Chapter 047. Ruins (3)

'A past so distant that I can hardly remember now...'

The Death Knight was a husband, a knight. Just an ordinary husband with a daughter, like any other family.

But even in such a harmonious household, misfortune came without warning. The necromancer of the Demon Cult that attacked the city and the countless undead that followed him were his enemies.

Thus, he struck down his foes. As he swung his sword, to the point of losing consciousness, soon there were only the corpses of his enemies left beside him, not comrades or allies.

In the end, he was defeated. He was reborn as a Death Knight, a mechanical being tasked with guarding the city, trapped in darkness.

What was given to him was a tedious mission. Even though an unfathomably long time had passed, the number of people visiting the city could be counted on one hand.

Only the thread of patience was becoming increasingly loose. Even though his body did not require food, water, or sleep, the long years had brought him a sense of ennui.

─Grrr...

Looking at the torn right side of his armor, the knight let out a laugh.

No, it would be a ridiculous sound to even call it laughter. The skeletal remains visible through the armor at the end of his gaze proved that. He was a dead man. There was no way a voice, the proof of life, could come from one who lived without truly living.

The knight raised his great sword. Even if it was an unexpected visitor, the power felt was enough to evoke admiration for the skill of the opponent.

As a knight, now unable to die as a Death Knight, he could only feel glad to share his sword with such a being.

"Is it funny?"

The knight turned his gaze to the enemy. The enemy, too, seemed to find this situation quite amusing, as a smile was drawn on his lips despite the words.

It was truly a delightful thing. To exchange blows with an enemy who had suddenly appeared was unexpectedly enjoyable.

Clang!

Having already lost his voice to the passage of time, the knight expressed himself through action instead.

He lifted his great sword. Perhaps it was a response, as the blue-haired man, his enemy, raised his sword with a similarly joyful expression.

─Hooong!

And the clash began anew. With every collision of sword and great sword, the knight felt the disparity in power deeply. The human before him still bore traces of youth, yet how could he possess such strength?

From the start, he was not a match for the opponent. With a heart of benevolent service, he faced himself and the sword.

Thus, the knight had no choice but to give it his all. Beings with inherently great power tend to have eccentric temperaments. Therefore, clashing with all his might was his way of showing respect to the enemy.

─Kakakakak!

The terrible sound of metal clashing echoed throughout the arena. Though it was only a few exchanges, the knight found this situation immensely enjoyable.

* * *

"Such..."

As the intensity of the exchanges grew, Beatrice muttered to herself in a daze.

Just the fact that Veris was exchanging blows with the Death Knight was enough to make her head spin. Yet he did not stop there; he was craving an even fiercer battle.

And... this was not a scene that a mindless undead would show. For some reason, Beatrice felt as if she were watching a frail master spar with a disciple honing his swordsmanship.

─Bang!

As Veris's sword grazed the lower left part of the Death Knight's armor once more, a large hole appeared again.

The outcome was already clear without needing to determine a winner or loser. Yet, the knight, who knew this better than anyone, continued to exchange blows without tiring, leaving Beatrice with no choice but to silently watch the spectacle.

'Incredible.'

As she observed the battle, she had a simple thought.

In truth, after reading Gunther's letter, when Veris spoke of his strength, she had not trusted him much.

But... witnessing this scene, she had no choice but to acknowledge that she had been narrow-minded.

─Clang! Crack!

The exchanges were still ongoing at this very moment. Of course, it was awkward to call it an exchange, as Veris maintained a relaxed demeanor, as if he were merely out for a stroll.

"Truly, his swordsmanship is the most outstanding I have ever seen in my life."

Beatrice gazed blankly at their battle, captivated by Veris's heartfelt exclamation.

Regrettably, she found it hard to distinguish just how exceptional the battle between Veris and the Death Knight was. She could only vaguely sense that tremendous power and mana were clashing.

Perhaps her younger brother Gunther, who had trained in swordsmanship unlike her, would have reacted differently.

─Ching!

As damage continued to accumulate on the Death Knight's armor, a problem eventually arose.

Naturally, the issue did not arise from Veris. The Death Knight, who had been wielding the great sword like a toy, suddenly swung it through the air and it fell to the distant ground.

A strange silence enveloped the space between Veris and the Death Knight. The outcome had already been decided.

"This is your true power."

The two men exchanged glances without a word. Even without speaking or expressing intentions, Veris seemed to act as if he understood the Death Knight's heart.

Step by step.

After Veris sheathed his sword, he approached the standing Death Knight.

"W-wait! It's dangerous!"

Beatrice could only exclaim in shock.

Even if the Death Knight was half-disarmed, his power was clearly dangerous. Surely he knew that; what kind of confidence was this?

"No, it's not dangerous."

"What do you mean! You don't know anything about Death Knights. They are beings who are subdued and obey the commands of the necromancer, mechanically carrying out their tasks. They are not beings to appeal to emotions!"

In frustration, Beatrice shouted. She felt that her voice was filled with urgency, enough to be the loudest she had ever spoken in her life.

But whether Veris was aware of Beatrice's worries or not, he continued to move forward. When he reached the feet of the Death Knight, he absurdly patted the Death Knight's shoulder.

"Uh, huh?"

It was as if Veris was encouraging his opponent. Beatrice, watching this scene, let out a bewildered sound.

The Death Knight. They were surely beings who would burn even their souls to eliminate intruders... what was this sight?

"I told you it's not dangerous."

Faced with Veris's encouragement, the Death Knight looked up at the sky.

It was a terrifyingly beautiful sky. Though it was a purple sky artificially created within the dungeon, the Death Knight was surely longing for that blue sky.

Thud!

The heavy armor of the Death Knight, which had lowered its head, struck the ground. It was not merely a comical act of surrender. Astonishingly, he knelt down and looked up at Veris.

Swish!

Soon, Veris's sword, which had been sheathed, was drawn once more.

Beatrice watched this unnecessary repetition with a look of disbelief.

"What a pity. If you had been born now instead of in the past, you would have been a formidable opponent, far beyond a mere Sword Demon."

Veris felt a bitterness in his mouth as he looked at the undead's blue gaze, which exuded a sense of detachment, unafraid of death.

Death.

Those who wield swords often express such sentiments. However, that does not mean that death is entirely good.

"..."

Only then did Beatrice realize what Veris was trying to do. He was trying to witness the end of the Death Knight, who had been fighting until now.

It was not something easily understood. Just moments ago, they had been exerting all their strength to take each other's lives.

─Flash!

Veris's normal strike revealed its true power.

"Congratulations. You are free."

The sword that fell towards the Death Knight descended with a level of mana that was nothing short of miraculous, devoid of any mercy.

Clang!

The relic of the old Age of Magic, freed from the constraints of necromancy and mana, fell.

No, to evaluate it coldly, it was almost comical to say he fell. The moment Veris's light pierced him, the blue gaze vanished along with emerald smoke.

Only the heavy armor the Death Knight had worn and the large great sword, now far away, remained in the plaza where the battle had taken place.

* * *

The search continued. However, thanks to Veris, who had become infinitely more taciturn compared to before, Beatrice could only watch him closely.

Since the battle with the Death Knight, Veris seemed to be deep in thought. In this situation, it would be a mistake for her to try to lighten the mood.

Thus, a strange silence lingered between them. To be honest, Beatrice had so many questions she wanted to ask... but she was controlling herself with the unique patience of a magician.

"Beatrice."

"...Yes?"

"That Death Knight we just fought."

"Yes."

"He looked happy when he died."

"..."

Beatrice recalled the moment the Death Knight was liberated from the shackles of life. He was already a worn-out skeletal knight. Thus, he had no way to express his will, but Beatrice thought he had smiled in his final moments.

What can I say? There is a certain atmosphere that can be felt without needing to be spoken. Thus, she nodded in agreement with Veris's thoughts.

"Was it the Demon Cult that turned that knight into a Death Knight?"

Veris's voice was somewhat hollow. When he was with others, he wore a playful smile, but now he had a cold expression.

"Probably... The end of the Age of Magic is said to be due to the Demon Cult's successful summoning of the demon king, according to academic consensus."

"Right."

Thud.

Veris nodded and sat on the remains of a building. It was a massive rock that made the term 'remains' seem inadequate.

"I really hate those guys."

"...Are you talking about the Demon Cult?"

"Yeah. They've been disrupting my peace since long ago. I don't like their methods either."

Veris muttered as he drew his sword and began to inspect its condition. Despite his exceptional ability to protect his sword during battle through precise mana control, several parts were already chipped.

"Should I kill them all?"

Beatrice shuddered at his chilling voice.

Even though she knew Veris's sword was not aimed at her, she could still feel an unexpressed killing intent.

"I think..."

Beatrice, who was about to offer some comforting words, had to stop speaking.

The reason was simple. It was just awkward. Since forming the Circle, it had become difficult for her to say even a warm word to her family.

In such a context, she had no confidence to empathize with this man or to support him.

"I..."

Beatrice's expression turned sorrowful.

The Circle, the method of training vision magic at the Magic Tower, was holding her back.'''