Chapter 43: The King of the Desert – (1)
(I)
Demons and humans.
Though their appearance and intelligence are endlessly similar, these two races can never coexist.
As if it were etched into their very bones, they have pointed their blades at each other for hundreds, even thousands of years.
…A thousand years ago, the Demon King, often referred to as the ruler of demons, was slain by the first hero, and all demons were driven to the northernmost reaches of the continent.
It seemed the war had finally reached its conclusion, but that was merely an illusion.
After a time of peace that could be considered either short or long, the surviving demons quietly selected a new Demon King and began regaining their strength, once again invading the lands of humans.
Their ultimate goal was to seize the warm and prosperous lands of humanity.
The northern lands where the exiled demons resided were desolate and cold, forcing them to continuously attempt southward invasions, driven not only by hatred but also by the survival and revival of their race.
…With the determination to survive and for the sake of their race, the demons launched fierce attacks.
As their relentless assaults, both large and small, continued without respite, human exhaustion reached its peak.
…Thus, the humans built a city in the northernmost strategic stronghold, a place the demons had to pass through to reach the warm southern lands they coveted.
A city encircled by a staggering seven layers of impenetrable iron walls.
The ultimate fortress of humanity, encompassing every military and wartime capability in one place.
The fortress city, Nevirthol.
Ever since the massive city of iron was established at the northern border of the Avilia Kingdom, the demons have been unable to take even a single step into human territory.
For decades, even centuries.
And forevermore.
No one, no being, will ever breach the Avilia Kingdom’s Nevirthol.
…Not even if the Progenitor Vampire, humanity’s worst catastrophe, were to return.
***
(II)
“…Ridiculous.”
In the frozen mining town of Lavaheart, within its library, I scoffed as I closed a book about my next destination, the fortress city of Nevirthol.
The city didn’t exist a thousand years ago, so I stopped by the library for a quick investigation before setting out, only to find the books filled with nonsense.
“…What? The Demon King was slain by the first hero? That coward?”
All the library’s books credited the Demon King’s defeat to the first hero, whose name had since been erased—Vellius Varius.
But in reality, it was I, the Progenitor Vampire, the one humanity labels as their enemy, who killed the Demon King. It was my undead army that repelled the demon forces.
Had I not joined the hero’s party out of goodwill, humanity would have already become the demons’ slaves.
“That damned elf woman…”
I frowned.
As I’ve felt since my time at the library in Ermaile, all historical accounts concerning me over the past thousand years have been manipulated to portray me negatively.
Even accomplishments I was once proud of have now been reduced to mere memories within myself.
The thought was deeply bitter.
“…We’ll see.”
That bitterness, however, was overshadowed by humanity’s ingratitude and my fury toward Varius and Lilianel.
My eyes burned as I rekindled the resolve for vengeance I had sworn over the past millennium.
…I would deliver the greatest pain and retribution possible.
“Hah…”
With a deep breath to calm myself, I carefully returned the book to the shelf.
Although I came across plenty of infuriating information, I managed to extract crucial details about Nevirthol, my next destination.
The fortress city of Nevirthol.
The highest command post for battles against the demons, humanity’s final bastion.
If it fell, it would mean the extinction of humanity itself.
And as such, the fortress city of Nevirthol was built to be impregnable and unyielding.
Surrounded by seven colossal walls of iron, equipped with moats, advanced magical defenses, and protective enchantments, the city was safeguarded to perfection.
From the descriptions in the books, even Lilianel herself would likely choose to take refuge there.
The author, perhaps exaggerating, claimed it was a city even the Progenitor Vampire could not conquer.
It was safe, strong, and the best place to entrust oneself within the kingdom.
“…Laughable.”
But I simply let out a derisive laugh.
It was only a matter of time.
There was no city my tens of thousands of undead could not conquer. If I so desired, I could besiege it for years, starving everyone inside to death.
Even if the walls were tenfold or twentyfold, Nevirthol would fall to my hands.
And finally, after a thousand years, I would have a touching, tear-filled reunion with Lilianel.
…A scene I never tired of imagining.
“…Tina.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Is everything ready?”
“Yes, all the warhorses are waiting outside. Just give the order, and we can depart immediately.”
“…Good.”
At my inquiry about the preparations to head to Nevirthol, my loyal Zombie Maid, Tina, bowed her head and responded.
Satisfied with her answer, I smiled.
“Let’s depart immediately. We have a long journey ahead.”
“Yes, Master.”
I stepped out of the library without hesitation.
…Nevirthol lies in the northernmost region of the Avilia Kingdom, perched on the border.
From here in southern Lavaheart, it would take a significant amount of time, even traveling day and night.
“The Desert of Silence…”
Moreover, reaching Nevirthol requires crossing the Desert of Silence, a vast expanse of sand.
The nature of the sandy terrain slows progress, and the desert, untouched by human hands, is teeming with rare monsters and bandits.
Even a thousand years ago, when I roamed the lands, the Desert of Silence was regarded as a labyrinth of peril.
With its expanded size now, it’s even more dangerous and harsh. It’s far from a safe or pleasant place.
Under normal circumstances, I would opt for a detour or use a Teleportation Hub, but with all hubs shut down and time of the essence, there was no other choice.
And,
“…Who would dare stop me?”
…Who could possibly stand in my way?
This is the world of Avalon’s Tower, a thousand years later.
Even back then, no one dared to confront me head-on, and with military power regressed over the past millennium, no one exists now who could halt my advance.
If anyone dared to stop me—whether it was a monster from the desert, a bandit, or even the Earth Goddess Astira—I would crush them and move forward.
…For the past thousand years, I had endlessly repeated my vow for revenge. If anyone interfered with that, they too would become the target of my vengeance.
“…Let’s go.”
With eyes blazing red with anger, I took my first step toward Nevirthol.
Swearing to kill all who dared stand in my way.
***
(III)
“Thank you for escorting me, Kelrathus.”
…Exactly two days away from the fortress city, Nevirthol.
Amidst the lush greenery of the forest, a woman clad in luxurious adventurer’s armor bowed her head in gratitude to the skeletal dragon, whose entire body was composed of bones.
-Kyahssaaaaaak!!
The mighty skeletal dragon known as Kelrathus, the loyal servant of the great Necromancer Lord, Elzerba, roared into the air as if responding.
Afterward, it flapped its wings and ascended into the sky, returning to its master’s side.
“…”
Just like Kelrathus disappearing into the night sky, Isera, Elzerba’s other servant, stood motionless, her gaze fixed on the dragon until it disappeared from sight.
“Huuu….”
Only when Kelrathus had become as small as the stars in the night sky and vanished from view did she let out a deep sigh and shift her body.
Her white hair and jade-like skin glimmered under the moonlight. It was clear she felt uncomfortable wearing the adventurer’s armor, as she continuously fidgeted.
“How do humans even wear something like this?”
Isera furrowed her brow at the cumbersome and unnecessarily heavy armor she was wearing.
Armor made to protect the wearer from monsters or enemies seemed nothing more than crude and pointless to her.
She shook her head at the ignorance of humans who crafted such impractical gear.
This armor wouldn’t even be able to withstand a single proper attack from her ice magic.
If it hadn’t been bestowed upon her by the great Elzerba herself, she wouldn’t have spared it a second glance.
“….”
Isera closed her eyes, reflecting on why she had shed her cherished snow-white attire and donned this crude armor.
She pondered the reason Elzerba had given her this task, why she had come to Nevirthol ahead of her master, riding Kelrathus.
…The voice of the beautiful progenitor vampire echoed in her mind.
“Approach the hero and Lilianel. Somehow, make yourself their ally.”
“An ally…”
The command was to join forces with the very individuals she hated more than anyone else in the world—the ones who had inflicted an irreparable wound upon her master, Elzerba.
…
Elzerba had explained that the purpose of this was to make Lilianel experience “betrayal” during the impending undead invasion.
“Betrayal…”
Based on the energy she sensed, there was no human in Nevirthol stronger than her.
Thus, the hero and Lilianel would naturally come to rely on her, the most powerful individual among them.
At the most critical moment, she would shatter their hope, delivering the ultimate betrayal.
This was Elzerba’s method, devised to impart the feeling of “betrayal”—an emotion that mere physical fear and subjugation could not convey.
“I will succeed, my lady.”
Isera whispered, gazing at the heavens.
For the sake of her revered master, she was prepared to follow any command, even if it meant sacrificing her own life.
This was her first solo mission, and Isera’s heart burned with a sense of duty.
“….”
She inspected her equipment.
From the forged identity papers taken from the mining city of Lavaheart, to the adventurer’s armor and weapons that helped her blend in, and even the magical perfume-like artifact designed to conceal her undead nature—everything was meticulously prepared.
All that remained was to approach the hero and Lilianel.
“…I will succeed, no matter what.”
Be it through charm, staged acts, or hypnosis, Isera vowed to get close to them.
For Elzerba, her master, she would do anything.
—
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