“You may enter.”
At the voice from within the prison, Theodore’s face, which had been tense with waiting, lit up.
Clack.
When he opened the door and stepped inside, he saw Damon standing with his back turned.
“Did I keep you waiting long?”
Damon smiled and pointed ahead with one finger. Theodore’s gaze came to rest on the shadow standing before him. A look of shock spread across his face.
“M-Master.”
His master, Shrekheimer, had changed completely. Until just moments ago, though he had been in the form of a vampire, one could at least make out the shape of a human being. But not anymore.
A white skeleton, glowing blue in the darkness, was staring straight at Theodore. Its fangs had grown unusually long, and through its rags, its gaunt frame was plainly visible. That was Shrekheimer. His master had now become a full-fledged lich. Perhaps the effort had been taxing, for Damon caught his breath before beginning to explain in a halting tone.
“The great rite was carried out successfully. His appearance has become rather wretched, but your master is now free from the urge to drink blood. Of course, he’ll be able to go about in broad daylight without any difficulty. Though naturally, he’ll have to wear a robe over himself to avoid people’s stares.”
Still wearing a dazed expression, as though it had not yet sunk in, Theodore looked his master up and down. After a moment, a smile appeared on his face.
“The first thing you’ll need is clothing to cover yourself, Master.”
A strange light appeared in Shrekheimer’s empty eye sockets. It seemed he had tried to smile. But with only bone left to his face, he could not possibly form a human expression.
“I suppose so. I cannot very well walk about the imperial palace looking like this…”
His voice, too, had changed completely. It was the tearing, low timbre unique to a lich.
“Please wait a moment. I will have clothes prepared at once.”
Damon let out a long yawn and walked toward the door.
“You two must have much to discuss as master and disciple, so I’ll take my leave.”
“W-where are you going…?”
“I should go see my companions. I hear they’re staying at Ferstein’s mansion.”
At Damon’s reply, Theodore silently nodded.
“Then I will come to escort you shortly. If you speak to the unit commander from earlier, he will take you to where your companions are.”
“I’ll do that. Then have a good talk with your master…”
With a light wave of his hand, Damon opened the door and went outside. Only Theodore and Shrekheimer remained in the prison. A smile passed over Theodore’s face as he faced him.
Though he had changed from a cursed vampire into a lich, Shrekheimer was unquestionably still the master who had given him a chance.
“Master…”
“Yes, Theodore. You have truly worked hard.”
Shrekheimer’s voice, too, trembled faintly. There was so very much for master and disciple, reunited after so long, to say to one another.
A peculiar smile hovered on Damon’s face as he walked down the corridor. He was now on his way to find his companions, with the unit commander leading the way.
‘To think Shrekheimer is still alive… Truly astonishing. This is no ordinary bond.’
The fact that the one who had brought him here was still alive made Damon’s heart race. Simply put, it meant the possibility of him returning to the Central Plains had risen.
“If he brought me here, then he must know well how to send me back. It seems even the heavens are aiding my revenge.”
Of course, Damon had something more urgent than taking revenge on Sajunhwan. That was revenge against Verkis and the other dragons, as well as rescuing Daphne. Damon had at last drawn back the curtain on his vengeance.
‘I’ve finally made it possible to send Arcadia’s great army to Truvenia.’
Because he had accomplished what he set out to do, Damon’s heart was filling with hope. The humans of Arcadia, who had developed by leaps and bounds. Against a well-trained army of one million, the orcs would never be a match. Humans advanced, but it was difficult to expect the same from orcs. The strength of Arcadia’s humans, developed and tempered over five hundred years, would be beyond comparison with that of Truvenia in the past. And so Damon’s steps, as he walked, were especially light.
The members of the Kasim Mercenary Corps had now somewhat calmed the grief of losing their comrades. They had not yet left the Fourth Annex, but the coffins containing Helton and Vieri had now been covered with their lids. Having swallowed down their sorrow, the mercenaries had taken off their clothes stained with blood and dust and changed into fresh garments.
They were now gathered in small groups, chatting among themselves. Of course, the greatest topic of conversation among them was undoubtedly the incident of Juliana joining the mercenary corps.
Patterson, his face sour, looked at Catroi sitting beside him. Unlike the mercenaries, Catroi had not attended the memorial ceremony. Though he had helped them at the decisive moment, expecting a dragon like Catroi to mourn a dead human comrade was asking too much. Instead, he had spent three full days buried in a barrel of liquor. Duke Ferstein had provided him with unlimited alcohol. And yet, in Catroi’s current appearance, there was no sign of drunkenness at all. Patterson clicked his tongue at the sight.
‘He really is incredible. Rumor has it he emptied twenty large barrels of liquor completely, and yet he can be this perfectly fine…’
But remembering what he had to say, Patterson hastily adjusted his expression.
“By the way, Lord Catroi, what do you think?”
“About what?”
The moment Catroi answered, Patterson’s body staggered as though he had been struck by an arrow. The instant Catroi opened his mouth, the smell of alcohol wafted out so strongly that it was difficult even to breathe. Only after hurriedly pinching his nose was Patterson able to regain his senses. Holding his nose, he spoke in a nasal voice.
“Well, Lord Catroi, are you aware that Lady Juliana has joined the mercenary corps?”
Catroi’s eyes abruptly widened.
“Is that true?”
“Y-yes, it is.”
Seeing Patterson nod, a peculiar smile appeared on Catroi’s face.
“That must be quite the serious matter for you all. It doesn’t really concern me, though.”
“Exactly. It’s no ordinary serious matter, is it?”
Patterson hastily agreed, but then a low voice suddenly came from beside him. It was unmistakably a woman’s voice.
“Pa~tter~son. What did you just say?”
All color abruptly drained from Patterson’s face. His expression looked as though he had come face-to-face with Verkis. Patterson hurriedly turned his head and shook it frantically.
“W-what I mean to say is that Lady Juliana joining our mercenary corps is an incomparably wonderful thing. Yes, of course. Absolutely.”
There was no change in Juliana’s tone whatsoever.
“Really? That doesn’t sound like what you meant.”
“I-it is absolutely the truth, ma’am.”
The mercenaries looked at Patterson’s face, which had turned dark in an instant, with pitying expressions.
‘He should have just stayed quiet like us.’
Breaking the silence, Juliana’s voice rang out once more.
“Very well. I’ll believe you. I trust that feeling will never change.”
“O-of course. Need you even ask?”
Patterson, his face crumpled miserably, lowered his head.
‘Ugh. This mouth of mine is the problem.’
Just then, the door swung wide open.
Clack.
The mercenaries’ gazes all focused on the door at once. Their eyes were filled with bewilderment. A stranger had opened the door and entered, and was staring intently at them.
The one who appeared was an extremely handsome young man. His blond hair rippled beautifully, and his blue eyes shone alluringly, as though emeralds had been set into them. With a nose bridge that seemed carved from marble and a slender line to his face, his appearance could be described in a word as heavenly beauty. The young man slowly looked over each member of the group, then turned his head. Behind him stood a Duke Knight bearing the insignia of a unit commander.
“You’ve done well. You may go now.”
“W-will you not need an escort?”
The young man silently shook his head.
“I do not need an escort.”
“U-understood. Your Highness the Crown Prince.”
After offering a deeply respectful salute, the Duke Knight turned politely away. Watching him go, the young man shut the door with a bang. Patterson, who had been watching, slowly rose to his feet.
“W-who are you?”
But the young man did not answer. Of course, he was Damon. Yet not a single one of the mercenaries recognized him. From Damon’s neatly groomed appearance, it was simply impossible to recall the blood-soaked young man who had been pinned beneath Helton a few days ago. The moment his gaze touched the coffins placed in the center, a grief-stricken expression appeared on Damon’s face.
“Helton, Vieri…”
Overcome by emotion, Damon trembled faintly. The mercenaries could sense that he was desperately holding back his feelings. Watching him, Kasim slowly rose. After staring at Damon for a long while, Kasim finally opened his mouth.
“Are you Damon?”
Damon’s gaze slowly turned toward Kasim. Though his appearance was completely different, Kasim somehow managed to recognize the familiar look in his eyes. A clear voice rang in his ears.
“You must have been quite surprised, Kasim.”
Though the tone of his voice was entirely different, his manner of speaking made it plainly clear who he was.
“I’ll explain the details later. More importantly, would you show me the faces of our fallen comrades once? I want to see Helton and Vieri in their final state.”
Without another word, Kasim opened the coffin lids. Soon, Helton and Vieri were revealed. Because they had been treated with advanced preservation magic, the two looked almost no different from when they had been alive. A sleeping stillness lay quietly over their bodies. But at the sight, Damon’s eyes quickly reddened. He quietly called the names of his dead companions.
“Helton, Vieri. Must I send you off like this? Did I not tell you again and again? I told you not to die and make your comrades grieve, but to survive no matter what. You really are cruel men. How could you make your comrades this sad?”
In the stillness covering the annex, Damon’s voice spread softly.