**Chapter Thirty-One: The King of Shadow**
The underground labyrinth trembled as if it were alive.
In an instant, I forgot the pain from the curse. It was clear that this was not a phenomenon of my own making. Perhaps if I waited, the tremors would subside, but considering the possibility of Senri being buried alive, I had no time to waste.
It seemed that this was also unexpected for Rufuri and the others. While enduring the shaking, they remained alert to the direction of power. When I glared at the floating Lord, he spoke without a hint of remorse.
“The time has come… The formation is already half-destroyed. The ritual is not perfect.”
Well, it couldn’t be helped now that it had happened. The fault lay with Rufuri and the others.
I could feel the swirling power at the center of the labyrinth. The deathly energy that surged from there was more intense than anything I had ever witnessed.
The Anarador had the ability to absorb deathly power. Some of the erupting energy flowed into me, but the majority was gathering at a single point.
A bad feeling crept over me. The DeSenador had a perfect strategy against vampires. If the ritual was fully prepared, the resurrected being would not be on my side. I had to act quickly.
For now, I emphasized that I was harmless.
“It’s your fault. I was—going to stop this, but…”
“What did you say!?”
The priority was escape. The exit was far above us. I was confident I could survive even if buried, but Senri was different. I could leave Rufuri and the others behind, but I had to ensure Senri escaped at all costs.
Setsuna hesitated. A sudden, intense pain surged through my body.
Ignoring the physical pain, I poured all my blood power into the effort.
A searing agony coursed through me, as if I were being sliced apart. I felt my soul tremble. Nebira’s glaring eyes locked onto me, distorting in disbelief.
“What… is happening…!?”
I had become a vampire, fought powerful enemies, and gained profound truths.
Power is—size. It is overwhelming mass and physical ability that one can rely on in dire situations. There was no time to return to the entrance we had used to come here. Therefore— I would push through.
My skin tore, and bones shattered. My clothes exploded off me. Perhaps it was reckless to use power in a cursed state, but the pain surging through me was enough to make even someone like me hesitate in an instant. It felt as if I were being burned by the fires of hell.
The black dog transformed from Albatos had a monstrous physique. However, the blood power I could unleash was beyond comparison. My physical form swelled to fill the narrow underground passage. I bumped my head against the ceiling, and my forelegs appeared like pillars in my vision.
Rufuri and the others took several steps back. The Eclipse Knight, who had once reduced me to just a head, now seemed like an ant. It was unfortunate that I couldn’t simply crush them like one.
I felt no sensation in my physical body. All that remained was pain. The extreme agony, rivaling the burning sensation I had experienced on the brink of death, threatened to consume my consciousness.
I scolded my tangled tongue and whispered.
“Ugh… Senri, Li, under me—”
I had no time to check for a response. Shaking my body, I filled my lungs with air and roared with all my might. My body felt like it was about to burst. I couldn’t even perceive my own roar as sound. The vibrations of the air exploded through the underground labyrinth, sending Rufuri and the others flying.
Even the sturdy underground labyrinth could not withstand a giant monster. Rainer had easily destroyed his own castle. The crumbling debris struck my body, but for me now, it felt like mere dust compared to what would have killed me in my bedridden days.
I surrendered to instinct. I kicked off the ground and leaped upward with all my might.
—
The castle that had stood serenely for many long years trembled.
The walls and pillars, once protected by powerful magic, showed signs of deterioration due to the elements. The air was cold, and there were holes in the ceiling.
Everything was the fault of humans. The castle that had once been ruled by the great King of the Dead had fallen into human hands and had become a ruin. The army of the King, once feared by all, had been destroyed, and now they were only spoken of in fairy tales.
In the deepest part of the ancient castle, where the throne room once stood, a single shadow lingered.
A black robe adorned with gold decorations. A deep hood obscured the face. The long staff held in hand resembled a priest’s silver staff, and the dark crystal decorations exuded an ominous aura.
From the loose sleeves extended a hand. The fingers gripping the staff were black and as dry as a mummy. The shadow spoke, its dry voice strangely resonating amidst the violent tremors.
“King… at last, this time has come—Ah… it has been a long time.”
The silver staff tapped the floor, sending ripples of magic around the crumbling formation.
Suddenly, the hood fell away.
Revealed was a head that seemed to dissolve into darkness. The dry black skin had hollow eye sockets, within which a faint red light glimmered. It was neither bone nor a living body filled with blood.
An immortal being, existing in a state close to death for an eternity, accumulating vast amounts of magical power.
A mutation of the Skeleton. Thanks to the efforts of the Order of the Final Knights, the Anarador had become a rare sight. Once a trusted aide to the Dark King, the Night Necromancer—Abiko Doro gazed up at the heavens with a sense of nostalgia.
It was a time that was hard to believe.
Many of the dark kings who had once reigned across the world had perished, and most of the necromancers that had once existed in numbers akin to the stars had been eradicated. Wars had diminished, and the magic that once could be wielded by the common folk had become the pursuit of only a select few with talent.
And more than anything—science. The power of science had easily produced many of the things that once required magical prowess.
Silver ornaments had become commonplace, and holy water that repelled darkness had become mass-produced. Though the DeSenador was rural, I heard that in the capital, the night was fading away completely.
Time had drastically changed the world. The power of the Order of the Final Knights, once at a stalemate, had grown through generations of refinement, reducing tragedies and diminishing the fear of darkness among the people.
Abiko Doro was merely a safeguard. The King had not considered defeat at all. It had taken time for the earthquake to awaken Abiko Doro, who had slept deep within the earth. From there, it took even more time to prepare for the ritual.
A vast amount of deathly power was necessary for resurrection. However, there had been no wars nearby. I had never imagined that an era filled with conflict and death would come to an end.
Caution was required. Even though Abiko Doro was permitted to wield magic, he could not fight against the Order of the Final Knights. He had taken control of the city, luring necromancers with remnants of his former master’s power and gathering death.
It was only a matter of time. Within a year, he could have fully resurrected his master.
The timing of the Order of the Final Knights taking notice was likely no coincidence.
Where there is light, there is also darkness. The Order of the Final Knights and the King of the Dead were two sides of the same coin. When the time for the great Dark King’s birth arrived, they would inevitably appear. It was fate.
But it was not too late. Abiko Doro’s mission was the resurrection of the King. Everything else was trivial.
The swirling dark power surrounded the ancient castle, once created as a site for rituals. It was a close call. Some parts of the magic circle had collapsed, but there was still enough power left to create a new physical body for the King. Once it had come this far, no one could stop the resurrection.
I felt an unstoppable surge of emotions. It was rare for an Anarador, whose mental impulses were thin, to experience such a thing.
The vibrations were the King’s first cry. With unparalleled power, the long-lost wish of the lonely King was about to be fulfilled by Abiko Doro.
“What… is this—”
At that moment, a small voice reached Abiko Doro’s ears, who was recalling the glory of the past and trembling.
“…Trash, huh?”
There was no need to turn around. The voice belonged to the mercenaries that Abiko Doro had commanded the mayor to gather.
Amidst the violent tremors, clinging to the wall and staring blankly at Abiko Doro, the once valiant figures of the mercenaries, who had crossed blades countless times during the age of conflict, were nowhere to be seen.
Their levels had dropped. In simple terms, that was the situation.
As wars diminished, power became unnecessary. Magical objects had been eradicated due to the advancement of human civilization—and the worst of it was the gun.
In the era when the King of Shadow reigned, such weapons did not exist.
Those were terrifying weapons that could kill without power. With just silver bullets that dispelled magic, even a child might be able to kill Abiko Doro.
Though far weaker than magic, it excelled in terms of convenience. However, for a powerful being like Abiko Doro, as long as one remained vigilant, firearms posed no threat whatsoever.
At that thought, Abiko Doro let out a deep sigh.
“But— even trash has its uses.”
Abiko Doro couldn’t afford to move carelessly. The power of death had been gathered through the hired mercenaries. Their names were lost to him; since the preparations began, they had changed so many times that he couldn’t keep track of human names.
Finally, the mercenaries raised their voices.
“What the hell… is that!?”
Though he had not mastered necromancy, Abiko Doro’s magic was more powerful than any mage of this era. Modern mercenaries, lacking the power of sorcery, were no match for him.
When the master was resurrected, a new army would be necessary. Even the bones of the mundane could serve a purpose.
He raised his tin staff. Sharpening his will without uttering a word, countless arrows of pitch-blackness materialized in the air. It was a spell of corrosion. Capable of decaying flesh and producing pristine bones, it had once greatly contributed to the king.
At that moment, the expression of the leading man twisted in fear for the first time.
“A mage!?”
The reaction was far too slow, eliciting not just mockery but even irritation. The men showed no sign of fleeing from the arrows that had been unleashed.
As the darkness surged forth to devour the mercenaries, the castle shook violently.
The arrows were suddenly blocked by something that emerged from the floor. A massive chunk of debris, propelled by the giant’s bulk, crushed the ground right beside Abiko Doro.
At that moment, Abiko Doro unleashed a second wave.
He swung his tin staff high, directing its tip toward the newly appeared black wall. A skilled mage wielded magic as effortlessly as breathing. The flaming arrows that erupted pierced the black wall in rapid succession.
In that instant, Abiko Doro’s eye sockets twisted for the first time.
The arrows of flame, a manifestation of heat unbearable to humans, were extinguished at the surface.
Abiko Doro understood. It was a clash. Magic could be nullified by even stronger magic. Against the deceased, he had commanded excessive measures.
A monster bearing an ancient curse that could overcome all forms of magic. The natural enemy of mages.
Despite possessing numerous weaknesses, it reigned as a symbol of darkness.
A moment ago, the burning emotions that surged within him, ignited by the impending resurrection of the king, now seared through Abiko Doro.
“A vampire… are you going to interfere with us again?”
A massive black beast adeptly climbed over the half-destroyed floor using its forelegs. Its irises glimmered like blood, shining with the fervor of battle. The pupils narrowed as it looked down at Abiko Doro.
A voice, resonating from the depths of the earth, enveloped Abiko Doro.
“That would be our Seliph. But… it’s the complete opposite of usual.”