hundreds of Undead remained trapped.
None survived the rubble.