Gateway City (3)
KukwAAAAANG—!
One side of the restaurant exploded apart as Grave Hounds burst outward in every direction.
'As for wrecking the place... not my problem. They can deal with it themselves.'
They attacked first, so none of this was my fault.
Thinking that, I charged straight toward the assassins struggling against the hounds.
"Damn it, what the hell is this?!"
"They're targeting the reserve forces first!"
"This wasn't in the report— Kraaagh?!"
Every time Raven's sword and mine sliced through the air, the assassins' limbs flew skyward.
—Can't kill them all, you know?
"We don't need the foot soldiers. Leaving one leader alive is enough."
As I said that, my gaze locked onto the man I'd first spoken with.
—Kiiiiiii—!
"Skeletons too?!"
Dozens of newly summoned Skeletons surrounded the man.
"Keep your distance and overwhelm him with numbers."
With that command, I changed the Skeletons' equipment.
Heavy plate mail and broad tridents—perfect weapons for restraining limbs.
Equipment that was practically poison to assassins.
"Tch!"
The man tried to retreat in panic, but it was already too late.
—Woof! Woof!
The hounds that had already finished feasting completely sealed off the restaurant.
A perfect dead end.
"Just so you know, if you die, you're going to wish you could die again. So behave and—"
Just as I approached him while speaking—
"Don't underestimate me, Necromancer!"
Kaaang!
Sparks exploded as a massive greatsword crashed toward me.
'A claymore?'
I twisted aside the thrusting blade while thinking.
An assassin using a two-handed sword?
The unexpected weapon caught me off guard, and the second strike immediately followed.
Kaaang!
There was no special stance or sword technique behind it.
Just a raw upward slash powered entirely by brute strength.
But precisely because of that, it was the perfect counter against my technique-focused swordsmanship.
Kukwakwakwaang—!
Boom!
The area where I redirected the sword exploded apart completely.
A numb shock ran through my right arm.
'In terms of sheer strength, he's beyond even Delline. What kind of assassin is this...?!'
It was bizarre.
An assassin should conceal their presence and silently slit throats with swift movements.
But the man attacking me was the exact opposite.
"The order was to bring you in unharmed, but at this point...!"
The man's greatsword came crashing down toward me.
Kaaang!
The one who blocked the descending blade head-on was Raven.
"Death Knight! Such cowardly tactics—!"
"Are you seriously the ones saying that?"
I shouted in disbelief.
These bastards attacked us while we were eating!
Meanwhile, Raven's sword slammed into the man and blasted him backward.
Crash!
The man smashed through tables and chairs before immediately rising back to his feet.
Even after taking Raven's strike directly, his body was completely unharmed.
—Feels less like fighting a man and more like striking a boulder. If I weren't a spirit body, my sword might've shattered.
Together with Raven's words, the man stepped out from the wreckage and dusted himself off.
Hidden beneath his travel clothes was a full plate breastplate.
"You're getting further and further away from looking like an assassin."
So long as there were no witnesses, anything counted as assassination, huh?
That was what I was thinking when—
"That's far enough."
Had the hounds missed one?
A chilling assassin's voice echoed out.
"...?"
A man dressed in black had a blade pointed at Arin, who had been happily eating moments earlier.
"Young Master!"
"Ah, it's fine. Stay still."
Perhaps believing I was panicking, the armored man grinned and spoke confidently.
"We didn't just gather information about your powers."
Thinking they had secured a hostage, confidence began creeping into their voices.
"When you left for the Paul wyvern territory, you rode in the same carriage as that maid."
"If you keep a mere servant that close, then she must mean quite a lot to you."
The more arrogantly they spoke, the stranger my expression became.
'No, I mean... she is important, but...'
How should I even describe this situation?
Like running into an ogre den while trying to avoid goblins?
"Wow! Is that true? Am I really that important?"
"Shut up!"
The man immediately barked at the innocent-looking Arin.
"Come quietly, Young Master, or this maid will—!"
The moment he yanked Arin toward him—
Crack.
With the sound of bones breaking, the dagger he held clattered to the floor.
"Ghk... guh...?"
His eyes widened as though he hadn't even sensed what had happened.
"This maid will...?"
That was as far as he got.
Thud.
The man holding Arin suddenly rolled back his eyes and collapsed dead.
'At least she doesn't eat people in front of others.'
Watching Arin smack her lips while staring at the corpse, that thought crossed my mind.
"Oh! Big Sis, where did you go?"
At that moment, Arin looked toward Stella, who had just reentered the restaurant.
"I was hiding. Felt like I'd only get in the way if I stepped in."
Her tone sounded casual, but it was a lie.
During the battle, five men had attempted to flee and report back.
All five life signatures had vanished.
'So Garrison really was her teacher. Not an exaggeration after all.'
There was a reason people called Executors living weapons.
Their overwhelming mobility—descending from the sky and crossing dozens of meters in an instant—was on a completely different level from knights specialized in close combat.
Kakakang!
"Ghk?!"
Meanwhile, Raven the Death Knight was completely overwhelming the man with his signature swift swordsmanship.
"This is impossible! How can an undead use swordsmanship like this?!"
Death Knights were created from the souls or corpses of knights.
But most of them could never defeat a living knight of equal mana rank.
'The greatest difference between a real knight and a Death Knight is swordsmanship.'
Most necromancers knew nothing about swordsmanship.
There was no way they understood how to imprint true technique onto undead.
'But my undead are different.'
Unlike conventional necromancy, which operated through domination, Archimond necromancy was built upon contracts.
Meaning it preserved the will of the soul and restored the memories of the dead.
Undead who retained the memories of life and moved according to their own will.
They were on an entirely different level from stitched-together corpse puppets.
Slash!
"Kraaaagh?!"
The duel between the two swordsmen didn't last long.
Raven's mana-infused blade severed the man's wrist, and he collapsed to his knees in agony.
"Good. Now that we've caught the leader—"
As I approached him while speaking—
"...Wait."
Narrowing my eyes, I immediately yanked open the black robe covering him.
"Guh...!"
The man groaned in panic at my actions.
"Well, well. Would you look at this?"
A man?
No, calling him that would be disrespectful.
I should call him what he really was.
A noble knight of the glorious Empire.
"Judging by the look of it, you're not directly under the Imperial Family."
Not the Emperor.
The Merdir Emperor I knew wasn't the type to test people like this.
"You're one of Marquis Terein's knights, aren't you?"
Terein Talik.
The moment the local lord's name left my mouth, the knight instinctively avoided my gaze as though struck dead center.
"A so-called imperial noble associating with sewer rats like these?"
"What did you say?!"
The knight reacted immediately to the brief provocation, and my suspicion turned into certainty.
'Now then... the question is what I do from here.'
I was smiling on the surface, but my thoughts were becoming complicated.
Laying a hand on the marquis's knight meant giving him justification to detain me.
Sending this knight here had probably been calculated from the beginning.
—Was cutting off his wrist a little excessive?
"No. Even if we'd only touched a single hair on his head, they'd still be making a scene about arresting us."
I answered Raven while thinking.
'A supposed pilgrim can't exactly start a war against a marquis with undead.'
But I couldn't allow myself to be captured either.
As I kept thinking over what to do—
One scene suddenly crossed my mind.
'A curse...! The curse of the desert!'
The mummies brought into the city when we first arrived in Terchin.
"...Right. That'll work."
I could just lure them into the desert and kill them near the royal tombs.
'The rumors are already everywhere anyway. It's not even a lie.'
After reaching that conclusion, I let out a short sigh and stood up.
"I was hoping to rest for at least two days before leaving."
Fortunately, the supplies for crossing the desert had already been prepared outside the restaurant.
"Arin."
"Yes!"
The moment I called her name, Arin rushed over with one hand raised high.
"What's the nun doing?"
"She's searching people's pockets!"
Arin pointed somewhere with a bizarre expression on her face.
There was Stella, busily collecting gold coins from the corpses of the assassins.
After staring silently at each other for a while, I spoke first.
"What are you doing?"
"...Gathering evidence that we were attacked."
"Then you should be collecting torn clothes or weapons. Why are you searching their pockets for money?"
At that, Stella stayed silent for a moment before finally answering:
"My salary didn't come in this month."
She said it with a resolute expression.
"Haaah..."
I pressed a hand against my throbbing forehead.
Seriously, Miriam too...
Are all nuns from the Holy Church like this?
Why is there not a single normal person among them?
"Forget it. Go outside and get us a camel."
As I said that, I tossed Stella a small pouch.
"This is...?"
Inside the pouch were rune letters carved from wood.
Looking at the blackened wooden pieces, Stella stared at me as though demanding an explanation.
"I told you already. Ghosts appear in the desert."
Talismans I had prepared little by little on the way to Terchin.
The meaning of the rune was protection.
"Wait a second. Giving this to me means..."
Stella's expression stiffened as she looked at me.
"What else would it mean?"
Meeting her expectations, I pointed somewhere with a bright smile.
"Pack your things. We're heading into the desert."
Dudududududu!
The pounding sound of hooves tore across the empty desert.
The horse breathed heavily, scattering foam and saliva everywhere.
It had clearly reached its limit, yet its rider continued urging it onward as though unaware.
Huff...! Huff...!
The rider had lived in this desert for thirty years.
The horse beneath him had traveled the continent at his side for nearly ten of those years.
How far the horse could run.
How one should ride through a sea of sand.
As one of the tribe's finest riders, there was no way he wouldn't know these things.
"Damn it... damn it...!"
Hiiihiiiiing!
"Uwaaaagh?!"
How long had that mad dash continued?
Crunch!
At last, unable to endure any longer, the horse collapsed and buried itself into the sand.
"Aaaagh...!"
For an ordinary rider, it would not have been strange to die instantly from such a fall.
But at that moment, the man cursed the fact that he was still alive.
The desert sand cushioning his fall felt unbearably hateful.
If only he had died just now.
If only his neck had snapped right there.
Then at least he could have died without ever learning what it was that chased him.
Kugugugugugu...!
Meanwhile, the darkness pursuing him finally drew close.
Darkness.
That was all he could think of the unknown thing hunting him.
Kurururururur—!
A sound echoed out.
To a man who had spent his entire life atop horses, it was a terribly familiar sound.
"It's coming...! It's coming...!"
As he desperately ran on foot, the sound of despair drew steadily nearer.
Kwarrrung—!
Blue lightning split apart the cloudless sky.
"I was wrong...! Please! Please forgive me...!"
Begging filled with regret and despair spilled from his lips.
He should never have gone there.
If only he had listened to the old tribal chiefs, none of this would have happened...!
Pshhk!
The terror was long, but the pain was brief.
His body was impaled upon a cavalry lance.
The black spearhead that shattered through his chest lifted him high into the air.
—Who has forgotten us?!
A mighty voice thundered across the desert.
As though answering that voice, moonlight emerged from beyond the clouds and illuminated the body hanging in the sky.
—Who has forgotten Kershik, conqueror of the grasslands?!
Ooooooooooh—!
Thousands of spearheads filled the heavens.
—Who dared stain the sacred lands of the forgotten empire with filthy feet?!
The corpse of the living man hanging beneath the moonlight opened its mouth.
He who sought to plunder the sacred grounds would become an offering to the buried and a feast for the forgotten.
—Remember us! Remember Kershik!
The riders savoring the scent of blood tore away the cloth veils covering their faces.
Kuooooo...!
Where faces should have been existed only shadows, smoke, and remnants of souls.
—This grassland shall remember us forever!
Together with their war cries, the roars of the headless riders filled the entire desert.
Fwaaaaah—!
And when dawn finally arrived after the feast that lasted throughout the night—
The desert returned to silence and peace, as though they had never existed there at all.