Episode 44 - The March of the Dead



Meanwhile, something unusual was happening in the Underground.
"Sh-shall I leave it here...?"
"...Yes. You've arrived on time. Well done. Leave it there and go."
"R-right!"
The two men who had come to deliver the goods dropped the wooden crates from their cart with barely concealed haste and rattled away.
In front of where they had left the crates stood a cave sealed behind thick iron bars.
One of the several underground mines scattered throughout the Underground — and also the personal mine of Athunga, one of the Four Gang Lords and a necromancer.
"Urrgh..."
"Now then. Move those inside. No unnecessary movement."
The barred gate slid open to the side, and what shuffled out from within were zombies in Athunga's service.
They came out slowly, then wrapped their hands around the edges of the crates and dragged them inside.
Within, some two hundred zombies stood in rows, gripping pickaxes and hacking at the rock face with rigid, mechanical movements.
"Now then — that's enough work for today! All of you, come here and line up!"
"Urr... rr..."
At Athunga's command, the zombies formed a staggered line, still clutching their pickaxes.
Athunga ordered one of them to use a pickaxe to pry open the crates.
"Urr..."
"Now — everyone, put the pickaxes down."
"Ugh... ugh..."
The sound of pickaxes clattering to the cave floor rang out in sequence. Athunga reached into the opened crates and drew out swords and maces.
"From now on, you will hold these instead of pickaxes. Take one each, in order!"
Under normal circumstances, arming them through necromantic means would have been standard — but the target this time was a problem.
A creature against whom magic below the sixth circle did nothing whatsoever. He had reluctantly pressed the blacksmiths he knew into service to prepare physical weapons directly.
As a bonus, he had obtained hemorrhagic poison from the remnants of Veilslayer's people and applied it generously to every blade.
No matter how monstrous that creature was, having this many descend on him at once with poison-coated weapons should leave him with no way out.
Once the zombies had each taken their weapon in turn, he threw open the barred gate again.
"Now — follow me!"
"Graaaugh...!"
As if responding to the fighting spirit rising from him, the zombie horde let out the largest cry they could manage and came shambling out of the mine after him.
Nearby scavengers scattered in surprise, and cries of "Lord Athunga has invoked his wrath!" rang out from every direction.
This mine was Athunga's last stronghold. Solely his personal operation — and the hangar where his undead army had been stored.
And now, for the purpose of killing the monster called Kaftin, it had been unsealed.
At that same moment.
Kaftin was working through the information Whispermere had passed him, considering his options.
Athunga was apparently hiding somewhere in the Underground. Bizeth and Gabelth were looking into ship passages to reach the Old Capital.
He had to decide which to hit first.
By distance and matchup, Athunga was the natural first target — but if the fight dragged on and delayed him, the other two would make it to the Old Capital unopposed.
Even with the Gang Lords' power structure collapsing, their forces in the Old Capital would still be largely intact. If they regrouped there and came back, things would get complicated.
"Tch. Can't be helped. Leave the easy one for now."
He immediately headed back up to Whispermere's room at the inn.
"Whispermere."
"Ah — yes!"
"Could you look into ship passages for me?"
"......!"
"I'll put Athunga on hold and go after the other two first. If they reach the Old Capital, it gets messy."
"...You're right. I'll look into it right away."
"Good."
Two days later.
Kaftin was on a ship Whispermere had arranged, pursuing the vessel carrying the two Gang Lords toward the Old Capital.
The sea was comparatively calm — but the expression on Maengseol's face, who had insisted on coming along, was anything but.
"Ngh...! Kaftin. The sea is... far more brutal than I imagined...!"
He was green, suffering through every wave with his whole body. Kaftin could only shake his head.
"You shouldn't have followed, then. Someone who's spent their entire life on land..."
"H-how are you so fine—! Ngh..."
"I'm just used to this sort of thing for some reason."
That night.
A sum of money to the captain had gotten them what they needed — their ship had pulled up close alongside the vessel supposedly carrying the Gang Lords.
Kaftin scanned the deck for the two of them, but they seemed to be inside the cabin.
"...Let's cross over."
"I-indeed..."
The gap between the ships was about three meters. To both of them, it was nothing.
They jumped across without ceremony.
The moment they landed, the sailors on deck who had been watching drew their blades.
"Wh-who are you people?! Stowaways?!"
"Come now — drawing swords right away, before anything else? Calm down a little... yes?"
Kaftin spread his hands in an easy gesture of peace — and one of the sailors ducked into the cabin and came back out at a run.
"Hey! That young one over there — he's on the wanted list! There's four hundred and fifty gold on his head!"
"......!"
The mood on deck shifted instantly, and sailors who hadn't drawn yet began pulling out blades from every direction.
"...Kaftin. What exactly have you been getting up to...?"
"I told you, it's the Gang Lords who put that on me. It's not like I did anything wrong—"
While he was still explaining himself to Maengseol, the sailors came charging in with a battle cry.
"Hey! I didn't come here to fight you people! I'm just looking for someone! There's no need for unnecessary bloodshed on either side!"
"Hehehe! You're scared, aren't you?!"
A cutlass came swinging down, laughing — and Kaftin caught the wrist and drove his knee up into a vital point in the same motion.
"GYAAAAAAGH?!"
"Fine. Fine then. Nothing but people dying to get themselves killed, I see. Perfect. Maengseol!"
"...I know. Drawing a weapon and attacking means you've accepted the possibility of dying as a warrior. I have no reason to refuse. Curse your own foolishness for not recognizing who you were dealing with."
And so Maengseol too settled into his stance and began kicking and striking sailors clear off the ship.
"Wh-what?! That tiger demi-human — he's absurdly strong?!"
"Watch out! Focus on the wanted one first — take him down!"
"Die, you little—!"
But their choice proved the worse outcome.
Where Maengseol struck hard enough to send them overboard and left it at that — a brand of mercy, in its own way — Kaftin's technique was vicious without restraint.
"AAAARGH?!"
"What — what just—?!"
He twisted a sword-holding wrist at an unnatural angle until it gave way, snatched the dropped blade, and drove it up into the side of the next sailor who came at him — deep enough to puncture a lung.
"Kgrrk—?!"
"You — bastard — die—!"
A sailor swinging down at him from behind got a heel kicked up between the legs, and then Kaftin's right hand reached back and seized him by the hair.
"Ngh?! Wh-what—?!"
"Shot put throw—!"
"GYAAAAAAGH?!"
Still gripping the hair, he hauled the man up with sheer force and slammed him down in front of him — then swung the body in a wide arc into two more sailors rushing in from the side.
"Damn it—! You little—!"
"Rope! Get the rope—!"
The sailors grabbed lengths of rope from the rigging and began swinging them overhead, trying to bind Kaftin. Pin his movement first, then take his head — that seemed to be the thinking.
"Foolish, the lot of you..."
"Hahah! Take this!"
Three loops came flying from three directions at once.
Kaftin glanced at them, spun his body wide, and let only one loop catch his forearm — dodging the rest.
"Tch! Quick little wretch—!"
"Doesn't matter! We've got the arm!"
The sailor holding the rope yanked hard, locking Kaftin's arm and trying to restrict his movement.
"Now—! This is our chance!"
"Take his head! That's four hundred and fifty gold!"
"...Hm."
Everyone came charging with cutlasses raised, eyes on the bounty.
Kaftin let it play out until the last possible moment —
"Hff—!"
"Wh — what?!"
At the critical instant, he wrenched the captured arm with raw force — and dragged the rope-holding sailor in front of himself like a shield.
"W-wait?! Hey—?!"
"What—?!"
"GYAAAAAAGH?!"
The sailor caught the full storm of cutlass strikes meant for Kaftin and crumpled to the deck. The other sailors' expressions twisted.
What kind of dirty trick was that.
"You little—! And you call yourself a man?!"
"Underhanded wretch! No wonder there's a bounty on you!"
"Oh? Two people who came aboard to look for someone, set upon immediately by a group swinging blades — and we're the underhanded ones? I'm so scandalized I might wet myself."
"You — die—!"
As the brawl intensified, the noise finally became too much — the cabin door burst open and the two Gang Lords came sprinting out.
"You lot — what in hell's name is going on—!"
"Keep it down out here, would you — oh."
"Well, well. The Gang Lords."
"K-K-K-K... Kaftin—!!"
"He actually followed us here—!"
Both Gang Lords wore expressions of pure shock.
But inwardly — they were smiling.
Because their plan had worked.
—To be continued—