Chapter 15

A single horse galloped across the black mud as if flying.

The horse, which never once floundered, didn't sink its hooves and kicked at the mud while sparks of red light flowed from its eyes.

Yurik held the reins tightly and drove the horse without rest.

He had a bad feeling for some reason.

It was as if he had realized that the tower he had carefully built was gradually tilting.

His ominous steed knew exactly where its master was heading.

The eastern pit.

Slippery soil that was flowing down as if to completely cover the wasteland.

As he approached the massively soiled enormous structure, a voice like a faint mist resonated more clearly.

Right inside his head.

[Freedom... we are free... leaving the stars... leaving this dried-up land... flying through interstellar space... our god...]

Though it should have been filled with joy, the voice still sounded pathetic.

Yurik spat out a sneer.

Having arrived at the bottom of the steep wall surrounding the pit, the horse came to an abrupt halt.

He would have liked to circle the pit once, but it seemed he would have to postpone that for later.

Rolling up his sleeves, he slowly began to climb the mountain covered in mud.

Even though his hands were gloved, they were getting dirty all the same.

Slowly, very slowly.

If this wasn't a wall, the word 'crawling' would have been fitting.

Yurik climbed the wall that cautiously.

He finally reached the top.

In front of him, instead of a sunken cavity that seemed ready to devour anything, there was a bulging mound, wet with viscous liquid and shining as smoothly as steel.

Yurik pressed on its surface firmly with his foot.

A faint pulse was transmitted through the mud-covered sole of his shoe.

Impregnation.

New rebirth.

Yurik looked up at the sky once.

Confirming that there was nothing there, he drew a sharp dagger from his waist.

And then, without hesitation, he stabbed the throbbing thing several times.

[No, no, no!]

Screams, pleas, threats, despair.

All kinds of wails rummaged through Yurik's brain.

But he silently, with a face that revealed no emotion, stabbed the dagger into the hard shell and flesh again and again.

The living can be killed.

That was the only lesson he had learned in his life.

Yurik continued to dig into the giant egg.

Until he met the supporting character who was dreaming, half-melted inside the egg.

Seeing it, Yurik willingly extended his hand to the supporting character.

* * *

The impassive coachman took a few steps to greet his master, who had already returned.

However, he paused at the sight of his master approaching from afar.

Setting aside the foul-smelling mud that covered his entire body, what on earth was that thing tucked under his arm?

Crown Prince Yurik was dragging something like a flaccid sponge that sagged without any core.

Unpleasantly, it had a face attached to it.

If a round part with holes all over it could be called a face, that is.

"Your Highness, may I ask what that is?"

"Ah. This."

He looked down at what was tucked under his arm.

The shrunken limbs and blurred features might not be recognizable to someone who didn't know it well.

Yurik thought for a moment and then answered lightly.

"A thing I know."

Normally, he should have said a person he knew, but since it couldn't be considered at the level of a person now, it wasn't incorrect.

Yurik tossed "it" to the coachman.

"Let's return to the royal palace. Just put that in the box at the back of the carriage or something."

"What about the inspection of the eastern wasteland..."

"It's all done. I'm tired. My head is ringing."

How noisy it was, whining not to be taken away.

He wanted to tear out his eardrums, but since the star walker's voice resonated directly in his head, there was nothing he could do.

As Yurik jumped off the horse and headed for the carriage, the coachman, now burdened with the sticky and strange organism, asked with disgust.

"So it's all over?"

"To some extent. I'll have to do the rest when we get back."

Yurik had much to find out.

He wanted to find the cause or the variable that had allowed the star walker to recover so quickly.

When the carriage door closed, the coachman, with an expression of utter revulsion, handled what he was holding as ordered.

With a lock on the box, whatever happened inside couldn't get out.

The coachman once again put a bridle on the horse and climbed onto the coachman's seat, tilting his head.

Didn't he say something as he went in just now?

But it wasn't his place to be concerned.

With a "giddyup," the carriage left the narrow mountain path.

The wheels rattled as they ran along the dirt road, and the surroundings became quiet as if no one had ever been there.

Then, there was a person crawling out from behind the bushes.

It was Arndt, his face turned ashen white.

Inspection of the eastern wasteland? A prince in person? Just him and one of his men?

It was fortunate that he instinctively hid at the sight of the suspiciously luxurious carriage.

He didn't know what they were plotting. But Arndt, who had been lying flat behind the bushes near the carriage wheels, had overheard something.

'The Duke is really interesting.'

It was a self-mutter Yurik made as he boarded the carriage.

The Crown Prince knew that the Duke was here.

Arndt's ominous premonition spread from Arenheit to the entire Hartmann family.

It was strange that only Arenheit had survived.

It was strange that he had barely succeeded in inheriting the ducal title.

No matter what mercy was bestowed, Arenheit should have been executed along with his family.

That was the punishment the entire Hartmann family should have received.

He had always felt something was amiss, but he had not the slightest inclination to question it.

At least Arenheit was alive.

Although he was occasionally violent when the madness broke out and his speech was clumsy, at least he was alive!

Moreover, except for being severely ill recently, he had been emotionally stabilizing, so Arndt thought everything was the result of divine care.

But if it wasn't a blessing from heaven.

If this was the price for focusing on reality and turning his eyes to the background.

Arndt ran back the way he had come.

It wasn't himself he needed now, but Leandros.

As he ran, gritting his teeth, Arndt involuntarily shouted.

"Ah, why am I so useless!"

* * *

The King's Road was a path that could not be run by anyone other than royalty or messengers with royal authorization.

The road with no byways or shortcuts was directly connected to the center of each region.

Eight days by the ordinary way, three days via the King's Road.

After running for two days on the straightforward path, the carriage finally began to slow down.

This was because the horses were starting to foam at the mouth.

Fortunately, there were places along the King's Road where horses could be exchanged at regular intervals.

It was a system where administrators dispatched from the royal palace took care of the horses and helped visitors exchange their mounts.

The coachman stopped the carriage in front of a familiar building and presented a certificate to the administrator.

"Just exchange the brown horse on the left."

"Yes, we'll take good care of it here. Is it alright not to change the black horse?"

"No problem."

"Then I'll just check the horseshoe for a moment. Just a moment, just a mooooment, please wait!"

The administrator brought along several workers. Some led away the exhausted horse, while the others began to clean the mud off the carriage.

"Sir, it seems we need to remove the luggage attached to the back for a moment. Soil and stones seem to have entered the seams."

Several pieces of luggage were attached to the back of the carriage.

The coachman didn't know exactly what they were. But since they were treasured by his master, he didn't bother to ask.

The coachman raised his hand to stop the workers' actions and approached closer.

It was to remove only the minimal amount of luggage for quick cleaning.

Clatter.

But when he got closer to the pile of luggage, a faint noise was heard.

The knight looked back at the workers.

"Wait."

...The workers held their breath. Everywhere was quiet.

Did he hear wrong?

But the doubt soon turned into certainty. A sound that was barely audible, creaking and rattling.

There must be a rat hiding in this box.

The coachman, who was scanning the various boxes with cold eyes, drew a sharp sword.

The workers had long since turned pale and retreated.

The coachman, who was examining the boxes one by one, suddenly raised his hand.

Crack!

It was a quick and concise gesture.

The sword that broke the lid of the black box penetrated all the way to the bottom.

Red liquid slowly shimmered at the tip of the sword that protruded below the bottom.

The workers watching it, and the administrator who had arrived at some point, couldn't say a word.

The cold knight who had taken on the role of coachman pulled out the sword without even exerting force.

Mucus and blood, sticking to the sword blade, stretched stickily together.

"Open the box."

"Y-yes..."

At the emotionless voice, the worker who had suddenly been put in a difficult position approached the box hesitantly.

No one knew what terrible sight would be revealed when this box was opened.

But the knight holding the bloody sword right now was more frightening.

In the end, with hands trembling as if with palsy, he opened the lock and latch of the box.

With a click, click sound, the lid of the box opened without giving time to mentally prepare.

"This is...!"

Silence fell among those surrounding the box.

Perhaps curious about the sudden quiet outside, Crown Prince Yurik opened the carriage door and came down.

As soon as Yurik set foot on the ground, what he saw was ten pairs of eyes, frozen and turned pale blue.

"Hmm?"

"...Your Highness, you... should come over here."

"Me?"

Yurik had thought he had surrounded himself with brave people, but now it seemed that wasn't the case.

He walked over calmly to check the opened box and then hurriedly covered his mouth.

Inside the box, filled with entangled blood and viscosity.

Instead of a sticky caterpillar without a face, a person was curled up and lying down.

Blood continuously gushed from the hole in his stomach.

No, had been gushing.

Before everyone's eyes, the hole slowly healed.

As if the flesh were finding each other, it adhered slowly but surely.

Eventually, the vanished wound didn't even leave a scar.

A death-like silence.

The person in the box slowly opened his eyes.

Honey-colored, cloudy eyes repeatedly lost focus and regained it.

Those who witnessed this series of events felt like they were losing their minds.

Was this a monster or a human?

Did I really see that?

Am I going crazy?

Among them, the first person to move was Crown Prince Yurik.

He lifted up the one who couldn't properly hold his head from the sticky box.

Disregarding the filth, Yurik personally sat him inside the carriage and was about to get in with him when he turned to his coachman.

"Bring a cloak. And it would be good if no one knew about this."

"...I will obey."

The carriage shook, and the door closed.

The coachman was about to press his throbbing temples but shook his head.

Behind him, the workers and administrators who had just emerged from shock were murmuring.

"Si-Sir Knight. What we just saw, what on earth..."

"..."

"Ah, don't, don't worry. We'll keep silent to the grave. Everyone here knows how to keep their mouths shut."

The administrator's frantic voice was heard.

But the knight already knew.

That three or four of them would secretly spread rumors, and among them, two might claim that the 'monster' was related to the royal family.

Silently, still holding his sword, he turned to the workers and the administrator.

About half an hour later.

The carriage once again ran along the King's Road, leaving behind the bloodied stable where people had disappeared.

Over the low mountains beyond, the terribly high spires of the royal palace seemed to be faintly visible at the top.