Chapter 62

Chapter 62

Chapter 62

Chapter 62

When Velok regained consciousness, he realized he was in the very Eden of nightmares: the biological laboratory belonging to the Black Red Order. He was immobilized on a surgical table, with his arms and legs imprisoned by heavy shackles.

The scientists performing the experiments stood beside him, contemplating their new specimen with vacant stares.

“Let us proceed to record the symptoms and pathological alterations experienced by the specimen’s organism as its decomposition process begins.“

As soon as those words were uttered, Velok’s lower extremities began to turn dark and decay.

“Stop, please, I am not the one who should be here…!“

The necrosis advanced relentlessly from the tips of his toes toward the rest of his anatomy. However, death did not arrive mercifully. That marked only the prelude to the following phases of the trial.

“Next, we will analyze the specimen’s resistance time after amputating its arms and legs.“

“We will remove his vital organs to replace them with biological structures of animal origin.“

“We will remove a blood volume incompatible with life and introduce fresh bird fluids.“

“In a joint effort with Walter, of the Bloody Flame, we will increase the temperature of the specimen’s fluids to their boiling point to evaluate the results.“

“Aaaaaah, aaaaaah! I feel unbearable pain, stop!“

Not even the slightest trace remained of the dogmatic man who used to preach about the inevitability of individual martyrdom to allow for progress in the cogs of time.

Velok shook violently, prey to agony, trapped in an ordeal that was merely taking its first steps.

Eventually, the little girl withdrew the appendages that had been manipulating the corners of his mind.

“Heh, hehe, sniff, sniff!“

Velok, a practitioner of the dark arts belonging to the sixth circle, began to drool while letting out empty laughter. After the laughter, he burst into childish weeping. Subsequently, acting with the desperation of an infant, he clung to him, begging for mercy.

“What are the reasons for your laments and pleas?“

“P-please, I beg you, I ask you, p-please…“

“Facing absolute reality, did the sufferings of those affected not constitute a legitimate and necessary tribute? Did you not describe that as the cog of time to which you rendered devotion and defended with such impetus?“

Dale tilted his head, contemplating with strangeness the scene unfolding before his eyes.

“Is it that the course of historical events you idolize so much reverses so easily just because your roles have been exchanged? If so, what is the utility of maintaining that march?“

A structure that requires foreign blood and constant sacrifices to advance is more worthy of being destroyed completely.

Maintaining a countenance totally devoid of any trace of compassion, Dale ordered:

“Expose in detail each of the trials that the Black Red Order carried out on that occasion.“

Hearing Dale’s command, Velok experienced a chill and immediately lowered his gaze.

“If your words adhere strictly to reality, I will grant you the end of your days at this very instant.“

In that way, he would manage to evade the possibility of returning to that dimension of torments. He would have the opportunity to expire right there. Upon assimilating that alternative, Velok began to speak hurriedly, revealing explicitly each of the atrocities executed by the Black Red Order during the military conflict for the unification of the Empire.

“……“

Each revelation was abominable, however, the data coincided in broad strokes with the testimonies that Marquis Yuris of the Blood had previously provided. That did not represent the true goal of the Black Red Order that the imperial authorities intended to hide with such suspicion. The crown would not show such a level of alarm for simple practices of scientific cruelty.

Therefore, Dale insisted on his interrogation.

“I truly ignore the deeper details!“

“Is that your answer?“

“I swear it by the most sacred… it is the truth!“

“Under those circumstances, I fear you must return to your journey through torment.“

At the instant Dale made a gesture to deploy his mystical branches again, Velok exclaimed with desperation:

“The Arrowhead Project!“

Dale’s features turned rigid for a fraction of a second.

“It was a procedure designed to reach the ninth circle!“

“An experiment focused on the ninth circle?“

The absolute pinnacle of mystical knowledge, a threshold that no practitioner throughout the ages had managed to step on. The definitive destiny of the magical arts, located beyond the capabilities of mortal beings. The territory corresponding to the demon god.

“The officers in charge of the battalions did not possess the details of said investigations! We only served as executing pawns under the directives of the high command!“

“In that case, in your condition as a pawn, proceed to narrate absolutely everything within your reach.“

Facing the pressure exerted by Dale, Velok continued his story at full speed, without allowing himself a breather.

“The plan consisted of deliberately provoking states of deep emotional negativity in individuals through the application of torments in highly precise geographic locations, to subsequently concentrate said energetic flow inside a special barrier…“

Premeditatedly building an earthly ordeal to collect the desperation, agony, and noxious flows derived from suffering, employing them as a foundation…

“The ultimate goal consisted of fracturing space to create an access toward the ‘world of truth,‘ employing the load of those noxious emotions as primordial fuel…“

That constituted the true goal of the Black Red Order, with the rest of the investigations relegated to simple minor purposes of a collateral nature.

“Our directives consisted purely of collecting the human lives necessary to nurture the experiments with that negative energy!“

The use of lives sacrificed in favor of the definitive goal was required.

That was the entirety of the data that Velok, operating as a simple squad officer within the Black Red Order, possessed in his memory.

“……“

Dale understood that he would not obtain more information from him.

Throughout the military conflict, the champion coming from another dimension acted merely as a tool of the Empire. He was completely unaware of the real motivations of the Black Red Order and the hidden plans of the crown.

However, Dale possessed that knowledge. He was aware of the existence of an individual who was not limited to being a minor officer, but who was part of the core of leaders of the demonic battalion, possessing the full picture of the facts. And the assimilation of that reality caused him a deep internal impact.

Involuntarily, he evoked the features of that subject.

A man whom he considered completely alien to the greed of the Empire. A person who had cut his ties with the dark past of the Black Tower at the root and who used to defend the value of existence, someone who under no circumstances would support the notions of righteousness of the Empire.

“Father…“

Dale expressed in an almost imperceptible whisper.

The right hand of the Black Red Order, the Black Duke himself.

Even after the conclusion of hostilities, when the imperial authorities intended to preserve the existence of the organization under a veil of confidentiality, Dale’s progenitor chose to dismantle it on his own initiative.

He stood in opposition to Marquis Yuris of the Blood, the main commander and ringleader of the faction, breaking the connections with the Black Red Order definitively… motivated by what he called elementary ethical principles.

However, such actions could never be considered an extenuating factor to obtain absolution.

— Listen, brother.

It was heard at that precise instant.

— Do you allow me to continue interacting with him a moment longer?

The little girl began to shake the ramifications that emerged from under her garments, unable to curb her impulses. Dale directed his gaze again toward the subject who was clamoring to receive the finishing blow.

“N-no, please, I beg you, do not let her continue doing this to me, please, mercy…“

“Interact with him until you consider it opportune.“

Dale ruled, showing absolute detachment. His words were perceived as devoid of all human warmth.

Thump!

Shub’s ramifications forced their way through, imprisoning the six circles that resided in the cardiac core of Velok.

“Gah, ugh!“

Similarly to how a neophyte among the undead consumes the vital fluids of a veteran of the dark arts to transform into a Black Red practitioner, the assimilation of the adversary’s capabilities was not a faculty exclusive to those of his species.

Just as a being of the night covets the vital essence of mortals, Shub’s appendages began to suck the dark mystical energy housed inside Velok.

The quintessence of the forbidden arts that a specialist of the sixth circle had developed throughout his entire existence.

The dark energy that fluctuated around Dale’s extremities acquired a considerably denser and deeper shade.

Simultaneously, in the upper chambers belonging to the Black Tower.

Edgar, a scholar of the dark arts of the seventh circle, lay on the ground.

He presented a deep wound to his throat, his extremities were completely dismembered, and his abdominal cavity remained exposed, revealing his internal parts. It had been an absolute destruction, lacking the characteristics of a balanced combat.

Despite everything, he retained a breath of existence, given that the executor had not granted him the final rest.

Walking among the scattered remains, a figure stood, bearing six winged extremities of jet black shade. Extremities as dark and gloomy as the plumage of a raven.

“… In what way?“

“Did you truly assume that my return from that dimension had occurred without obtaining any reward?“

That dimension.

The plane of absolute truth that the specialists of the Black Tower yearned to discover with such desperation. The sacred space located beyond the threshold of mortal existence.

“Ha, ha, ha.“

Hearing the statements issued by the Black Duke, Edgar let out a slight laugh. It was not a manifestation caused by physical suffering or surrender. He showed no consternation for having failed in the confrontation or for the destiny that awaited him.

He simply found irony in his own failed decisions.

“Certainly, that conduct defines you to perfection.“

Edgar continued laughing while contemplating the executioner who flanked him with his six winged extensions of dark color.

“And at this moment it corresponds to me to take the next step.“

Facing the figure of the executioner, Edgar sketched a serene smile, placing his back to the final destiny that was approaching imminently.

“I too… will finally manage to enter the same plane that you managed to reach.“

Even if to achieve it, it was indispensable to cross the path from which there is no possibility of return.

“The absolute revelation only manifests upon embracing the end of life.“

“……“

“I will remain waiting for your arrival in the underworld, Alan.“

“Until forever, companion of battles.“

Alan of Saxon offered as a response, unfolding with solemnity his imposing six winged extremities of jet black color.

“──Never again.“

The executor pronounced his definitive words as the dark feathers dispersed through the air. An absolute silence dominated the environment, and the remains of Edgar, located at the core of the disaster, finally remained motionless.

That state of stillness would never be interrupted again.

The absence of sound settled softly, emulating the fall of the elements of a raven, consolidating a dense void devoid of light.

In the hours prior to the arrival of dawn, Charlotte Orhart executed firm movements with her dark weaponry.

Without showing the slightest hesitation, she assumed the role of armed protector of the House of Saxon.

The entities known as Death Knights differ considerably from one another. Even if they manage to manifest the “Blade of Aura” resorting to the forbidden knowledge of a sixth-circle resuscitation specialist, the combat movements reflected in their weapons are rudimentary and lacking in consistency.

They do not possess a point of comparison with the technical mastery exhibited by the Death Knights under Dale’s direct command.

“They do not withstand the comparison with Dale’s forces.“

Such creatures lack the conditions of a legitimate combatant. They do not harbor self-love or the code of conduct of chivalry, operating purely as combat pawns that make use of their reanimated physical structures.

“In the name of the House of Saxon.“

“In favor of Dale!“

Under these premises, Charlotte continued moving her weapon with determination, proclaiming the identity of her superior and safeguarding the domains of the House of Saxon through her prowess in combat. She showed herself fully resolved to materialize her commitment of loyalty, even if it demanded the cessation of her days.

“Hold the containment lines!“

“Surrender yourselves to the combat for the leader!“

In the same way, the contingent of combatants loyal to Dale, conformed by a hundred infantry personnel provided with metal protections of great weight, fought valiantly to not break their arrangement on the field.

At that precise instant, a radical change occurred.

The dark weaponry of the Death Knight, which was in position to discharge an impact, stopped its trajectory abruptly. A sudden stillness took hold of the surroundings.

Thump!

In the midst of that cessation of hostilities, the entirety of the Death Knights flexed their knees in a synchronized manner, introducing the metal of their weapons directly into the surface of the terrain.

“What kind of event is occurring…?”

Expressed a Raven Knight plunged into bewilderment, although he did not require much time to assimilate the situation.

“They have performed a commendable labor.”

“D-Dale!”

The figure of the successor, dressed in dark garments, made his presence known at the place.

He took command again over the Death Knights, whose wills remained previously alienated by the veterans of the Black Tower, returning to them the sense of dignity and self-respect that they had lost in the process.

“Charlotte and the warriors of Saxony.”

Dale centered his attention on the figure of Charlotte and on the forces provided with metal protections.

“Regardless of whether we find ourselves in the plane of the living or in that of the fallen, we will never leave in oblivion the dignity and esteem of the forces that guard fidelity to Saxony.”

The bloody confrontations derived from the offensive of the veterans reached their definitive conclusion. As testimony to said outcome, the one baptized as the “Black Prince” of Saxon advanced firmly among the ranks of the Death Knights.

“Consequently, I give my word that there will exist no mercy or indulgence for those who intend to tarnish the reputation of our forces.”

Manifested with an absolute indifference, totally free of human emotions.

The surroundings of the fortress of Saxony.

The first solar glimmers began to fragment the darkness, giving way to the initial signs of the new day.

Under the faint clarity of the dawn, the so-called “Black Prince” of Saxony occupied his place in the main seat of the large hall of the fortified structure.

Counting on the company of his progenitor and his little sister at his sides, and having the loyal combatants belonging to the House of Saxony under his direction, he turned his back to the remains of those who committed the imprudence of rising up against the lineage of the duchy.

The warrior of greatest relevance in the northern territories, Sir Helmut Black Bear, known under the alias of the Mad Sword.

Eris, the delegate of dark garments, together with the specialist of mystical origin Sepia. The members of the Raven Knights belonging to the House of Saxon, with Charlotte among their ranks.

And even the members of the favorite protection forces of the dynasty of the duchy, identified as the 《Grave Guard》, who did not even have the necessity of releasing the metal of their scabbards in the midst of that peaceful environment.

Located on the throne, administering the novelties of the fortified enclosure and issuing directives with a millimetric accuracy, who would possess the arguments to maintain that the “Black Prince” was merely an infant with eleven years of life?

The image that the “Black Prince” projected in that site corresponded, without a doubt, to that of the authentic duke of Saxony.

Chapter 62