Chapter 329: Salvation

The Forecaster Draugr, a superb mage even in life, retained the most intact intellect of all, and enjoyed several privileges granted by his undead identity.

As a result, he wielded high-dimensional magic no mage or summoner could match. Had he not been bound to the Hero’s Tomb, he would have brought great calamity upon the world.

But now he was nothing but a defeated coward drenched in fear before annihilation. High intellect bred that much more fear.

‘Still, there’s always an if.’

Eugene approached slowly with the oak shield before him. The Forecaster thrashed, thin fingers gripping the mace head, but with strength weaker than a woman’s he couldn’t budge it.

This was because the bone composition differed between warrior-class undead and mage-class undead. Like an electric eel composed mostly of electric cells unable to match the strength of a catfish armored in muscle cells.

[Hiss—!]

Cornered, the Forecaster gathered all his mana. Blue light burst from his eyes, and the iron scales on his armor rattled with a clamorous sound.

Eugene tensed, thinking he would launch a final blow, but the Forecaster cast spirit-form magic once again.

[I am a sage who overcame even death. The rules of this world cannot bind me.]

His power lay in commanding armies of the dead, not in one-on-one duels like this.

And he failed spectacularly. Dozens of white sparks flew from the Forecaster’s body, which had grown hazy.

“Kyaaaa—!”

The Forecaster’s body flickered between corporeal and incorporeal, mana leaking in every direction.

Ting!

When he became corporeal, the scale armor he wore and the mace stuck together.

Thud!

When he became incorporeal, the magnetism of the mace fallen on the ground scrambled the Forecaster’s composition.

“So you can overcome death, but not magnetic fields, huh.”

Eugene nodded. Life engineering could hardly defeat physics.

Ts-ts-ts.

Alternating between the two sounds, the Forecaster’s desperate screams echoed, and each time he lost a great mass of mana.

Thud!

Finally the exhausted Forecaster collapsed and fell silent. The surroundings were filled with the lingering echo of wasted mana.

Eugene raised his sword before him like an executioner.

“Any last words?”

[I… have lost.]

The Forecaster accepted defeat. His finger pointed at the altar, which opened left and right to reveal a hidden sarcophagus.

[I beg the victor’s mercy. Move me to the outside world. One who deserves such treat— No. One who does not.]

Having expended his final mana, the blue light in his eyes went out and the Forecaster lowered his head.

Eugene gripped the sword in reverse grip and drove it into the Forecaster’s chest. Then, as though in prayer, he clasped the hilt with both hands and recited the incineration chant.

“I lay waste to this dwelling, and its master shall never return.”

The purification authority Banas sent Eugene took root through the sword into the Forecaster’s body.

Whoosh.

Blue flame spread across his entire body and he vanished without even ash remaining. He was far too dangerous an undead to allow even the slightest possibility. Confirming the kill was something Eugene always emphasized to his subordinates.

Thus Eugene, having passed every trial, stood before the altar. Inside the final sarcophagus lay completely collapsed bone fragments and grave goods.

Hieroglyphs written on the side of the sarcophagus caught Eugene’s eye.

“The king has slain the dragon.”

Slightly below, a more detailed explanation was written in Midgardian script.

“Show reverence. The first king and dragon-slayer. Here rests the great Ragnar.”

There were no gold or silver treasures among the grave goods. Truly noble treasure could not be bought with money, and there was no place here for mere gold.

“So this is Midgard’s first crown.”

When Eugene lifted the crown, Banas’s avatar came close to examine it. Viewing from the lofty perspective of heaven and from a microscopic angle differed in many ways.

The beautiful goddess seemed thoroughly pleased with this short adventure alongside her guardian knight. Like a lover receiving a gift, she fluttered about joyfully as he confirmed the spoils.

“You don’t need to shine your light everywhere. There’s not a scrap of gold in it. You can’t see colors properly with that fairy-like avatar anyway, can you?”

The nude fairy raised both arms to make a circle. At first she’d communicated with Eugene through nods and shakes, but she’d changed methods because her small size made that hard to see properly.

“As expected, the title of dragon-slayer wasn’t given for nothing.”

Ragnar’s crown was made not of metal but of bone. Eugene was certain it was dragon bone. A similar kind to the dragon soldiers he’d faced in Khazad-dor, yet far richer in mystery.

The large horns attached on both sides like a horned helm still radiated overwhelming presence, undamaged despite the long ages.

“This?!”

Eugene exclaimed at another grave good as well. They were dragon teeth. Ferocious teeth worthy of being carved into talismans were mixed among Ragnar’s remains.

“One, two, three, four…”

There were eight. Size and shape differed slightly each.

“Master Marbas would be overjoyed if I brought these to him.”

Banas too made a circle with a delighted face. Marbas, who had always lived as non-religious while respecting gods, was now her believer.

Even if faith had no high or low by birth, there was superiority and inferiority. The faith of the superb summoner Marbas became nourishment more valuable than what many ordinary people offered.

“Is there an entrance to a third basement level?”

Banas’s avatar curled up like a fetus, and intense light condensed. In that state she circled the interior once, shooting beams of light in every direction. A sight like a searchlight inside a disco ball.

Each beam of light reached Banas’s senses. Similar to a bat’s echolocation.

Having finished her search, Banas made an X with both arms before Eugene.

“You’ve worked hard. This must truly be the end. The Forecaster and great jarls, even Ragnar’s coffin—all gathered here.”

Eugene gathered the king’s remains and important spoils and stood.

“Shall we head back then?”

Banas’s avatar perched on Eugene’s shoulder. The goddess’s favor became warmth that protected Eugene’s body heat from the cold underground tomb. From the corner of his vision he could see two legs swaying, brimming with satisfaction.

[My precious knight. Let us bestow our mercy here.]

Banas whispered, squeezing out strength with effort.

“Mercy, you say?”

[Take up the staff. Become the Forecaster of Mercy.]

Eugene’s gaze stopped on the golden magic staff the Forecaster Draugr had held.

*

While Eugene returned bearing glory and treasure, battle raged outside.

“Damned scum! Your ancestors’ wrath will follow you and your descendants for generations!”

Jarl Thorvald roared at the top of his lungs. He’d never imagined they would assault the sacred Hero’s Tomb—while the challenger was undergoing the trial, no less.

“Why are you all in this together? Say something—any excuse! Do you animals even know shame?”

“So what? Winning is all that matters.”

Ivar, Skal’s second son, stepped forward to answer.

“Ivar! Yes, it wouldn’t be right if you weren’t involved in filth like this!”

“What are you all doing? Press harder! We’ve got three times their numbers!”

Ivar had brought every connection and soldier he could mobilize. Until battle began, everyone had been high-spirited at the overwhelming numerical advantage.

But as the fighting continued, they realized the defense was far sturdier than expected.

“Send those beggar bastards to the other world!”

“You call this armor?”

Britannian elites loosed crossbows with ferocity, and the Vikings couldn’t approach easily. The rear was the Hero’s Tomb; the front and flanks were lined with wooden stakes, limiting invasion routes.

“I apologize for having viewed the construction negatively. Without those stakes, they would have broken inside long ago.”

“His Lordship said what must happen will happen, eventually.”

Baron Leicester smiled at the apologizing Bargeant lords.

“Push harder!”

the Vikings shouted.

“Hold firmer!”

the Bargeants shouted.

At the front, shield walls pushed against shield walls in a contest of strength. Both sides sweated streams inside dark shield walls, shouting at the top of their lungs.

“Break through! Break through!”

“Don’t waste your strength. Just hold.”

In this situation, Eugene’s army was naturally advantaged. The power and range of archer units made a great difference.

Thud!

Thwack!

Far more attackers fell to bolts and arrows. It had seemed they’d break quickly, but as allied casualties accumulated, Ivar’s fury erupted too.

“Hunters siding with the prey—have you no pride? And you dare build fortifications like this at our ancestors’ sacred tomb?”

“You crazy bastard. Can’t you see the filth on your own body?”

As Bargeant lords, they found it absurd.

‘When the hell did they build this?’

Ivar gritted his teeth. If not for that barricade, they would have charged in with numerical superiority and fought a chaotic battle. The threatening heavy cavalry gathered inside as well, unable to unleash their shock power properly.

“Bite down and attack! When the war ends, countless empty lands will open up! Anyone with courage can become a jarl! Die fighting and it’s Valhalla; win and a territory awaits!”

Ivar’s encouragement took effect.

To become a lord!

To bequeath a lord’s family life to wife, children, and descendants!

That sweet desire drove warriors to squeeze out strength they didn’t know they had.

“I think we should join in soon.”

Knights raised weapons as the defensive line began to buckle, but Baron Leicester shook his head.

“Let them be a while longer. I’ll be grateful if they kill each other and pile up grudges.”

Just as the cracks widened further and heavily armored knights prepared to charge, something unexpected happened.

Boom!

Just as when Eugene had entered, the tomb’s stone door burst open violently. There was only one meaning to that.

“The Count has returned!”

“Glory to the hero who passed the great trial!”

The Bargeants, who had been fighting to the death, had morale that pierced the sky. Conversely, the attacking Vikings shrank greatly.

“Wh-what?!”

“There was a trial going on?”

Ivar hadn’t told every warrior who’d joined the truth.

One blow!

He’d bet on the gamble that winning and killing only Eugene would solve everything. No need to tell low-ranking warriors. Their morale would only drop.

“Don’t be swayed by their nonsense! Attack, I said!”

“Cut down anyone who retreats!”

Ivar and his close aides forcibly pushed warriors forward. They still held numerical superiority, so they had to lead into chaotic battle and maintain initiative.

And as if mocking that expectation, a bluish spirit form slipped out from the tomb entrance.

“What is that?”

Combat stopped all around as everyone drew a sharp breath. Souls of ancient people in warrior’s garb streamed out from the tomb entrance one after another.

“Nothing shall bind you any longer. May you find peace.”

At their head stood Eugene, golden staff in hand.

-Follow me. You who suffered and could not sleep. Follow the Forecaster’s guidance. I shall lead you to the light of the world.

Eugene too was one who wielded the mystery of the underworld. As he walked the tomb holding the golden staff in prayer, bound souls followed behind.

Countless souls gathered at a single entrance and resonated. Even those without magical aptitude could see and hear the spectacle with eyes and ears.

[The eternal chains are broken!]

[The prophesied guide has come!]

The souls’ chorus brimmed with joy at freedom.

[We fell once more in battle!]

[We have earned the right to join our ancestors!]

Bluish souls spiraled upward toward heaven. At their center stood Eugene with the Forecaster’s golden staff. Upon his head, Ragnar’s crown radiated presence.

“King Ragnar!”

“The Dragon Crown!”

None had seen it directly, but none knew not of Ragnar’s crown. Hymns praising the first dragon-slayer and king were famous throughout Midgard.

“Our ancestors.”

Thorvald wiped moist eyes. While countless souls vanished into heaven, battle remained suspended. Ivar thrashed, issuing attack orders, but no one moved.

Clatter!

Clang!

As the souls’ ascension ended, weapons fell to the ground here and there. Many low-ranking warriors who hadn’t known a hero’s trial was underway lost their will to fight. Even those still holding weapons cautiously retreated bit by bit.

“Lord Ivar. It’s already over. We must withdraw…”

“Lord Ivar?”

“Huh?”

Ivar, the Huskarls, and jarls wore stunned faces. Their commander had vanished without a trace of when he’d fled.

Hee-hee-hing!

“Out of the way! Move!”

“Anyone who blocks us dies!”

The assault force split left and right, and knights charged through the gap. To pursue the fleeing Ivar. But someone moved ahead of them in the chase.

Kyooooooo—!

From the direction of the dense forest came a roar endlessly fierce yet seductive.

“Aaaagh!”

“Save me!”

And faint screams of terror followed.

“What? Did they run into a monster?”

“Let’s chase that way for now.”

The knights headed toward the sound despite their alarm.

“Oh…”

Along the good escape routes, traces of slaughter appeared everywhere. Torn Pior racehorses and Viking corpses appeared in clusters every few meters.

Surrounding grass was dyed red, and trees smashed as though driven in by tremendous force were visible here and there.

At the end of the pursuit, the knights found Homi and Ivar.

“Grrrrr—.”

“Eeeeek!”

Ivar, held in the grip of Homi transformed into a beast-warrior, had wet himself.

The corpses strewn about bore four deep gouges across face, neck, chest, and elsewhere. As though struck by a Kodiak bear.

Homi’s fur, white as a snowfield, was dyed crimson. Yet the knights thought even that sight was beautiful.

Gulp.

The knights swallowed and sheathed their weapons. They approached cautiously with hands raised.

“Lady Homi. We are not your ene—”

“Knights, what are you doing? Though the enemy commander is captured, the situation is not over. Maintain your guard.”

“Ah, yes.”

Unlike her beast covered in blood, her voice remained composed. Its resonance brimmed with intellect.

“Wildness and frenzy are merely weapons. Until the moment I die, I am the same single warrior as all of you.”

The noble accent Homi had been steadily educated in by Valda made her a lady of the battlefield.

“Our concern was impertinent. Please forgive us.”

The knights bowed to Homi. No matter that she was Eugene’s disciple, as nobles and knights there was no need to humble themselves this far.

But knights are weak to two things. A great warrior and a dignified lady. And the snow leopard maiden before them was a rare being who satisfied both on the battlefield.

*

By the time Homi and the knights returned, the attackers had either fled or surrendered.

“Tie them all up and move them over here!”

Disarmed Vikings tied up were isolated in one place, and swift pursuers set out from various points.

“You bastard!”

“Shameless wretch!”

Ivar, tossed by Homi, was trampled by the surging Bargeants.

“Aaagh!”

As he screamed under brutal beating, Baron Leicester intervened at the appropriate moment.

“Vent your anger appropriately, but don’t kill him. Judging this one is the Count’s right.”

Meanwhile Eugene held Homi tight in his arms.

“Splendid. Without you, we might have let him slip away. Pior racehorses fleeing through the forest are hard for knights’ warhorses to catch.”

“Um, I’m covered in blood right now…”

Homi was happy in Eugene’s embrace yet tried to pull away, afraid of getting blood on him. But Eugene wouldn’t let go. Even Homi with her monstrous strength couldn’t escape his arms.

“I’m covered in sweat and dust too.”

“Hehe.”

In the end Homi wrapped both arms around Eugene’s back as well. After savoring each other’s warmth, Homi turned her head from within his embrace and glared at Ivar.

“That one ruined oppa’s plan.”

“Indeed.”

Homi also swept her gaze across the Bargeants cheering in victory.

“Even after merciful surrender, there was one who dared betray us. He’ll surely be wearing a shameless mask.”

“No doubt.”

“Aren’t you angry?”

Homi seemed dumbfounded that Eugene remained composed even in this situation.

“You want every line you cast to land a prize catch and have perfect luck? When you work, you get stabbed in the back sometimes. That’s all.”

“No, no…”

Smooch!

Eugene kissed Homi on the forehead as though she’d been left speechless.

“A lord must always make choices. I looked at both war and governance afterward, and chose the path I judged most right. You don’t know the result until you crack it open.”

Eugene considered himself fortunate it ended at this level.

“Great lords in history tasted bitterness beyond comparison to something like this. I can’t fold over a single betrayal. I’ll keep choosing paths worth the risk afterward, same as always.”

“Is that the mindset you need to become a grand lord?”

“What nonsense. Even a petty merchant at the market has this much nerve. Anyway, the trial was a great success in the end, wasn’t it?”

Homi nodded meekly.

The souls of ancients liberated from the Hero’s Tomb. Friend and foe alike had witnessed that solemn spectacle.

King Skal would bear the dishonor of assaulting a warrior mid-trial, and Eugene had brought back treasures including Ragnar’s crown.

“Of course, success is success.”

Eugene’s cold gaze turned toward Ivar. Homi could anticipate what her oppa would say next. He’d repeated it many times on the Midgard expedition.

“Punishment must follow.”

“Starting with that one. We’ll identify the colluders in time.”

Eugene released the embrace and headed toward Ivar.

“Huff… huff…”

Covered in mud and beaten to a pulp, Ivar raised his head with difficulty.

“Glory to the great hero.”

The Midgardians around him knelt on one knee and paid homage.

“Then kill me if you’re going to.”

Ivar spat blood-stained saliva at Eugene’s shoes. His face showed he knew it was all over. Eugene turned Ivar over without answering.

Rip.

Then he tore off his shirt.

“???”

“Hm?”

While onlookers wondered, Eugene stroked Ivar’s back.

“I can’t just kill you. You’re a king’s son, after all.”

A voice flowing with lava-like fury made everyone shrink back.

“I’ll give you a chance to reach Valhalla. Let’s see how well you endure.”

“…!”

Ivar’s eyes, filled with malice, widened to tearing.

“They say if you don’t utter a single groan while they carve out your back, your sins are forgiven by the gods?”

“No…”

A blood-soaked eagle flickered before Ivar’s eyes.