Episode 59: Rest (2)

The Necromancer Delant.

How could anyone forget him? The dark sorcerer who, as a commander of Dorgo’s legion, played a part in humanity’s downfall.

Delant’s specialty was creating flesh golems.

A flesh golem was an undead creature, pieced together from various biological parts.

Delant had the uncanny ability to identify creatures with exceptional physical attributes.

Thanks to this skill, the flesh golems he crafted were terrifyingly powerful in battle.

His “masterpieces,” as he called them, could even rival high-class warriors.

By the end of the war of destruction waged by Dorgo, Delant commanded tens of thousands of these flesh golems.

The raw materials for a flesh golem were living creatures.

Creating just one required parts from dozens of different species.

This meant that hundreds of thousands of creatures lost their lives to Delant’s hands.

To thwart Dorgo’s ambitions, Delant was one of the key figures who had to be eliminated.

“Come to think of it, there was a time in my past life when Delant’s dungeon was discovered.”

It was during the time when Damian, cast out from his family, wandered the streets as a beggar.

He had heard rumors of Delant’s dungeon being found while begging on the streets.

In that past life, the church had also formed a task force to deal with it.

“The result… was the annihilation of the task force.”

Despite having many mid-class members, the task force was completely wiped out in the dungeon.

This incident elevated Delant’s threat level to that of a grandmaster dark sorcerer.

“The exact reason for the task force’s demise was never clearly determined.”

However, there was a clue.

One paladin had survived the dungeon.

Before dying from his grievous wounds, he mentioned a traitor among them. His injuries were too severe for even holy magic to heal.

“Wait, isn’t this happening earlier than it should?”

As Damian sifted through his memories, he realized something was off.

His time as a beggar was etched vividly in his mind due to its hardships.

He was certain that the discovery of Delant’s dungeon was supposed to happen later.

“Delant originally belonged to the Yurhan faction. Did my killing of Yurhan’s leader affect this?”

While Damian was deep in thought, Agnes spoke up.

“You seem hesitant. I understand. It is a dark sorcerer’s dungeon, after all.”

Perhaps interpreting Damian’s silence as reluctance, Agnes spoke with a bitter expression.

“It’s said that a sorcerer gains two to three levels of power within their own dungeon. A dark sorcerer’s dungeon is even more dangerous.”

Dungeons came in various forms.

A sorcerer’s dungeon was essentially a fortress.

With stored magic, pre-prepared high-level spells, and carefully crafted traps, a sorcerer inside their dungeon was nearly invincible.

A dark sorcerer’s dungeon was even more perilous.

Unlike sorcerers, dark sorcerers had no moral boundaries.

Poisons, curses, monsters—every conceivable method was at their disposal.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you refused.”

Interestingly, the church rarely forced other nobles to cooperate when forming a task force.

Partly due to their doctrine that good deeds should be voluntary, but also to manage the nobles’ discontent.

The church meddled in noble affairs whenever dark magic was involved.

If they acted coercively in such dangerous matters, the nobles’ dissatisfaction could explode.

Thus, the church only requested cooperation, never demanding it. Even if refused, there was no retaliation.

“I apologize for imposing. Then…”

Agnes turned to leave, but Damian instinctively grabbed her wrist.

Agnes froze as her wrist was caught.

“No, it’s not that. I was just pondering Delant’s intentions, not planning to refuse.”

Damian quickly clarified to dispel Agnes’s misunderstanding.

“Far from being reluctant, I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

He meant it sincerely.

Thanks to Agnes, Damian had a chance to directly cut off one of Dorgo’s key assets.

Moreover, in his past life, the church suffered greatly from the task force’s annihilation.

This incident had a ripple effect, negatively impacting the war against Dorgo.

For Damian, it was a chance to thwart part of Dorgo’s plans and prepare for the war—a win-win situation.

“I’ll accept your request, Agnes…”

Suddenly, Damian noticed something odd about Agnes’s face.

It was flushed as red as a ripe apple.

“Agnes?”

“Um… could you, um, let go of my hand?”

Agnes fidgeted with the hand Damian held.

When he released her, she quickly stepped back.

“Thank you for accepting my request.”

Agnes spoke with her face still red.

“I’ve left a carriage at the village entrance. Please gather your things, and I’ll escort you.”

With that, Agnes hurriedly left, looking somewhat flustered.

Damian watched her go, puzzled.

“Young master… are you really planning to join the task force?”

Victor, who had been observing the situation, asked with a shocked expression.

“Yes.”

“But isn’t it incredibly dangerous? Delant is the notorious dark sorcerer who turned entire villages into undead lairs!”

Victor’s face was filled with worry.

“I… I wish you wouldn’t go, young master…”

Damian chuckled at Victor’s concern.

“Do I look like someone who needs others to worry about me?”

“I know your skills well, young master. But it’s a dungeon…”

Even as a mere servant in a rural noble’s estate, Victor knew well the dangers of dungeons.

Every time news came of promising knights perishing, it was always in a dungeon.

“Besides, the baron won’t allow it.”

Damian paused at that.

Some noble parents occasionally pushed their children into danger for glory.

But his father was not that kind of man.

“Hmm…”

Damian pondered how to persuade Baron Haxen, but no solution came to mind.

“Victor, you’re right. Father would never allow it.”

“Of course. So, young master, please reconsider…”

“Which is why I’ll have to go secretly.”

”…What?”

Victor looked at Damian in disbelief.

Damian clenched his fist with a look of regret.

“I vowed not to be unfilial to my father, but… there’s no choice.”

“Young master, if you know it’s unfilial, wouldn’t it be better to just refrain?”

“Father will be furious, no doubt. But you’ll handle it, won’t you?”

“No way! You know how terrifying the baron is when he’s angry!”

“That’s precisely why I’m asking you.”

Victor was at a loss for words.

He had never been this frustrated with Damian before.

“And Victor, I think you’re mistaken about something.”

“What now…”

“Delant is no match for me.”

Damian spoke with absolute confidence.

Victor might think Damian was walking into a death trap, but that wasn’t the case.

Damian could clear the dungeon with his swordsmanship alone.

But that wasn’t his only weapon.

His mind was filled with high-level dark magic, and he possessed seven powers.

Most importantly, Damian had spent a long time observing Delant during his time as a death knight.

He knew exactly what kind of dark magic Delant used and how his flesh golems were structured.

“So there’s no need to worry… what’s with that face?”

Victor looked at Damian incredulously.

“Young master, I’m genuinely worried, and you’re boasting like that. It’s infuriating.”

“Hey, I’m not boasting.”

“Enough. In any case, you can’t go. I’ll stop you…”

Damian moved behind Victor and struck his neck with a swift chop.

Victor let out a short cry and collapsed, unconscious.

“Please explain things to Father.”

Damian gently laid Victor on the ground.

Then he dashed off to where Agnes was waiting.

---

“Damian, over here!”

As he reached the village entrance, he saw a carriage marked with the church’s emblem.

Agnes stood in front of it.

Damian hesitated as he approached, noticing the towering woman beside Agnes.

Over two meters tall, with broad shoulders, long limbs, and hands as large and sturdy as cauldron lids.

She had everything a martial artist needed.

Her presence was as impressive as her appearance. She was at least a mid-class warrior.

“Oh, so this is the Damian Haxen you couldn’t stop talking about.”

”…Sister, please refrain from saying things that might cause misunderstandings. I never said such things.”

Agnes sighed.

“Oh, really? I didn’t say anything misleading. I just stated the facts. You returned to the main temple, praising Damian Haxen to the masters and senior disciples…”

Agnes stomped on the woman’s foot.

The ground shook with the force of his stomp, yet the woman didn’t even blink.

“Oh dear, if I tease you any more, my little sister might really get upset. Alright, I’ll behave.”

The woman approached Damian, extending a large hand.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Margata, a Second-Class Paladin.”

Second-Class Paladin.

A rank said to rival that of a Middle-Class Knight.

And since Agnes referred to her as “sister,” it seemed this woman was also a disciple of Cheongyeom.

A disciple of Cheongyeom, one of the five great saints of the order, and a Second-Class Paladin at that.

Just as Damian had suspected, she was an incredibly formidable figure.

“Pleasure to meet you, Dame Margata.”

Damian shook Margata’s hand, feeling the calluses that covered it.

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but I didn’t expect you to come. After all, this dungeon was created by necromancy, wasn’t it?”

“Sir Agnes asked for my help. How could I refuse? Besides, I have a personal vendetta against dark sorcerers.”

Margata seemed pleased with Damian’s response.

“Agnes, I was worried you didn’t know how to pick men, but it seems you chose well.”

”…Sister.”

“Oh my, look at those eyes. Terrifying.”

“Enough with the nonsense. Please give Sir Damian the item.”

“Ah, such a shame… but a promise is a promise.”

Margata gestured, and a soldier brought over a long box.

“Agnes insisted to our master that you deserved this if you joined the mission.”

Margata handed the box to Damian.

He took it, surprised by its weight.

“What is this?”

With a proud smile, Margata replied, “A holy sword.”