Chapter 51: The Death God and Teordo

Even when I first saw the skill back at the Tetradia Magic Tower, the atmosphere was grim and the appearance terrifying.

But compared to now, it was like child’s play.

Just its appearance darkened the world further.

My chest tightened from the overwhelming aura of death emanating from the Death God.

A ghost seemingly made of death itself.

A Death God holding a blood-red scythe, looking down at Hio with dark crimson eyes.

“Heh heh… That is truly… You’d better take it quickly to the Magic Tower and study it together! Our necromancers could make great strides…”

I ignored Furnel’s excited words, which were now somewhat familiar as a buzzing voice in my head.

Instead, I fixed my gaze on the Death God’s red eyes.

The first evolved ultimate skill, Thunder Emperor.

The second evolved ultimate skill, Blue Flame.

Unlike those two skills that require direct handling, this one was a summoning concept.

But it made little difference.

Because the moment our eyes met, I knew.

My thoughts reached that ghost.

Sure enough, the Death God, staring intently into Hio’s eyes, moved its phantom-like body.

The black figure holding the red scythe headed toward the carriage.

Though it was probably twice the size of the carriage, not a sound was made, truly ghostlike.

Arriving in front of the carriage, the Death God looked back at Hio.

As if asking if this was what he meant, Hio nodded.

“Yes. Drain all the death energy from that body.”

At Hio’s words, the Death God glanced at the carriage briefly, then turned to look at Hio again.

“What are you waiting for? I said that’s right.”

Despite that, the Death God’s crimson eyes silently stared at Hio.

“…Could it be…”

Hio hurriedly opened the carriage door and entered.

A silver-haired girl lay quietly inside.

Even breathing.

A peaceful expression.

Looking at Sylvia’s body with ghost’s eyes, no sign of death energy could be found even after scrubbing the eyes clean.

It was pristine.

“Sigh…”

I slumped into the opposite chair.

“How could it be this easy.”

That such a problem could be solved so simply just by the gaze of the Death God.

“Just a little more… just a little longer, Theodore.”

Hold on a little longer, Theodore.

‘If you die like this, who will take care of what’s left behind?’

What am I supposed to say to the awakened Sylvia? What am I supposed to show her horribly mutilated corpse?

Leaning against the chair, I blankly stared at Sylvia.

Not with a weak breath as if near death, nor a face twisted in pain, but a peaceful expression.

A journey that began in the south, passed through the east, and now reaches just below the capital.

The three of us came together, but two remain and one is gone.

Only a few days ago, we were sharing words inside this very carriage.

I told you to do what you could.

Thinking of that, an involuntary chuckle escaped my lips.

“You did your job too well, didn’t you?”

A stubborn, old-fashioned knight through and through.

‘Who told you to work so hard?’

My heart… feels hollow.

“I’m telling you! This guy isn’t listening to me at all! Oh my seniors! The world has changed so much, seniors! In this day and age, a disciple ignoring their master like this, treating him like a ghost in the back room! If there had been such a guy back then, the mage seniors would have spread the word so fast he wouldn’t set foot here again…”

“A ghost in the back room?”

***

After a moment of silence.

I feel like making an acrostic poem out of that.

Furnel awkwardly clears his throat.

“Ahem. Weren’t you not listening?”

“A disciple must always heed the master’s words.”

“Of course. You really have proper manners. But anyway, enough of that—let’s hurry outside. This is truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“…Opportunity?”

“You’ll see once you step outside. Hurry up.”

Unable to refuse Furnel’s urging, I forced myself up and opened the carriage door.

With ghost’s eyes, I looked out.

The world seen through ghost’s eyes was a monochrome place filled with gray souls and black death.

Amid it all, the overwhelming presence of the Death God.

…And then.

“How is it? You’ve never seen anything like this, right?”

In this monochromatic world, the only thing shining alone.

The light was so dazzling it inevitably drew the gaze.

“A noble soul. A rare one.”

“A noble… soul.”

“The soul of someone proud. Someone who never bent to anything and carried out their will. Who do you think it is?”

Slowly approaching that shining soul.

‘Who could it be?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

A proud knight.

“Theordo Ricart.”

“Heh heh heh. That’s right, that’s right. Noble pride and pure heart. Even the rank of his soul is quite high. Now, what should we do?”

Whispered as if tempting me, Furnel’s voice.

“We’ll stain that noble soul black.”

Hio’s expression instantly twisted.

“Hey. You’re thinking about evil necromancer stuff again, aren’t you? It’s not like that. This is giving him one more chance.”

To help Hio understand, Furnel explained carefully.

“Staining that noble soul black isn’t necessarily bad. If it really were, necromancers would have been wiped out as enemies of the continent long ago. Of course, some went too far, but we’ll skip that.”

It’s not denying the laws made by the gods.

It’s not defying death.

It’s just one of the laws.

One of many kinds of death.

“That’s why necromancy was respected as a complete school of magic. Besides, that soul is still here, isn’t it?”

The prouder and higher the soul’s rank, the less attached they are to death, calmly departing this world.

In fact, many souls are disappearing even now.

But Theodore’s noble soul seems unwilling to leave, unmoving.

“When a soul is freshly dead, memories are tangled and confused. Yet it remains firmly still, meaning an enormous attachment remains.”

“So, you want to revive Theodore as an undead?”

“Not just any undead. A high-ranking undead, a Death Knight.”

“But the necromancy I know is only Vampiric Touch.”

As a 2nd Circle necromancer, I’ve solidly engraved the basics of the insignia.

But I haven’t learned the fundamental undead creation magic yet.

“So now is the chance. Or rather, a perfect chance like no other.”

Excitement crept into Furnel’s voice.

“A noble soul! High rank! Death aura overflowing here, and the noble soul doesn’t leave! And most importantly… look beside you.”

Hio turned his head and naturally saw the huge presence filling the view.

The very death itself felt clearer with ghost’s eyes.

“The Death God who can control all that energy. That’s a miracle. If a being like that listens to you, what can’t you do as a necromancer?”

“Can the Death God really do that?”

“No, no. That ghost probably only has the power to control the energy as described. But why raise your necromancer level? For many reasons, but most importantly to handle death aura efficiently—to get the most output with the smallest amount.”

Listening to Furnel, Hio scanned the vast area filled with death energy with his ashen eyes.

“You haven’t learned death aura magic yet, right? But you have that otherworldly ghost to do it for you.”

This time, he looked at the Death God.

The Death God’s red eyes also looked back at Hio.

“You don’t know how to efficiently use death aura, nor do you have the related insignia. But that’s unnecessary for now. Death energy overflows, doesn’t it?”

Finally, he looked at the shining soul.

“You don’t know the magic to create undead. But you have a great master. Great material… no, a great soul. Overflowing death aura and one to govern it.”

Quietly staring up at the shining soul.

“Everything is perfect. It couldn’t be better.”

Still, it was hard to believe.

“Is it really that easy to make Theodore a Death Knight?”

“The situation itself supports it, but your role is the most important. You can’t force it with magic. You have to persuade him—this noble soul.”

“Persuade?”

“More like a contract. I’ll calmly explain. Once he somewhat agrees, we’ll shove in the death aura and he’ll become a Death Knight immediately… ahem. Do you understand?”

“…More or less.”

From deep within the soul, I faintly heard Furnel’s laughter.

“What are you waiting for? Command the Death God to draw all the death energy now.”

“…Right now?”

“Yes, now. Remember. Your skill isn’t enough to make a soul that big a Death Knight. It’s possible because of the overflowing death aura and having someone to control it. Even then, the soul must allow it.”

“Understood.”

Hio’s gaze shifted to the Death God.

The Death God continued to stare only at Hio.

There was no need to speak.

Hio’s will had already been conveyed.

The Death God slowly raised its blood-red scythe.

Darkness thickened.

All the death aura within its control gathered.

Fresh death energy emanating from the recently deceased.

The range was vast, so the amount of energy flooding in was immense.

A majestic yet pitch-black procession of death visible only to Hio’s eyes gathered around the scythe, all directed at the noble soul.

“If you can manipulate spirit power, ghost’s eyes are not just for seeing souls. You can concentrate spirit power in your eyes.”

Focusing spirit power in his eyes, as described, he began to see more than just the shining soul.

“Many details are engraved in a soul. That’s what you look into.”

The shining soul of Teordo Ricart.

Endlessly receiving the dark flood of death aura.

Yet the noble soul does not lose a bit of its light.

Not a trace of wavering.

Just as he did in life.

“Eventually, you’ll reach it.”

Raising spirit power a little more.

Seeing clearly.

– The essence of Teordo Ricart.

Those were the memories composing his soul.

The first time he held a sword was on his seventh birthday.

Not a wooden sword, but a real one.

A simple, unadorned sword.

***

But he loved it so much he even slept holding it in its sheath.

One of the few strong memories and happy moments in his life.

He entered the palace as an apprentice knight at seventeen.

Because he graduated from the Imperial Academy with outstanding grades and stood out.

Otherwise, he might have entered as an apprentice knight under some noble family or wandered the continent as a mercenary.

At nineteen, he had the honor of serving under Vitalianus Mahel, Captain of the Imperial 1st Knights.

A great man who made a name for himself across the continent with just a sword.

Soon to be bestowed the title of “Star.”

To belong to such a place was perhaps the happiest moment since he first held a sword.

He was twenty-eight then.

“I plan to create a royal guard that follows only His Majesty the Emperor. The name will be the Royal Knights. Though they won’t all wield swords, the enlightened will join. It will be the continent’s strongest military force.”

The captain—no, the great Sword Saint Vitalianus Mahel, who had reached the 8th rank and earned the title of Star.

“I think you would fit well in the Royal Knights. What do you say? Won’t you join me?”

It was nothing but an honor.

‘What knight would refuse such an offer?’

“…May I have a little time to think?”

However, I was in a thoughtful period then.

I asked for some time, and thankfully Vitalianus readily agreed.

“Take a rest. You seem to have a lot on your mind these days. I’ll speak with His Majesty and make a place for you to rest.”

Not wanting to trouble Vitalianus any further, I declined.

“If you refuse this too, I’ll lose face.”

“…Thank you for your consideration, Captain.”

Vitalianus smiled and patted my shoulder.

“You must have a lot on your mind about the sword. You’ve passed the stage of just swinging it. Take a rest and think carefully.”

That offhand remark only complicated my thoughts further.

“From what I see, you’re suited to be a guardian of the sword.”

Days passed, and thanks to Vitalianus’s kindness, I was freed from the grueling Imperial Knights and given a different duty.

Guarding Her Imperial Highness Sylvia Verden.

Though leaving the knights envied by comrades, I had no intention of taking it easy as they expected.

To be the princess’s guardian knight was a grave duty that demanded constant vigilance.

Though I began my duties guarding Princess Sylvia, there was truly nothing to do.

If I were still in the knights, I’d be rolling on the dirt training, getting stronger by swinging my sword.

But my whole duty was to stand still all day.

The princess was too young.

All day, I just watched over her.

When the nanny told her to smile, I awkwardly smiled when our eyes met.

That was it.

‘How could she be so small?’

Her hands, feet, and face.

So tiny and fragile that if she rolled and fell…

At times like that, I tensed up, trying not to take my eyes off her for even a moment.

***

A month passed. A year passed. Two years passed.

“When will you give me your answer?”

Feeling deeply apologetic, I could only bow my head.

“…I’m sorry.”

“Does that mean you will decline the Royal Knights?”

“Truly sorry. I will atone for this disrespect…”

“That’s enough. Just leave. There are many knights who want this chance… I’ll remember you as the most foolish knight in the world.”

“Yes. I have nothing to say even if I had ten mouths. I’m sorry.”

‘How could I refuse the offer of the great Sword Saint Vitalianus Mahel?’

He waited two whole years.

But I really couldn’t help it.

Those small, trembling hands.

Even though my eyes burned like fire.

It was still joyful.

The smile that appeared when we met was no longer awkward, and all day just standing there—

Those small hands moved and grasped my hand.

I unknowingly grinned widely.

Several maids chuckled at that.

Ashamed, I tried to compose myself, but when I saw her beaming face, I melted again.

So I had no choice.

To refuse Vitalianus’s offer.

With a heavy heart, I turned away.

“You must have found something to protect.”

The Sword Saint’s voice, probably smiling as always.

“Congratulations from the bottom of my heart, Teordo Ricart.”

Only then did I admit it.

I would probably live my whole life for this small princess.

I vowed to take up the sword and become stronger for that radiant smile.

Even that moment of determination was happy.

It was surely a joyful, satisfying memory.

“Yet why… hahaha”

“Why is my heart so heavy?”

“Why does just recalling it hurt so much?”

“What… what was I doing?”

“Your Highness. I must protect you, but where are you?”

“Why is there only darkness all around?”

Step aside.

I must find and bring Her Highness.

Heavy, viscous darkness.

Clear the way quickly.

She must be searching desperately for me.

Sword in hand… sword…?

My sword. Where has it gone?

– Teordo Ricart.

Noisy!

“Don’t call me.”

I must get to Her Highness as soon as possible.

“A noble knight already dead.”

…What?

A knight who raised his sword to the end to save Sylvia.

At those words, my consciousness gradually sharpened.

The fog began to lift little by little.

“Open your eyes.”

The mist that covered them cleared and awareness returned.

My consciousness, once buried and overwhelmed by memories, was rescued.

Only then could I see the owner of that voice clearly.

Ashen gleaming eyes.

Still wearing a ridiculous oversized hat and somehow a robe stained slightly with blood.

The mage Hio Pavlenko.

…So that’s how it is.

Memories before had all started coming back.

Even my own final moments.

I truly died like that.

Then how could this mage see me?

Looking around, the world was all colorless.

Grotesque, chilling.

And only this place filled with thick darkness.

‘Has the mage always been seeing this world?’

Turning my gaze back to the mage… suddenly, my body trembled.

No, my soul trembled.

A shiver ran through me.

Because I was in a complete soul state, I could be sure.

Behind the mage stood a red-eyed ghost.

A massive Death God wielding a scythe.

An extraordinary being beyond rank, an immense presence.

Its master was definitely the mage Hio Pavlenko.

I thought I knew somewhat about him… How ridiculous that was.

Only after death do you find out.

It felt like I caught a glimpse of his true self.

“Teordo Ricart.”

The mage’s voice echoed in my soul.

“Your mission is not over.”

‘Mission not over?’

What does that mean to one already dead, mage?

Are you trying to comfort me?

“I will give you one more chance.”

With the mage’s words, the Death God raised its crimson scythe.

Honestly, I wanted to ask so many things.

‘What happened to Her Highness?’

‘Mage, did you complete your task?’

I wanted to ask, but no words came out.

“Do not resist.”

Thick darkness surged again from the Death God’s scythe.

“Accept that energy fully.”

It whispered like a demon.

I can show you what you want to see.

You can see Sylvia once more.

“Knight Teordo Ricart.”

And as if reading my thoughts, the mage’s final words shook my soul.

“Return from death and raise your sword once again.”

The darkness crashing in.

Sticky and dense.

An energy akin to death itself.

“For Her Imperial Highness.”