The Tomb

Sword-drawing techniques. Put simply, they involved drawing a sword from its sheath and cutting in the same motion. They could catch an opponent off guard, and, done properly, naturally allowed a cut along the shortest possible path.

They were not particularly powerful. No matter how quickly one drew a sword, assuming a proper stance and swinging one's arm to cut was much faster.

That was true of ordinary swords, at least.

The Moonlight Sword had no blade. Moonlight served in its place. Drawing a sword from its sheath—not simply drawing it, but drawing it to cut immediately—damaged the edge.

The Moonlight Sword had no need to worry about that. All one had to do was draw and swing. That allowed its speed to reach the absolute limit. And its power?

A foolish question.

The Moonlight Sword was destruction in the shape of a sword.

He drew a crescent moon.

That was how it looked to Eugene. The instant the sword left its sheath, the light within became a moon. Moonlight illuminated the darkness. No, it did not illuminate it.

It shattered the darkness.

FLASH!

The claws the death knight had swung shattered in the moonlight and vanished. The death knight could not comprehend what it was seeing.

“Hah.”

Gasping for breath, Eugene thrust himself forward. Just one swing had left him breathless and blurred his vision. Those were classic symptoms of mana depletion. Once he ran completely dry, severe exhaustion would leave him no choice but to collapse.

'Two more times...'

He had thought he had held back enough. Were estimates made without testing them unreliable after all? Still, the power was satisfying.

Just one swing had pulverized every attack before him.

The death knight could not understand what had happened to it.

It had definitely swung its claws. There was no way the utterly exhausted intruder could have responded. It had intended to cut off both his arms and force him to his knees.

It had failed. The claws it had unmistakably swung had shattered in the pale light, and its gauntlets had broken into pieces as well.

“I meant to cut off your arms.”

Eugene's aim had been the same as the death knight's. Neither had achieved it. The death knight had failed to sever Eugene's arms, and Eugene had failed to sever the death knight's.

'Is the reduced output not enough? Or... is its power too weak now that it's been shattered?'

He had no mana to spare for testing it. What was certain was that its current power could not destroy the death knight's body.

'I cut it several times earlier, too, but couldn't wound it.'

What the hell had they done to someone else's corpse? Grinding his teeth, Eugene approached the death knight.

“Raaaargh!”

It could not understand what had happened, but the result was clear. That ominous light had pulverized its demonic energy. Demonic energy was the source of black magic. A death knight, an undead of the highest order, would not vanish simply because it used up all its demonic energy, but squandering the source of its power on an opponent like this would only make its master's fury burn hotter.

Then what should it do? Wasn't that simple? It had no need to use demonic energy. Look at the intruder. His eyes were dull, his face pale. He was staggering, as though even walking was too much for him.

This body. Very occasionally, it had felt that swinging a sword was familiar despite never having properly learned swordsmanship, but the death knight could not fully draw out that ability. Having fought with claws on its hands and feet all its life, it found using those far more comfortable and preferable to swinging a sword.

What it would do now was something it had enjoyed and excelled at in life. It could not bring out its real claws, but the enhanced grip of a death knight could tear hard metal like paper. If its opponent had a human body? Surely it could rip and tear that apart.

“I don't think that's a very good choice.”

The death knight charged in barehanded. Even through his dizzy vision, Eugene could see its movements. Was it avoiding demonic energy out of caution toward the Moonlight Sword? So it intended to fight barehanded? Without even a weapon?

Against him?

“Arrogant bastard.”

Chuckling, Eugene shifted the Moonlight Sword to his left hand and took Wynnyd in his right. Merely maintaining the Moonlight Sword's light consumed mana. He could not drag this out.

'That bastard Vermouth swung this thing around like an ordinary sword.'

What a monster. That was enough dwelling on the past. Right now, a real monster was charging at Eugene.

WHACK!

The swinging hands were wild, but perhaps because they lacked demonic energy, the opponent was not as overwhelming as before. Eugene deflected its hand with Wynnyd and slipped inside its reach. When he raised the Moonlight Sword slightly, the death knight flinched and leaped back.

'I didn't swing it.'

He slashed at its waist with Wynnyd as it retreated. Metal scraped. It was only a shallow graze, but that was enough. Wind broke away from Wynnyd and wrapped around the death knight's body.

A gale.

ROOOAR!

The swirling wind swallowed the death knight whole. Maintaining the Moonlight Sword's light, Eugene calculated its coordinates. Blue flames swept into the whirlwind and caught its limbs.

“Graaagh!”

The death knight roared and flailed its limbs. It was fighting with its bare body, without demonic energy. Even so, every movement generated a powerful gust that pushed back the spirit's wind. Eugene's gaze rose.

The ceiling. Fine cracks had spread across it like a spiderweb during the earlier battle. Calculating their positions, Eugene cast his magic.

CRASH!

The ceiling collapsed. Countless metal fragments fell onto the death knight's head.

They did not merely fall. Eugene's magic imbued each fragment, turning it into a bullet that moved at his will.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

The bullets drove into it in response to its resistance. In this way, he made the death knight's body move as he wished.

“If my body were in good shape, I'd have beaten you to death with my bare hands.”

It felt as though he had broken a few bones, too. Every movement sent stabbing pain through his insides. Grumbling in disappointment, Eugene tapped the ground with his foot.

WHOOSH!

Blue flames formed a hand and shot toward the death knight.

“Graaah!”

The death knight hastily twisted its body. The flaming hand narrowly grazed its chest and tore off a pauldron. More of its armor had broken. Its eyes rolled back. Frantic fury paralyzed its reason and roused a monster's madness. It thrust both hands up and formed enormous claws.

“Keep saving it and it'll turn to shit, dumbass.”

The claws tore through the storm of flames. Bursting free, the death knight swung both arms at Eugene.

“It's already turned to shit.”

Eugene ducked low and slipped beneath the death knight. The fragments embedded in its armor moved at his command. Its body jerked briefly in midair. That was enough. His mana could never have given him complete control over the movements of a death knight of this caliber anyway.

A brief stagger.

For Eugene, that was ample time.

Moonlight shot forth. The Moonlight Sword pierced the death knight's chest, striking precisely through its crimson core.

The death knight could not even let out a death cry. The Moonlight Sword's light dispersed, and its body fell. Eugene quickly pulled away to avoid being crushed beneath it.

“Urgh.”

He dry-heaved. He seemed to have controlled the output properly, but he was desperately short on mana. After retching a few more times, Eugene straightened.

'Still... this is better.'

Better than using Ignition. Panting, Eugene scrubbed at his mouth. A glance at the Moonlight Sword showed that it could no longer emit moonlight. Only the hilt remained.

“Fucking sword.”

Grumbling, he returned the Moonlight Sword to its sheath. Then he staggered over to the death knight. It had never shown any sign of life, and it was a dead corpse, but... now it was completely dead. He had felt its core break, and he had seen it break, too.

Hamel.

Eugene stood motionless, looking down at his own corpse.

This corpse was not an ordinary death knight. Normally, the instant the core housing a death knight's soul was destroyed, its body vanished as well. Yet the corpse still lay before him.

“... This feels like shit.”

There had to be limits even to desecrating the dead. Opening someone else's tomb without permission, barging in, and turning their corpse into a death knight? Grinding his teeth, Eugene raised Wynnyd overhead. First, he needed to destroy this, retrieve Raman, who would be unconscious beyond the door, and escape.

He had to bring the sword down.

But...

His arm would not move. Eugene clenched his teeth. He drew on every last bit of strength and mana to force power into his arm, but it still would not move. It was not just his arm. His entire body refused to move, defying his will.

“... Fuck.”

Eugene cursed with a hollow laugh. It was not that he had become too exhausted to control his body. An immense, invisible force had simply bound him completely.

“Couldn't we talk face-to-face?”

He wanted to look behind him, but he could not even do that. All Eugene could do now was move his mouth and speak. Even that was possible only because she had permitted him to speak.

“I'm thinking about what to do with you.”

The voice drew closer.

“Quite a few things come to mind, but the most appealing of them is... this. I'll drag you up above just as you are. Then I'll shove you into the scorching sand. Of course, I won't let that kill you. I'll make holes for your eyes, nose, and mouth.”

“How kind.”

“I'll leave your mouth open, not closed. I'll make your eyes stay open, too. Before long, your eyeballs will break into pieces, and your tongue will become like a withered branch.”

The voice came right up behind him.

“The sand will roast me before that.”

“No, it won't. I won't allow it. After that... do you know what a scarecrow is?”

“I do.”

“You'll become a scarecrow in the desert. I'll smash your legs, twist them together, and bind them tightly with your muscles and blood vessels so they can't come apart. Then I'll drive long iron rods into each of your fingers.”

Cold fingers touched Eugene's hand.

“From here... up your forearm... across your shoulders, all the way to the fingertips on the other side. So you can spread both arms wide. Your eyes will already be broken, so you won't be able to see what is happening to your body. But even if you can't see, you'll feel it. The pain won't be dull enough for you not to feel it.”

“That would kill me from shock.”

“I told you, you won't die. No matter what happens to your body, you will never die. That's how you'll become a desert scarecrow. For a very, very long time, until I eventually grow bored. Somewhere I can see you, planted on your fused legs, standing with both arms spread wide.”

“Oh...”

“Do you know who I am?”

The hand that had traveled up his arm caressed the back of Eugene's neck. In contrast to the horror of her words, her fingers were soft and warm.

“Amelia Merwin.”

Eugene felt revulsion at her touch.

“You know very well. I am Amelia Merwin. The desert's dungeon master. Black Thorn. Death Answer. That's who I am.”

The hand stroking his neck withdrew. Calming his seething emotions, Eugene glared ahead.

Amelia Merwin.

She had brown skin and long, jet-black hair hanging loose. He could not make out her expression, for a pure-white cloth covered her mouth. Her violet, luminous eyes were calm, but Eugene could feel a terrible murderous intent deep within them.

“You broke my pet.”

“... Pet?”

When Eugene repeated the word, Amelia pointed to the death knight at their feet.

“A useless pet, but it belongs to me. Tormenting it, breaking it, killing it—those are things only I, its owner, am allowed to do.”

“You keep a filthy pet. Why didn't you bathe it on time? The corpse stench is terrib—”

Eugene could not finish.

WHACK!

Amelia struck his face with the staff she held.

“Only I, its owner, am allowed to say things like that, too.”

Amelia's staff was made of various kinds of bone, with a mountain goat's head at its tip. Eugene spat out the blood flowing from the cuts inside his mouth. The curved horns had limited the damage to his mouth. Had the blow landed badly, it would have punched a hole in his face.

“... Your pet bit me.”

Eugene smiled, showing blood-covered teeth.

“No, it scratched me, rather than biting. I could have died.”

“You'll regret not dying that way.”

“Balzac Ludbeth.”

Eugene spat out more of the blood that continued to flow.

“You know who he is, right?”

Amelia stared at Eugene without immediately answering. Finally, she shook her head slightly. The large gold earrings hanging from her ears jingled with each movement.

“... I don't understand why you're saying that name.”

“It's nothing to brag about, but I know Balzac a little. He wrote me a letter to give you if I met you, you know?”

“...”

Amelia's eyes narrowed. After staring at Eugene, she stepped back. The binding that held his body vanished with that step. Eugene sank to the floor, gasping for breath.

“You'll have to take responsibility for those words. I don't like hearing that name.”

“I don't like saying that bastard's name, either.”

Could he kill her?

Reaching inside his cloak, Eugene considered it briefly. His opponent was a mage. No matter how quickly she cast magic, there ought to be a small opening. Could he kill her if he aimed for it?

'I can't.'

Eugene reached his conclusion immediately. He considered trying Ignition, but what was impossible remained impossible. She was in a different league from the death knight. Amelia Merwin was a black mage whose power ranked among the greatest in the world. As he was now, Eugene could try a hundred times and still never kill her.

Abandoning the idea, Eugene took Balzac's personal letter from his cloak. He did not even need to hand it over. The instant he produced it, the letter left his hand and flew to Amelia.

“... This seal.”

Amelia stared at the wax seal on the envelope.

“It's real. I don't understand. Who are you, for Balzac to write you a letter?”

“He said he likes me.”

“Do you know what this letter means?”

“He said you wouldn't kill me if I had it.”

“Not quite.”

Glaring at the letter, Amelia continued.

“A long time ago, Balzac helped me, and in return, I promised to grant him one favor.”

“...”

“That was a reward of tremendous value even to Balzac. It meant he could ask one favor of me, Amelia Merwin. For decades afterward, he never asked me for anything. He never caused any trouble that required such a favor, either.”

WHOOSH!

Balzac's personal letter vanished in a wreath of black flames.

“Do you understand what I'm saying?”

Amelia looked at Eugene again.

“As the bearer of this letter, you may ask me for one favor in Balzac's place. Within the bounds of what I can grant.”

“... Well, isn't this something.”

“If you don't want to die, ask me to spare you. Then I won't kill you. But I won't simply let you leave. Why and how you came here, and what you did here—I need to hear those things.”

“Kill yourself.”

“I believe I said a favor within the bounds of what I can grant.”

Her veil twitched. With a sneer, Amelia tilted her head.

“You have two choices. If you decide not to speak, I'll respect that. And I'll kill you. If you want to live, I'll spare you. In return, I'll hear everything I need to hear from you.”

“...”

“Don't worry. I won't play word games, like leaving you crippled without killing you. Torture? There's no need. There are plenty of ways to get answers from you besides torture. I'm very interested in you. How did you enter this place, which even the Sultan knows nothing about? The only people who know about it are the sandcasters here. Was there some vermin among them conspiring with you? How strange. That shouldn't be possible...”

Damn Balzac. If he was going to write a letter like this, he could at least have explained it properly. Eugene felt that resentment, but in truth, it was terribly unfair to Balzac. How could Balzac possibly have imagined that Eugene would invade Amelia Merwin's domain and smash her possessions?

'What do I do?'

Was there some other favor he could ask? Making her kill herself was out.

“... What if I ask you not to pursue me?”

“Then I won't pursue you. But that isn't the same as asking me to spare your life, is it?”

Even escaping the immediate situation would leave plenty of problems. Amelia would use any means necessary to get answers from Eugene, and he absolutely did not want to talk about it. Why had he come here? By chance. Amelia would never believe that. Her claim that she could get answers without torture meant she would use magic, and mind-affecting magic cast by a black mage of her caliber would disregard his will and extract the true answers.

“You're taking a long time to think. Should I consider your deliberation... your favor, and grant it?”

Chuckling, Amelia extended a finger toward Eugene. Black light gathered at her fingertip. The Moonlight Sword. Eugene became conscious of the hilt at his waist. If he used Ignition, struck her once with the Moonlight Sword, and then escaped... No, it was impossible. Amelia already controlled this space.

“I'll count to three,” Amelia whispered.

“One.”

What if he invoked the Lionheart name? Would Amelia respect Lionheart? Would that name quell this fucking black mage's questions?

“Two.”

Should he simply tell the truth? What was he supposed to say? He had entered the tomb, opened that door that even Amelia could not open, and taken the Moonlight Sword... Ridiculous. If he told her that, Amelia would spare him, but she would absolutely take the Moonlight Sword away.

“...”

Amelia did not say three.

She lowered her head in surprise and looked down.

Hamel's corpse.

The death knight.

It had opened its eyes and was looking up at Amelia.

“... This... It can't be.”

Amelia murmured as she took several steps back. Eugene felt a nausea that seemed to turn his stomach inside out, and a chill that made every hair on his body stand on end.

The death knight's eyes. Both eyes, now entirely black even to the whites, stared at Eugene.

Eugene—

Hamel knew that gaze.

“Why are you here?”

Amelia murmured in disbelief. She slowly lowered herself onto one knee, but instead of bowing her head, she glared at the death knight.

The death knight slowly rose.

'... Demon King.'

Eugene swallowed the rising urge to vomit.