Chapter 54: Clear Spring

As Shante continued his explanation, the expressions on Talice and Asa's faces grew increasingly grim.

"Rodhart…" Talice struggled to say his name. His face was covered in stitches, scars of the gruesome transformation he had undergone, but she still recognized him. Just two nights ago, he had been the subject of their late-night discussions—a former companion of Asa, the very same knight captain who had betrayed them in the royal capital.

Not long ago, he had been a man of laughter and charm, a young, elegant knight so captivating that even a queen had fallen for him. And now… now he was this—this monstrous creation, twisted and reshaped while still alive. That once turbulent yet vibrant life, a tale filled with highs and lows, had been reduced to nothing more than technical jargon about organs and modifications from a necromancer's lips.

For Asa, it was even worse. Rodhart had been his comrade, someone who had walked alongside him through an extraordinary chapter of life. He had seen Rodhart's innocence and kindness, had witnessed his glory in the dueling ring, had known his warm and affable smile. And now, all of that—the brilliant, colorful existence that once was—had been erased, replaced by cold, lifeless necromantic terminology.

"You know these two?" Shante finally noticed their reactions. "Ah, well… I suppose they can't really be called 'people' anymore. According to Lord Akibard's classification, these should be called 'Dread Knights' or, more precisely, 'Death Knights.'"

Asa did not respond. He kept his mouth shut, fearing that if he spoke, he would vomit.

Ayime, on the other hand, had already begun retching midway through Shante's detailed explanation. When she heard Talice utter the monster's name, she froze for a moment—then promptly doubled over and vomited even harder, as if trying to expel the horror from her very being.

After the initial shock and a brief explanation, Asa reluctantly accepted control over the two undead knights from Shante. The method of control was surprisingly simple—easier even than commanding ordinary zombies or skeletons. These Death Knights retained much of their original instincts and could act on his commands with little more than a thought.

He had no choice. The road ahead was going to be treacherous. According to Shante, though these Death Knights were not yet fully complete, their combat abilities had already surpassed what they had in life. They would be invaluable on this underground journey.

No matter how much he loathed it, Asa had no choice but to accept these "gifts."

That kind of transformation was irreversible. Asa knew this process was far more intricate and difficult than the modifications he had performed for the queen back in the royal capital. Shante hadn't just altered their bodies—he had used necromantic magic to reshape their minds as well. Now, neither of them had any thoughts of their own. What remained were only the necessary combat skills and instincts, leaving them hardly different from the dead.

Perhaps… that wasn't such a bad thing. Even if Rodhart were still alive, his fate likely wouldn't have been much better—not for himself, nor for anyone around him. A man who could never be satisfied was dangerous to everyone.

The lizard, as large as a crocodile, had been half-eaten. The two Death Knights instinctively halted their feeding, then stood still like statues, motionless and lifeless. They were digesting their meal, converting it into necromantic energy to sustain their altered bodies. As long as it was flesh, they could consume it—but, according to Shante, decayed human flesh was the most optimal fuel for their modified stomachs.

The damp air near the underground river nurtured an abundance of glowing plants, casting a dim, eerie light over the cavern. Asa closed his eyes, hoping to catch some rest. Their destination was not far now, and it would be wise to regain some energy.

But as soon as he shut his eyes, Rodhart's face surfaced in his mind—that face, stitched together from repeated cranial surgeries, and those vacant, soulless eyes.

Once this mission was over… should he let Rodhart continue existing like this? Or should he grant him true death? Asa hesitated. Death could be a release. Especially for someone in Rodhart's condition.

In death, there would be nothing left. No ambitions, no desires—no worries, no unnecessary struggles. Yes… perhaps it would be better if he just—

Asa's thoughts blurred as he drifted toward sleep. And, as if it were an aftereffect of once grasping the hilt of Black Star, his mind once again sank into that infinite abyss of death's consciousness.

The darkness was everywhere. Death was everywhere. That sensation crept up from the deepest part of his body, slowly drowning out all other feelings. It was as if he were sinking into an endless abyss, a vast and fathomless black pool, descending further and further down…

To die. To rot. To never wake again.

Rodhart's smile flashed before him—his once gallant figure, his glory, his laughter, the slight guilt in his eyes after betraying them… Then, finally, that blank, stitched-up face. Muscles refined through necromantic rituals. Bones inscribed with magic arrays. A liver and stomach worth dissecting and studying…All of it twisted together, battering against his chest like a massive siege hammer.

Asa jerked awake.

Lurching forward, his stomach convulsed violently, and he vomited everything he had barely managed to eat earlier. But it wasn't enough. His body kept rejecting, spasming, forcing up bile until he had nothing left.

While awake, he could barely suppress it with reason and willpower. But the moment he drifted into sleep, the remnants of Black Star's power surged forth, dragging Rodhart's fate into his core. That black, suffocating presence of death, tangled with sorrow, fear, loss, and despair, magnified endlessly in his subconscious until he was utterly defenseless against it.

He dry-heaved for a long while before the fit finally subsided. His stomach was empty now, but the suffocating weight in his chest hadn't lessened in the slightest. Only fear, grief… and the overwhelming presence of death remained.

Footsteps approached. Talice emerged from one of the tunnels, pausing when she saw him. "What's wrong? You feeling sick?"

Asa didn't answer. He turned and walked toward the underground river.

She followed.

The water was icy, sharp enough to jolt the senses awake. Asa knelt by the river and splashed his face, the piercing cold washing away some of his discomfort. Then, without hesitation, he plunged his head into the river.

He stayed there for a while. Finally, he pulled himself up, gasping for breath.

"You always act like nothing bothers you. Like you don't care about anything, like nothing ever fazes you," Talice said, watching him. "I thought you didn't have emotions."

Asa didn't reply. He just turned his head and shot her a cold, sharp glare. His mood was utterly wrecked.

The freezing river had cleansed his body, but the suffocating weight in his chest only grew heavier, pressing down with unbearable force.

He felt like he wanted to die. But he didn't want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to survive.

"Ayime is already asleep," Talice said. Due to the angle, she couldn't see Asa's expression.

"Then why aren't you sleeping?" Asa said coldly, his voice stifled and grim.

Talice suddenly said, "I know you're feeling awful. Two nights ago, you talked about him for half the night. And ever since you took command of these two… creatures, you've barely spoken a word. Your face has looked terrible all this time... I just want to say, what happened is irreversible. No one can change it. And to some extent, he brought this upon himself."

Asa still didn't reply, only breathing heavily. The suffocating feeling in his chest seemed to grow heavier.

Talice glanced at him, then suddenly said, "I'm sorry, I don't know how to comfort people."

The glow from the bioluminescent plants cast a hazy yet clear light on her figure. The female knight looked a little awkward, like a child uncertain of what to do, yet at the same time, she was calm and straightforward. The leather armor outlined her tall, slender figure, and with her hair tied up, her long neck was exposed. At a glance, she looked like an exceptionally handsome young man. Everything about her—her stance, her voice, her presence—radiated vitality.

But Asa knew she was not a man. He knew it very well. And now, that knowledge became remarkably clear, leaping out from his memories with startling vividness. In the vast darkness that clouded his mind, this was the only bright, lively thing left—an instinctive source of warmth and life that he wanted to grasp.

He also remembered that when he had been drowning in the boundless darkness of the Black Star, it was her voice that had cut open a small crack, pulling him back. Now, he wanted that crack again—not just in sound, but something real, something warm, something tangible and undeniable.

"So, you came to comfort me?" Asa gave her a strange smile. The crushing weight of his suppressed emotions bore down on him, and suddenly, he had a bizarre thought. No—strictly speaking, it wasn't even a thought, but a primal impulse.

Talice nodded. "Even though you're an annoying person, we are, to some extent, companions. And sometimes... you're not that bad... What are you doing?"

She watched Asa as he stepped toward her. At first, she was confused, but then—suddenly—she felt a flicker of fear.

As a knight, she had never felt fear, even in the face of zombies, skeletons, or vampires. She could not think of any reason she should be afraid of this man, who was supposedly her companion.

Yet at this moment, looking at him, she truly felt fear. A deep, instinctive apprehension.

This isn't the fear that a knight might feel, but the fear that a woman might feel. Although she didn't seem to see or hear anything unusual, she sensed it.

"Aren't you supposed to comfort me?" Asa's voice was already trembling. For the first time, he realized that he had lost control in this regard. He abruptly reached out and pulled Talice into his embrace. One arm wrapped around her waist, while the other hand cradled the back of her neck. He fiercely kissed her lips, with a desperation akin to someone who had gone centuries without a single drop of water, now craving a clear spring.