Chapter 65 - Damn Reincarnation

The Tomb

He had jumped in, but he had no intention of crashing helplessly into the bottom. Eugene wrapped himself in the spirit's wind and peered into the depths below.

'So there it is.'

He could indeed see something like a door. Far below, an enormous door made of an unidentifiable material stood in place of the floor.

It was not firmly shut. A gap stood open, wide enough for a person to pass through comfortably. Seeing it with his own eyes made Eugene's hair bristle with fury and murderous intent.

Six years ago, the door down there had been discovered, and Nahama's sandcasters had been unable to open it.

So Amelia Merwin had come here.

And opened the door.

GRIND.

His teeth ground together. Eugene accelerated his descent, dropping right in front of the door. He did not enter immediately. Instead, he took several deep breaths to calm his boiling emotions.

He had not yet confirmed that Hamel's tomb lay inside. Perhaps... perhaps it wasn't a tomb at all, but some entirely unrelated ancient dungeon. He didn't want to jump to the wrong conclusion and end up feeling hollow.

"... Not that there's any chance of that."

There were no distinctive patterns or engravings on the door. If any magic remained, he might have been able to make an educated guess from the caster's habits in the formula or the level of the magic, but the door's magic had already been breached.

That left him no choice but to go inside and see for himself. Eugene slipped through the gap in the door.

Another passage lay beyond, leading farther underground. His surroundings were no longer earth, but metal of the same material as the door.

'Looks like some kind of alloy.'

TAP.

Eugene struck the wall with a firm fist. The force failed to penetrate it, and his mana was absorbed. He studied the wall briefly before turning his gaze downward.

Had a dragon folded its wings and crawled through here?

The walls were gouged, broken, and crushed in places. Marks that might have been sword cuts or claw marks crisscrossed them in a chaotic tangle.

'These are... '

Eugene descended, examining the marks.

'Signs of a battle.'

Perhaps this was a dragon's lair. The thought occurred to him, but weren't these marks far too violent to have been left by a dragon stirring in its sleep?

'The weapon... I can't tell what it was. Was this a swinging slash? It looks like a thrust, too... In the first place, if an attack used mana on this scale... '

Reading the marks was impossible. He was certain a battle had taken place, but he could not guess how many people had fought, why, or how.

The marks were impossible to ignore, but examining them further seemed unlikely to yield anything. Eugene turned his attention away from the walls and continued downward.

As he went, he realized a few things.

This passage must originally have concealed dozens, perhaps hundreds, of traps. Whether they had been caught up in the battle here or broken through by Amelia Merwin, every last one had been destroyed.

'... It's not like I was an emperor. Isn't this many traps a bit excessive for a tomb?'

That thought shook his judgment. No matter how he looked at it, this place felt more suited to a dragon's lair than someone's tomb.

But those thoughts vanished completely when he reached the bottom of the passage.

Eugene stared ahead, dumbstruck.

A statue stood in the center. There was no mistaking it. It was a statue of Hamel—of his previous self. Swallowing hard, Eugene approached it. The reason he remembered and recognized it so clearly was not merely that it depicted his past life.

He had seen that very likeness before. In Akron, Aroth's royal library. In the Hall of Senya.

Senya had preserved the likenesses of her former companions there.

Vermouth the Great.

Moron the Brave.

Anise the Faithful.

Hamel the Stupid.

"... Haha."

Eugene shook his head and laughed. This statue was identical to the likeness he had seen in the Hall of Senya. A face without a trace of a smile. A slouching posture. The scars that were still few in number.

"If you're going to preserve my likeness, at least make me smile."

Hamel Dynas.

(Holy Year 421–459.)

A son of a bitch, a fool, a dumbass, an idiot, a piece of trash.

Yet brave, faithful, wise, and great.

In memory of you, the stupid one who sacrificed himself for us all and left before us.

A memorial stone stood beneath the statue. Eugene stood motionless, staring at it. He knew that handwriting.

Moron's large handwriting: brave.

Anise's neat handwriting: faithful.

Senya's crooked handwriting: wise.

Vermouth's sharp handwriting: great.

"... Ah, fuck."

His vision blurred, and his nose stung. Eugene cursed for no particular reason and clutched his nose. He needed to rub his eyes, but he didn't want to. No one was watching, but shedding tears and wiping them away in front of that statue and memorial stone felt embarrassing.

"You should've said that shit while I was alive. What's the point of writing it on a stone after I'm dead? I can't fucking see it."

Muttering, Eugene rested a hand on the stone.

He could not lose himself in sentiment forever.

'This is strange.'

The statue and stone were perfectly intact. Nothing was broken, and despite the hundreds of years that must have passed, neither showed any sign of aging.

That in itself wasn't strange. Magic was convenient. A properly cast preservation spell could keep something from aging for hundreds of years.

Provided no one deliberately destroyed it.

Ignoring the tears running down his cheeks, Eugene looked around.

Ruins.

There was no other word for it. The signs of battle that had begun in the passage continued here.

Looking at these ruins made the marks in the passage seem like child's play. The floor was shattered or overturned, and what looked like pillars were embedded in the floor and walls like spears.

The only things left intact here were Hamel's statue and memorial stone.

'What the hell happened here?'

Hundreds of years ago, Senya had sensed her familiar's death and left Aroth for Hamel's tomb.

Had a battle broken out immediately? For now, he could only assume so. She had encountered some unknown grave robber, and...

'Senya is strong.'

She had always been strong, but she had grown even stronger after Hamel's death. Eugene did not know the Senya of that era, but the glimpse he had gained of Senya the Wise through Witch Craft was enough to call her the most powerful mage in the world.

If someone could put up this much of a fight against her...

'... Senya... didn't win.'

If Senya had won the battle, she would never have left this dreadful wreckage as it was.

Then had she died here?

"There's no way."

He had seen Senya's phantom in Aroth. It couldn't have been a mistake. When they encountered each other in the square outside the bank, her phantom had clearly conveyed its meaning.

Found you.

'She was injured in the battle here... and went into seclusion.'

For now, that was all he could conclude. Eugene tugged at his hair, his mind in turmoil. Who on earth could have pushed Senya that far? A demon after all? Was a Demon King behind it? The Demon King of Incarceration or the Demon King of Destruction—which one?

Did they have any reason to? Hamel was dead. He had died before reaching the top of the Demon King of Incarceration's castle. That mysterious "promise" had kept Helmuth's two Demon Kings silent for three hundred years.

What reason would a Demon King have to break that silence and act? They certainly wouldn't have come to pay their respects at the dead Hamel's tomb... What reason could a Demon King have to come here?

Eugene paced in circles, tugging at his hair. No matter how hard he thought, he could come up with no plausible explanation. In the end, there was only one way: find Senya, who must have secluded herself somewhere in the world. He did not know where she was, but finding the person involved was the best way to learn exactly what had happened hundreds of years ago.

'I'll search this place a little more first.'

There was nothing resembling a clue in these ruins apart from the statue and memorial stone. Judging by the spacious chamber and broken structures, there seemed to have been all sorts of things here before it was ruined... For now, Eugene wandered through the wreckage.

He examined a pillar embedded in the floor. The cracks made it difficult to see, but closer inspection revealed tiny writing. Magical formulas. Only scattered fragments remained, making it impossible to discern their original form.

Nor was magic all there was. Alongside Senya's scrawled formulas, other words had been inscribed.

O omniscient and omnipotent God of Light, please protect and watch over this foolish lamb. Guide his arduous journey after rest with mercy and love, and should darkness fall upon his path, open the way with light.

"Anise, you fucking bitch, I don't believe in any god."

Burn away the sins of his life with holy fire. Open not the gates where pain and despair await, but the gates of heaven, filled with peace and happiness. Please place upon my shoulders the good deeds he lacks to enter heaven, and let us someday reunite in that same place.

"... Damn bitch."

He let out a deep sigh and stroked the pillar.

Eugene imagined what these ruins had looked like before their destruction. It wasn't difficult. He remembered clearly what sort of people his companions had been.

Moron, that dumbass, would have erected the pillars with tears and snot streaming down his face, quite at odds with his enormous size. Magic would have made it simple, but Moron would have stubbornly insisted on doing it himself. Perhaps he had even dug all the way down here with his own hands.

Senya. That girl would have cried, too. She had cried more than anyone before Hamel died. Moron would have tried to make the statue himself, but Senya would have sent him flying, telling him to stop fucking around. Then she would have made it in the image of Hamel she remembered.

Anise would have been carving prayers into the pillars when she saw the statue and made an unnecessary remark. ["Wasn't Hamel uglier than that?"] With a faint scent of alcohol about her, Anise would have held back her tears. She had been like that when Hamel was dying, too. She had sipped what little alcohol remained, calling it holy water, then moistened his lips with it... telling him to receive God's grace one last time.

And Vermouth.

Had he cried? Eugene could not imagine Vermouth shedding tears. Perhaps... even here, he had blamed Hamel. Told him he hadn't needed to do that. Perhaps he had blamed everything that had left Hamel no other choice. That was the Vermouth Eugene—Hamel—remembered. Before they entered Helmuth, and after as well, he would look at the bodies of strangers killed by demonic beasts, demons, or monsters...

["I could have saved them."]

["I should have saved them."]

["They didn't need to die."]

He used to say things like that. It was a habit of his. When their companions suffered unavoidable injuries on their journey, yet survived and defeated a powerful enemy—when everyone was basking in accomplishment and joy rather than the pain of their injuries...

["You didn't need to get hurt."]

["I should have done better."]

Vermouth alone would mutter those self-reproaches.

["Dumbass, there you go again. Every fucking time, it's 'that didn't need to happen' and 'I should have done better.' Hey, are you a god? You're human, just like us. How are you supposed to do everything yourself? If that's what you want, why the fuck are you traveling with us?"]

["Hamel. Stop giving Lord Vermouth shit."]

["Cut the crap, Anise. You just clicked your tongue, too. You think I don't know you're thinking that bastard's making a fucking spectacle of himself?"]

["I did not click my tongue at Lord Vermouth. I did so because I foresaw you giving him shit."]

["You're both fucking ridiculous."]

He remembered those conversations from back then, conversations they would never have again. He had cried a little at the statue and memorial stone, and now the damned tears were flowing again. This time, too, Eugene did not wipe them away. He simply let them flow. He neither tried to stop them nor held them back.

If he didn't cry now, when would he?

'... Everything's been destroyed.'

Except for one place.

Behind the statue, a door stood in the wall. Eugene stared at it. Unlike the unscathed statue and memorial stone, the door bore quite a few marks of damage.

But it was not broken. Eugene approached it. It looked intact on the outside, but perhaps the inside had been smashed to pieces. That was what he assumed for now. He didn't want to get his hopes up.

CREEEAK.

The door was not shut. Holding his breath, Eugene opened it and looked inside. As expected, the interior was a complete mess. Neither the ceiling nor the walls had been spared.

But the door at the far end of the long corridor was completely unscathed.

And someone sat leaning against it.

Eugene involuntarily caught his breath at the sight. He had remained on guard, knowing anything could happen. Yet he had failed to notice this figure's presence. Even now, looking directly at it, he could sense nothing from it.

The figure rose. Black armor covered its entire body, and a helmet hid its face. Crimson eyes flashed within.

"... What are you?"

Eugene spat the question at the figure as it stood.

"What the hell are you doing sitting there, blocking the door?"

It did not answer. It staggered toward him. Every hair on Eugene's body stood on end. From the approaching suit of armor, he felt savage, intense demonic energy.

'A demon?'

No, it felt different. A human who had contracted with a demon? Judging by its appearance and the air around it, it wasn't a black mage. Then a black knight? A fallen knight who had sworn loyalty to a demon and received power in return.

'No... that's not it.'

He sensed no life in it. It was neither a demonic beast nor a demon, nor a human bound by a contract.

That left only one possibility.

'Undead.'

Surely not.

His face twisting, Eugene reached into his cloak.

"I asked what the fuck you are."

"... Thief..."

A voice emerged from inside the helmet, cracked and hoarse. Its answer suggested that it retained some reason...

"... Your name."

Eugene felt chilling dread, rage, and murderous intent. He hid none of it. His cloak billowed as blue flames wrapped around him.

"Tell me your name, you bastard."

"I am..."

The undead.

The death knight drew its sword. A long, black blade.

A sword Eugene did not recognize.

"I am... Hamel the Stupid."

"What the fuck are you saying, you bastard?"

That answer snapped Eugene's reason.

"Hamel? You? And Hamel the Stupid, at that?"

CRUNCH!

The floor crumbled beneath Eugene's foot.

He was Hamel.

There was no need to say it. Eugene had no intention of competing with the death knight before him over who the real Hamel was. He himself was Hamel, and without even needing to consider it, he knew the death knight before him was a fake.

"Hamel would never fucking call himself that."

That thing was a lunatic deluded into believing it was Hamel.

A death knight that had lost its fucking mind.

But that body...

Perhaps...

"Take off your helmet, you son of a bitch!"

Eugene shouted and launched himself off the ground.