âI donât think anything will change if I talk to them.â
When I was working in a cemetery, I had interacted with them a few times, so I knew very well that the Trumpeters of Rest werenât the kind of people who listened to others. But the guard clung to me again with desperation.
âArenât you a priest, though?! I donât care if itâll work or not. Just please have a conversation with them! I beg you. My colleagues are already being pushed to their limits, with the dead wandering every night. Me too!â
What could I do if he clung to me so desperately?
âIâll try, but donât expect too much.â
The guardâs face brightened.
âThank you! Thank you!â
We arrived a little late, and thanks to that, the day was already slowly ending.
âWhere is that trumpeter?â
âTheyâre not far from here. Can I guide you right now?â
I glanced at my colleagues, who were as bewildered as I was.
âPlease wait a moment.â
âYes!â
I looked to Dachia.
âPrincess, since things turned out like this, you should go in first and find a place to stay. I will help them for a while and then follow you.â
Dachia answered with a warm smile as if she knew I would agree.
âOkay.â
With my employerâs permission, I asked the guards to guide them to a decent place to stay, and they gladly agreed to my request.
âGive me your luggage. Iâll put it in your room.â
âThank you.
I handed Carmen my suitcase and was guided by the guards outside the city. Walking along a quiet road, I asked the first guard.
âHow long has the trumpeter of rest been here?â
âItâs been almost two weeks.â
If itâd been a week or so, it was understandable for them to cling to me as desperately as before. The intelligent beings who saw the dead raised by the trumpeter instinctively felt a great sense of reluctance and rejection, and if they continued to look at the dead, the weak even fell into a panicked stupor. So, most people were reluctant to face down or talk with the trumpeters who led the dead.
The sun slowly sank over the high snowy mountains. The guards lit the torches they had brought.
âJust a little further.â
His nervous voice warned of the dead coming out with the night. The guardâs eyes lit with horror as we heard a rustling. The dead appears above on the road. Those who still had intact feet walked while those more rotted crawled. They were all heading somewhere.
âP-PriestâŠâ
The guardâs dark eyes showed me he had already reached his limit. I said with a smile.
âAre there any torches left?â
âYes, yes!â
He handed me the torch he was holding, took out a new one, and lit it.
âIt looks like I donât need any further guidance. I think you should go back to Eradico first.â
âA-Are you okay with that?â
âYes.â
If he were forced to go with me, Iâd only have to carry him back. In that case, it was better to let him go while he could still return to his feet. The guard thanked me repeatedly and then almost sprinted back to the city.
âKill!â
Mother complained that she didnât understand why he was so scared of a pile of dead meat. I patted my pocket and cut through the marching dead.
âMother. Itâs natural for people to be scared when they see a dead piece of meat moving. Just think about it. I put a chicken pre-trimmed for cooking on a chopping board, and it just runs away?â
Mother thought for a while, and then she cautiously spoke.
âKillâŠ?â
She answered she had no idea why the hell that would be scary. I smiled.
âI was just bored, so I said whatever I thought of. I also donât know why people fear the dead moving.â
âKill!â
I continued walking, patting Mother, who was angry that she thought hard for nothing. A little later, I found the trumpeter that raised these dead.
The Trumpeter of Rest was blowing a white trumpet amid the crowd. No, it would not be appropriate to say that they were blowing. The trumpet sounded over the pure white mask that covered their entire face, so their mouth didnât touch the trumpet at all. They were just pretending to blow it. The sound of the trumpets of the trumpeters of rest wasnât for the living, so there was no need for them to be heard.
The trumpeters were a unique class among all the priests of the gods. There were no believers quite like the priests to the Trumpet of Death and Rest. Unlike other gods who chose priests from among their believers and gave them powers, the Trumpet of Death and Rest gave its power to anyone. One day, suddenly, for no reason, they were a priest.
All those who the Trumpet of Death and Rest chose became Trumpeters of Rest and lived a life for the dead. None of the trumpeters explained their choices, so no one knew why they lived such a life. They wandered as strict individuals, always leading the dead by blowing their silent trumpets. Working in a cemetery had given me ample opportunity to watch them.
They usually appeared in places where many corpses, and you could always see them on intense battlefields. As a result, there were, of course, those in power who did not like that the Trumpeters of Rest appeared in the middle of the night and took the dead bodies away, but no one dared to attack them or their followers. They responded aggressively to those who would attack the dead under their thrall, and anyone would be reluctant to face the untiring dead.
As such, the Trumpeters of Rest didnât get along with anyone and were a natural phenomenon rather than people.
This one wore a black undertakerâs outfit that hung loosely around them, with white gloves and a mask. And they held a silent white trumpet. I gently pushed away the dead and proceeded closer to them.
I barely made my way through the crowd of the dead, and I spoke with a friendly smile.
âHello?â
There was no need to introduce myself. Those who gave up their names didnât care about other peopleâs names. Still, I wished this one was the type that would speak. Some trumpeters only communicated their intentions through gestures.
A pure white mask with no eye sockets turned towards me. Countless dead were gathered on the vacant road, but no sound came from them. Amid the silence, I opened my mouth to speak again.
âA lot of people probably have come to talk to you, but Iâve been asked to do the same. As you know, moving the dead is annoying to ordinary people, right?â
There was no answer.
âIf youâve been here for a week or so, isnât it time to leave this place? Youâre not the type who usually stays in one place. Are you staying here for some reason?â
âHmmâŠâ
As he was about to say something, he paused, looked down, and cleared his throat like someone who had forgotten how to speak. I waited patiently. Then he spat out in a low voice.
âWorshiper of the evil god.â
âYes?â
I was genuinely surprised, wondering if he had seen through my secret identity. But the worshiper he was talking about wasnât me, and he pointed to Eradico in the distance.
âThey will create many deaths.â
âYou mean there are worshipers of the evil god in the castle?â
The Trumpeter of Rest slowly nodded.
âDid you tell that to anyone other than me?â
âNo.â
âThen why are you telling me?â
The white mask went silent again. I waited.
ââŠstartedâ
âYes?â
He mumbled so quietly that I couldnât hear it. When I asked, he answered in a slightly louder voice.
âBecause it has already started.â
At the same time as the trumpeter answered, a massive purple curtain engulfed Eradico. This wasnât the time to have a leisurely conversation.
I spun around and ran toward Eradico.
***
The Trumpeter of Rest, left alone with the dead crowd, spoke.
âI gave him the truth as you wished. Oh, Trumpet of Death and Rest.â
He took a step, dragging his ragged black clothes along.
âNow, I will do my part before death is insulted.â
His steps brought him toward Eradico. The horde of the dead slowly moved after him.
***
Bang!
A huge purple curtain completely isolated Eradico from the outside world. Moreover, this wasnât a wall created by some sheer power. It was a barrier made by twisting the laws of nature with a highly condensed magical powerâmeaningâŠa wizard. There was a wizard behind this.
It wasnât impossible to break the barrier with physical force and get inside, but it was inefficient and would take quite a while. It was obvious what kind of disaster was going to happen in this place in the meantime.
But I had a way through this magical wall. I took Motherâs hand out of my pocket.
âItâs time to be active, Mother.â
Motherâs hand was affected by the simple laws of physics, but it wasnât affected in any way by those perverted by magic. In other words, by using Motherâs hand, I could trick the wizardâs spell and sneak inside.
When I put Motherâs hand close to the magic wall, the hand turned into a girl with a light shower of light. Mother shouted as she looked up at me and put her hands on her waist.
âKill!â
She asked if it was really necessary to enter this dangerous place. Motherâs concerns were perfectly understandable. Since the worshipers of the evil gods dealt with divinity, we could die.
My face was reflected by her dark and beautiful eyes. I smiled. As always.
âThis son wants to do it.â
âKillâŠâ
Mother sighed, saying I was hopeless, then reached with her soft hand to lead me through. As I surrendered my body to Motherâs guidance, we gently passed through the wall of purple magic.
âKill!â
Mother warned me to be careful and spread her hands toward me. The girl turned back into a hand and dug into my chest pocket.
I drew the Butcher and looked around the streets of Eradico. It was ablazeâŠit seemed like every city I visited was eventually set on fire.
As I sprinted through the gates of Eradico, I found three people standing in the middle of a burning street. One woman with purple hair grabbed another womanâs hand and whined.
âHeâs not here! Heâs not here! Heâs not here! You said he would! But heâs not!â
The red-haired woman, holding her hand, answered while sweating.
âIâve confirmed that his party has entered the city. W-Wait a bit more! Iâll find him soon.â
âYou! Just! Die!â
The man who had been staring at them slowly opened his mouth.
âWait. I think I found him.â
âWhat?! Where! Where!â
The woman with purple hair glared up at the man, and he stretched out a finger to point at me.
âThere he is. Marnak.â
The purple-haired woman smiled brightly.
âItâs true! Itâs Marnak!â
Neat-length blonde hair. A meticulously groomed beard. A face that anyone would like. This man and I had met before.
I turned on the Butcherâs engine.
Whaaaaaaaaang!
âKill!â
Mother asked me to calm down and act rationally, and I ignored her request. The woman with purple hair ran toward me.
âMarnak! Marnak! I heard youâre strong!â
The Divinity of Corruption accepted to the limit, marked and amplified my body.
âMove.â
âYou donât know long Iâve been waiting for you! I wonâtâŠâ
The high-speed rotating metal blade ripped the purple womanâs body in half vertically. Her blood and flesh almost exploded outward, but I was already moving past her.
Whaaaaaaaang!
The Butcher became a line of gnashing steel that would tear that damn bastardâs face off.
âYouâre completely different from the rumors.â
âShut up.â
As he mumbled softly, a dark purple curtain blocked me. I quickly pulled Motherâs hand out and placed it on the back of my hand.
âWhat?!â
The manâs face flushed with astonishment as the Butcher tore through the purple curtain and aimed for him. However, despite his surprise, his body proved agile, and that quick response saved his life.
Instead of taking his head, I only tore off his left arm.
The man, no, Lieberkel, grabbed his shoulder and smiled broadly as he jumped back.
âAh, now I remember! I remember now that Iâve heard your voice! Youâre that guy that would wash bodies back then! Wow, seeing you in that priestâs uniform makes me proud.â
He smiled broadly and tilted his head.
âBut, if I remember right, werenât you dead? I remember that I killed you myself. Hmm. This is weird. Well, now that youâre alive, is it all meaningless? But it must be a bit unfortunate. For you.â
Lieberkel stretched out his right hand toward me, baring his white teeth.
âThe arm of the owner of the uniform youâre wearing is over here! Not the left one! Hahahaha! Iâve used it so well these last three years!â
Damn, wizard bastard. I clenched my teeth, suppressing my anger as much as possible, and spoke.
âI will cut you into pieces.â
I turned on the Butcherâs engine again. The sword cried out with rage in my heart.