Episode 132: Almond White Kingdom (2)
“What did you just babble? Care to repeat that?”
The man sneered, and Damian responded with a look of pity.
“Oh dear… Hard of hearing too, are we? Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you learn to understand human speech properly.”
The man’s laughter was echoed by his companions, who all shared a mocking grin.
In the next instant, the man swung his enchanted sword, its blade gleaming with a deadly aura.
Damian raised his club to parry the strike, prompting the man to scoff.
“You fool! You think you can block an aura blade with that stick…?”
But Damian twisted his club, altering the sword’s trajectory. The enchanted blade, which had been descending diagonally, suddenly shot upwards, slipping right out of the man’s grip.
“What the…?”
The man stared dumbfounded at his empty hand.
“How…?”
Instead of answering, Damian brought his club down on the man’s head.
“Ugh!”
With a cry, the man’s head hit the ground, his limbs twitching as foam gathered at his mouth.
“Boss!”
“How dare you lay a hand on our boss!”
Two more men drew their weapons and charged at Damian, their blades also glowing with aura.
“Seems like you guys never learned your lesson.”
As Damian deflected their attacks, their weapons slipped from their hands just as easily.
“Huh?”
“What the…?”
Damian swiftly knocked each of them on the head with his club, and they collapsed to the ground like frogs.
“Ouch… my head… my head…”
“Ahh! It feels like my skull’s cracked!”
“Mom… Mommy…”
The three men clutched their heads, groaning in pain. Damian looked at them with mild disinterest.
“Quit whining. You’re fine.”
Only then did the men realize their skulls were intact.
“What… what is this…?”
“I was sure my skull was cracked…”
As they struggled to comprehend, Damian approached, tapping his club against his palm.
“Admitting your mistakes is the first step to reflection. Repeat after me: ‘I will never use my petty strength to oppress others again.’”
“Who’d repeat such nonsense…?”
Damian immediately struck each of them on the crown with his club, this time twice.
“Aaagh!”
“Oww!”
“Ugh!”
The three men rolled on the ground, clutching their heads.
“If you don’t get up now, it’ll be four hits next time.”
At the threat, the men scrambled to their feet and knelt before Damian without realizing it.
“Repeat after me: ‘I will never use my petty strength to oppress others again.’”
Exchanging nervous glances, the men shouted in unison.
“I-I will never use my petty strength to oppress others again!”
Satisfied with their response, Damian nodded approvingly.
“Now you’re ready for rehabilitation.”
Tievaux, a middle-aged man, thought he must be dreaming.
He had spent his life as a third-rate mercenary, but he had seen enough to know how dangerous aura users could be.
They were monsters capable of slaughtering dozens with a single weapon.
“Roll left. Roll right. Oh, too slow!”
“S-Sorry!”
Yet here were three such dangerous individuals, completely at the mercy of one man.
“What are your names?”
“Y-Yes! I’m Aleksandrovich Asenko Rybainer!”
“Too long. You’re Number 1, he’s Number 2, and that one’s Number 3.”
No, they weren’t just at his mercy—they were utterly cowed, watching his every move.
“I’m a bit thirsty.”
Hearing this, Tievaux quickly offered his canteen.
“H-Here you go!”
Victor, the man in question, accepted the canteen with a puzzled look.
“You didn’t have to.”
“No, no! It’s my pleasure, really!”
Tievaux wasn’t acting out of pure goodwill.
This man was his lifeline, the one who could change his life.
“Well, thanks. I’ll drink it gratefully.”
Victor took a long drink from the canteen, and Tievaux stuck close, eager to please.
“Your skills are truly remarkable! To deflect an aura blade with just a club—I couldn’t believe my eyes!”
Victor said nothing, continuing to drink, but Tievaux wasn’t discouraged.
“Have you heard of Damian Haxen? There’s a ridiculous rumor that he’s recently reached High Class… but even he couldn’t fight like you, Victor!”
Tievaux had no idea if Victor was stronger than Damian Haxen.
The truth didn’t matter right now. Winning Victor’s favor was the priority.
“If you ever need anything, just call on me! I’ll serve you with all my heart!”
Tievaux declared earnestly.
“Well, if you insist, I suppose I can’t refuse.”
From then on, Damian’s journey became significantly easier.
Thanks to Tievaux and Numbers 1, 2, and 3, all the minor tasks were taken care of.
They handled everything from cooking to setting up camp.
“Victor, you emphasize teamwork, yet you don’t do anything… Ugh! Oof!”
Number 1 tried to protest, but it didn’t escalate into a bigger issue. A little more “rehabilitation” would fix that.
After a few days, the merchant caravan carrying Damian arrived at the White Kingdom.
The White Kingdom was bustling with life after the long journey.
Mercenaries and adventurers crowded the streets, and merchants selling weapons and potions were everywhere.
“Quite a crowd.”
“Indeed. It wasn’t always this busy. The numbers surged after the ruins were opened.”
Tievaux explained as he walked beside Damian.
Just then, a well-dressed man passed by, flanked by knights.
“Looks like there are nobles here too?”
“Ruins are profitable. I’ve heard nobles from nearby and even distant lands are gathering.”
“They don’t seem to need money.”
The noble who had just passed looked quite wealthy. There seemed little reason for him to explore dangerous ruins.
“Sharp eye. Most nobles are likely here for Lady Frize.”
“Lady Frize?”
This was news to Damian.
“Did you know the previous head of the count’s family here was a Master Class?”
“Yes, that’s why the county became independent as the White Kingdom.”
“After the count’s death, his eldest daughter, Lady Frize, took over. She’s the one who decided to open the ruins.”
Tievaux continued his explanation.
“According to her, the previous head discovered a unique ‘artifact sword’ in the ruins but couldn’t retrieve it due to a trap.”
Damian listened intently.
“So Lady Frize announced she’d marry whoever finds and retrieves the artifact sword. That’s why the nobles are flocking here.”
It was an intriguing story.
Marrying Lady Frize would not only make one the head of the White Kingdom, but she was also reputed to be quite beautiful.
It was enough to attract any noble.
Of course, Damian had no interest in marriage. The artifact sword in the ruins, however, piqued his curiosity.
A faint hum came from his waist, where his sword, Dawn, seemed to protest.
‘But what can I do? You can never have too many good weapons.’
The hum from Dawn was shorter this time, as if sulking.
“Let’s check out the ruins.”
“What? You’re not planning to enter already, are you?”
“Of course not. Just want to see the entrance.”
“Um…”
A weak voice stopped Damian.
Numbers 1, 2, and 3 stood there, looking exhausted.
Throughout the journey to the White Kingdom, they had been worked to the bone by Damian.
They’d spent nights catching crickets to avoid disturbing his sleep and hunted animals for fresh meat.
“Can we… go now?”
Number 1 asked with pleading eyes. Numbers 2 and 3 mirrored his expression.
“Go? Where? Your rehabilitation isn’t over yet.”
At Damian’s words, the three men’s faces turned pale.
“V-Victor!”
They fell to their knees, ready to grovel at Damian’s feet.
“We’ve decided to change our ways starting today!”
“We promise!”
“Please, just this once, show us mercy, and we’ll become new men!”
“We promise!”
As they begged, Damian stroked his chin, pondering.
“You really mean it?”
“Yes, we do!”
“Alright, off you go. And don’t bother anyone again.”
With a dismissive wave, Demian sent the three scurrying away without a backward glance.
Once they were out of sight, Demian turned to Thiebo. “Let’s head to the entrance.”
The ruins lay behind the fortress of Baekjakseong. Originally a dense forest, the area had been cleared to make way for what now resembled a forward base.
“I think that’s the door to the ruins,” Thiebo said, pointing ahead. A massive iron door was half-buried in the earth.
“It’s my first time seeing ruins up close. They have such a unique look,” Thiebo remarked, his face alight with curiosity. In contrast, Demian appeared unfazed.
This wasn’t Demian’s first visit to such a site. During his days as a Death Knight, he had explored numerous ruins with Dorgo.
“Move aside! We’ve got a man dying here!”
Suddenly, four people burst from the entrance, carrying a stretcher. A severely injured man lay upon it.
Thiebo clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Tsk, tsk. Looks like he ventured too deep for his own good. That place is no joke.”
“You know,” Thiebo continued, his tone almost chiding, “the ruins in Baekguk are notoriously dangerous. They say if ten go in, maybe two come out alive.”
Demian found this odd. The survival rate was alarmingly low. Even among the perilous sites he had explored with Dorgo, few were that deadly. Moreover, such dangerous places were usually well-hidden from the start.
‘It must be Gasdal’s doing,’ Demian thought. Most of the deaths likely weren’t from the ruins themselves but from being captured by Gasdal. The victims were probably used as test subjects or consumed to bolster Gasdal’s forces.
‘Gasdal, just wait. I’ll find you and end this,’ Demian vowed, his gaze fixed on the entrance.
“What are you looking at… Ah, the ancient script,” Thiebo said, nodding as if he understood.
<┗╋┓┣━┳┣┓>
The entrance was inscribed with these peculiar characters.
“Strange, isn’t it? The mages have been trying to decipher it, but no luck so far,” Thiebo chattered on.
“Did you know? The ruins are still operational. They say manipulating the ancient script can open secret chambers,” Thiebo added wistfully.
“If only we could decode it, we might uncover hidden treasures within the ruins…”
Demian glanced again at the script on the entrance.
<┗╋┓┣━┳┣┓>
He knew exactly what it meant.
Dorgo was the reason Demian understood the ancient script. Remarkably, Dorgo could interpret it flawlessly. Many of the dark spells Dorgo used incorporated these ancient characters. When Dorgo imparted his knowledge of dark magic to Demian, the ancient script came with it.
Dorgo had never shared this knowledge with even his closest followers. Likely, only Dorgo and Demian knew the script’s secrets.
‘The Workshop of the Master Craftsman…’
Having explored ruins with Dorgo, Demian knew what that implied. Such a title meant the site was no ordinary ruin. It often housed special weapons crafted by the master.
‘I was only thinking about Gasdal. I hadn’t expected much from the ruins…’
Perhaps there was a chance to uncover something truly extraordinary.