Chapter 65: The Grave (1)
Although he had just leaped into the hole, Eugene didn’t want to land at the bottom without any protection. So he wrapped his body in his summoned spirit’s wind and as he stared down into the depths of the hole.
‘Just like they said.’
He could see something like a gate at the bottom of the hole. A huge gate made of some unknown material was installed in place of a floor.
The gate wasn’t tightly closed. There was an opening large enough for people to come and go through. Seeing this intrusion with his own eyes, Eugene’s hair couldn’t help but bristle with rage and murderous intent.
The gate down there had been discovered six years ago, but it had been impossible for the Sand Shamans of Nahama to open the gate with their capabilities.
That was why Amelia Merwin had been called here to open that gate.
“Grick.”
Eugene’s teeth ground against each other. Impatiently, Eugene accelerated his fall until he was hovering right in front of the gate, but he didn’t go through immediately. Instead, he took a few deep breaths and calmed his boiling emotions.
It had yet to be confirmed that what was inside here was really Hamel’s grave. Perhaps… perhaps it wasn’t his grave, and instead something completely different, like an ancient dungeon. Eugene didn’t want to feel disappointed after getting his hopes up for nothing.
“…Although that shouldn’t be the case,” Eugene muttered to himself.
There were no special markings or engravings on the door. If there had been any magic left, Eugene could have made a guess as to the style of the protections that had been cast on it or the level of magic used, but the spells cast on the door had already been breached.
Since that was the case, he had no choice but to just go in and see it himself. Eugene pushed his way through the gap in the gate.
The path continued on the other side of the gate, leading further underground. But the surroundings were no longer that of soil but instead made of metal, the same material that had made up the door.
‘It looks like a metal alloy.’
Tap.
Eugene tried to bang on the wall with a fist infused with some power. But his strength had no effect, and his mana was also drained. Eugene stared at the wall for a few moments, then looked down.
Had a dragon with its wings folded attempted to crawl down this tunnel?
The walls were dented all over the place, cracked and smashed. Traces that looked like they might come from a weapon or a claw overlapped with each other in a chaotic mess.
‘These are….’
As he scanned these traces, Eugene continued his descent.
‘…the traces of a battle.’
Eugene had felt that there was a possibility of this being a dragon’s lair. However, the evidence he had seen seemed too violent for the marks a dragon might leave while tossing and turning in its sleep.
‘I’m not sure… what type of weapon could have caused these. Are these the slashes left from swinging a blade? It also seems like the wall might have been stabbed in places…. In the first place, the mana needed for an attack of this size would be….’
It was impossible to tell anything more from the traces. Although Eugene was sure that these were the traces left by a battle, he couldn’t make any guesses as to how many people there were, why they had fought, or how they had fought.
Even though he felt like he couldn’t just ignore these traces, it didn’t seem like continuing to examine them would produce any further results. Eugene tore his attention away from the wall and continued descending downwards.
In doing so, he realized a few things.
This passageway must have originally hidden dozens, maybe even hundreds, of traps. However, whether it was because they had all gotten caught up in the battle that took place or whether they had been dealt with when Amelia Merwin broke in, all the traps had been destroyed.
‘…It’s not like I was some kind of emperor. So wouldn’t it be a bit too much to set up so many traps in my grave?’
This thought made his initial conclusion feel shaky. No matter how Eugene looked at it, this place felt more like a dragon’s lair than someone’s grave.
However, once Eugene had passed through the passageway and reached the next floor, such thoughts disappeared completely.
Eugene was dumbfounded as he stared up ahead.
In the center of the floor stood a statue. There was no way Eugene wouldn’t recognize it. It was a statue of what he had looked like in his past life, a statue of Hamel.
Eugene gulped and headed over to the statue. The reason why he could so clearly recall this statue and recognize it wasn’t just because the statue was carved into his previous life’s image. It was also because Eugene had seen such an ‘image’ once before. In Aroth’s Royal Library, Akron. Within Sienna’s Hall.
Sienna had left behind a record of her former comrades’ appearances there.
The Great Vermouth.
The Brave Molon.
The Faithful Anise.
The Stupid Hamel.
“…Haha,” Eugene burst out laughing as he shook his head.
This statue’s appearance was identical to the image he had seen in Sienna’s Hall. Eyes without any trace of amusement, a slouched posture, and a face that had yet to see too many scars.
“As I said, if you’re going to leave a record behind, you should at least have it be smiling.”
Hamel Dynas
(Holy Calendar 421~459.)
He was a son of a bitch, an idiot, an asshole, a douche, a piece of trash.
But he was also brave, faithful, wise, and great.
In remembrance of this stupid man, who sacrificed himself for everyone and was the first to leave us.
A memorial stone had been placed beneath the statue. Eugene stood there blankly, staring at the memorial stone. He recognized the handwriting on it.
In Molon’s large handwriting was the word ‘brave.’
In Anise’s perfect handwriting was the word ‘faithful.’
In Sienna’s crooked handwriting was the word ‘wise.’
And in Vermouth’s sharp handwriting was the word ‘great.’
“…Ah fuck,” Eugene cursed without any heat and rubbed his nose.
His eyes were getting blurry, and his nose felt stuffy. He felt the need to rub his eyes, but Eugene refused to do so. Although nobody was even watching him, he didn’t want to admit to himself that he was truly driven to tears in front of this statue and memorial stone by wiping them away.
“Those sorts of words should have been said to me while I was alive. What’s the use of writing them on my tombstone after I’ve died? How would I even see them, you fuckheads?” Eugene complained as he rested a hand on the tombstone.
But Eugene couldn’t allow himself to get lost in his own emotions.
‘It’s strange.’
The statue and the tombstone were in excellent condition. No pieces were broken off, and they didn’t show any signs of aging despite the hundreds of years that had passed since they were created.
But that wasn’t enough to be considered strange. Magic was a convenient tool. If preservation magic had been properly applied, items could be maintained for hundreds of years without any signs of aging.
That was unless they were intentionally broken.
Ignoring the tears flowing down his cheeks, Eugene looked around at his surroundings.
This place was a ruin. He couldn’t help but see it as such.
Traces of battle had definitely been left in the passageway, but seeing these ruins made those traces feel more like the results of a child’s play. The floor here was cracked or overturned, and items that appeared to have been pillars had been thrust into the walls and floors like spears.
Hamel’s statue and the memorial stone were the only things that weren’t broken and still intact.
‘Just what on earth happened here?’
Two hundred years ago, Sienna had detected the death of her familiar and had left Aroth to travel here to Hamel’s grave.
Did a fight break out immediately after that? For now, he couldn’t help but suspect that was what had happened. She must have met with the unknown grave robber, and then….
‘Sienna is strong,’ Eugene reminded himself.
She was always strong but became even stronger after Hamel died. Although Eugene didn’t truly know what Sienna had been like during this time, the glimpse of this ‘Wise Sienna’ that he had seen through Witch Craft showed that she had to have been the most powerful wizard in the world.
If the intruder had the ability to fight Sienna, who had such strength….
‘…then that means Sienna… wasn’t able to win.’
If Sienna had won the fight, there was no way that she would have left this place in such a ghastly ruined state.
Since that was the case, could Sienna have died here?
“There’s no way,” Eugene assured himself.
Eugene had seen a phantasm of Sienna in Aroth. It hadn’t just been an illusion. When he had met it in the square in front of the bank, the phantasm of Sienna had been able to clearly convey what it was trying to say: I’ve found you.
‘So she must have been injured during the fight that took place here… then went into hiding somewhere.’
At the moment, he had no choice but to believe that. Eugene scratched his head in frustration. Who on earth could have pushed Sienna so far? Could it have been a demonfolk? Was a Demon King behind this? Between the Demon King of Incarceration and the Demon King of Destruction, which of the two could it possibly be?
And what reason could they have for doing so? Hamel had died. Unable to see their attempt at conquering the Demon King of Incarceration’s castle to its conclusion, Hamel had passed away beforehand. Then an unknown ‘Oath’ had kept the two Demon Kings of Helmuth from making any noise for the past three hundred years.
What reason could there be for these Demon Kings to break their silence and make such a move? There’s no way they would’ve come to Hamel’s grave to pay their respects… so what reason could a Demon King have for coming here?
While scratching at his head, Eugene spun around on the spot. No matter how much thought he gave it, no plausible assumptions sprang to mind. In the end, there was only one solution to solve this mystery. He needed to find the place wherever on earth Sienna was hiding. Although Eugene currently didn’t know where she was, the best way to find out exactly what happened hundreds of years ago was just to look for her.
‘After I look around here for a little more, that is.’
There were no traces left in these ruins other than the statue and the memorial stone. Looking at this spacious interior and all the broken structures, it seemed like all sorts of things had been stored here before the place got turned into such a state…. But for now, Eugene just took a quick look around.
Eugene examined the pillars that had fallen onto the floor. It was hard to see because of all the cracks, but if you looked closely, they were inscribed with words that were about the same size as sesame seeds. These words were part of the magical techniques used to create the tomb, but the writing was so fragmented that it was impossible to tell what their original form had looked like.
But it wasn’t all just magic. Apart from Sienna’s scrawled magic runes, other things had also been written on them.
Almighty God of Light, please protect and watch over this foolish lamb. Guide him with love and mercy to his rest after his arduous journey, and even when darkness falls on this lamb’s path, please show him the way with your light.
“Anise, you fucker. I told you that I don’t believe in the gods.”
Burn the sins that he has committed during his life with your sacred flame. And please open the door to heaven, which is full of peace and happiness, not the door where only pain and despair await. If his good deeds are not enough for him to enter heaven, please allow me to shoulder his debts so that we might someday reunite with each other.
“…Rotten bitch,” Eugene said with a sigh and patted the fallen pillar.
Eugene could clearly picture what this site had looked like before it had been turned into ruins. It wasn’t that hard to recall what it must have been like because he could clearly remember what type of people his companions had been.
Molon, that idiot, must have erected these pillars with a face pouring with tears and snot that didn’t suit his buff body. Although it would have been simple to do such a job using magic, Molon would have insisted on doing it personally. Molon might even have been the one to personally dig all the way down through the earth to these depths.
Sienna, that chick would have also been crying. Right before Hamel died, Sienna had been crying the most. Molon would have tried to make the statue himself, only for Sienna to yell at him to not be so obnoxious. Then she would have made a statue of Hamel based on the image she had stored of him in her memories.
While carving prayers onto these pillars, Anise would have pointed something out without even looking at the statue. She would have asked, don’t you think Hamel was uglier than that? As she continued to exude the faint smell of alcohol, Anise would have done her best to hold back her tears. That was just how Anise had been even when Hamel was dying. While taking sips from the little holy water that she had left, Anise had asked him to consider converting to her god… and in the end, she had given him one last drink.
As for Vermouth.
Would he have been crying? Eugene simply couldn’t imagine the appearance of Vermouth shedding tears. Perhaps… he might have continued blaming himself even after having come all this way. Still insisting that there was no need for Hamel to have pushed Vermouth out of the way of that attack only to be hit by the blow that had finally killed him. Vermouth might even have blamed himself for Hamel being forced to become the party’s tank. After all, they had no other option but to use Hamel in this role when they were up against the two strongest subordinates of the Demon King of Incarceration, the Staff and the Shield.
In Eugene’s — no, Hamel’s memories, Vermouth was just that type of guy. Both before and after entering Helmuth, upon seeing the corpses of those who had been killed by demonic beasts, demonfolk, monsters, and other such things… Vermouth would also say the same lines despite these corpses having nothing to do with him.
I could have saved them.
I was supposed to save them.
They didn’t have to die.
Saying things like this was Vermouth’s bad habit. Especially whenever his comrades suffered an unavoidable injury during their journey. Even when they had managed to survive after defeating a powerful enemy. While everyone else was getting drunk on joy and a sense of accomplishment, not caring about the pain from their injuries, Vermouth would wallow in his self-blame.
There was no need for you to get hurt.
I should have been better.
Vermouth would mutter such self-recriminations.
—Asshole, why are you spouting such bullshit again. What do you mean by ‘there was no need for that’ and ‘I should have been better?’ Hey, do you think you’re a god? You’re just a human like us, aren’t you? So what makes you think that you can do everything by yourself? If you were able to do that, then fuck, why would you bring us along with you?
—Hamel, stop bothering Sir Vermouth.
—Don’t butt in, Anise. You also clicked your tongue just now. Do you really think I wouldn’t notice your desire to shake some sense into this bastard and make him realize that he’s being an ass by spouting such bullshit?
—I didn’t click my tongue because of Sir Vermouth. I clicked my tongue because I knew that you would utter some kind of nonsense.
—You really are treating both of us like a pair of fools.
As he reminisced about the past, Eugene recalled a conversation that would never again be able to take place. Although he had cried a little when he saw the statue and the memorial stone, these damn tears were flowing once more. Like last time, Eugene refused to wipe away his tears. Instead, he just allowed them to flow down. He didn’t try to stop them or hold them back.
If not at a time like this, when else were you meant to cry?
‘…Everything else is broken, but….’
There was just one place that didn’t seem to have been destroyed.
There was a door in the wall behind the statue. Eugene stared at it. Unlike the statue and the memorial stone, which had no trace of damage, the door showed off quite a lot of scratches.
However, it hadn’t been completely destroyed. Eugene walked closer to the door. Although it appeared intact on the surface, the inside of the room may also have been destroyed. For now, that was all that he could expect. Eugene didn’t want to set his hopes too high.
Creeeak.
The door wasn’t locked. While taking a deep breath, Eugene opened the door and looked inside. Just as he had expected, the inside of the room was a mess. From the roof to the walls, nothing appeared to have remained intact.
However, at the other end of a long hallway stood another door without a single scratch on it. And someone was sitting at the bottom of the door with his back leaning against it.
His appearance caused Eugene to unconsciously gasp. Because he couldn’t be sure if something might happen at any moment, Eugene had been in a constant state of tension. But even so, he hadn’t been able to notice this man’s presence. And that was still the case even now. Despite having both eyes on this man, Eugene still couldn’t feel anything from him.
The man got up. His whole body was covered in a black suit of armor with a full helmet that covered his face. From inside this helmet, a bright red light flashed.
“…Who are you?” Eugen demanded as he stared at the man who had gotten to his feet. “Why are you sitting there, blocking that door?”
The other person didn’t respond. Instead, he just staggered closer. The hair all over Eugene’s body stood on end. He could feel a vicious and intense demonic power coming from the armored form walking up to him.
‘A demonfolk?’
No, this sensation was different. Could it be a human who had made a contract with a demonfolk? Looking at his appearance and the air around him, he couldn’t be a black wizard. If that was the case, could he be a Black Knight? A fallen knight who had sworn allegiance to a demonfolk in exchange for power.
‘No… that’s not it.’
Eugene couldn’t feel any life-force emanating from this man. He wasn’t a demonic beast, nor a demonfolk, nor even a contracted human.
As such, there was only one possibility that Eugene could think of.
‘An undead,’ Eugene concluded.
But there’s no way that he could be, right?
As Eugene’s face contorted, he placed a hand inside his cloak.
“I asked you who you are, motherfucker,” Eugene cursed threateningly.
“…Thief…,” a cracked and hoarse voice rattled from inside the helmet.
Judging by the fact that it had responded, it seemed like this thing still had some ability to reason.
“…Your name,” Eugene growled as he felt an eerie mix of anxiety, anger, and murderous desire.
He chose not to hide his obvious hostility. His cloak flapped around him as blue flames engulfed Eugene.
Eugene demanded once again, “I said, give me your name, you son of a bitch.”
“I am…,” the undead trailed off.
The Death Knight pulled out his sword. It was a pitch-black longsword. A sword that Eugene didn’t recognize.
The undead monster finally answered his question, “I am… the Stupid Hamel.”
“What did you say, you motherfucker?” Eugene barked out as this reply caught him off-guard. “Hamel? You? And you’re claiming to be the Stupid Hamel at that?”
Crack crack crack!
The floor beneath Eugene’s feet shattered under the pressure he was giving off.
I am Hamel.
But there was no need for him to say this. Eugene had no intention of competing with this Death Knight standing in front of him over who was the real Hamel. He was definitely Hamel, so without even needing to think about it, the Death Knight in front of him was a fake.
Eugene