Chapter 293: The Immortal Research Lab [2]

“…Immortal Research Lab,” I muttered under my breath.

“They really weren’t subtle with the name.”

The words had barely left my lips when the air in front of me shimmered.

A translucent panel unfolded before my eyes, lines of text etching themselves into existence one after another—slow, deliberate, as if the place itself were announcing its presence.

—

[Location Identified: Immortal Research Lab]

[Era: After the Solhaven Empire unified all human nations]

[Background Record Unlocked]

Once absolute dominion was achieved, certain members of the imperial bloodline turned their gaze inward—toward eternity itself.]

Renowned knights and royal magi were conscripted to pursue research into life extension and immortality.]

The project failed.]

What remains are the remnants of ambition: malformed undead bound to unfinished rituals.]

Objective Registered:]

Conceal the shame of the royal family.]

Grant eternal rest to those left behind.]

—

The message faded slowly, leaving a cold afterimage behind my eyes.

“…That’s cheerful,” I said dryly.

As if to confirm that we had indeed stepped into forbidden ground, the atmosphere shifted.

The air thickened.

Mana—stagnant, rancid mana—began to crawl across my skin like damp fog.

Then came the voices.

Monotone.

Emotionless.

Layered, as if several mouths were speaking in unison.

“Not of the royal blood.”

“Unauthorized entities detected.”

“Demonic contamination confirmed.”

“Judgment required.”

Execution approved.”

From the darkness ahead, figures emerged.

Heavy footsteps echoed across the stone floor, each step deliberate, synchronized. Black-armored knights advanced, weapons raised—spears, greatswords, halberds, all aimed squarely at us.

They looked exactly as they did in the game.

And yet—

“…Wait,” I murmured, squinting. “Something’s off.”

Velra, standing calmly at my side, tilted her head.

“Oh? You noticed as well?”

That’s when it clicked.

They had no heads.

No helmets.

No faces.

Their armor ended cleanly at the shoulders, as if everything above the neck had been neatly erased. And yet, their voices echoed clearly, reverberating from somewhere within their hollow chests.

“…They speak remarkably well for beings without heads,” Velra remarked lightly. “Fascinating.”

“Dullahans,” I said quietly.

Knights who had been decapitated yet refused to die. Undead bound not by necromancy alone, but by obsession and duty so strong it replaced the need for a head.

Their presence pressed down on us like a physical weight.

One of them stepped forward, its black blade scraping lightly against the stone.

“State your lineage.”

“State your authorization.”

“Failure to comply will result in immediate termination.”

I let out a slow breath.

“…Yeah, this is definitely the right place.”

These weren’t ordinary undead.

They were former royal knights.

Elite.

Preserved at the peak of their combat prowess.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the subtle shift within my body—the lingering effects of the contracts, the inheritance, the parasitic authority now woven into my veins.

The Dullahans moved as one.

Perfect formation.

No wasted motion.

No hesitation.

Steel rang softly as blades slid into ready positions, their movements drilled into them long before death had claimed their heads.

“Insolent,” one of them rasped, voice echoing hollowly from an empty helm.

“We’ll soon make you like us,” another added, tone almost reverent.

They raised their weapons.

And stepped forward.

Just as they were about to strike—

As expected.

“Mere wandering dead,” Velra said coolly. “To think you’d bare fangs at me. The audacity.”

Her presence shifted.

Not explosively.

Not violently.

It simply overwrote the space.

—Woosh.

—Freeze.

A storm of mana swallowed the battlefield whole. The air crystallized mid-breath, frost racing across armor and bone alike. The Dullahans halted, boots locked to the ground, weapons frozen inches from motion.

Ice crawled up their limbs like chains.

“So strong—!”

“A demon of this rank…!”

“We must deploy a protective barrier—now!”

Dark sigils flared faintly around a few of them as they struggled to react.

“Do not falter,” another barked, forcing his frozen arm forward with a grinding crack. “We are already dead! What fear is there in dying again?!”

Even without heads—

even without breath—

their resolve burned.

They shifted positions, covering one another, shields overlapping as best they could, knightly instincts engraved into their very bones. Together, they faced Velra, the vampire noble, their frozen armor creaking with every inch of movement.

Velra watched them with mild interest, crimson eyes half-lidded.

“Commendable,” she admitted. “Loyalty that persists beyond death is… rare.”

Then—

“Excuse me,” a voice cut in dryly. “Have you forgotten about me?”

-Clank.

-Clank.

-Clatter.

The sound of rusted metal falling apart echoed sharply.

The Dullahans stiffened.

Slowly—too slowly—they realized their mistake.

In focusing everything on the overwhelming presence of the high-ranking demon, they had lost track of the human.

Of me.

Their armor began to peel away, plates sliding off as if pulled by invisible hands. Rust flaked into the snow. Straps snapped. Helmets rolled free, revealing rotting flesh and empty sockets burning with pale-blue fire.

“What—?!”

“Our armor—!”

“It’s being dismantled—!”

I flexed my fingers.

Blood-red threads—thin, almost invisible—were wrapped around joints, seams, and gaps in their equipment.

Blood Magic.

The newly acquired mastery thrummed pleasantly through my veins.

“You really shouldn’t ignore the weakest-looking one,” I said calmly. “It’s bad manners.”

One of the Dullahans snarled and lunged, bare skeletal hands gripping his blade.

“Kill him—!”

Too late.

I clenched my fist.

The blood threads tightened.

With a sickening crunch, joints dislocated. Weapons slipped from numb fingers. Several of them collapsed to their knees, torsos twisting unnaturally as their own decayed sinew betrayed them.

Velra glanced at me, one brow lifting.

“…You adapt quickly.”

“Occupational hazard,” I replied.

The remaining Dullahans staggered back, reassessing.

“This human—!”

“He’s using demon arts—!”

“No… parasite-type magic!”

Their formation broke. Fear—real fear—crept into the hollow glow of their eyes.

But that was only for a moment.

Next moment, their fear disappear as if it wasn’t exist in first place.

“You will pay for this….!”

“How dare such a lowly creature!”

Against those clad in armor,

A shove was the best weapon.

I casually smiled and gestured with my chin.

“Thinking you had a chance against someone without armor?”

Some Dullahans swung their weapons at me, realizing the gravity of the situation.

But I could see it.

Greatswords, maces, and spears.

The trajectory of all their weapons.

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