Ch. 182
Ungrim, Hrung-ga, and the other barbarians reached the land of the dead.
The force of erosion emanating from this place exuded a sense of ominousness just by being near it.
However, Ungrim strode forward as if unconcerned. Then he confirmed the appearance of the dead beyond.
[That's a typical fortress of the dead.]
[Typical?]
Ungrim had previously experienced a great war against the dead.
To his eyes, the fortress of the dead before him was no different from what he had seen before.
But that did not mean the dead were outdated.
It was just that this setup had proven effective both then and now, so there was no reason to change it.
Walls made from corpses. The dead appearing to slumber in complete silence all around.
If one came closer, the dead would spring out from every direction.
Then Hrung-ga spoke.
[... How long do we need to scout?]
[Until we spot the Lord of the Dead, or that dragon bastard shows his face.]
Ungrim continued to survey the fortresses.
They had already clashed with the dead upon entering this place, but it wasn't as if they could keep fighting continuously.
A skirmish or two could be glossed over, but if numerous fortresses began to fall, their enemies would respond in earnest.
And Ungrim and Hrung-ga's forces alone couldn't take them all on.
At that moment, Ungrim's gaze stopped somewhere. His eyes fixed on a uniquely shaped dead.
He murmured under his breath.
[... I only heard rumors, but he really is a nasty one.]
Hearing his mutter, Hrung-ga asked,
[Do you know him?]
[... Of course. So he's still alive. Well, at least the reports are true. If he's here, it means the Lord of the Dead isn't far off.]
[... What's that got to do with him?]
[Those guys are the Lord of the Dead's royal guards.]
The dead One Ungrim signaled to was unusual in appearance even at a glance.
A body as thin as a pair of chopsticks. A height at least twice that of a human.
Maybe it was because of those abnormal proportions?
The grotesqueness felt from this guy seemed even more horrific.
Hrung-ga thought he didn't look particularly strong. Sensing Hrung-ga's thoughts, Ungrim added,
[Many warriors have disappeared at his hands. Most thought, as you do, that his appearance meant he was weak.]
[... If he isn't weak, what is he?]
[Death Fear. He's a monster among the Lord of the Dead's underlings, of which there are only three or four.]
[Hmm, makes me want to take him on.]
Ungrim glared at Death Fear from afar. Because of his size, he was much easier to spot than the other dead.
However, the look Ungrim gave him seemed filled with complicated thoughts.
But it seemed his gaze wasn't just for Death Fear.
[There was someone around me who said the same thing.]
[What happened to him?]
[He died. At least, in my memory.]
At Ungrim's words, Hrung-ga grinned.
[That's admirable.]
[Admirable?]
[As a warrior, isn't that the ultimate moment? To die fighting a formidable enemy.]
Ungrim let out a low breath. Most likely, Hrung-ga's figure overlapped with someone he had known in the past.
Ungrim soon spoke again.
[But it seems today we'll have to fight that guy. Otherwise, we won't get any further inside.]
[... Weren't we here to scout?]
[Meaningful scouting is more important. Fighting Death Fear now is a gamble, but we have no choice.]
[I feel like there's something else.]
[It's just your imagination.]
Yet Hrung-ga felt there was a hidden meaning in Ungrim's words.
It wasn't simply that they had to fight—there seemed to be some personal feeling rising within him?
But Hrung-ga wasn't the type to be sensitive to such emotions. So, he simply grabbed the club hanging at his back.
Ungrim gripped and released his wrist. With a cracking sound, his bones popped.
Some barbarians cast fearful glances, but Hrung-ga was not among them.
He wore a confident expression.
***
A deserted clearing. Amidst the encampment lined with countless tents, there was a light piercing the dark night.
― Piiing!
Erich moved swiftly, illuminating the darkness as he darted about. A bright swirl of light eddied around him.
Even Erich's face, which seldom faltered even against powerful foes, was drenched with sweat.
His hand, which slashed with his sword, was quivering ever so slightly.
Soon, the ring of light that revolved around him exploded all at once, tearing through the air.
― Pak!
'... This is difficult.'
Erich lowered his sword tip. He recalled the power Albrecht had used.
He wished to refine his divine ritual even further, but now realized anew just how difficult that was.
Turning, Erich looked behind him. There sat Mikhail, perched atop a stump.
"I have no idea what kind of power you're even trying to use now."
"I don't know either. That's the real problem."
"And your strategy, I don't quite understand that either... Why send the barbarians as the vanguard? Without even a Watch to observe them?"
"Are you talking about Ungrim?"
"That guy, until just recently, tried to wipe us out by conspiring with the dead. I don't want to question the commander's judgment, but I do wonder."
–Clack.
Erich sheathed his sword with a clack, then walked over toward Mikhail.
"Ungrim will do better than you expect. Because his purpose is the same as ours."
"... I know he's strong. That guy can shatter rocks with his fists. But still, the expectations you seem to have for him seem... strange."
"Hm, you may be right."
Erich offered a faint smile.
But it wasn't that he was unaware of Mikhail's concern. There was only one reason Erich placed such expectations on Ungrim.
'... I read his record.'
Erich wasn't a fool. Ever since he'd started using Ungrim in earnest, he'd pored over past records.
After discovering his identity, he'd been able to trace Ungrim's name in the pages of history. Not in accounts of major historical achievements, but rather in the Watch's battle reports.
"Ungrim only became a barbarian at the end of the war. He likely joined much later than the others."
"... You even looked into his background?"
"Naturally. If I intend to make use of someone, that's the least I should do."
Mikhail smiled faintly, as if to say he expected as much. He then prompted Erich for an explanation.
"So?"
"There are three of the most fearsome underlings employed by the Lord of the Dead. One is a lich. Another is the Death Lord, whom we encountered."
"... Was there another?"
"It's nothing as impressive as Death Lord, but there's a monster known as 'Death Fear.' According to the records, no one claimed more Watchmen' lives in the past than Death Fear."
"What does that have to do with Ungrim?"
Erich gazed northward. That was where Ungrim and Hrung-ga would now be fighting for their lives.
"Sir Mikhail and Commander August. The two of you share a friendship that reaches beyond your ranks. The records show that Ungrim once had such a comrade too. One who died in the war against the dead."
"... So, you're saying Ungrim lost a comrade to Death Fear and is acting out of vengeance?"
"No. In this war, Ungrim will instead come face-to-face with a dear one thought lost."
"Hm?"
"It seems that swordsman himself has become Death Fear."
A bitter expression spread across Erich's lips. He had fought against the dead for a long time. So, he could see things hidden between the lines of a mere report.
'... That swordsman didn't just die.'
Erich had gleaned, from the report, the swordsman's end. That he had not simply died, but had become Death Fear.
And Death Fear was essentially the Lord of the Dead's royal guard.
If Ungrim had gone to investigate the Lord of the Dead's movements, the odds he'd face one of them were extremely high.
Erich had read many things from Ungrim's past.
After losing his best friend, Ungrim volunteered for the barbarian experiments and became a barbarian himself.
What choice would Ungrim make, when confronted by a relic of his past?
'Personal grudges are always the strongest motivator.'
Mikhail said quietly to Erich,
"I knew it, but you really are a cruel man."
"... What wouldn't I do?"
Erich surveyed his surroundings. Countless soldiers were encamped around him.
The lives of every one of them were Erich's responsibility, and their fates would be changed by his decisions.
In such a situation, Erich had to use everything at his disposal—even someone like Ungrim, who had voluntarily undergone the transformation into a superhuman.
Mikhail, seeing Erich's silent gesture, gave a bitter smile as well.
But Erich wasn't just sitting and waiting for Ungrim to eliminate Death Fear and find the lair of the dead.
Penetrating the darkness, someone emerged: the knight Milon, clad in iron armor and draped in furs, knelt before him.
"The Empire's knights are ready to receive your orders, my lord."
"... Are there any complaints?"
"Who would dare voice any complaint?"
Erich nodded quietly.
"Go. Strike down the enemies of the Empire, Milon."
Upon receiving his orders, Milon rose. He strode toward the mass of waiting knights.
The might of the cavalry, fully prepared to advance, seemed to reach Erich even from afar.