The Faithful Tomb of Rank 7 in the Infinite Abyss.
The order was bloodied and frantic, chasing after a name.
What can I say when even the dungeon’s name denies faith as soon as it gets covered by the holy sword?
I had been eagerly waiting for support from the castle, now branded by the order, but two days have passed with no news.
I understood; it was roughly two days, but it would probably take longer in reality.
Since I don’t know the situation over there, there’s nothing to do but wait patiently.
Of course, the fact that I don’t want to meet Roseha plays a part too. I’m worried I might get eaten.
There’s still been no word about the assembly of Dungeon 72.
At this point, whether from the conquest headquarters or the order, the chances of them launching an assault are down to about 10%.
They’ve already lost two ultimate weapons, the heroes, in that short time—would they really march in? If they did, they’d come fully prepared.
So, there’s really not much to do right now.
“Killik! It’s the Grand Chief!”
“Long live the Grand Chief!”
“Hmm. Let’s work hard!”
“I see my esteemed boss. Are you on patrol?”
“Yeah. Let’s work hard!”
Moving between tiers, I checked the dungeon’s current state.
The insect workers were busy with renovations on levels 8 and 9.
A group of vampires was diligently on guard duty on level 1.
“Balutak.”
“Kyack!”
I thought Balutak was fulfilling his duty as a sentinel, only to find out he was slacking off.
I wondered why Isabella wasn’t around. She’s probably somewhere fine, right?
Lastly, I entered the adjutant room, opening the door without a sound.
There was Charlotte, engrossed in some serious reading of the Necronomicon.
The adjutant room was lined with magic books on shelves, a crystal ball the size of a face, neatly organized pens, and newspapers and documents smudged with ink scattered around.
But there was something else I hadn’t seen before.
[Rank 7 of the Faithful Tomb’s Adjunct: Charlotte]
An ornately engraved black obsidian nameplate.
When did she make this?
Despite her consistently expressionless demeanor, her insides seemed to be bubbling with excitement.
“You’re working hard.”
“…Ah. You’ve arrived, Boss.”
Charlotte hadn’t even noticed I was there, lost in her research.
‘With that kind of eagerness, she’ll reach level 90 in no time!’
Not just wishful thinking; it was genuinely a strong possibility.
[Lv. 81]
In just two days, Charlotte had gained a level.
A level up in the 80s is no small feat!
I couldn’t help but think it was a great idea to give her the Necronomicon.
For reference, there are three volumes of the Necronomicon.
They are classified into Death, Corruption, and Retrogression. The one Charlotte currently has focuses on undead transformation.
“Your progress is really swift. Have you gained some revelation?”
Her magic circle-filled pupils widened in surprise.
Charlotte took a deep breath and lowered her head.
“I’m truly honored you noticed. After all, it’s impossible to fool the Boss’s eyes.”
The magic circle in her eyes sparkled brightly.
It seemed to emanate a genuine respect.
“I believe the top priority is Wilhelm’s transformation into an Undead. Hence, I’m studying Dullahan right now.”
Dullahan is a superior version of the Death Knight.
Its base level is 70, and for a hero, it rolls in around 80.
The Dullahan, a mid-boss of the castle, was level 88—it is no joke.
Among the three conditions, the first for attempting Dullahan is that the subject must have been over level 70 in life.
The second condition is that they must have been beheaded, and the third is that their body must have no major wounds other than their head; very strict conditions indeed.
And the third condition was that there shouldn’t be any major injuries other than the head.
Wilhelm’s corpse, meeting all three conditions, was currently frozen solid by Charlotte’s freezing magic.
“I’ll learn from Balmunk’s mistakes and succeed this time for sure!”
As a Dullahan on par with a high-ranking Lich, even attempting it with half-baked necromancy would be a challenge.
Even if the conditions were met, the ability of the sorcerer was key.
The success or failure of the Dullahan depended solely on Charlotte’s efforts.
With the Necronomicon in hand, Charlotte was definitely someone to have faith in.
“Just you wait.”
“I’ll certainly meet your expectations.”
With that conversation wrapped up, I left the auxiliary room, worried about being interrupted.
‘So, what now?’
Just as I was about to enjoy some alone time, I remembered I was an Undead.
A cursed body that couldn’t eat or sleep.
Hmm.
Maybe I should learn magic like Charlotte. Or perhaps learning swordsmanship wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
Considering my advanced swordsmanship trait, it wouldn’t hurt since the sword is an EX-grade bound item.
*
In the southern empire, the city of Solarlion, governed by the Papacy.
Although it was technically within the empire, the Pope had autonomous ruling authority.
The city’s districts were divided into major and minor dioceses, each managed by Cardinals and Archbishops like feudal lords, making it somewhat of an independent nation.
If the empire had a capital, Solarlion was home to a sacred ground.
Currently, the Cardinals and Archbishops responsible for each diocese were gathered at the Pope’s headquarters in the sacred ground.
The reason for the meeting was singular: Wilhelm’s death.
“Your Holiness the Pope, this is a chance!”
The Cardinal openly revealed his intentions.
A chance. Yes, it could be an opportunity.
Wilhelm belonged to the empire, but digging deeper, he was a direct servant of the church.
He had died under orders from the Eradication Command, and even the awakened Holy Sword had been confiscated.
Using this failure as leverage, the Papacy could demand accountability and compensation from the Eradication Command and the Imperial family.
This was merely the tip of the iceberg.
For those wanting independence as a city-state, it was a golden opportunity.
“This isn’t just a formal independent nation anymore. Isn’t it the perfect chance to be officially recognized as a city-state?”
The Empire’s stance towards the Papacy was wishy-washy.
They acknowledged self-governance in normal times but would intervene occasionally.
Wilhelm’s deployment was forced upon the Papacy due to pressure from the Imperial family.
The church leadership had trembled at this historical attitude. They were eager for independence as a city-state.
Now was the time.
The Eradication Command was a pivotal organization for the Empire, known for its glory in the unification wars, still receiving strong support from the Imperial family.
Was the Command about to falter? They had dealt an irreparable blow to the Papacy, so there was no need for further discussion.
“Cardinal, that won’t do.”
The Archbishop’s words twisted the Cardinal’s brow.
“What? If not now, then when will we achieve independence?”
“Timing isn’t about independence; it’s about division! Your Holiness, may I speak?”
The Pope, who had been silent at the head of the table, nodded.
“The current Empire is shaky. As we all know, the newly formed Seven Lairs are the cause. While the empire trembles like poor sheep, if we declare independence in such bad times, what do you think will happen?”
Independence from the worsening situation is clearly a division of humanity.
“We should rather unite with the Empire. While we could use their mistakes against them to claim independence, we could also have the Church’s contributions recognized and officially endorsed by the Imperial Family.”
“That’s right.”
The Pope already shared the same sentiment.
“Everyone, we are all for humanity. Therefore, our independence must serve humanity.”
At this point, the Pope made his point clear.
“The late Sir Wilhelm’s holy sword. Retrieving it must be our top priority now.”
The gravesite of faith was the newly risen The Seven Lairs.
The Church’s power alone was woefully inadequate.
“We must join forces with the Empire to conclude this.”
A silence fell over the gathering. It was a silence that signified agreement.
From the start, there was no heretic daring to challenge the Pope’s conviction.
It seemed the meeting would end on that note.
“However, an Undead wielding a holy sword…”
One archbishop’s words echoed the feelings of all.
The holy sword had passed from Wilhelm’s hands to that of the Undead. That Undead was the boss of the newly risen The Seven Lairs.
It wasn’t just one person, but dozens, all members of the Church’s knightly order, who had reported this. How could they possibly be lying?
“That Undead could be Lucas.”
At that, sighs escaped from various corners of the room.
Lucas Diont, the hero of Solari and the man who embodied the brightest light.
Other knights had corroborated the words of one knight who returned from The Seven Lairs.
“The holy sword’s divine power was more resplendent than our leader’s! Just like that person from ten years ago!”
From the inception of the holy sword until now, the most brilliant light had only emanated from one man’s hand.
Lucas. His awakened holy sword shone brighter than the sun itself.
“I agree. It is not just a holy sword; it is an awakened holy sword. Among all the heroes, only three have awakened their holy swords, right?”
The knights claimed that the holy sword flew from Wilhelm’s hands to the hands of the Death Knight.
This meant that the Death Knight held a superior claim over the holy sword.
“Still, how could a hero…”
“Isn’t it the most plausible? The Death Knight is merely the boss of The Seven Lairs. It’s hard to accept, but if it’s a hero, then it changes the story.”
If that Death Knight were indeed a hero, then being the boss of The Seven Lairs could be easily understood.
For one to naturally be reborn as an Undead without sorcery, a single precondition existed.
A distinct hatred toward humanity.
Even the dungeon core of The Lairs couldn’t use sorcery. Thus, the Undead’s creation through the dungeon core also had to be rooted in that hatred.
There was only one hero who died filled with hatred for humanity. It was Lucas.
“How tragic.”
“In the end, it’s the witch’s fault again. If it weren’t for that witch, Lucas wouldn’t have ended up dead, right?”
“Indeed! Those wicked women are to blame!”
As soon as the witch was brought up, the room became filled with murmurs of agreement.
Lucas’s execution was ten years ago.
The great witch hunt across the Empire also began a decade ago.
Just ten years back, there was a village of witches hidden in the outskirts of the northern woods.
A small village where witches gathered and lived secretly.
But there are no eternal secrets.
As soon as its location was discovered, the Imperial Family mobilized heroes and knights to order the witch hunt.
“Archbishop Keln, weren’t you dispatched with Lucas ten years ago?”
“Didn’t you go out with him?”
“Yes. I have a deep connection with that friend, Lucas.”
Archbishop Keln closed his eyes, recalling that day.
The burning forest, the knights trying to massacre the witches, and Lucas standing against them with the witches at his back.
In front of the witches, Lucas sheathed his sword and protected them.
When the knights arrived, he took up his sword again to confront them.
A hero who was supposed to slay witches for the Empire, instead stood against it to protect the witches.
“Lucas… what a pitiful man.”
The hero does not falter against the knights.
If Lucas had been in perfect condition, he could have easily subdued all the knights, evacuated the witches safely, and fled.
But the hero was defeated by the knights and captured.
“I still remember. The young witch’s magic rampage turned the forest into a mess at that scene. It was so fierce that the knights didn’t dare approach. I didn’t either.”
The only one who approached the young witch was Lucas.
Without hesitation, he threw himself into the inferno.
In the end, he stopped the rampage but lost his eyes as the price for saving the young witch.
That gap allowed the knights to pursue the witch and successfully subdue the blind hero.
“If it wasn’t for that young witch, who knows? Lucas might have lived on in seclusion until now.”
“What a foolish man. To save a witch and die because of one. He even lost his eyes protecting a young girl, right? And still, he protects witches—why?”
“It’s no sacrifice; it’s just a senseless death.”
It was the height of the witch massacre.
Lucas’s execution was a natural consequence for defending witches and betraying the Empire.
Archbishop Keln felt a mix of incomprehension and pity for Lucas’s heart.
He still couldn’t forget Lucas’s last words at the execution platform.
“I thought witches were monsters, but they weren’t.
Witches are the same as humans. They have families and feel pain.
Is there no reason for humans to kill other humans? Is there no reason for humans to protect other humans?”
‘Bring the witches here at once.’
The enraged Emperor ordered the execution of the imprisoned witches before his eyes.
The frail necks of the women were successively sliced, rolling away, and beheaded.
As the citizens watched the execution, they dipped bread in the witches’ blood and munched on it.
They threw stones at the heads of the beheaded witches, regardless of their age or gender.
The blind hero couldn’t see any of it.
Vivid final gasps and the thick smell of blood.
Even with his eyes gone, he felt that pain with his whole body. Blood tears flowed from Lucas’s eyes.
Just before the execution, his words were not wails or screams, but a curse.
“You are not humans. You are indeed the children of the abyss. The gods will punish you and humanity.”
Archbishop Keln shook his head and tried to shake off that memory.
He never expected that Lucas, who said such things, would return as a monster of the Abyss Palace.
…No way.
The awakened holy sword. The divine revelation. It fell into the hands of the undead Lucas.
No, it can’t be.
Doubt sprouted in everyone’s faith but only briefly.
The gods always watch over humanity.
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