Chapter 327: Hero's Tomb (3)

Eugene possessed physical abilities unmatched by any warrior, yet he had one deficiency: performing missions in dark places.

He lacked the dark vision possessed by Goblins, Vampires, Elves, Dark Elves, and Half-Elves. He had no special sensory organs like the tactile hairs of Dwarves or Gnomes.

-The light source is the problem. We could use the Order’s candles, but there’s no one to hold them.

Unlike when exploring the New Continent mines, he now had to challenge alone.

-If you attach this to your helmet, you can mount a candle like a miner, but…

-If it suddenly goes out during combat, that would be worse.

To the troubled Walker, Eugene said it was fine. He had something to rely on.

“It’s much better than a lantern. It doesn’t spread light unnecessarily in all directions.”

The light illuminating his path radiated from a silver-white spirit entity. It was Banas’s avatar, descended in the form of a fairy.

The output was strong and could illuminate greater distances—a searchlight ahead of its era. No, with autonomous flight capability, it was even more superior.

“The dangers that lurk ahead require our combined strength to overcome. I entrust my life to your guidance. Though only a party of two, with or without physical form, nothing shall stand in our way.”

The fairy clasped both hands in a prayer-like posture. Since it was a nude form, she couldn’t hold her skirt hem as she did when meeting in dreams.

“I’m happy to see you’ve become so powerful.”

Direct interference from an entity of another dimension was subject to enormous restrictions. To bypass these restrictions, one needed a body to possess, like the foreign god who had hijacked Gaius’s body.

Even sending voice was difficult in this era, so manifestation as an avatar was extremely rare.

The fairy reached out to Eugene as if to say, ‘It’s all thanks to you.’ Not just speaking of the grace of being revived from the brink of oblivion—Eugene had become a super-battery.

-Your Highness. Today’s communion.

-I’ll enjoy it.

Eugene himself was a powerful soul who could perform the Holy Communion, a miracle of God. Moreover, his body contained countless accumulations of communion, tempered by the faith of the Moving Castle’s believers.

This was the second reason Eugene’s Sacred Smite was so powerful. Even when his own faith bottomed out, he consumed communion condensed from the believers’ faith daily.

-Mmm! Mmm! Delicious.

-…

-What’s wrong?

-There’s nowhere in the world that makes communion from croissants. We should use unleavened hosts like other orders with tradition.

Some conservative female priests had raised objections.

Most orders used simple bread made from only flour, water, and salt. Some orders added yeast to symbolize the cycle of life.

No order, unlike Banas’s, poured in yeast, milk, sugar, butter, and eggs.

-But it’s delicious!

-Your Highness! Faith is not for pursuing pleasure.

-That’s true. But I haven’t violated any doctrine, have I?

Banas was a goddess who had once fallen and barely maintained her existence among the poor. Therefore, unlike other thriving orders, she lacked a well-organized worship system.

Eugene, who didn’t want to force himself to eat tasteless communion bread every time, had requested of the goddess and received an oracle allowing all bread. Her mercy was infinite.

-If Your Highness prays, how could the goddess refuse? I fear other orders will criticize us.

-Recall what I always say. Innovation is possible only while we remain a rising force. Like the serf reforms.

-That’s…

When he brought his powerful achievements as a shield, even the priestess hesitated. Things that were difficult for others to understand but necessary in the long run—this young ruler could see them ahead.

-Doctrines that seem noble in this era will eventually become burdens in the distant future. The masses always want what’s modern, and religion is no exception. If so, it’s better to build from nothing while we can, with expansion in mind.

Eugene wasn’t just receiving croissants for his own desires. Perhaps…?

“Banas. My partner, who will be with me even when my senses fade and I can’t communicate with anyone. I will spread your faith far and wide. I will build a kingdom where the sun never sets on faith, and dedicate it to you.”

The fairy embraced her body with both arms. Wings of light flapped vigorously, and the light also trembled.

The expression ‘a kingdom where the sun never sets’ seemed particularly moving. She couldn’t maintain her voice while holding the avatar, but her joy was clearly visible.

“I’ll also forcibly convert the conquered territories. The Sovereign’s faith would be impossible immediately, but if we work on it over a hundred or two hundred years, we can gradually erase it.”

The fairy froze in an odd posture. The champion’s devotion was pleasing, but the declaration was so violent that she seemed troubled.

“In the records of the Dragon God Religion, there was this: during a time when the world was engulfed in calamity, their god personally descended in the flesh and blood to the mortal world to deliver salvation.”

This was why the Dragon God Religion had become so oppressive and narcissistic. The irony was that they had squandered their once powerful faith because of it.

“Someday, I hope to see you not in a dream paradise but in this world. Even if not, no people would refuse your embrace. So please don’t show mercy even to competitors.”

The fairy clenched her fists in a determined posture. The targets of her mercy were mortals only.

‘Is this enough?’

Dialogue. Nothing was more important than this when two people achieved something together. Having even this brief interaction would surely matter in the battles ahead.

At that moment, the fairy guiding him suddenly gathered light on one spot on the floor. A Draugr collapsed beside a stone burial mound, illuminated. An axe lay near its outstretched palm.

“If you hadn’t told me, I would have realized only when I was right in front of it.”

In an ancient tomb like this, decayed bones were scattered everywhere like decorations, making it difficult even for Eugene to notice such things immediately.

Eugene picked up a bone and threw it, hitting the Draugr’s head. Then its palm opened and it grasped the axe.

Rrrr-.

As the Draugr’s eyes snapped open and it tried to rise, the Great Mace descended upon it.

“Playing dead, are we?”

From head to spine, the skeletal line shattered and scattered. The bone hand released the axe it had grasped.

From that as a starting point, several more Draugr rose from farther away. They seemed to have realized the intruder wasn’t easy prey.

*

While the goddess and her champion engaged in battle, construction was underway outside the Hero’s Tomb.

“Move these logs to the left.”

“Got it.”

At a Britannian knight’s ‘request,’ two Bargeant warriors shouldered logs and moved them.

“Hey! You’ll lose your fingers chopping like that. Grip inside like this, then twist.”

“Just roughly chopping is fine, what’s the big deal!”

“Sometimes ten well-made stakes can do the work of a hundred. Shut up and do as you’re told.”

Elsewhere, Britannian mercenaries used axes and machetes to sharpen stakes. They bound them in groups of eight to form barricades and secured them facing forward.

Bargeant lord Thorvald, watching the scene, approached Baron Leicester.

“Did His Excellency really order this?”

“Of course. Would I on my own authority give orders like this to the lords?”

Baron Leicester smiled and wiped an apple on his lapel.

“This is a sacred place. Many Jarls are expressing dissatisfaction about cutting trees around the tomb. The Count, who respects our culture, wouldn’t order something like this.”

“Strictly speaking, the Count didn’t order it. I’m merely following the military doctrine that the commander’s quarters must always be fortified. Since the Count created this regulation, it’s no different from his order.”

Thorvald slapped his forehead.

“Don’t you know every regulation has exceptional situations? If this goes wrong, it becomes an overreach of authority.”

“I’m prepared to accept all responsibility. Keep quiet with the other lords. If anything goes wrong, I’ll bear it.”

Baron Leicester grinned and bit into his apple.

-Once the trial begins, we’ll begin fortification immediately.

-They know this is sacred land to them, right? There will be serious dissatisfaction if we start logging and construction.

-But His Excellency also desires it, doesn’t he?

-Quick on the uptake.

-We’ll say His Excellency said nothing about it.

-…On the surface, we’ll punish them, but behind the scenes, we’ll compensate double. I promise.

Baron Leicester had suggested the barricade construction because he couldn’t fully trust the surrendered lords. Eugene felt the same.

‘Your Excellency! I am in awe of your martial prowess!’

‘I can’t live like this forever. I’ll seize this opportunity to rise.’

‘I have a grudge against that Skal. I’ll definitely take his head and bring it to Your Excellency…’

The converted lords spoke pleasing words outwardly, but believing them at face value would be foolish.

Some had been false surrenders from the start, while others might waver and return to Skal’s side. Even the most ignorant noble would naturally be suspicious.

Yet Eugene accepted them as Bargeant because the troops, supplies, supply lines, information, and geography that surrender offered were too tempting. Not only for immediate victory but also for future governance.

*

“Are they making blood sacrifices to the Sovereign now?”

A mounted knight stopped before Huskarls gathered around a campfire.

“What are you talking about? We’re just roasting meat.”

“In Midgard, do you paint your face with blood when roasting meat? If you’re going to lie, be smarter about it.”

“Yeah, we did it! So what? This is a ritual for the Count who’s on a great challenge. Instead of gratitude…”

“The Count has the grace of the goddess. Such barbaric rituals are unnecessary.”

“What did you just say…?”

An atmosphere for immediate duel arose.

“Dismount! You coward!”

“If you want to fight a noble, match your status. Go find a donkey to ride!”

“You son of a bitch!”

When the unifying force of Eugene was removed, Britannians and Bargeant immediately growled at each other.

“The Count is undertaking a great trial, and what is this disturbance?!”

Each time, Thorvald stepped forward. Respected among Jarls and advanced in years, he was an excellent mediator.

However, while Midgardians would back down to preserve Thorvald’s dignity, Britannians grew more excited and jeered.

“Thinking of charging first but losing your nerve? Huh?”

“Stop! Stop it!”

Thorvald restrained his returning compatriots and stood before the Britannian nobles.

“Do you know that in the past, countless armies headed east under the name of ‘Holy Land Reclamation’?”

“A foolish past, nothing more.”

When the nobles’ shame was attacked, they pursed their lips. Everyone today knew the death and sorrow mass-produced under the name of Holy Land Reclamation, and how only evil gods benefited.

“In my humble opinion, the reason Holy Land Reclamation remains a shameful past is one thing: it was an impossible goal from the start! As much as the Westerners wanted it, the Easterners wanted it too, so the cycle of taking and retaking continued endlessly.”

“So what are you trying to say?”

The nobles were somewhat surprised by Thorvald’s insight. The Midgardians they knew were barbarians interested only in plunder. Yet this old man spoke words similar to temple priests.

“The Hero’s Tomb is like a holy land to us. The difference from yours is that ours has a conclusion—it’s right beside us and its sole purpose is destruction.”

Thorvald pointed at the tomb’s sealed entrance.

“Our new lord fights in there. He will advance hundreds of years of all Midgardians’ hopes. The crusades of the past ended in regret, but His Excellency’s crusade will end in glory. To disrupt this is disloyalty to our lord! This old soldier will not forgive it.”

Thorvald declared, gripping the sword Eugene had bestowed upon him.

“…You’re right, wise lord.”

“Jarl Thorvald. If anyone dares to fight when the Count returns, tell me. My axe will chop off their fingers.”

The Britannian nobles swallowed their pride and backed down. The Midgardians did the same.

This white-haired warrior was too old to fight. But now, no one dared challenge him.

‘The Count was right.’

Baron Leicester had opposed the Hero’s Tomb challenge. If there were traitors, it would be a perfect opportunity for an ambush.

But as Thorvald said, this was the Midgardians’ holy land. There was no need for troublesome governance—just break through. It was a fitting final risk for Eugene to take in this campaign.

*

At that moment, Eugene was fighting on the first basement level.

“Sacred Tomb! Intruder! Kill!”

A Draugr holding an axe spoke. Not all of them used the ancient language.

Unlike other undead, Draugr were beings who had risen with a singular devotion to Valhalla. Though fallen, that faith allowed them to maintain minimal sanity even after long ages.

They didn’t move on hatred of the living, so even low-level undead remembered their martial arts from life.

“I ascend! Beside the gods!”

“Sure, sure. I’ll send you to the Valhalla you desire, so just calmly put your head here? That way we both benefit.”

“Valhalla! Valhalla!”

Specific words drove the Draugr into greater frenzy. They were beings who retained only memories of battle after death. They were fixated on one thing: ‘fight hard and die.’

Eugene used the long reach to thrust his Great Mace. The Draugr also prepared a counter in response.

But the moment their weapons touched, Eugene simply pulled. It was more a fishing motion than combat.

“…?!”

The Draugr, pulled by an invisible force, fell face-first. Eugene struck its back as it tried to rise.

The back, protected by decayed gambeson, caved in. Ribs shattered and the upper body collapsed, but like all undead, it still moved.

Smack!

With a swing like striking a ball, the skull with its broken neck bone flew far. It crashed into the wall with a grand sound as fragments scattered.

The Great Mace, which emitted powerful magnetism, was a difficult weapon to handle. You had to worry about subordinates being drawn to it, and it limited equipment. But once set up, it performed beyond expectations.

“You! I’ll win!”

Among them were Draugr who charged unarmed. Not merely weaponless—they approached with both fists raised and footwork.

“A martial artist?”

“Your magic! It doesn’t work!”

They even seemed more intelligent than other Draugr. They appeared to understand that Eugene’s mace neutralized weapons.

Considering they were warriors who died in ancient times, this was remarkable insight, but unfortunately it was only half correct.

Thud!

The brave Draugr attempting a kick was pulled in and stuck to the mace head.

“■■■?!”

The flustered Draugr chattered in dialect and struggled. Each time, fragments of rusty armor scraped off with unpleasant sounds. Being a martial artist didn’t mean they wore no armor.

“I! Didn’t use weapon! Ancient way, with dignity! But why!”

“Go to Valhalla and discuss it with your friends there.”

Eugene swung the mace against the floor and wall.

Boom! Boom! Crash!

“Kaaah-.”

The Draugr stuck to it was shattered, and bone fragments and iron pieces scattered. Not much of a final moment.

Meanwhile, it wasn’t only warrior Draugr blocking Eugene’s path.

“Keeeek-.”

“Shiiiiek-.”

Female Draugr glared at Eugene. Their once beautiful formal attire had faded, and their crossed reverse-grip hands held daggers—the very objects that had ended their lives.

“Even after being buried as attendants, you still serve your master? What a pitiful fate.”

From a stone sarcophagus near the handmaidens, a Draugr lord stood. Clad in fine armor, he was different from those encountered so far.

Being buried with two attendants suggested considerable wealth, and both shield and sword radiated magical power.

“■■! ■■■■!”

When the lord chanted in ancient language, an ominous green aura surged from the sword.

“Hwahahaha-!”

The Draugr lord laughed triumphantly and stepped out of the sarcophagus. But Eugene had no intention of engaging a magical artifact head-on.

The Great Mace lightly swept past the handmaidens.

Ting! Ting!

Both stuck to the mace head and screamed pitifully. Buried women wore handcuff-like restraints on their wrists as symbols of servitude.

Eugene held the two handmaidens dangling from the mace before the lord. Their feet dangled in the air, swaying.

Then a wail that seemed to shake the tomb erupted. The Draugr lord went berserk and cursed Eugene, but didn’t dare swing his sword.

“My mistresseees-!”

To harm the handmaidens who had followed him even after death—even as a mindless dead, that was something he couldn’t do.

Therefore, when Eugene attacked, he could only retreat. He couldn’t even raise his shield to block.

“Keeeyaaaaah-!”

“Shiaaaaaa-!”

The pitifully dangling handmaidens would be hurt.

The Draugr lord, awkwardly trying to catch the handmaidens, was struck by the mace. The shattered handmaidens collapsed on top of him.

“Hatred! Vengeance! Annihilation!”

The Draugr, reduced to rage and only words, made Eugene feel slightly guilty.

“When this is done, I’ll perform rites for all of you. You’ll reach Valhalla, and your handmaidens will find rest in the cycle of reincarnation.”

Boom!

The mace strike ended the Draugr.

Behind the battlefield, the entrance to the second floor was visible. Eugene swallowed the sun bread Valda had packed and the holy water the priestesses had offered, then stepped inside.

From within, he sensed the presence of a mage—similar to himself. Valhalla wasn’t only accessible to warriors.