Chapter 196: The Corpse Queen (1)
The Night Hound continues to blend silently into the night.
Vikir glides from building to building.
But unlike before, Vikir's movements are many times more agile.
Although he became stronger through training, it was more due to the entity attached to the wrist of his left hand.
[Pow!]
A spider web spewed from his left wrist.
The creature shoots the webs onto the walls or railings of the building in front of him as he flings himself into the air.
Vikir then swings forward like a pendulum, attaching another web to the building in front of him, and so on.
The baby madam pulled out an enormous amount of spider silk from within its small body, and it seemed that the moment a very small amount of concentrated spider silk extract was ejected out of the mouth, it hardened upon contact with the atmosphere.
'If this little guy can spin so many webs, I wonder what Madame Eightlegs was like?'
Vikir recalled the last time he had fought Madame Eightlegs.
Madame Eightlegs had consumed an enormous amount of webs during her raid on Balak's village, so she hadn't really been able to pull out much in her fight with Vikir.
If Madame Eightlegs had been able to spin as many webs as she wanted, Vikir probably wouldn't have survived that day with his limbs intact.
"You're more useful than I thought."
[Hack-hack-hack-]
Vikir patted the head of the cub that was spitting out webs from its mouth.
It's a good thing, because the travel time has been dramatically shortened thanks to it.
Tap, tap, tap!
Running along the outer wall of the building, Vikir soon landed on top of a half-destroyed clock tower.
The city's landmark clock tower was half-collapsed after a massive impact.
However, because the tower originally had a long history and was built with great care from the foundation, it escaped complete destruction.
Vikir remembered a newspaper article he had read not long ago.
[Exclusive] Night Hound Strikes Again!
-At around 1 AM yesterday morning, the Hound of the Night struck again.
This time, it was the Central Clock Tower, a landmark of the Imperial City.
A copycat, a strange man imitating the Night Hound.
Vikir stared at the massive clock tower, destroyed by an unknown and mysterious entity.
The scars on the walls were too long and free-form to be sword marks.
'It looks like the marks of a whip. Destroying the city's landmarks makes me wonder if... is a person dissatisfied with society?'
Destroying the central clock tower, with its long history, would have done nothing for the city.
It's just a clock tower, a symbol of order and peace that everyone in the city sees several times a day.
Nevertheless, there was likely some symbolic meaning behind the attempt to destroy it.
For example, it could be a protest against the social system, an attempt to overthrow the order, or something like that.
'...Well, that's none of my business.'
But that wasn't the point right now.
Finding and killing the copycat was more urgent to Vikir than the identity of the copycat.
"Let's see."
From the roof of the tower that had been destroyed by the copycat, there was a panoramic view of the city.
The lights are slowly dying down.
The city is dark and deserted as it prepares for a slow, steady sleep.
And the Night Hound, who only opens his eyes when everyone else has closed theirs.
'... That's where Sindiwendi pointed out as suspicious.'
Vikir lifted his head and looked to the north of the city.
It was the area where Vikir had gone on a volunteer not long ago.
It was the site of the Indulgentia family's orphanage, now in ruins.
'It's definitely a ruin and there's nothing left... ... Why are informants disappearing over there?'
Vikir lifted his mask slightly and sniffed the air.
"...."
I can smell it. An odor.
It was extremely faint, but it was unmistakably the scent of a demon.
The fact that the area had already been cleared of assassins meant that something was still there.
'But it's strangely faint. Why?'
It was much fainter than the usual demonic odor, and hardly noticeable.
Vikir instructed the cub to stretch the thread and then jumped off the clock tower.
The web ended just before he touched the ground, and the recoil caused him to bounce, flip, and land on the ground.
Vikir ran through the city, darting from alleyway to alleyway in the darkness.
He ran and climbed from roof to roof, ledge to ledge, wall to wall, higher to lower, and lower still.
Vikir eventually reached the ruins of the Indulgentia Orphanage.
It was only a hundred meters or so away, with the Royal Cemetery on the other side.
Moving from the outskirts of the ruins to the center, Vikir sensed something was wrong.
'The smell is getting fainter, then stronger.'
The demonic stench had been diluted by something.
A strange aura, as if human blood were mixed with half and half demonic blood.
'Is it possible for a demon to smell like this?'
Even Vikir, a veteran demon hunter, had never smelled it before.
Meanwhile.
The ruins of Indulgentia Orphanage were completely deserted.
The Quovadis had finished their investigation, and no one would set foot here.
Normally, there would be guards on duty, but with the recent wave of copycats, they've been short-handed.
There's a sign that says it's off-limits to the public, but no one seems to be stopping Vikir, so he keeps going.
Soon enough, Vikir was in the area where one after another of Sindiwendi's informants had gone missing.
And then.
"...!"
In one fell swoop, Vikir realized why her informants had disappeared, what made them disappear, and what happened to them and where they went.
[...]
The missing lower jaw, the tongue down to the collarbone, had turned purple.
His body was gassy and bloated, and the flesh that had been shed had congealed into a greasy mess.
A few of the undead wandered through the ruins, their bodies emitting a foul odor.
Danger Rating: C
Size: 1.7 meters
Found in: All continents
-Nicknamed 'the lesser rotten'.
A common sight in graveyards, battlefields, abandoned houses, and sewers.
In rural areas and run-down cities, they are almost as common as rats.
The dead are walking around, moaning unpleasantly.
It was unknown what they had done in life to be walking around here now, but it was clear that at least some of them were informants for Sindiwendi.
"Go to a good place."
Not that there really was a good place.
Vikir drew his bow from his back.
Anubis, the bow of the Balak, a powerful black bow that clung to Vikir's hand like a second skin.
"I've been letting this one rest too long."
His hands felt like they were going to rot after handling nothing but entry-level bows during the Academy's midterms.
It is a lie to say that masters do not care about their equipment.
If only I could get this black bow Anubis out of there, I could smash golems and Professor Sady and everyone else.
'But then I'd be in trouble.'
Anubis wouldn't have finished her off with a single eyeball, unlike a supply bow.
Vikir squeezed Anubis deeply, thinking to himself.
[chuckles...]
Madame cub, who had been clinging to Vikir's left hand, moved back to his shoulder, apparently unhappy with Anubis.
The Black Bow Anubis was made from the remains of Madame Eightlegs.
The baby Madame seemed to hate traces of its mother because of the memory of being almost eaten by its mother when it was still an egg.
It suddenly occurred to me that for spiders, the parent-child relationship may not always be so strong.
'Like the dogs in Baskerville.'
And so it goes.
Klik-
Vikir pulled on Anubis.
Poof! Pow!
One by one, the heads of zombies in the distance exploded.
The zombies shattered before they could react, and Vikir continued to follow the faint stench.
Just then.
"...!"
Reaching the center of the ruins, Vikir saw a stunning sight.
Guilty, the patriarch of House Indulgentia. And Dantalian, the ninth of the ten.
He was dead, but one of his undead minions was still alive and well.
Geronto.
A lich with reddish-black hair and a black cloak.
But Vikir was not surprised that Geronto had risen.
The one who brought Geronto back to life.
Standing in the midst of the ruins, It caught Vikir's attention at once.
A person who exudes overwhelming demonic energy, the source of the demonic scent that led Vikir to this place.
A being wearing a helm and armor made of bone, with long hair flaming like red flames and a black cloak fluttering around.
The Eighth Corpse was there.
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