Chapter 64 - Damn Reincarnation

Desert

“What the hell is that bastard talking about?”

At the shout booming through the tunnels, the sandcasters turned to one another in confusion. Thieves? Strictly speaking, Eugene Lionheart was the one who had barged into someone else’s territory without permission. That fearless, ill-mannered brat was the one who deserved to be called a thief.

“My lord...!”

Raman heard Eugene’s shout too. He sighed in relief and squirmed.

A hostage. Hadn’t the sandcasters said as much earlier? Raman didn’t want to hold Eugene back. He tried to pull his bound limbs free on his own, but the sandcasters weren’t blind.

“Don’t try anything stupid.”

RUMBLE!

The sand on the ground coiled around Raman’s body. After threatening him, the sandcasters exchanged glances.

“What do we do?”

“We can’t let him get here.”

“Obviously, I know that... But should we report this?”

It was a cautious question, voiced with an inescapable undertone of fear. The sandcasters hesitated, unable to answer.

“... We can handle this ourselves.”

Someone finally broke the uncomfortable silence, and the other sandcasters nodded. They didn’t want to report this problem to their superior.

The losses were already too great to cover up, but...

‘Our master would never care about losses like these.’

Every sandcaster here thought the same thing. Quite a few assassins and sandcasters had died in this short span of time, but their master would surely dismiss such losses as insignificant.

They simply couldn’t let the situation escalate any further. Even if everyone here died, the intruder must not be allowed to advance.

They had to resolve this before their master returned. If they failed, and their master witnessed this chaos... If they failed and asked for help...

‘Death would be better.’

They would be condemned to a horrifying existence, unable to truly die or truly live. Not a single sandcaster here had any trouble imagining it.

“Aaaaargh!”

“Aaaaagh...”

Screams echoed from far away, drawing closer and closer. Assassins never screamed, no matter the circumstances, which meant the ones screaming their throats raw over there were sandcasters.

“Let me go!”

The sand writhed, pushing Raman to the front. He struggled, gasping for breath, but the sandcasters paid no heed to his cries. Their minds, resonating with mana, conveyed their intent to the sandcasters scattered throughout the labyrinth.

There had been fifty sandcasters in this labyrinth. Little time had passed, yet more than half were dead. Dozens of sandcasters and assassins had been slaughtered—not by an organized army, but by a mere nineteen-year-old boy.

The surviving sandcasters gathered in one place.

Eugene noticed it too. At some point, the magical attacks had abruptly become far less frequent. The presences approaching him receded, growing faint.

An immense mass of mana stirred ahead. At its center, Eugene sensed a familiar presence.

Raman Shulhob.

‘I went out of my way to let him escape. Why the hell is he a prisoner over there?’

THWACK!

Eugene kicked the skull of an assassin attempting to ambush him at his feet. The sandcasters were gathering farther ahead, but a few assassins still lay hidden along the passage.

“I’ve got a lot of questions.”

Muttering to himself, Eugene reached into his cloak. An enormous surge of mana roiled. As he took a step forward, the sand in the passage began to whirl. The path narrowed relentlessly, and sand engulfed him.

A sand prison. Even Eugene would have trouble breaking through magic on this scale with magic of his own.

But there was no need to do that, was there? Eugene took a box out of his cloak. The fragment of the Moonlight Sword he had used for mana training for years lay silent inside the luxurious box.

Without hesitation, he hurled it forward. The sand, writhing as though alive, swallowed the box.

“Boom.”

Muttering the word, Eugene pulled up his hood.

BOOOOM!

The actual sound dwarfed the one he had uttered. The sand prison cast by dozens of sandcasters could not withstand the power of that tiny fragment. Vast quantities of mana could increase a spell’s power, but its cohesion was weak. Freed from the mana’s control, the sand scattered and collapsed.

Eugene advanced through the cascading sand. Thousands upon tens of thousands of grains and clouds of dust obscured his vision, but even without sight, his senses detected everything happening around him with precision.

Below. The ceiling. Assassins swept out with the sand launched their ambushes, releasing sword aura in an instant. They leaked no killing intent, concentrating even the flow of their mana into the moment of attack.

“I’ve seen far too much of this.”

Eugene planted his foot on the ground.

CRUNCH!

The falling sand formed spikes that impaled the assassins.

The Moonlight Sword’s fragment destroyed magic and scattered mana.

For two years, Eugene had trained his mana’s cohesion against that fragment. The mana he had refined that way was stronger and faster than his current level should have allowed.

‘What did he do?’

More than the assassins’ deaths, what bewildered the sandcasters was the way he had broken their sand prison. Dispel? No, it was different. Dispel worked by deliberately interfering with the mana composing a spell. Eugene hadn’t interfered with the sand prison at all.

The mana had simply... simply vanished. Even Aroth, famed as the magical kingdom, had no Dispel like that. Was it a secret Lionheart spell?

“He’s coming!”

They couldn’t remain bewildered forever. The sandcasters moved their lips in incantation, forming hand seals with their hands held before their chests.

“My lord!”

Raman shouted from the very front, where the sand held him bound.

“D-don’t come any closer! Run!”

“Who the hell are you to order me around?”

“You don’t need to save me!”

“Why would I save you? You’ve got some strange ideas.”

Eugene muttered as he picked up the Moonlight Sword’s fragment from the ground. Mana was gathering again.

‘I don’t want to drag this out.’

The location he had checked on his map lay ahead. A passage continued behind the sandcasters. Eugene’s eyes turned cold. He turned the fragment of the Moonlight Sword over in his hand.

“Hmm.”

ROOOAR!

Sand rose into a gigantic wave. The ground beneath Eugene churned like water drawn toward it. Offering only the slightest resistance, he rode the flow of sand forward. Corpses swept ahead of him were swallowed by the wave and crushed. The pale yellow wave began to turn blood-red.

Eugene raised his arm overhead. Leaning his upper body back, he gathered strength for the throw.

When the wave was right in front of him, he hurled the Moonlight Sword’s fragment forward. Breaking the spell wasn’t his only aim. Even after piercing the wave, the fragment lost none of the force behind its throw.

“Ghurk!”

The fragment pierced the throat of the sandcaster beside Raman. His mana shield could not resist the Moonlight Sword’s power. Without checking the result, Eugene lowered his body.

Ring Flame Formula.

The explosions had already been chaining together. Vivid blue flames engulfed Eugene’s body.

BOOOOM!

As he kicked off the ground, the blue flames left a long trail behind him.

In an instant, he leaped over the sandcasters’ heads. Though horrified, they reacted. Sand writhed on all sides, gathering around them.

Those movements were plain to see. The real threat was overhead, in the ceiling. Eugene pulled his hand from inside his cloak.

CRACK!

A black whip swept across the ceiling and lashed through the surrounding area. Though he rarely used one, Eugene was skilled with a whip as well.

“Ghrk!”

The supple whip coiled around a sandcaster’s neck. Eugene yanked it hard, sending the sandcaster’s head flying upward as his own body dropped.

Raman pushed himself up from where he had fallen.

He had no choice but to immediately drop flat again. Screams and blood. Wind ran wild above waist height, cutting through sand and people alike. Mana bullets threaded between the gusts. Blue flames scattered. Screams swallowed the sandcasters’ incantations, and the sand magic cast by dozens of them dispersed in the wind.

Moving freely through it all, Eugene looked almost like a ghost. When magic approached, he escaped with Blink. Then he would sweep his cloak out to swallow a spell and return it along an entirely different trajectory.

His weapons changed constantly. Just when he seemed focused on a weapon, he used magic, and he never hesitated to strike with his bare fists or legs.

Raman had never seen anyone fight like that.

If even a warrior like Raman was unfamiliar with it, how could the sandcasters possibly adapt?

‘What kind of magic...’

He uttered no incantations. They couldn’t even see mana entering a formula or the process by which a spell manifested. Magic simply appeared. Not one spell at a time, but simultaneously, in continuous succession. And the power of those spells was absurd. His circle? They couldn’t tell. The spells he cast weren’t particularly high-circle, yet their power and speed went far beyond comprehension.

To the very end, the sandcasters failed to understand Eugene.

A little time passed. Blood no longer splashed, and screams no longer echoed.

Only the stench of piss remained.

“What were you doing here?”

Only one of the dozens of sandcasters had survived. He looked up at Eugene, his teeth chattering. The situation was far beyond his understanding. The inescapable reality before him became an overwhelming terror. He trembled, pressing together his urine-soaked legs.

“W-who... Who on earth... are you...?”

“I asked what you’re doing here.”

Eugene frowned and moved his hand.

THUNK!

The swiftly thrown dagger embedded itself in the sandcaster’s thigh.

“Ghhh...!”

“Your forces are too pathetic for this to be the Sultan’s operation. What are you doing behind his back?”

“W-wait, what are you talking about...?”

“I don’t want to waste effort interrogating the likes of you. So listen carefully. Are you going to die, or talk?”

“W-what’s happening here isn’t under the Sultan’s direction.”

“Then whose is it? Don’t tell me it’s the emir of Kajitan. Is that fucker pulling some bullshit underground?”

“N-no. We’ve sought his cooperation, but...”

Eugene threw another dagger.

THUNK!

It lodged in the other thigh.

“A-Amelia Merwin.”

The sandcaster answered, his face contorted in pain.

“This is Lady Amelia Merwin’s dungeon.”

“... Don’t bullshit me. Amelia Merwin’s dungeon is in the Ashur Desert.”

“S-she has been here for six years.”

“Six years?”

Eugene’s eyes narrowed. He shook his head, trying hard to ignore the ominous thought circling in his mind.

“... Why did Amelia Merwin come here?”

“...”

“Are you afraid of Amelia Merwin? Then let me make your decision easier. I’ll kill you, but that’s all I’ll do. Very comfortably, very simply.”

The sandcaster’s eyes wavered. Breathing hard, he pressed a hand against his chest.

“... Th-this labyrinth was built to accelerate desertification. There are many other labyrinths in the Kazani Desert besides this one, but this labyrinth... was built ten years ago.”

“And?”

“... Six years ago, the labyrinth expanded. We believe an unstable section underground collapsed, and a large door was discovered deep below.”

“... A door?”

“Yes... We tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge... So... we asked Lady Amelia Merwin for help.”

Eugene nodded and raised a dagger. At the sight, the sandcaster felt relief rather than fear.

“Please...”

THUNK!

The dagger Eugene threw pierced the sandcaster between the eyes. He fell backward and died. Just as promised, Eugene simply killed him.

It was the peace the sandcaster had wanted. With things having come to this, there was no escaping Amelia Merwin’s wrath. That vile black mage enslaved beings instead of killing them. A peaceful death was preferable to an entire existence as an undead creature, neither dead nor alive, hoping that death might someday come.

“That explains it. I thought these forces were too pathetic.”

Amelia Merwin. Even among the black mages contracted to the Demon King of Incarceration, she was considered exceptional. Balzac Ludbeth, Aroth’s Black Tower Master, and Count Edmond Codret of Helmuth had become black mages by contracting with a Demon King.

But Amelia Merwin had made a name for herself as a powerful black mage before ever entering a contract with a Demon King or a demon.

That gave her grounds to demand considerable rights when contracting with demons. Of course, Amelia Merwin’s ‘freedom’ was something the Demon King of Incarceration had granted her, but it was indisputable that she enjoyed far greater freedom than other black mages.

‘With a black mage of that caliber here, there’s no need to station troops.’

That was why the sandcasters and assassins were here: to attend to Amelia Merwin and kill any travelers who came close. Judging by the dead sandcaster’s account and the fact that Amelia Merwin’s ‘real’ dungeon was in the Ashur Desert... she probably didn’t spend much time in this dungeon.

“M-my lord.”

Raman spoke in a trembling voice.

“You must leave. I-if this really is the dungeon of Amelia Merwin... the ‘Black Thorn’...”

“After coming all this way?”

Eugene gave a disbelieving laugh and started walking.

“Fortunately, Amelia Merwin isn’t here.”

“B-but she could return at any moment...!”

“And if I leave? Won’t Amelia Merwin track me down? She probably will. I don’t know her, but that’s probably what I’d do. Of course I’d hunt down and kill someone who broke into my vacation home and trashed the place.”

“...”

“We’re going to have an ugly encounter either way.”

He hadn’t planned on a confrontation with Amelia Merwin. He had wanted to avoid one if possible, but now it was inevitable. In that case, he needed to check what he had come to check before they clashed.

That was Eugene’s conclusion. Without looking back at Raman, he stepped past the corpses and continued forward.

“Why are you following me instead of running away?”

“B-because there is no telling what may happen ahead.”

“Sure, but why aren’t you running away?”

“You have saved my life twice, my lord. If... if Amelia Merwin returns and tries to kill you, I will... lay down my life to open a path for you.”

“You? For me? Ha...”

Eugene turned back to Raman in disbelief.

“How exactly would you manage that?”

“... Even without the skill, I can still give my life.”

“Why not just run away instead of doing something pointless?”

“I cannot abandon you, my lord.”

“What do you mean, abandon me? I’m telling you to go...”

Eugene clicked his tongue and raised his hand.

Raman’s consciousness ended there. Eugene didn’t go so far as to kill him. But he couldn’t take him any farther either, so he simply knocked him unconscious and tossed him into a corner.

‘... A door?’

Six years ago.

It wasn’t all that long ago. Six years ago, when Eugene was thirteen.

‘The Bloodline Succession Ceremony.’

The Lionheart Treasury.

Hamel’s keepsake, discovered inside it.

Eugene tightly gripped the necklace hanging around his neck.

‘This labyrinth has been here for ten years, but its far end collapsed six years ago.’

What if taking this necklace had caused the magic sealing the ‘tomb’ to disappear?

What if that was how the ‘door’ had appeared?

“So the grave robber was someone else.”

For the first time since his reincarnation, his mind was this cold, his thoughts this murderous.

Eugene looked down into a deep hole leading farther underground. He was already far beneath the desert, yet the hole before him descended to depths he could not begin to gauge.

“You buried me deep.”

With a faint laugh, Eugene threw himself into the hole.