“What is this situation?”
The Brothers of the Night, a group of ten black magicians from Barnaul.
Floran, the leader, said incredulously.
“…Is this right? Why are we making such a fuss?”
They were high-ranking black magicians of the 6th rank.
Although they may not have been the best, they were at least considered the most promising prospects in Barnaul.
Their role was also important.
In the early days of development, the lower levels were still heavily regulated by the Chamber of Commerce.
The was close to a special organization in Barnaul that was in charge of such lower dimensions and had so far subjugated dozens of lower dimensions as Barnaul’s colonies.
Any dimensional being who had even a little bit of knowledge of the situation would naturally fear the .
Unlike the high-ranking warlocks of distant tales who were regulated by the Chamber of Commerce, the , consisting of ten sixth-tier warlocks, were a real and present threat right before our eyes.
But…
“There’s no time for this. We need to uproot the World Tree and kill those Druids as soon as possible…”
This time, they too were stamping their feet.
Thousands of soldiers were lined up at the same time, and the black magic Mobius, created by the , was floating up, transmitting black magic to the soldiers.
It was a situation where, although not infinite, a band close to infinity was constantly replenishing the soldiers with black magic.
Originally, the plan was to expand eastward, occupy Korea, and eventually burn Elvenheim in the Pacific, where the elves were located.
Parsak!
Kwaaaaang!
Thousands of soldiers would get lost as soon as they left the cavalry, or they would break and regenerate endlessly, draining their black magic, or they would gather in a narrow path like bean sprouts and fall like dominoes.
“…What on earth have these kids done to the people around them?”
There had never been a welcoming greeting like this.
As soon as they stepped out the door, it became a beehive, and when they turned around, they couldn’t even tell if they were standing in front of the door or the window.
Although the lower-level warlocks who had been drafted as combatants were assisting in the battle by commanding the undead, they were not enough to break through the bizarre and massive defensive formation that had been erected.
In the end, they had no choice but to resort to other methods.
Kuung!
An undead troll, carrying a rope, climbed out of a deep pit.
Then, with a thud, he placed a corpse on the floor.
Tsk tsk tsk…
A corpse wearing a gold-embroidered jade robe, emitting purple smoke.
The purple smoke wavered chaotically as if expressing some discontent.
“Just wait a minute. You need some more time. And since you’ll all be revived anyway, why are you complaining so much?”
Floran grumbled as if he knew what the corpse meant.
The identity of this corpse with which he was communicating was none other than Qin Shi Huang.
“Your thoughts need to be refined. It’s not something you can do half-heartedly.”
It didn’t really matter what kind of person he actually was.
The materials Floran used were widely known public evaluations and unofficial history about Qin Shi Huang.
Armed with cruelty, the cruel monarch’s thoughts of indulging in endless life were projected onto this Terracotta Army.
“I’m in a hurry too.”
A situation where the World Tree and the druids, the natural enemies of warlocks, were discovered simultaneously in the same dimension.
It was clear that they were also keeping a close eye on the situation on Earth.
It was just a lower dimension that was just beginning to be explored.
He had even chosen the cradle that he liked the most, called Byungma Yong.
But if he were to be trapped in that tomb and get beaten up, it would not only be a simple disgrace, but his life path as a warlock would be completely ruined.
“That won’t work. It won’t work.”
It seemed like it would be profitable to wipe out the druids and elves, cause the World Tree to become extinct, and colonize Earth, even if that wasn’t all that useful.
At that time, other who had returned after replenishing Mobius with black magic approached Floran.
“How’s it going? Is it time for him to wake up now?”
The brothers looked at the corpse of Qin Shi Huang, covered in jade, and asked.
“Almost done. What about outside?”
“Same thing. Should I tell the battle warlocks to push a little harder?”
“No, that’s okay. Now that I think about it… there are some interesting guys mixed in among the locals here.”
Floran smiled faintly, and the undead trolls dragged a few soldiers around him.
Kuung!
When they lined up side by side, the difference between them and the other soldiers became clear.
Soldiers with their fingers spread, rolling a ball, and posing as if they were dancing.
These were sculptures of ‘artists’ created to help entertain the deceased Qin Shi Huang.
“Well, it’s going to be difficult to stop them soon.”
New soldiers with unique characteristics.
But Floran smiled faintly as he looked at the endless stream of resurrected artisans.
read at lunacave.com
A vision of Camelot floating in the heart of Avalon.
As soon as Pax was asked, the giant mirage disappeared overnight.
“······Surname······! Wangseong!”
“No! No······! Your Highness, the Pendragon!”
The people of Avalon were moving about in confusion.
Only now had the factory’s production line stopped, and people were starting to leave their jobs.
Some stretched their long jaws with bewildered expressions, while others burst into dry, twisted sobs, poking at the empty eyes of their skulls that did not shed a single tear.
“The illusion has disappeared······ But that doesn’t mean I can come to my senses right away,” Lancelot said.
The real fantasy must have been in their minds.
It would take some time for that to be sorted out.
And······.
That was when.
“······Hmm?”
Clank! Clank!
A sound that combined the clatter of hooves and the rattle of bones.
Dozens of cavalrymen wearing full-body armor began to surround us.
Doo doo doo doo!
A thick cloud of dust rose around them, and between them, helmeted skeletons thrust their sharp spear points between their large square shields.
Then, perhaps thinking that we were definitely surrounded, a skeleton leader riding a skeletal horse approached us, holding the reins.
“······Sir Lancelot.”
“······Veron.”
“I heard the story of Gyeong-ui out of nowhere······ I couldn’t believe it, but he really came back. And he’s alive······.”
It seemed that he had some acquaintance with Lancelot.
Looking at the people of Avalon wailing without exception, Veron asked Lancelot,
“The reason the king disappeared······ is it perhaps related to the circumstances?”
Lancelot, who had been staring blankly at Veron for a moment, opened his heavy mouth.
“You are the captain of the guards, so you should know better. Do you remember when you last entered the palace?”
“······To the king? In person?”
At Lancelot’s question, Veron looked puzzled.
We already knew the answer.
The center of Avalon, filled with illusions.
Of course, he would not have been able to set foot on royal land for several decades.
But as if trying to deny the fact, Veron stammered an excuse.
“Well, right now, the palace is under the control of Barnaul instead of the guards······ I am in charge of the security of the outer areas······.”
“For 80 years? Hey, Captain Veron. Do you think that makes sense?”
Eighty years.
That was the time since Lancelot and the knights had left Avalon.
Veron muttered to himself with a puzzled expression, perhaps only grasping the reality of it after hearing the number.
“That is······ Wait, it’s been 80 years?”
The illusion of Camelot was slowly starting to take effect.
If it were normal, like Luke, Lancelot’s servant whom we met a little while ago, he would have tried to deny it to the end, even in the face of clear evidence given to him.
Of course, it was still a difficult truth to accept.
As if trying to forget the pain, Veron looked at me standing next to him and asked Lancelot.
“But······ who is this person?”
“Be polite. He is my master.”
A declaration of allegiance to a stranger.
Captain Veron of the guard was startled and shouted.
“Sir Lancelot, you······! Master? This is treason!”
“No, Veron. Arthur is dead, and the throne of Avalon is gone. So we must serve a new one.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. Sir Arthur······.”
Even as he said that, Veron paused.
It was clear that something felt strange.
“The reason Arthur died was because Barnaul could not handle Arthur’s spirit. There was not even the slightest distortion there, so there was no material for the black magicians to shape with their thoughts in the first place.”
Lancelot added slowly, facing Veron.
“On the day of the final battle in Camelot, I clearly witnessed Arthur’s death. I remember Arthur’s will to protect Avalon and how the warlocks, unable to use Arthur’s dead body, destroyed it in a fit of rage. Just look at my arm… The oath I shared with Arthur has completely disappeared.”
Veron looked bewildered.
As he reminisced about the past eighty years, which had been nothing but a blur, Lancelot also looked back on those long years.
“I, too, wasted 80 years of my life like you. The guilt of not being able to protect Arthur became my ideology, and Barnaul used that regret to raise me as a skeleton. My belated wish took away my freedom. I was trapped in Camelot and toyed with by various invaders for decades, cutting down innocent people who were in the same situation as our Avalon. I was even captured by a free-spirited necromancer who called himself the Knight King, played knight, and conquered another dimension. Everything was a mess.”
Veron’s jaw dropped slightly.
Then, as he looked around the center of Avalon, he saw the Camelot royal palace, now vanished, empty like the pupil of his own eye.
Surrounding the utterly vacant black fog, the black magic ring that Barnaul had cast above the cavalry floated in a figure-eight shape.
“What on earth······ Then how on earth······.”
He looked back and forth between me and Lancelot.
Then, he asked me with a bewildered expression.
“······What should we do now?”
In the past, Lancelot had served the king.
Could it be because he was now serving me?
Although Veron had finally come to the realization that Arthur was dead, he still couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that someone had to pull them back together.
Veron, who had lost the ability to think for himself, asked for my judgment, as I was in a similar position to Arthur.
Avalon was just as weak.
To him, I was simply pointing out the void in Camelot that had disappeared without a trace.
“I’m sorry, but I am not your king. There is no longer a castle or a king in Avalon.”
“Ah······.”
Only then did Veron lower his head with a lonely expression······.
“Still, I have a feeling about what I should do.”
That didn’t mean I wouldn’t help.
“Isn’t it just now that everyone knows that Arthur is dead? Then we should hold a funeral. No matter how late it is.”
A small explosion sound was heard from the barracks.
The Paxmen’s shouts and the sound of the machines installed throughout the guild tearing magic scrolls and spitting out fire and arrows could be heard here and there.
No one could have failed to realize.
The fact that we had entered a fierce battlefield.
Veron stood there, dumbfounded for a moment.
Then, as if he understood what I meant, he answered me.
“Then we should gather the mourners. Everyone is dead, so there should be mourners… It’ll be a funny sight.”
“That would be even better. How comforting it would be to know that you didn’t die alone.”
Veron nodded and added,
“The bell tower erected in the royal cemetery will ring. It is a message to the people that the royal family is buried. The bell has not rung for the past 80 years, but… today, it will ring twice in a special way.”
A double-ringing obituary.
I asked about the ominous sound.
“······What does that mean?”
“This is a mobilization order for all of Avalon. It means that everyone must be armed, without exception.”
Lancelot answered that question.
luna-cave
You cannot copy content of this page