Episode 80. The Rotpalen Underground Cemetery
Thanks to Binaeril’s forceful insistence, the team entering the underground cemetery was kept small.
Besides Binaeril, only three knights: Sir Beron, Sir Asdal, and Sir Gustave.
And Duke Torben, making exactly five.
Having departed from the Wulm outpost, they raced in a straight line toward the underground cemetery.
The undead hordes they encountered along the way were dealt with easily by Binaeril, so the Duke and the knights were able to preserve their full strength.
But it was strange.
“The deeper we go, the less frequently we encounter undead.”
“How odd. Weren’t the undead created here being pushed outward?”
Veritas confirmed that their guess was correct.
—The number of undead detected nearby has decreased significantly.
Why was that?
It could be that Balam had been wounded in the fight against Binaeril, or that he was conserving his strength in preparation for Binaeril’s approach.
“The place where that black wizard is hiding is an ill omen,” the Duke said.
“What lies there?”
“Indeed. I had wondered where so many corpses had crawled out from, yet I can’t believe I didn’t think of it until now.”
Sir Gustave answered in the Duke’s stead.
“There is a massive underground cemetery where we are headed.”
“A cemetery?”
“Yes. Hundreds, perhaps even more bodies lie sleeping there.”
Binaeril was puzzled.
“Is it a public cemetery for the deceased of the Duke’s lands?”
“It is not.”
“Then who is buried there?”
Duke Dukes’s expression turned uncomfortable.
“The corpses of nonhumans massacred in the past lie buried there.”
A massacre massive enough to produce hundreds of corpses.
Even Binaeril, well-versed in general continental history, was hearing this story for the first time.
—Of course. The Rotpalen Massacre is a forgotten history unknown to the world.
‘Forgotten history?’
—More than forgotten, it’s a concealed history. A shameful history that the Empire went out of its way to bury.
Veritas added a supplementary explanation.
“This is a very old story. In the past, when monsters appeared across the land, the entire Empire was thrown into mourning.”
The appearance of monsters. It was certainly an old tale. It had been over a hundred years.
“Many imperial subjects perished, and scholars endeavored to uncover the cause of the monster appearances. But no one could find a clear cause.”
“What does that have to do with the massacre?”
Duke Dukes stared at Binaeril.
“Sir Binaeril. When people are thrown into chaos, the very first thing they do is ostracize those who are different.”
“It couldn’t be….”
“Indeed. Someone claimed that the nonhumans created the monsters, and groundless rumors spread like wildfire. Even the Imperial Court organized a massive army and declared war on the nonhumans.”
Binaeril swallowed.
“And the end of that war took place right here, in Rotpalen.”
They had traveled swiftly and were almost at their destination.
In the distance, they could see land rising slightly.
Binaeril thought it was a low hill.
But the closer they approached, the more they realized.
It was a wide, aged structure with very low ceilings.
“I had only heard tell of it; this is my first time coming here myself,” the Duke said, looking at the entrance to the underground cemetery.
“The nonhumans who died here in greatest number were the Toin, I hear.”
At the word Toin, Binaeril thought of Bapaluga.
“But other nonhumans were also among Your Grace’s soldiers. Are they unaware of this fact?”
Though it was not something the Duke himself had done, it still seemed like it would make them uncomfortable.
“They are mostly comrades I’ve known since my mercenary days in the north. Hardly any hail from the south.”
The cemetery’s massive entrance gaped at them like the maw of an abyss.
“This underground cemetery is a massive tomb built by an emperor who repented of past sins. Because of the horrific history it holds, all manner of bizarre rumors swarm about this place.”
“…For example?”
The Duke spoke while peering into the deep darkness of the underground cemetery.
“Rumors that in the deepest part of the cemetery lies a living demon sword that harbors nothing but hatred for humanity…….”
Binaeril had a gut feeling that this was no mere rumor.
“Does that demon sword perhaps have a name?”
“It is only rumor, but yes, it does.”
The Duke brushed the ground with his fingers, pinched up red dirt, crushed it, and scattered it into the air.
“The blade’s name is Mimung. Rumor has it that it is a blade born from the vengeful spirits of the buried Toin.”
The demon sword Mimung awoke one day.
It did not know what had awakened it.
In the cold, fetid underground cemetery, the awakened Mimung was afflicted by endless hatred.
Hatred for humans, the screams and lamentations of the buried vengeful spirits. Before long, Mimung had become hatred incarnate.
It revived the soul of a corpse caught upon its blade and made him its minion.
Thus Balam was born.
Mimung granted Balam strength and eternal life. Through Balam, it gathered people and sacrificed them to obtain vitality.
The more humans it killed, the more it felt its thirsting hatred being filled bit by bit.
Those it slew rose again by Mimung’s power to kill even more humans. Human vitality became Mimung’s sustenance.
While engaging in such indiscriminate slaughter, Mimung realized one day.
That there were more beings like itself in the world.
And Mimung intuitively grasped that it and they were beings that preyed upon one another.
It needed more power. Much more power! More human vitality!
But now.
The strongest among them was drawing near. Mimung could feel it.
“Yes, Master.”
The demon sword’s minion bowed deeply, trembling at Mimung’s base.
—Balam! We must prepare.
“What do you mean, Master?”
—It’s approaching. A being like me is approaching. I can feel it. It’s coming straight here!
Balam had never seen his master so shaken.
“W-what do you mean?”
—We must prepare to leave this place. Draw me from the stone. We flee Rotpalen.
“My lord? But we don’t yet have sufficient vitality…….”
—Do as I say!
Mimung injected pain into Balam’s soul. Balam groaned, approached Mimung, and placed his hand upon the hilt.
—Draw me!
Balam gripped the sword with all his might and pulled.
The flesh of his former life caught on the blade tip tore and snapped away.
It could not win at the moment.
To the overwhelming presence approaching even at this moment, Mimung felt as though it would suffocate.
—Far away, we must get as far from here as possible. Run, Balam!
From the deepest part of the underground cemetery, Balam began to run.
Once inside the cemetery, it was pitch black, impossible to see even an inch ahead.
“It’s too dark. Beron! Do we have anything like a torch?”
“I shall illuminate.”
Binaeril created a light orb with diminished intensity and sent it floating among them.
“Ooh.”
A short exclamation flowed from among the knights.
The interior space of the narrow and long-stretching cemetery was revealed.
The corridor was so narrow that two people side by side would completely fill it, and moisture as well as foul odors seeped from the walls.
‘Veritas, how is it? Can you sense the page’s location?’
—Beneath our feet. Deep down. We’ll need to descend a good while.
“Let’s enter slowly.”
After rounding a few corners, even the faint light from the entrance vanished.
“This feels rather ominous, Your Grace.”
“It’s so quiet it’s chilling. And the stench is foul as well.”
“Stop grumbling. We are on our way to catch that black wizard. If we catch him, this tiresome war with the undead will finally end.”
Sir Gustave spoke, choosing his words while mouthing them.
“But Your Grace.”
“What is it?”
“If this place is truly that black wizard’s headquarters, wouldn’t that mean the undead came from here?”
“Most likely.”
“Then doesn’t that mean those bastards could jump out in this narrow corridor?”
Sir Beron, walking at the very front, suddenly halted.
Knights who bumped noses cursed at the front row.
“Sir Gustave, I don’t believe it’s merely a matter of ‘could come out.’”
“They have appeared ahead.”
“Everyone, raise your shields!”
The Duke shouted, and the knights attempted to raise the small shields strapped to their backs.
But the space was too cramped for them to do as they wished.
The sound of armor and weapons clashing boomed from front and back.
In such conditions, they could not properly fight.
“Everyone in the front, bend your backs. Get as low to the ground as possible!”
“…Listen to Sir Binaeril!”
Binaeril was third in the single-file line.
The two knights ahead hastily lowered their postures as much as possible.
“Fly, light!”
He chanted another light orb and cast it into the undead.
This was to ascertain their numbers.
But because of the narrow, lengthy corridor, they couldn’t make out the exact count.
They could only see that the undead horde stretched as far as the eye could see.
At this rate, they had to maximize penetrating power.
Binaeril superimposed the image of a flame tip onto his magic projectile.
Aiming straight for the brow of the one at the very front, he shouted:
“Pierce through!”
The flaming arrow shot from his fingertip pierced the undead’s brow.
The next one, and the next.
“Groooarr—.”
It didn’t stop there. Mere holes in their bodies couldn’t stop their advance.
The flaming projectile that pierced through their flesh left fire in its wake.
The flames that caught on their desiccated flesh did not cease consuming until the entire body was burned.
“As expected of Sir Binaeril!”
The knights behind Binaeril stamped their feet and cheered.
But immediately after, they called out Binaeril’s name again.
“Sir Binaeril?”
The cemetery was shaking.
From the cramped ceiling, crumbling sounds accompanied falling stone dust.
“Is—is it collapsing?”
At someone’s cry, the knights turned their gazes toward their liege in the darkness.
Judgment was left to Duke Dukes.
Should they turn back? Or press forward?
Ahead still lay the undead corpses burning.
Now the building shook noticeably.
“Everyone, fall ba… baaaack!”
The Duke’s command couldn’t be completed.
Because the underground cemetery began to collapse.
Not from overhead, but from underfoot.
The floor of the structure they stood upon began to give way.
“Everyone protect your heads! Hold your swords above your chests!”
Even as they fell, the Duke lucidly gave orders, but they were drowned out by the roar.
“Mana barrier encircling the people!”
Binaeril deployed a sphere of mana enveloping all five of them, himself included.
It took longer than expected to hit the ground.
The time it takes to fall from a three-story building?
Falling through the darkness, the fear of an endless descent intensified.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
“Ugh!”
“Oof!”
The Duke, knights, and Binaeril collided together, greeting the welcome ground.
While Binaeril was relatively light, the knights burdened with heavy armor let out much louder cries.
“Is everyone alright?”
Outside the mana field Binaeril had deployed, the sound of stones pattering down was heard.
“I am… fine.”
“I feel like someone beat my entire body.”
“Hmm… I’m fine. Did Sir Binaeril protect us?”
“I tried to reduce the impact with magic.”
“That’s a relief.”
The Duke looked up. Binaeril sent the light orb upward following his gaze.
“Had we simply fallen, we wouldn’t even have been able to gather our bones. We nearly became neighbors with the cemetery’s residents.”
The space they had fallen into was vast.
A wide chamber connected to the narrow corridor.
“It’s better now that it’s wider. A little less suffocating, isn’t it?”
The knights also recovered, rising to their feet with the composure to look around.
“Light, spread.”
Binaeril spread light to gauge the size of the space.
And the surrounding scenery that came into view.
“…Sorry, but I’m getting suffocated again.”
In the faint, spreading light, the people clearly recognized their surroundings.
The composure they had regained drained away again like a receding tide.
Duke Dukes spat out a command in a low growl.
“Everyone, prepare for battle.”