Chapter 90

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

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Chapter 90: The Graveyard of the Dead (2)

The village of Hendel, bathed in the glow of the sunset, was remarkably large for a mountain settlement.

Surrounded by 5-meter-high wooden walls, the village housed dozens of quaint homes clustered together in harmony.

In the open central square stood a small fountain, adding a sense of spaciousness to the village.

"It's a nice village. But..."

Oscar observed the expressions of the villagers passing by.

He couldn’t sense the relaxed, warm atmosphere typical of rural mountain folk.

"Everyone looks as though they haven’t slept in days."

The likely cause of their unease was the undead said to appear at the graveyard every night.

As Oscar surveyed his surroundings, an old ball rolled to his feet.

"......"

A young girl, no older than five, came running after it, glancing nervously at him.

Kneeling on one knee to meet her eye level, Oscar gave her a gentle smile.

"Is this your ball?"

"Y-yes…"

"The air's all out of it."

With a loud whoosh, the ball inflated rapidly and floated back down in front of the girl’s face.

Watching the magical sight, the girl burst into laughter.

“Alice! I told you not to talk to strangers!”

A woman, likely her mother, rushed over, grabbing the child’s hand and hurriedly dragging her away.

Veronica, witnessing the scene, grumbled.

“Seriously? Did we do something wrong? Why’d she react like that?”

"......Not sure. It seems they’re particularly wary of mages."

It was no surprise, considering the mother had turned pale after seeing him use magic.

At that moment, a young man who had been observing the scene hesitantly approached them.

“Uh, are you perhaps mages from the White Tower?”

“Yes, we are. We’re here to see Chief George of Hendel.”

“Oh! Oh, wonderful!”

The man, looking relieved, quickly offered to guide them.

“I’ll take you straight to the chief’s house.”

“That would be helpful. Thank you.”

As they followed him, Oscar asked a simple question.

“Do the villagers dislike mages in general?”

“Ah... I sincerely apologize for what just happened. Please, don’t take offense…”

“No need to apologize. I’m not offended. I was just curious.”

After gauging Oscar’s sincerity, the young man nodded.

“Yes, well... the atmosphere in the village wasn’t like this until last week. Things have been unsettled lately. Do you know what’s been happening here?”

“I heard that undead are appearing in the graveyard at night.”

“Exactly. That’s why everyone’s on edge. Fights have been breaking out more frequently.”

It wasn’t uncommon.

To the villagers, undead weren’t just trivial monsters—they were a source of tremendous fear.

After knocking on the door of a large house, the young man announced,

“Chief, the guests from the White Tower have arrived.”

Amid the commotion from inside, the door swung open.

“Oh, welcome!”

An elderly man with white hair greeted them warmly and ushered them in.

“Come in, have a seat. Let me see... What can I offer you? Ah! I have some herbal tea that’s good for the body.”

Rather than refuse, they waited patiently.

Soon, the chief returned with a steaming pot of tea.

“Thank you for the hospitality.”

“I’m not sure if city folk will like it.”

“It’s wonderful. Feels like it’s rejuvenating my body.”

Smiling faintly, Oscar set down his teacup and introduced himself.

Once the pleasantries were done, he got straight to the point.

“I hope it’s not rude to bring this up right away, but I’d like to hear about the undead situation in detail.”

“Oh, not at all! It’s a relief that you’re here.”

Chief George eagerly began explaining.

“The first time those creatures crawled out of the ground was exactly nine days ago.”

“What exactly are they?”

“Skeletons.”

Skeletons.

Among the undead, they were classified as the weakest.

While some could grow stronger over time, nine days wasn’t long enough for that.

“How strong are they?”

“Our guards have managed to defeat them several times, but they keep getting back up after a short while.”

That was the terrifying part of the undead.

Without destroying their core with precise mana, they would continually resurrect—true to their name, undead.

Listening quietly, Killian asked his first question.

“Was there anything unusual before the undead began appearing? Like a villager performing a suspicious ritual to see a loved one or someone buying a magical scroll?”

“I can assure you, no such thing happened. None of the villagers have left recently, and the merchants who come by don’t deal in such items.”

“Hmm.”

Killian glanced at Oscar, who nodded knowingly.

“There’s no lie in that.”

He explained further,

“The reason I ask is that the emergence of undead usually falls into two categories.”

Raising a finger, Oscar began counting.

“The first is natural occurrence. You’ve probably heard of spirits with unresolved grudges defying the natural order to appear in this world.”

“But... as far as I know, no one in our village died with such a tremendous grudge.”

“That makes the second case more likely.”

Oscar’s expression turned grim.

“Necromancy.”

“Are you saying a mage is responsible for this?”

“It’s a possibility. We’ll need to investigate further to know for sure.”

He then asked the chief,

“By the way, I heard rumors that mages from the Black Tower have been spotted nearby. Is that true?”

“Yes, it is. They showed up about a week ago and are staying at the village inn.”

“Do you know why they’re here?”

“...No, we don’t. They have such an intimidating aura that no one dares to ask.”

“Hm.”

Oscar fell into thought.

The undead appearing nightly were merely skeletons—the lowest of the low.

‘Would the Black Tower really come all this way just to mess around with such trivial monsters?’

Moreover, it was impossible for them to be unaware that this village lay within the territory of the White Tower.

They wouldn’t have made an unnecessary visit without some purpose.

"Is there any chance there are hidden underground resources or a mine near the village?"

"Huh? No, nothing like that."

"Then what about historical ruins?"

"None of those either…"

Was it another dead end?

If so, then what was it?

Why were the Black Tower people snooping around here?

Unable to resolve his doubts, Oscar slowly nodded.

"Understood. Starting tonight, I’ll head to the cemetery to begin the investigation."

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

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"Oh, thank you! The lodging prepared for you is the house with the blue roof, just to the right of mine."

"We’re the ones who should be grateful for your hospitality."

As soon as they stepped out of the village chief's house, the sharp-eyed Veronica asked,

"Still suspecting the Black Tower, aren’t you?"

"Yes. They remain the most likely suspects. After all, they’re staying at the inn here."

"Isn’t it strange? If they were really the culprits, would they show themselves so openly like this?"

"That’s…"

He wasn’t sure.

After all, they were audacious enough to do just that.

Oscar swallowed his retort and began walking.

"Oscar. It’s not that way. He clearly said the blue-roofed house to the right."

"I know. But before going to the lodging, let’s grab something to eat."

With that, he entered the inn where the Black Tower mages were reportedly staying.

* * *

"Here is your order: steak, potato salad, and mushroom soup."

The first floor of the inn was naturally a tavern and dining area.

The three ordered meals suited to their tastes, but unfortunately, there was no sign of the Black Tower mages.

"They’re not here."

"It’s a bit early for dinner, so that’s probably why."

"Steak is always the right choice."

Oscar nibbled at his soup while glancing repeatedly toward the staircase.

You never knew when they might come down.

Watching him while eating her salad, Veronica voiced her curiosity.

"Have you fought the Black Tower mages before?"

"…No, why do you ask?"

"Because you seem especially hostile toward them."

Hostile, huh?

Oscar gave a bitter smile.

Had twenty years dulled even the enormity of the Black Tower’s crimes?

"Given the necromancy angle, I think it’s reasonable to suspect the Black Tower."

"That’s ancient history. Everything’s changed since the war."

"Speaking of, let me ask you something."

Oscar wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and continued,

"What exactly has changed? I mean, compared to before the war."

"Well, for starters, you know the Black Tower got a lot of hate during the war, right?"

"Of course."

The reason was simple.

"The 13th Tower Master of the Black Tower, Silgrim Fonerth."

The most infamous traitor in history, who betrayed humanity and sided with the demons.

He turned 1,900 comrades who trusted and followed him into corpses, then crossed the Red Mountains that very night.

Calling it a single act of betrayal didn’t do justice to the catastrophic damage he inflicted on humanity.

An entire frontline was wiped out, and it took four months to recover from the demon forces that surged in through the gap.

"Right. The Black Tower paid for producing that abominable man by being effectively dismembered after the war."

"Dismembered, how?"

"The royal family outlawed necromancy under national law."

Veronica spoke while chewing on her potato salad.

"There’s one exception, though. If the royal family grants special approval, it’s allowed."

"…That approval must be almost impossible to get."

"Exactly. But even so, the Black Tower’s necromancy faction hasn’t completely disappeared."

"What?"

Oscar frowned.

How could the faction survive if necromancy was forbidden?

"They use golems now."

"Golems?"

"Yes. The Black Tower is a leader in the iron and steel industry. They craft mechanical golems from their unique advanced alloys. Since they can’t use corpses, they rely on golems."

Necromancy without corpses.

Wasn’t that like the White Tower without magic?

Oscar let out a dry laugh.

"That does sound like being dismembered."

"Like I said, they had no choice but to adapt, whether willingly or not."

One thing became clear.

The royal family clearly despised and rejected the Black Tower.

Probably because they had firsthand experience with its power and danger during the war.

‘Which means that even in this crippled state, they’re still accomplishing that much.’

As far as Oscar knew, the Black Tower ranked fourth in overall achievements among the towers.

In other words, if not for the White Tower, they could have been one of the Four Great Towers.

‘I didn’t realize they were doing this well…’

At that moment, a creaking sound came from the staircase leading to the second floor.

Simultaneously.

"…"

"…"

Oscar locked eyes with a group of individuals clad in black robes.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

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