Monarch of Death

Ancient bas-relief murals depicting the culture of an old race were engraved on the stone walls. In the center, a thick pillar rose to support the ceiling.

Although much of it had eroded over time, the elegant beauty of the place, weathered by the ages, still remained visible in parts.

This grand space, however, was now covered in all kinds of laundry.

Serati clicked her tongue as she looked around.

“It suddenly feels very… domestic, doesn’t it?”

What should have been a majestic ancient ruin had been transformed into something akin to the backyard of a dormitory.

Laven let out a bitter smile.

“Well, cultists are people too. If their clothes get dirty, they’ve got to wash them.”

Laficel tilted her head in confusion.

“But why would they hang laundry near an uninhabited area?”

It was strange that women would come to do laundry in a place so close to areas where monsters could easily appear.

Baros shook his head.

“It’s the opposite.”

It was because this was near the uninhabited area that they hung their laundry here.

“There’s nothing odd about it. Even in castles, laundry is often hung to dry in the courtyards near the cliffs, isn’t it?”

These chores were usually done in more secluded areas. It might look unusual since this was a dungeon, but that’s the only difference.

“Now that you mention it, that makes sense.”

They cautiously walked past the rows of laundry.

They had just left the cavern and entered another hallway when Millia suddenly stopped walking.

“Did you sense it, Captain?”

“Yes, it’s a necromancer.”

Karnak halted the group as well.

“It seems someone is keeping watch nearby.”

“It doesn’t seem like they’re doing a very good job of it, though.”

As they got closer, they could finally make out their opponent, and Millia’s odd statement began to make sense.

At the end of the corridor, blocked by a large iron door, lay a man in his thirties, dressed in a black robe.

He wasn’t just lying there; he had his cloak rolled up under his head like a pillow and was in the middle of a full-on nap, even snoring.

“Drrr…”

Baros snorted.

“Doesn’t seem like he’s planning to keep watch at all, huh?”

Still, they couldn’t just ignore him and move on.

Laven pointed to four statues of monsters standing on either side of the hallway.

“He’s relying on those, it seems.”

The statues were radiating a strong aura of darkness, so it wasn’t hard to guess what they were.

“Gargoyles.”

Gargoyles usually stayed in their statue form but would awaken at the necromancer’s command to attack intruders.

They were made of stone or something equally durable, making them quite a nuisance to deal with.

“That’s only if they wake up, though.”

Karnak grinned as he looked at his companions.

“Shall we try a little of the 7th battalion’s fishing trick?”

Millia, Baros, and Serati all smiled in return.

***

Guarding the laundry station near the outskirts of the residential area was one of the necromancers’ favorite duties.

Even though it was near the uninhabited zone, meaning it couldn’t go unguarded, the powerful necromantic barrier ensured that monsters rarely made it into the residential area.

As a result, the guards saw this duty more as an afternoon nap opportunity than anything else.

Walter, a second-tier dark priest of the Cult of the Dark God’s Wellard branch, was no exception.

He was in the middle of a sweet, deep sleep at the end of the corridor.

‘Mmph!’

Something suddenly covered his mouth.

Startled, Walter opened his eyes.

‘What the…?’

It was a glowing gag of some kind.

In a panic, he tried to pull it off, bringing his hands to his mouth.

Clank!

At the same time, chains wound tightly around his neck.

His breath caught, and his vision began to blur.

“Guhk!”

He struggled against the chains as he lay on the floor.

He needed to wake the gargoyles and end this mess quickly.

But he had no time.

The chains around his neck pulled him along!

“….Ugh ugh ugh!”

He was dragged across the floor, flailing as he went.

‘If only I could move my mouth, I could wake the gargoyles!’

No, even if his mouth was bound, he could still activate the power of darkness by focusing his mind!

It was too late.

By the time Walter’s body was dragged to the opposite end of the corridor, he was already too far from the statues. Even if his mouth was freed now, he couldn’t wake the gargoyles anymore.

A man with black hair appeared before his eyes.

“Fly fishing success.”

“Mmmph! Mmmph!”

As Walter flailed helplessly on the ground, Millia rolled up her sleeves.

“Shall we begin the interrogation?”

Serati, looking bewildered, turned toward her.

Her cheeks were flushed, as if she was excited.

‘Was Miss Millia always like this?’

When she first joined the 7th Battalion, didn’t she shudder at the mere sound of a cultist screaming? Karnak had even relieved her from interrogation duties back then, and she’d been grateful.

Millia clasped her hands in prayer.

“…O Latiel, grant me the righteous torture.”

Walter’s face turned pale. It was the scariest thing he’d ever heard.

“Mmph! Mmmph!”

***

Ten minutes later.

Walter had also become one of those “graced by the goddess’s favor” and was fully cooperating with them.

Unfortunately, he knew nothing about Edia.

Of course, this was expected. She wasn’t exactly a famous figure.

But he readily spilled information on who might know.

“The believers in the residential area are managed by First-Tier Priest Soress. He should know.”

Millia scoffed.

“We knew, but it still sounds ridiculous every time. Cultists, calling themselves priests…”

Walter also revealed the location of Soress’ quarters and detailed the underground structure near it.

The interrogation methods of the Goddess Church were always effective.

“Well, now that we’ve gotten everything we need from him…”

Millia’s eyes sparkled as she pulled out a tube.

“Shall we bury him?”

Though it was a stone structure and not a forest, there were plenty of broken fragments lying around.

They could simply pile up some debris to make a makeshift stone coffin, toss him inside, and seal it up.

Walter, unconscious, was buried alive.

At first, the others had been hesitant, but now they were burying people with no hesitation whatsoever.

Humans truly were creatures of adaptation.

Once the cleanup was done, Karnak and the group gathered again.

“Now we just need to find this Soress.”

Considering the size of the residential area, there were likely many other cultists there as well. Taking this into account, Laven spoke up.

“Disguising ourselves as cultists and infiltrating seems like the safest bet.”

The problem was, they needed uniforms to disguise themselves as cultists.

“Hmm…”

Karnak glanced back at the place where Walter had been buried, looking annoyed.

“Should we dig him up, strip his clothes, and bury him again?”

Laficel raised her hand hesitantly.

“If you need uniforms…”

She pointed behind her.

“There’s a whole bunch right there, isn’t there?”

Everyone turned to look over her shoulder.

The laundry line was full of cultist uniforms, hanging out to dry.

***

The residential area felt less like a village and more like a military barracks.

Everyone wore the same uniform—black robes with skull necklaces—and they went about their duties without much interaction.

Amid them, six followers of the Dark God were moving with armfuls of laundry. They were, of course, Karnak and his team in disguise.

As they passed by, other cultists on guard would acknowledge them.

“Hm? Moving laundry?”

“Good work.”

Even though they were unfamiliar faces, no one paid them much attention.

The dungeon was so deep that there wasn’t much fear of outsiders entering.

Besides, the population of the Wellard branch had recently surpassed 300.

While 300 wasn’t a huge number, it wasn’t so small that everyone would recognize each other by face either.

And with the similar outfits, it was hard to tell people apart, especially the women, who wore hoods.

The only thing that caught attention occasionally was Serati’s beauty.

“Hey, was there always such a pretty woman in the cult?”

“Young lady, when did you join our order?”

Those men were quietly dragged off to secluded rooms and dealt with.

They ended up lying on the ground, breathing through straws.

Without any issues, the group passed through the residential area and finally reached Soress’ quarters.

It was at the end of a deep corridor in a large cavern.

“Is that it?”

Laficel frowned as she sensed movement.

“Soress isn’t alone.”

It would be best to subdue them quietly.

Laven inspected the door before pulling out his lockpick.

“I’ll handle the door.”

He worked skillfully, and the door opened without a sound.

They followed the hallway inside to find a large bedroom.

A half-dressed young girl was sitting on the edge of the bed, trembling.

“P-please, don’t do this!”

“Hehehe, just behave.”

A middle-aged man with a bulging belly, his shirt half removed, was leering at the girl, pressing her against the bed.

“All is the will of Tesranak. Now, come here…”

The man was clearly abusing his position to assault a young girl.

Anyone with any sense of morality would feel anger at the sight.

But there was no anger in the expressions of Karnak’s group as they watched.

‘Uh…’

‘Hmm…’

‘What is…?’

Karnak and Baros might have been expected to react this way, but even Serati, Millia, and Laficel showed no signs of anger, only a mix of confusion and disbelief on their faces.

‘What the…?’

Soress, the middle-aged man, finally realized that others were present and turned around in shock.

“Wh-who are you?”

He yelled, quickly hiding the girl behind him.

“How dare you enter here without permission?”

His face turned red as he shouted, but the group just looked at him with disbelief.

“We’ve seen plenty of filthy necromancers, but…”

“This is a new low.”

There was a reason Serati and Laven spoke this way.

“That’s a zombie, isn’t it?”

Yes.

Soress was controlling a zombie girl with necromancy, staging a one-man play all by himself.

It was an act of depravity so bizarre that even Karnak and Baros, who had seen and done all kinds of things, were taken aback.

“But how is that zombie talking so well?”

“Seems like ventriloquism.”

[T/L: Ventriloquism is an act of stagecraft in which a person speaks in such a way that it looks like their voice is coming from a different location, usually through a puppet known as a “dummy”.]

In other words, the sweet, pleading voice of the girl had actually come from Soress himself.

“…Is it really necessary to go this far?”

“Indeed. I didn’t know anyone could be this pitiful and vile.”

Their eyes, filled with a mix of pity and disdain, focused on Soress.

“I-it’s a misunderstanding! This is part of the ritual to rebirth her as a warrior of the cult…”

Soress tried to excuse himself, but suddenly his expression changed.

As the overseer of the residential area, he knew the faces of most of the cult members.

“Wait! You’re not part of our cult, are you?”

His face showed relief that those who had witnessed his disgrace were not fellow cultists.

Baros stepped forward with a sneer.

“Is now really the time to feel relieved?”

“Oh, no!”

Realizing that they were intruders, Soress quickly tried to summon the zombie to fight back.

But it was already too late.

“Nowhere to run!”

Baros landed a punch deep into Soress’ solar plexus.

With just one blow, Soress’ entire body went numb, and his legs gave out beneath him.

“Guhh!”

As he writhed in pain, Karnak looked down at him with a grimace.

People had always talked about “putting yourself in someone else’s shoes,” but he had never understood it—until now.

‘…Was I really that much like this?’