Chapter 29: Like a Dog Chasing Cars

In the pitch-black room.

Two shadowy figures sat facing each other across a table.

One lay stretched out as if dead, while the other was bound, struggling to breathe.

“Kiiiaak! It hurts, I said it hurts! Damn it!”

The one screaming shrilly was surprisingly not human.

He was a skeleton turned corpse, a revenant from the past come back to life.

Archlich Benedictaran—that was his name.

“This just never gets any easier! Damn it! It feels like my brain is being ripped out while still alive. Hee hee hee! Can you imagine? Damn, damn! That redhead bastard! Glenn, yes, Glenn! That damn—beautiful eyeball brat!”

His skeletal body twitched and rattled.

It was as if he was writhing in anger.

In contrast, the man across from him was very much alive.

No, more than alive—it was more accurate to say he was half-dead, barely hanging on.

His gaunt face was almost corpse-like.

“Hmm? When a human speaks, shouldn’t there be some kind of response? I said it hurts! Huh? Me! I’m hurting! You damn bald-headed bastard! Hee hee hee! It’ll take a while to recover again! So talk to me, won’t you? Hee hee ha!”

The white bones of his hand grabbed the half-burnt man’s head and shook it teasingly.

Madness was slowly creeping into that gesture.

It was as if he were venting his frustration.

“To think you can stay silent. What am I supposed to live on if all I have are spectators like you? Huh? Huh? Answer me! You son of a bitch!”

“Crazy bastard.”

The gaunt man gave a weary response.

He knew well that talking to this mad lich was essentially meaningless.

His expression showed subtle exhaustion.

“Hee hee! So you’re not a catfish, huh? Strange, I thought I’d burned your uvula last time.”

He had definitely meant to do so.

But then he got lazy and stopped.

“What exactly do you want from me?”

How many times had he asked that by now?

They’d ambushed him without warning, using him as a living sacrifice for over a month.

What their wish was, or their motive—he had no idea.

Was this insane lich really just aiming to torment him?

“Want something? If I say I do, can you even give it to me? You’re just a beggar now with nothing left! Hee hee hee! You just need to sit there and provide vessels for my possessions! Understand? The great Archmage Manimaco of the Red Hood elite and the mighty master of the Karla clan!”

The gaunt man—Manimaco—grimaced with his scarred face.

A master? Did he still have that qualification?

The memories of the long years spent running around with his disciples, carrying out the will of the great Karla, came rushing back.

Those were tough times.

Considering how dark mages were treated across the continent, it was only natural.

Stupid, blind fools.

Sacrificing a few for the greater good was expected, especially when they were true liberators of the continent, the very embodiment of the great Karla’s will!

Though difficult times had followed, recently things had been alright.

As he took the position of Red Hood’s elite, the supply of sacrifices had stabilized.

Poof.

But what about now? Without realizing it, his teeth clenched tightly.

The great Karla’s first disciple had now become a living mana vessel for these filthy undead.

And the disciples he had devoted himself to were the ones dying.

It took feeding a hundred fools to produce one disciple.

These were not resources worth sacrificing like this!

“Release my disciples. They are innocent. My disciples are like family to me.”

His own death was fine.

Another chosen one would arise eventually.

But not his disciples.

Without them, the chosen one was powerless.

And they were his family.

“Hee hee hee! You’re truly a funny human. Do you really think your disciples became disciples of their own will? Kidnapped, brainwashed, and shamelessly so!”

“No. They were just meaningless pawns.”

“They were ‘made’ into pawns by none other than yourself. Hee hee hee! Through your disguise as a Red Hood elite.”

“They were doomed to die anyway. I simply gave them a chance to escape!”

It was merely a necessary process to hear the great voice.

Of course, some coercion was involved, but it was inevitable.

A car can’t stop just because the driver lost interest, can it?

“Supplying sacrifices through a thieves’ guild slave business—I must say, I’m impressed. Quite remarkable! Hee hee hee.”

“…… What exactly are you trying to say?”

“Karla that mad bastard keeps breeding mad ones even after death. Hee hee hee! You know, he killed anyone he pleased when he was alive, preaching his so-called great righteousness. Hee hee, it’s a distant joke!”

The blasphemous choice of words from this insane bone creature made the man’s eye twitch.

“Don’t insult him, you rotten pile of bones!”

“Ding! Etiquette infusion time!”

Manimaco, who knew from experience, shouted reflexively at the nonsensical words.

“Wait a moment!”

Chiiik!

“Ugh, aah!”

The fire hands spell ignited, and the bony hand scorched the left eye of the man bound to the chair.

Within moments, the eyeball melted away—excruciating agony followed.

A burning stench of flesh filled the room.

“Hee hee! How’s that? The latest etiquette infusion technique! Perfectly effective, since my wife and I tried it firsthand! Khee hee ha!”

“St-stop! Ughh! Turn it off…”

As Manimaco screamed as if suffocating, the hand withdrew.

“Oh dear, I can’t kill you just yet. Otherwise, I won’t be able to borrow your disciples’ bodies, your family’s bodies!”

“Cough… cough… Just kill me already! Do it!”

“Hee hee! You’re saying exactly what my wife said to the Inquisitor! Oh, poor Julia, my love!”

The skeleton suddenly stood up and began awkwardly dancing with his barely controllable body.

“Koff…”

“Did you know? My wife was burned at the stake, accused of being a witch! Caught by the very villagers she was kind to! Oh, my love Julia! Poor Julia!”

Whether he was dancing or staggering was hard to tell.

His voice trembled with a madness-fueled sorrow.

“Damn it! Damn it! The moment the Inquisitor came, you betrayed my wife while I wasn’t there. Damn you, Hude, Galdran, and Tina. Yes, Tina, that bitch—I even healed my wife’s wounds myself! Hee hee hee! Those damn bastards! Hee hee ha!”

The melted eye flew across and landed on Manimaco on the table.

“Hey! I’m trying to tell you my precious life story here… Get up at once! Before I melt your other eye too! I’m telling you to dig a grave and carve it!”

“Here.”

Rough hands forcibly lifted him to his feet.

“So here’s the deal. I decided to kill all those villagers. But it wouldn’t be fun just killing them, right? The pain, betrayal, and sorrow my wife felt when she died… I want them to feel all of that a thousand times over. Isn’t that right? So I learned Necromancy and became a dark mage. How’s that for a fun story? Right?”

From the empty eye socket of the skeleton, unseen eyeballs flickered with madness.

Benedict was broken.

From the moment his beloved wife burned to ash—or perhaps even before that—his life had been a series of destructions.

So he was used to it, but that didn’t mean it was okay.

Julia had been his last tether.

The only color in a world full of ashes, a debt, a scent.

When she disappeared, he was willing to abandon his humanity.

Because it was a tie with no affection from the start.

“Amazingly, those bastards are still alive. I keep them in my lab as experimental materials! About a hundred years? Two hundred? Something like that. Hee hee hee! But lately, they barely react anymore. Eh, maybe they’ve all broken down as a group—pffft.”

He didn’t want to use the childish word revenge. He just wanted to.

Not that it would bring his wife back, but he wanted to.

No grand reason was necessary.

If anything… it was fun.

Yes, tormenting those bastards—living humans—was quite fun.

Ironically, this dead man found joy in tormenting the living.

Things that were so strange in life became clear only as a revenant.

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Kahihath!”

He was broken.

Body and mind alike.

And Benedict had no intention of fixing that.

Why stop such entertaining antics?

“Sa-spar—”

“Oh! Don’t worry. You won’t die. You’ll be safely sent to my lab along with those villagers. Look forward to it! Hee hee ha!”

Despair flickered in Manimaco’s remaining eye.

Can’t even kill him?

Benedict’s eye socket rattled cheerfully.

“Don’t worry. I’ll rescue your friend soon! Yes, there’s a man named Glenn. A very handsome young man. His eyes are exactly the same green as my wife’s. A very appealing eyeball. We just need to extract that and stick his body in the lab with you! Perfect, hee hee hee!”

Madness echoed through the room.

***

Faces peered out from atop the fortress walls.

For Northerners, their skin tones were remarkably varied.

The expressions staring back were all distinctly bug-like.

“The duchy guys only bathe once a week, right?”

“Yeah, and I heard their orcs even eat their own corpses.”

“Ugh, damn barbaric bastards.”

“What are we even doing here?”

The guards atop the wall muttered amongst themselves.

“I can hear you.”

Glenn, still mounted on his horse, wore a bewildered expression.

Did they think he couldn’t hear them?

One guard caught his eye and shamelessly looked away.

…What a bastard.

“I’m going right now to—cut those bastards’ throats…”

The four soldiers holding their positions snapped.

As one moved to dismount, Glenn quickly stopped him.

“No, just stay put. No matter what, we can’t cause a scene in the kingdom’s capital.”

Glenn’s face was etched with suppressed irritation.

It was inevitable—Niran, the capital they had reached barely two weeks after migrating from Panario, was no place to stir trouble.

Of course, given the relationship between the two countries, they didn’t expect a warm welcome.

But surely they hadn’t expected such a cold reception right at the city gates.

“Prince Glenn, is something the matter?”

“Oh, Saintess Monica.”

As the procession halted before the city gates, Saintess Monica stepped forward.

“They say the guards require confirmation and asked us to wait. The duchy’s forces probably already arrived…”

“Could it be they don’t trust you, Prince?”

“It’s possible. You know, as you’re aware, relations between the kingdom and us aren’t exactly good. I think that’s why…”

Monica frowned deeply.

“Such petty reasons… If necessary, just say the word. As a priest of the church, I can vouch for you, Prince.”

“…Thank you very much.”

Glenn asked Saintess Monica to accompany him.

It was to provide official verification of the incident with his subordinates.

Though they had found a letter, official confirmation from the Four Great Orders would carry more weight.

“A blessing from the church is only natural.”

On the other hand, Monica had also benefited greatly from Glenn.

The fame of the Red Cloak had spread, helping her missionary work considerably.

Aside from the strange new title spreading, it was a mutually beneficial journey.

“Ah—sorry to keep you waiting.”

The captain of the guard, who had stepped aside earlier for confirmation, approached.

His face still showed clear annoyance.

“…So, has it been confirmed?”

Really took a damn long time—Glenn swallowed the urge to say so.

“Eh, looks like it. We can enter for now. But immediate palace entry is out of the question.”

What nonsense was this?

Glenn’s expression crumpled completely.