The dead visible in the distance.

As soon as he saw this, Erich drew his sword, ready to strike the creature’s head at once.

Yet, for some reason, that dead creature’s condition was odd.

—Grrrr.

Though it made the distinctive sound of the dead, it did not immediately rush in. These creatures, who normally could not resist flesh and blood. Evidence of their greed was clear as drool dripped from its mouth.

Frederick rested his hand on his sword and spoke.

“… Wouldn’t it be best to strike right away?”

“Erich, please give the order.”

However, Erich shook his head. Though he understood Frederick’s and Barnes’s feelings, it seemed the current situation warranted observation.

‘Joseph can control the dead. But he couldn’t control these ones—in fact, he fought them and lost.’

If Franz and the deserters were the first of the dead to break free from the power of the ‘Lord of the Dead’… If it were possible to grant human will to those already become the dead…

That might become a hidden card capable of changing the tide of the great war to come.

“You all stay here.”

“B-boss!”

Erich slowly began to approach them. Fierce, pale gazes fixed on him.

Erich approached the deserter dead at the very front. As Erich drew near enough for his living scent to reach, the creature trembled its face from side to side.

—Crk?! Crk!

If not for the sense that it might bite him at any moment, the thing was actually controlling its urges. Erich regarded such creatures with interest.

Could they, perhaps, understand human speech? If they could carve arrows and wage tactical large-scale combat, maybe there was possibility. Nothing to lose by trying.

“I am Erich, centurion of the Black Citadel. Take me to Franz.”

—… Crk?!

The heads of several deserter dead trembled in agitation. They did not attack, but even that was a sufficiently bizarre sight.

Among them, the one out front suddenly jerked its head around.

—Crk!

The others, trembling, made space to the left and right of it as it turned its back.

‘… Are they telling me to follow?’

Erich walked straight through the gap between them. The stench of rotting corpses and the greedy eyes of the dead washed over him, but Erich paid it no mind.

—Step, step.

Stepping outside the warren, Erich squinted. The sunlight was blindingly intense. The scene before him made Erich squint further.

There stood a makeshift settlement built by deserter dead. Though the houses and pits were clumsily thrown together, it somehow felt like a place where people lived.

‘… How should I even judge this?’

Erich let out a faint chuckle. The dead leading him hobbled energetically forward. Meanwhile, the other dead nearby rose and glared at Erich.

But none attacked. They simply watched from where they stood.

Eventually, when Erich arrived at what was passing for a human-like hut, the dead at the door turned to face him.

—…

The creature glared at Erich in silence, drool streaming from between rotting gums. Erich addressed it.

“Thank you.”

From inside the hut, Erich sensed movement. Soon, the door opened from within.

—Creeeak.

What appeared was someone who seemed fairly intact; he had modified the Watch’s black cloak, which should cover only the back and shoulders, so that it draped over his entire body.

Half-concealed, he was a man with kindly eyes and a calm expression. The only difference was that his skin was bluish.

Erich addressed him.

“… Judging by the circumstances, you must be Franz?”

“That’s right.”

Surprisingly, Franz’s pronunciation was clear. Though the flesh around his mouth was decayed enough to expose his gums, he blinked as if considering something and then said,

“… I understand. Were you sent here by Richter?”

“In part. And not. May I come in? The smell here isn’t exactly pleasant.”

“It’s not much better inside, but please enter. Best not to provoke their hunger.”

Franz led Erich inside. Within, various household items indicated that this was where Franz resided. The sword he had set down was caked with clotted blue blood from the dead.

Erich spoke.

“… It’s rather astonishing. Do you command the deserter dead here?”

“Of course not. Only Joseph can control the dead. These ones are enduring on their own will.”

“That’s impossible. The dead have no consciousness to begin with.”

“If one became dead while still alive—it’s not completely impossible.”

Franz replied tranquilly. He didn’t even drool like the others. Erich was highly intrigued by this strange situation.

“… Are those who are already dead unable to become like this?”

“Yes. Such ones were unable to resist.”

“I heard you were banished here relatively recently. Is that why your mind remains intact?”

“That’s correct. Until I arrived, another man played my role.”

“… You mean—”

“Yes. I, too, will eventually become like that.”

Franz bit down hard. Erich nodded slowly. So it was.

This was not the ‘solution to the dead’ Erich had hoped for. They were merely maintaining an unusual way of life.

The real question was how they were managing to avoid becoming fully dead. Could sheer endurance suffice?

Erich glanced out the window at a dead one glaring in.

“Richter handed Joseph over to me. He said he came here because he wanted you all.”

“I imagine so. His will keeps echoing in my head. I knew he would come even before he arrived.”

“… You mean you knew in your mind beforehand? Is that why you went out and drove him back?”

“Yes, that’s right. For some reason, he needed us, but we felt that could never be for good.”

Indeed, the dead here seemed to possess their own wills. If they were immune to decapitation and retained skills from their lives—

If it was many against one, not just one-on-one, they’d have the advantage. That must be how Joseph lost.

Franz rose limping and filled a kettle with hot water, then pressed it into Erich’s hands as he continued.

“I originally served as a military chaplain for the 6th Fortress.”

“… Chaplains? You were a priest? What crime could land you all the way here from the church—?”

“Everyone has their circumstances. ‘Act on Incensus’s will even in the lowest places’—that’s the church’s teaching, isn’t it? As a noble, you must know.”

“Sharp eyes.”

“The nobility have a way to their conduct that can’t be hidden. As a trainee, I saw enough of nobles to last me a lifetime. Anyway, that’s why I volunteered for the hardest, scariest post in the Watch.”

The hardest post in the Watch—perhaps this 6th Fortress fit Franz’s criteria perfectly. Surviving each day was a miracle for them.

‘Now I see why Gustav pitied Franz.’

He must have held deep respect among his comrades. The fact that a chaplain who could have safely stayed at the rear came all the way here must have scored him extra points.

But their personal stories aside, Erich wanted information from this place. So he asked,

“How have you kept your sanity so far?”

“….”

Franz appeared lost in thought, then pushed away his chair and stood.

—Creak.

“Just in time, I can show you.”

“… Show me what?”

—Flap.

Franz let his cloak fall. Erich squinted in response.

Franz’s whole body was covered in wounds. From within them, half his flesh had already turned dead, oozing blue blood.

The boundary between living and dead flesh was bound tight with leather straps.

He was preventing the dead tissue from invading further. But Erich knew that alone was not enough. If that could solve things, the dead wouldn’t be a threat at all.

—Shlick.

Franz took out a dagger. He drove it into his deadened forearm.

And the scene that followed made Erich’s face twist further.

—Scrape, scrape.

Franz began paring away his own flesh. Hand trembling from pain, he spoke with effort.

“… I don’t know who first started this. But the further the dead flesh spreads, the faster the process accelerates.”

“So, you were intentionally scraping away the dead meat and blood to resist it?”

“That’s right. If I slice away the flesh, it greatly slows the progress for a while.”

Even Erich closed his eyes tightly. This was not something any human should have to do. Because cutting away dead flesh didn’t mean it was gone—soon the new flesh would grow and he would have to scrape again.

He could only bear the pain himself.

There was an ancient myth in the Empire.

A human punished for stealing immortality from Incensus—having his liver pecked out every day by an eagle.

He could not die because he was granted immortality. Each morning, his liver returned; each day the agony began anew. Thus, the myth said, he lived and still suffered.

It might have been a myth intended to evoke reverence for the gods, but—

In that moment, Erich could not help but feel awe seeing one who endured even greater pain every day.

A punishment of scraping away half one’s body every day with one’s own hands. And these people, strictly speaking, weren’t even guilty of any crime.

—Scrape, scrape.

From outside, the same sound of flesh and bone being scraped could be heard. Drawing on memories of their former lives, the other dead continued to pare away at their bodies.

Bearing the unending agony. Hearing their silent weeping, Erich finally spoke.

“… But you know that even this won’t last forever, don’t you?”

“As you said. Those who become fully dead eventually stop this practice. Then those like me, who retain their reason, cull the lost.”

“Ghastly. To fight so long, only to find death in the end.”

“Perhaps that is happiness itself.”

“But why endure so long? Bearing up doesn’t make things better.”

“… I wasn’t the first to think of it. But someone did. If the dead abandoned here are left, one day the Angar Ravine will fill to overflowing.”

“… And then someone could emerge from there?”

“Yes. So my mission is to keep my reason as long as possible and pass on this knowledge to the next who arrives.”

Erich’s eyes narrowed. Did Richter know of their efforts? That was impossible to say. But what was certain: these people were doing the best they could.

Anyone else might have given up. Anyone might want to end everything in the face of such pain. Yet for all this time, without exception, these people had maintained their tradition. Erich felt the steel of their patience—a truly ‘bone-cutting effort.’

Soon, Franz, having scraped every dead part down nearly to the bone, covered himself once more with the black cloak.

His entire body was drenched in cold sweat, but steadying his breath, he spoke.

“… You’re not surprised by any of this, and since you’ve come from the Black Citadel, I suppose you’re here to bring an end to this farce.”

“That’s right. I won’t let anyone suffer this after you.”

“… That’s a relief.”

Franz closed his eyes, nodding wearily. Then continued.

“Will you clear out the fortress as well?”

“… Clear out the fortress?”

“… Wait, you mean, you didn’t know?”

Franz locked eyes with Erich, who quickly pressed for answers.

“Wasn’t it Joseph’s experiments on you that turned you into the dead? That’s what created the dead, right?”

“… No.”

“What?”

“Joseph was a Watchman. He’d already used the blood of the dead on many here in the fortress.”

Erich’s eyes widened.

‘Blood of the dead.’

That was the blood that could be harvested from the dead.

Humans who used the blood of the dead could instantly recover from mortal wounds—

Even grow new limbs.

But what Erich had overlooked was—

‘Among all the members I brought here, there are already those who have used the blood of the dead?’

That meant, instead, that he had brought those destined to become dead to this very place.

————-= Clacky’s Corner ————-=

Damn, it was Richter’s trap to silence Erich…

【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】

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