Chapter 164. Viola of White Bones (2)
As they passed through the entrance of the ancient ritual site, sound disappeared.
Only cold darkness and ancient dust floated in the stillness. They had been certain that Undead or a dark mage would guard this place, yet contrary to such expectations, no one was there.
Not even the cry of a rat was heard, let alone the common sight of insects. The moss on the floor had withered black.
Even so, they did not lower their guard.
The White Crest Knight Order led by Calia,
Gloss's paladin order and Bishop Ronanderk,
and even Verden.
The Glory of the Dead subjugation force advanced deeper into the darkness without carelessness.
At that moment.
───Fwaaaargh!
"...!"
An unprecedented wave swept through the entire ritual site in an instant.
A sinister sensation brushed across their skin. For some, it was a familiar feeling, the same aura of death as when they had witnessed the Orb of the Undead up close.
Bishop Ronanderk's expression twisted.
"This aura is far stronger than when we attempted purification. How could it have changed so much in just a few days... I cannot begin to guess what they might be up to."
"Still, it seems certain that the Orb of the Undead is in this ritual site."
That meant the Glory of the Dead was here. As well as the dark magus who had devastated the diocese.
The bishop raised his staff high.
The miracles of the Church of Luas imbued the entire subjugation force.
The warm light would shield their minds and preserve their will, and the glow that wrapped them before fading would block the intrusion of sinister power.
The number of uses was once per day, with a limit of just over two hours.
Though constrained, the miracle's effect was powerful. The White Crest knights, including Calia, marveled as they caressed their bodies, now filled with warmth.
Verden too clenched and unclenched his hand. Then, he tilted his head.
'...?'
Something was strange.
The miracle had indeed been conveyed, but he felt nothing. No, to be honest, his state was exactly the same as usual. Compared to blessings he had received in the past from priests, this was even weaker.
'This should be a much stronger miracle, so how can this be?'
Especially since it was the bishop's miracle.
It wasn't as though divine power had been blocked by magic power.
In a situation with no resistance whatsoever, the fact that a miracle of the Church of Luas failed to take effect on a human, Verden had never heard of such a thing.
An incomprehensible phenomenon.
But before he could dwell on the strong suspicion, the subjugation force began moving again.
The priority now was the subjugation of the Glory of the Dead.
Verden erased his thoughts and followed.
***
Maintaining formation, the subjugation force advanced until a wide space appeared.
A place full of artificial structures. By the feel of it, this seemed to be the ritual site's center.
Looking around, one of the pillars had collapsed, and the remaining three that supported the ceiling were already cracked.
There was a risk of collapse.
But more troubling than that was the situation before their eyes.
"The path is split..."
There were two stairways leading down, one on each side.
They tried using mana detection to discern the passage structure, but perhaps because of the previous wave, the inside of the ritual site was saturated with the aura of death.
With first-tier mana detection, it was impossible to sense even right in front of them.
No way of knowing where the passages led, or what lay below.
"What should we do?"
"Hmm... it's hard to choose hastily."
At Calia's question, Gloss stroked his chin.
Should they split their forces? Or should they choose one passage and proceed together?
Both choices had clear advantages and disadvantages.
If they split up, they could find the enemy faster.
But if misfortune struck, they could be crushed separately. With a foe strong enough to devastate a diocese, dividing their forces was a risk.
If they went together, that danger would be avoided, but it would take more time.
And if they chose the wrong path, the enemy might have the time to flee.
It would be best if both paths led to the same place...
Calia and Gloss,
both seasoned commanders who had led knight orders for years, were troubled by the dilemma.
At that moment, Verden declared.
"I will take the right passage."
"...?!"
Bishop Ronanderk and Gloss turned their heads in shock.
"W–wait, you mean to go alone...? You know of the dark mage who reduced the diocese to ruins, do you not? I admit we reached this place thanks to your abilities, but even so, such a choice seems nothing but arrogant."
"He is right. Moving alone in this situation is unwise."
Dividing their forces in half was one thing, but going alone?
They tried to understand, but no matter how they thought about it, it was reckless.
"..."
But unlike them, Calia, Vespa, and the White Crest knights remained silent.
They had already witnessed his overwhelming magic and impossible mana at the mausoleum. Because of that, they could not dismiss his attitude as mere bravado.
After pondering briefly, Calia asked.
"Will you be alright?"
"W–what...!"
"Lady Calia?"
Bishop Ronanderk was speechless, and Gloss was flustered.
Ignoring their reactions, Calia looked straight at Verden. Reflected in her blue, mana-shining eyes was his figure.
"There is no problem."
"Very well. Then I will entrust the right passage to you. I wish you fortune, Asher."
Calia's permission was granted.
With a small nod, Verden stepped into the right passage.
His back disappeared down the stairs.
Even the faint sound of his footsteps soon faded away into the distance.
***
"Hah..."
Watching the scene with his mouth open, Bishop Ronanderk shook his head. Gloss too could not understand Calia's judgment, showing a similar reaction.
"There is no need to worry so much, Asher is a far greater mage than we can imagine."
"Even so, letting him go alone makes no sense. The enemy includes a dark magus who devastated the diocese, one who has surely reached the way of magic."
"It is not too late, would it not be better to send knights to guard his side, even now?"
Their reasoning was sound.
So reasonable, there was nothing to refute.
But in Calia's mind,
"...Doing so might end up being more of a hindrance."
"What? A hindrance?"
"No, never mind. In any case, Asher has already gone, so we should also be on our way. We can talk at leisure later."
Calia stepped toward the left passage.
In the end, the unpersuaded Bishop Ronanderk and Gloss could only follow her decision.
Step, step.
As they descended the stairs, another passage revealed itself.
Unlike the floor above, the deeper they went, the stronger the sinister aura became.
From the subjugation force, every sense sharpened, even the smallest breaths could not be heard.
At last, they reached the end of the tense passage, and a small hall appeared. On the far side, from a single entrance, the aura of the Orb of the Undead flowed forth.
That must be the place where the Glory of the Dead was hiding. But they could not rashly step inside.
"Undead..."
The hall was filled with an armed host of Undead.
Each one had its skeleton protected by iron armor.
Spears, greatswords, swords, bows, shields, and even staves and wands. Each held a weapon in hand. Abnormal species belonging not to lesser Undead, but to the mid-rank.
They had formed ranks like a true army.
Their number was around seventy.
In contrast, the White Crest knights and paladins numbered only about twenty.
More than three times the difference.
But more important than that was the figure standing tall among them.
Thud... thud...
From within the Undead ranks, a gigantic knight emerged.
Though hunched, its body reached nearly three meters.
Encased head to toe in solid plate armor. In one hand it held a grotesque zweihander, longer than a man's height.
Sweat beaded on Bishop Ronanderk's brow.
"To think they would command such a monster, in addition to a magus."
A presence that stirred terror in all who beheld it, that scattered death among the living. A high-rank Undead. A Death Knight.
Between the helm's visor, two blue flames flickered.
Vespa, commander of the White Crest Knights, gripped his sword tighter.
"Never did I think I would see a Death Knight in my lifetime."
"Nor I."
Naturally arising Undead were rare.
Many conditions had to coincide. For most people who lived their lives in the sunlit world, it was possible never to see an Undead before death.
Not just lesser Undead, but mid-rank as well.
So high-rank Undead like Elder Liches or Death Knights, whose threat level reached mithril rank, were not beings one could encounter even if they wished.
And even if one did meet them, most would not survive. Such was the danger of a Death Knight.
But here, there were not only knights.
There were those who called themselves the nemesis of darkness, the agents of light.
"Warrior of light! Strike down the darkness that lurks before us!"
From the bishop's staff burst forth radiance.
Light that banished the dark.
Within it appeared a warrior clad in golden armor. From the golden sword he raised, light shone out, and the Undead in the front ranks wavered.
"With noble radiance."
Praying, Gloss and the paladins advanced.
Armed in body and spirit with divine power, they knew no fear.
───Fwaaaah!
In that instant, the same sinister wave they had felt before swept through the entire ritual site again.
The Death Knight leaned forward, gripped the zweihander in both hands.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
With furious momentum, the Death Knight charged. Behind it, the Undead host followed.
"Exterminate the Undead!"
With a shout, the paladin order began their charge.
The warrior of light leapt into the air and fell upon the Undead ranks, while the White Crest Knights, fired with battle spirit, followed the paladins.
Calia, her body reinforced to the utmost,
had already reached Gloss's side. She leapt, raising her white sword. At the same moment, from below, Gloss swung his sword upward with all his might.
Kwaaaang!
The Death Knight's greatsword clashed hard against the two blades.
That was the signal that the subjugation had begun.
***
Verden walked alone through the darkness.
Descending the crumbled stairs into the depths, the ominous aura grew ever stronger.
The Orb of the Undead lay below.
Verden was certain.
Soon, he emerged from the passage into a vast space.
Ruins pervaded with darkness.
Fragments of statues, only legs remaining, lined the walls, and everywhere lay rusted, broken iron bars.
He did not know what this place had once been.
But one thing was clear. At the far end of the ruins, a passage leading deeper underground. From below it emanated the aura of the Orb of the Undead. It seemed the right passage Verden had chosen was the correct one.
'Or perhaps both passages lead to the same place.'
In any case, descending those stairs would bring him to the Orb of the Undead.
But first, there was something to do.
The reason Verden had come here alone.
He turned his gaze, quietly checked the compass of the Black Hour.
Its needle reacted even more violently than before, pointing straight to the hall's center. Then, from the ceiling, a shadow fell.
A doll, silent, landed in the hall.
A woman with short, dark-gray hair tilted her head as she stared at Verden.
"What, you're alone?"