Morimens story · Main Story
Ossuary Gala
21 scenes, 1,206 lines
1. Beneath Dream's Veil, before the fight
68 linesRejoice, my friend♪ Beneath the moonlight, bones quietly bloom♪ My beloved lies still on a silver plate♪
All guests have arrived♪Sing! Dance! Now we consecrate!♪ Never mourn the corpses♪Never pray for the dead♪
Her memories in my hands♪her tears in my teeth♪ Let us swallow her soul, her flesh so sweet ♪ In our deathly banquet, where loved ones meet♪
The song is hoarse and low, like nails scraping a dry throat. It carries the stench of corpses and blood, piercing the stone coffin to reach your ears.
The coffin sways with the song. Your body collides with the coffin wall, creating a dull, eerie sound.
Outside the sarcophagus gaps, bright moonlight illuminates a vast expanse of desolate graves. Two ghouls carry the coffin forward, singing joyfully and swaying.
The last coffin before dawn... Praise the Dark Moon! This fresh meat should make a glorious main dish at the feast.
If His Majesty feels like it, perhaps he may also grant us that man in school uniform to share...
(!!!Did it just say... a man in school uniform...)
Silence! Eyes on the road!
Necrovia's been restless lately; natural disasters and grave robbers have angered His Majesty... This Soulsfeast means everything - don't mess up.
If the coffin offerings get so much as a scratch, His Majesty will have us on the menu too.
The graveyard sights flash quickly as the ghouls carrying the coffin quicken their pace.
You suppress your breathing, lying in the coffin, listening carefully as they converse in disgusting voices while quietly waiting.
Five hours ago
This is it.
You look up and survey the surroundings. This graveyard seems endless. Dim light spills down, faintly illuminating the time-worn tombstones.
A thick, cold mist envelops the cemetery, slowly drifting through your body like a giant ghost, gnawing at your body heat. You shudder slightly.
The cold mist of Necrovia has devoured countless fools who sought to plunder this graveyard.
What could your friend possibly want in a place like this?
William's notes said Tohuwabohu's gaze landed here during the Cataclysm.
He stopped Him here, then came back to investigate.
Tohuwabohu didn't look here by accident. The ghoul palace must hold dimensional travel secrets - and it's hidden in this graveyard.
That note was found at Clementine's place, by me. Do you not doubt its authenticity?
Clementine wouldn't lie about this. It wouldn't benefit her.
Even if turns out fake, this is the only clue I have right now. I must give it a try.
Sure, that's why I've brought you here. What is your next move?
Uh... I...
After all this time with me, I'd hoped you'd learned some semblance of wisdom.
I can't decide if you're brave or just hopelessly naive.
She sighs and gently pats your head, casting a compassionate gaze over you, looking toward an empty stone sarcophagus beside her.
If you've made up your mind, then step inside.
Step... inside?
Surely you've noticed the mist sapping your body heat.
In these conditions, your temperature won't recover. At this rate, you'll freeze to death.
So... I'm hiding in a coffin to stay warm?
What does this have to do with hiding in a coffin?
Doll distinctly rolls her eyes.
...
Recent reports suggest ghouls have been scouring this graveyard for "ingredients", preparations for their annual Soulsfeast Ball.
Their sense of smell is acute; they can gauge a corpse's freshness. A decay-reagent could mask your scent, making you pass for recently deceased.
You're so smart, Professor!
So now I can be added to their table as a top-tier ingredient...
If I fail to locate the Ghoul King's palace, I can at least pull you from this mist before it's too late.
But if we do find it... you may vanish from the world entirely.
Think carefully, %player%.
I must go. To find William. To go back to my world.
Please, Professor Doll!
...
Thud...
The swaying sarcophagus finally comes to a stop. A dull sound startles a cloud of dust filled with the stench of decay.
An abandoned clock tower stands at the center of the cemetery, the twilight monarch of this graveyard recalling its distant past amidst the ruins.
The night creatures startle at the loud noise, fleeing in groups, quickly disappearing into the darkness again. Only two panting ghouls and a heavy stone sarcophagus remain in the ruined building.
Huff... huff... why are... these ingredients... heavier than last time...
Hmph, kids these day have no strength.
Fine... whatever... We're nearly there. C'mon bro, time to ring the bell.
We can't afford mistakes. I'll inspect the offerings once more before we return.
Wait... there's something off about this one's scent...
(Shit... the reagent's wearing off!)
The lively ghoul sighs while reaching out towards the sarcophagus.
Ah, you're being paranoid. It's just meat; what could possibly...
Ah!!...
The moment his hand reaches into the coffin, a strong silver light bursts forth from within.
The lively ghoul covers its burned hand, staring with its mouth open at the figure emerging from the coffin.
Thanks for the ride. I'll take over from here.
You... you...
An intruder! The palace's location is exposed... Kill {Male=him,Female=her}!
He slaps his sluggish teammate hard, grinning and revealing his sharp teeth, suddenly pouncing towards you. The stench of blood and decay instantly reaches you...
2. Beneath Dream's Veil, after the fight
19 linesAfter dealing with those Dissolutes, you throw two fainted ghouls into the coffin, cover it with the lid. The mixed odor of decay and fungal spores makes you feel a bit nauseous.
Huff... I should've asked Professor Doll to leave me another bottle of fragrance.
So "ringing the bell" meant summoning this thing...
You look at the lonely bell that hovers over the ruins of the bell tower. The enormous bell has aged into a desolate dance floor over the long years, for rust and moss to revel.
You hold the stone hammer you found on the ghoul, examining the thorny and fang-like intricate patterns on it.
Clang...
The stone hammer suddenly falls on the bell. A low moan echoes through this boundless graveyard.
The moment the sound arises, you uncontrollably fall into a dream. In the dream, the cold mist thickens, swallowing everything in your sight. Even your outstretched hands are almost indistinguishable.
Is that...?!
The dense cold mist that was just here disappears at a visible speed. Along with it vanish the countless tombs and the land beneath your feet.
In a place once filled with graves, beneath your feet, a city as grand as Londinium rises from the ground.
In the center of this city, facing you, a magnificent castle stands tall, like a sharp bone spur.
Moonlight and thin mist drapes over the castle like a light veil, while the nauseating smell of mold and decaying flesh from the cemetery had condensed into something almost tangible.
The Ghoul King's palace... is inside a dream?
Fresh delivery has arrived!
Leave it. We'll take it straight to His Majesty.
Another group of ghouls carries a stone coffin to the entrance of the castle. You stand hidden on the clock tower, gazing far towards the castle's entrance.
This must be their king's lair. Best place to uncover palace secrets.
You tap the stone coffin beside you, quietly walk down the bell tower, and creep towards that dangerous ancient castle in this unfamiliar night.
3. Culinary Art of Corpses, before the fight
55 linesToo much stench of decay, the flesh too soft, the limbs incomplete...
What are these ignorant fools gathering for food? With ingredients like these, how can we bring them to the Soulsfeast?!
Come on, at least it's a body not yet touched by Dissolution.
After that Cataclysm, finding any clean ingredients is a victory.
His Majesty values ingredients above all else. Mind your tongue when you see him later...
The hoarse conversations and footsteps gradually fade away. You cautiously glance at both ends of the corridor before stepping out from behind a sculpture.
This castle's a damn maze...
They're heading to their king. Defenses and decor get fancier this way.
Following this path should lead to his altar or study.
I might find answers here. I cannot stay here for long; better leave as soon as I'm done...
After moving forward along the corridor and dodging several patrols, the figures of the two attendants disappear at a splendid entrance ahead.
This must be the king's altar or study...
Bypassing the two guards on duty, you step onto the window ledge and gently leap down.
These are...
Corpses.
Corpses piled within coffins. Corpses hanging from the ceiling. Corpses displayed on tables.
Countless corpses form a magnificent orchestra, welcoming your arrival with a silent symphony.
In the dimly luxurious hall, the skull lamps sway slowly like living beings, casting light on the walls and countertops made of precious gems and stone.
Above the flickering flames, ingredients in several pots writhe like maggots, poorly dancing in accompaniment to the corpse's performance.
Hiss...
As a man sprinkles the seasoning in his hand, a strange aroma mixed with decay and spices envelops you.
Your Majesty, the guests have been seated. The ball will commence shortly...
Shh... our dead friend is speaking. You're quite disturbing him, Mr. Fran.
A ghoul named Fran, dressed neatly in a suit, stands respectfully at one side of the kitchen, with his hands placed perfectly and his body bent at the right angle.
In front of him, a man dressed in purple noble clothing eagerly focuses on the pot and kitchen counter. His carefully crafted precious attire hangs loosely on him, swaying slightly in the rising steam.
He bends down and puts his ear close to the corpse on the table. The purple-gray long hair casually falls with the faint mist, gently swaying with his movements.
Tell me everything, my friend.
You don't care for this scorching steam, do you?
Of couse, dear. I'll choose a method that suits you best...
Doresain smiles, holding the silver knife, gently carving a line on the corpse.
Did you hear this sailor's tale, Fran? He yearns to be shredded and cooked. He longs to be remembered.
A single remaining eyeball, a liver soaked in alcohol, calluses on palms worn by ropes, and powerful muscular lines... this will be the most flavorful delicacy under the right conditions.
And this delicate wound from behind, straight to the heart. A truly fatal blow.
Handling this ingredient with rum is far too cliché. I think it should be his mistress's vanity perfume, how perfectly the scent of orris root matches betrayal.
What say you, Mr. Fran?
...I couldn't say, my lord. Kitchen matters fall beyond my duties, and yours as well.
Oops, you're the most boring ghoul I've ever seen. This is precisely why I don't let you help in the kitchen.
Thank you, my lord.
Doresain regretfully pats the butler's shoulder, his gaze continuing to sweep over the remaining corpses on the desk.
The calves of the ballerina, graceful as a song's lines. The poet's spleen, with the lingering flavor of sherry. The banker's spine, too crooked, just right for slow roasting.
The reporter's voice, the politician's tongue. The epileptic's pituitary gland, with piping hot grease pulsating through its marvelous circuits...
Ah, and here, our main attraction tonight: a battered corpse in a school uniform.
A style never seen, a past unknown, wounds and D-marks everywhere, silver filling every inch of blood vessel...
My dear friend, what story do you wish to tell me?
(!!! No way...)
(The student uniform corpse... William? No, please no...)
Doresain passes by the corpses that are cooking, listening to their silent words while slightly adjusting the cooking method.
The bond between cooking and ingredients is like music and dance, the dancer and the partner. Paired incorrectly, a delightful dish becomes a disaster.
Mr. Fran might never grasp this, and I truly pity him. But I believe you, who so painstakingly entered my kitchen, must have some insight.
So, how do you think I should cook this body, my dear... {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} "Uninvited"?
Doresain turns around with a knowing smile, his gaze crossing the coffin storing the ingredients to look in your direction.
(!!! He spotted me?!)
During this time, you have already become familiar with the architectural structure and defense situation of this room.
Without any hesitation, you pass through the window, firmly grasping the Silver Key, and run towards the weakest defensive exit.
Guards. Detain {Male=him,Female=her}.
4. Culinary Art of Corpses, after the fight
28 linesThere!
The weak point of the defense circle has been breached, and the surrounding guards have not yet arrived. You dash past the defeated guards towards the side gate of the ancient castle.
How can you treat our guests so rudely, Mr. Fran?
A cold mist rises as Doresain appears at the gate without knowing when, blocking your way. He waves his finger, causing those ghoul soldiers wanting to advance to lower their weapons.
His eyes shrouded in azure mist observe you closely, as if a gourmet is examining his ingredients.
Necrovia is famed for its hospitality; one must not abandon manners towards guests.
Oh? So if I want to leave now, you'll let me?
What sort of question is that? You are my guest, and leaving is, of course, at the guest's discretion.
That said... since you've come to my palace, you must have business here. To let you leave disappointed, unfinished, would hardly be hospitable.
He approaches you leisurely, circling around you with interest. His violet eyes examine you, flaring nostrils deeply inhaling your scent.
What a graceful neck, what an aromatic scent... if I gently bite it, how delightful would the painful scream and the delicate taste be...
You warily step back, the Silver Key in your hand lighting up. Doresain simply smiles, not approaching you any further.
I sensed your scent in the kitchen just now; it was very, very familiar. And that uniform you're wearing is quite rare.
It seems you might know my main dish tonight, so why not stay for dinner? The banquet is about to begin, and I believe you'll find much of interest here.
I'll identify that body... but not now. Excuse me.
As Doresain speaks, you gather your spiritual power onto the Silver Key as much as possible. The Awakeners in your consciousness are already on standby.
You once locked eyes with Tohuwabohu, and you are intimately familiar with the power of Awakeners. You are confident that even if this man before you wields the immense power to control an entire city of ghouls, you can still break through with this single strike.
Ugh, what the...
Before you could raise the Silver Key, a wave of strong drowsiness surges in your mind. You turn around. Somehow a mist envelops you, devouring all your strength like a hungry hunting dog.
Your attention is fully on Doresain in front of you, and you make the fatal mistake of ignoring the old housekeeper.
You lose all strength and collapse.
Aww, we've been over this, Mr. Fran. Please, treat our guests with more care. Falling to the ground like this is quite damaging to the meat.
Help {Male=him,Female=her} to rest. Be careful, don't hurt {Male=him,Female=her}. Not one bit.
As you command, Your Majesty.
Doresain approaches you, taking a deep sniff and closing his eyes contentedly.
Ah... I have never smelled such a pure, wonderful scent; you are truly delightful. Rest assured, {Male=mister,Female=miss}...
Doresain gently pries open your hand, pinching your Silver Key between his thumb and index finger, looking at it obsessively.
At tonight's banquet, you will surely be my most esteemed "guest."
5. Moonlit Skeleton Dance, before the fight
84 linesYou startle awake to a beam of moonlight. The bright waxing crescent moon leaps into your eyes through the thin clouds, causing a stabbing pain in your newly opened eyes.
You wanted to rub your eyes, but find your raised hand shackled by a mist.
Good evening, my esteemed guest.
The materials for this main guest seat come from forty different races and classes. Just decomposing their skin and bones took me quite some time. Do you enjoy this delicate texture?
A splendid long dining table suddenly appears in a vast graveyard, yet it feels entirely at home as though it has belonged here since its birth.
The precious dishes are arranged on the dining table at just the right intervals, and in those already opened dishes, exquisitely cooked tissues and body fluids emit a peculiar aroma you have never smelled before.
Liver, ribs, heart, eyeballs, palms, pituitary gland, half a skull... Just a glance at the contents on the plate triggers a strong sense of nausea in your stomach. You quickly turn your eyes away.
Cooking is a profound art, and I personally advocate for eco-centrism.
No matter the creature, all are designed and created by exquisite power. Every arc, every hue, harbors unchangeable beauty.
Therefore, only by preserving the original appearance can their true flavors be fully restored. The beauty of sight and taste should never be separated.
If this causes you discomfort, I hope you'll forgive me.
What makes me uncomfortable is not just this.
You're missing the point, Doresain. Their looks are the least of my concerns.
You glance at the black mist binding your hands, thinking of that unsightly table of things, rolling your eyes.
Necrovian customs differ slightly from yours; this is your first visit, and I fully understand your unease.
Please relax a bit, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} %player%. Sometimes, properly opening your heart can turn discomfort into enjoyment.
Doresain slyly smiles at you. A moment later, you feel a loosening in your hand. The black mist that had confined you disappears. You check and find nothing is restricting your movements.
It seems I have no power to not forgive.
Not like I have much choice about forgiving, do I?
You glance at the black mist binding your hands, rolling your eyes.
Of course you do. As a noble guest, you will surely exercise that power, right?
Doresain slyly smiles at you. A moment later, you feel a loosening in your hand. The black mist that had confined you disappears. You check and find nothing is restricting your movements.
You instinctively touch the pocket in your bosom. It is empty.
Looking for this?
The purity of this Silver Core product is rare, and the craftsmanship truly exquisite. I'd never heard of such elegant work existing, and for a moment, I was entranced and forgot to return it.
His long, grayish-white ring finger presses down on the Silver Key and pushes it before you.
First you lock me up, now you free me... What's your game?
What an unfortunate misunderstanding, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} %player%. I never intended to imprison you. Just wanted you at our wonderful banquet.
While you are conversing, the elegantly dressed ghouls enter one after another, discussing recent affairs and tonight's sumptuous banquet in every corner of the graveyard with their hoarse voices.
Twenty attendants wrapped in the skins of various creatures weave through the crowd, delivering goblets filled with thick, sticky blood to each guest.
The moss-covered organ plays automatically, soft dance music flowing from the throat bone's sound plug.
Your Majesty, the silver moon approaches its zenith.
Ah, time's up!
Doresain stands up, clapping his hands. The moonlight falls on his suit, which faintly glows with a stack of corpse wax. The entire cemetery falls silent.
Citizens of Necrovia! My subjects, my dear friends!
The crescent moon has reached its zenith, and the thirteenth bell has already rung.
In the name of the King of Ghouls and the Lord of Necrovia, I declare:
Tonight, the poet's throat will chant for us, and the mother's arms will embrace us.
Tonight, we drink the hatred from our enemies' skulls, and measure eternity with our beloved's ribs.
Now, invite your dance partners, my subjects...
As Doresain's words fall, the ghouls greedily rush towards the nearby gravestone, extending their hands.
Countless graves in the cemetery begin to stir, as pairs of rotting hands break through the moss-covered soil, reaching out to the ghouls.
The lid of the coffin bursts, and the corpses dance to the rhythm of the death waltz, breaking out of the ground, pairing up with ghouls, and coming to the center of the graveyard dance floor.
Doresain steps into the dance floor, elegantly taking the hand of a corpse.
All formalities have dissipated with the fog. My dear subjects, rejoice, tear away the hypocrisy beneath your shrouds, and reveal the primal thirst!
The pale fingers of the ghoul musicians suddenly pluck the strings of the gut-harp, producing a booming sound like an organ from the empty cavity.
That is a dance you have never seen, a cold tango, a wild waltz.
The exposed finger bones of the gentlemen clutch tightly at their partner's spine, while the decayed skirts of the ladies sweep over the tombstone's moss; the entire graveyard trembles in this grand ball.
Doresain looks at all this with satisfaction, his breathing becoming a bit rapid. He struggles to hold back his excitement, his voice nearly trembling.
Devour the deceased, merge with the deceased, my subjects... The souls of the dead shall attain eternity within our bodies!
The Soulsfeast begins...
When Doresain's words fall, the music descends melodiously. All the ghoul dancers suddenly freeze, pressing their lips against each other's necks.
They... what are they...
The sharp teeth of the ghouls suddenly sink into their partners' necks, tearing chunks of decayed flesh away.
The graceful dancers instantly turn into hungry beasts, savagely devouring the corpses in their arms. In the gentle melody, the sounds of chewing and swallowing merge into a surging accompaniment, filling the entire cemetery.
...
You do not know how long this dance lasted. It isn't until Doresain sits back down beside you that you regain your strength to shift your gaze away from the dance floor.
Those images cling to your mind like bacteria, making all your attempts to forget and divert attention turn to vapor.
Ghouls prefer raw flesh; such feeding has its barbaric beauty. For me, however, cooking is my dance with the ingredients.
Come, noble guest. Taste our main dish tonight.
He moves the largest plate on the dining table in front of you and gently lifts the lid.
William?!
The body in the Mythag uniform lies with its hands folded on its chest, in a peaceful posture, resting in the plate.
Natural spices are piled around the corpse, and countless wounds left by Dissolution fill its body; even the head is melted beyond recognition, looking solemn yet almost ridiculous.
Doresain takes out the perfectly intact brain lobe from the skull of the corpse, placing half of it into a small plate and pushing it in front of you.
That's Mythag's uniform...
You... What did you do to William?!
Shh, discussing matters outside of flavor while eating is a great disrespect to the food.
Doresain ignores your anger, cuts off a small piece of cerebral lobe with his long fingernails, and casually pops it into his mouth, closing his eyes to savor it.
As he opens his eyes, you see a flash of red glow pass through their depths.
Soon, he cleans up that half piece of brain leaf completely. He licks his lips in satisfaction, looking at you again with a gaze that carries an inscrutable smile.
What an interesting taste and story... young, resilient, shining on the taste buds due to some belief... Are you sure you don't want a bite?
(Steady, %player%... wait for your shot...)
Whether it is teasing or provoking, you do not pay attention to Doresain. You have experienced too many moments of danger and pain, and anger cannot drown out your reason.
You tightly grip the Silver Key, patiently calming yourself, waiting for...
This body is worthy of the festival banquet before the Soulsfeast. But compared to you, the difference still saddens me.
He suddenly leans closer to you, taking a deep sniff. A scent, as silent and dead as a bouquet blooming in the Abyss, surges into your nostrils. You instinctively recoil.
Hmm... the scent when awake and when fainting is quite different, yet equally mysterious, equally alluring...
I am very curious what would it taste like... the body of a Keeper from another dimension...
The word "Keeper" slithers into your ears like a venomous worm, leaving you in shock as you stare at him.
You... how do you know...
The ball is still ongoing, and it's truly a pity to miss such moonlight and music. {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper, would you grace me with a dance?
Doresain extends his hand towards you, a thick fog enveloping you. If you don't act now, it might be too late...
Intense fear and anger pull you from shock. Your spirit power surges like a torrent, rushing into the Silver Key in your hand...
6. Moonlit Skeleton Dance, after the fight
53 linesUh... Such immense spiritual energy is indeed unheard of. Interesting.
{Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper, before you raise that Silver Key again... Would you like to hear about Mr. William's whereabouts?
...Huh?!
The battle that occurred in the thick fog seems to have never happened. After casually wiping his hands with a napkin, Doresain strides directly to the center of the dance floor, giving you no chance to refuse.
You frown, thinking for a moment before following.
Thank you for your presence, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper. I think we have many misunderstandings. I am indeed very interested in your body... but rest assured, I won't lay a finger on it. At least, not yet.
I didn't come here for this...
Then, to ensure your hostility truly ends, towards this land, and towards me...
One of his hands is behind his back, while the other is slightly raised, inviting you to dance.
That body does not belong to your Mr. William, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper.
?!!!
A rhythmic new tune suddenly plays. Doresain takes a half-step back, signaling the start of the dance.
You are not very familiar with the rhythm of Tango de Salón. You struggle to keep up with him.
How could you...
What do you mean? Your Keeper identity? Details about Mr. William? Or the fact that you're not from this dimension?
A sudden stop. Doresain whispers mockingly right in your ear. You pivot sideways, glaring at him.
You seem to know more than I imagined.
That corpse is not the Mr. William you seek, but another investigator named Fingal.
Fingal?! That's... the senior who invited William to join Mythag... How do you know that?
Unlike the world's misunderstanding of us, ghouls do not consume corpses for the flesh itself, but for the souls and memories within.
Memories? ...
This kingdom has thrived peacefully for many years, and our mastery extends beyond just cooking and dancing.
I know your intrusion isn't malicious. So, I hope you might lower your guard a little. As I said, Necrovia welcomes its guests.
A ghoul king's obviously going to be more than just some gourmet dancer.
And you obviously didn't keep me as your guest out of hospitality.
Since you already know where I come from... what do you want?
A more pleasant way to phrase it is mutual assistance. Put simply: a trade.
Your steps tangle, then sync. You lean into the music's pulse, your body pressed close to his in competitive steps as you cross the dance floor.
The Cataclysm some time ago impacted the entire world. Necrovia, being closest to where that God descended, was struck first.
The dangers of Dissolution have long existed. After the disaster, many Necrovian residents were infected. They will completely vanish from this world... This is something I absolutely cannot accept.
You don't know Fingal Johansen personally, but he remembers you. In his memories, I witnessed your valiant stand against that deity. If anyone in this world can help me save Necrovia... it must be you.
What if I say no?
You will not say no.
Doresain's smooth stride snaps sharp as the music picks up, his leg hooks yours, forcing you back between the tombstones.
You shove against him, breaking free in a spinning turn toward the open floor.
With quick steps, eye contact, and spins, you are always ready to inject your spirit power into the Silver Key, but Doresain's pace suddenly slows down.
I read those memories of you, and I hold immense respect for the meaning contained within the title "Keeper."
What I said earlier was not coercion. I understand your aversion to Necrovian customs. If you are unwilling, Necrovia will respectfully send you away.
But you came for a Secret. How Fingal arrived in this world, how he learned of your world's events, where William went... I believe these hold enough allure for you.
I think you have no reason to refuse. Do you?
The long echoes of the violin linger among the paused steps. Doresain raises his arm and bows to you.
A delightful dance tune. {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper, your thoughts?
I agree.
...Fine, "Lord" Doresain.
At least this isn't the worst option.
Among all the options, this is at least not the worst.
You also bow and raise your hand, a polite return to your dance partner.
Necrovia sincerely thanks you for your cooperation, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper.
Fran, prepare. After tonight's dinner, I wish to speak with this {Male=good sir,Female=lady here} and give {Male=him,Female=her} a thorough tour of this city.
Regrettably, that won't be possible at this time, my lord.
The old butler walks over from the side of the dance floor and whispers a few words into Doresain's ear.
Doresain's face still wears a gentle smile, but a chilling glint flashes in his eyes.
This tomb raider friend certainly knows how to pick his moments. A fine addition to tomorrow's menu.
7. Inconsequential Footnote, before the fight
73 linesFresh eyeball preserves! Sweet, delicious, bursting with flavor!
Market update: Heart valves up 3%, pituitary glands halted. Exchange closed, return tomorrow!
A liver's lines reveal your fate. Come, friend, peer back from your grave...
Corpse makeup, flesh processing, our new corpse-softening oil massage. Care to try?
...I'll pass for now. Maybe in a few decades.
There's no need to be so reserved, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper. As your human world says, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do". It's simply proper etiquette for a guest.
Care for a taste? Compared to the royal mansion's fare, it's naturally far from it, but these street vendors' handling of rotten bugs still offers a unique flavor that has genuinely inspired me.
Keep it for yourself; I'm not hungry.
You suppress the impulse to gag and politely refuse the unidentified object filled with wriggling maggots that Doresain offers.
Doresain pays no attention, gently licking the juice off his fingers while squinting his eyes, eagerly observing every passerby citizen.
Under the bright moonlight, the market is crowded with people. The raspy voices of the ghoul merchants rise and fall. Various shops you have never heard of line the broad street, extending as far as the eye can see.
Twenty slender intestines string together countless vocal cords, hanging in the market's sky, swaying in the gentle breeze, producing joyful melodies like wind chimes.
Before each Soulsfeast Ball, Necrovia buzzes like this. The deceased and the living share the festival's joy; the departed find rest while the living flourish. It's truly a beautiful scene, wouldn't you agree?
So rest means corpse desecration in ghoul vocabulary? And you call this respect?
I understand your repulsion towards our customs, but we are not the corpse defilers you imagine.
On the contrary, respect for the dead is the paramount tradition in Necrovia; calling it a religious belief is no exaggeration.
And you call this respect? Hard to swallow.
Different cultures across various races naturally create barriers; I fully understand and respect this, and you need not agree with our ways right now.
But at least, if not for us ghouls' refined tradition, that brave Mr. Fingal would have left with his secret regrets.
Fine... no time to argue semantics. What did you see in Fingal's memories?
In your records, Mr. Fingal is missing. In truth, he discovered a passage between these two worlds during that mission and traversed it multiple times.
When that Supreme God descended, he secretly helped Mr. William survive, but he himself could not escape disaster. He is a hero of this world and a person worthy of our profound respect.
Unfortunately, part of his memories became unreadable to me. They were corrupted after his contact with that supreme being. I don't know how to traverse the two worlds, but I believe the Mr. William you seek would have been looking for it.
Let me guess. You don't plan to tell me where William is?
You have a sharp mind. Worthy of such a fragrant body...
Seeing Doresain approaching you, you quickly reach out to stop him.
Aww, you wouldn't even satisfy an addict's little harmless request? Humans are truly a stringy species.
Worry not, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper. After I deal with these unforgivable desecrators of corpses, I will give you everything you desire.
That "grave robber"... he's here?
Fran has already found his clues. Don't be misled by his dull, uninteresting demeanor; in some aspects, he can be a very experienced helper.
I've had a taste of his methods.
You watch the old caretaker stealthily approaching from the side of the market, recalling the black mist that trapped you in the manor without your notice, and sigh.
So, my old friend, has that grave robber gentleman been invited to our table?
He... has vanished...
Vanished? My soldiers have surrounded every market exit; how could he vanish?
Our intelligence arrived too late, he departed the market before we could intervene.
We've just received word of another grave robbery. One citizen was... slain by the trespasser.
Fran keeps his head down, avoiding the cold gaze of Doresain, and wipes the nonexistent sweat off his face with a handkerchief.
To desecrate the dead right before Soulsfeast... Ha. It seems this tomb raider is openly declaring war on me.
Fran, convey my orders: assemble all royal guards. One team follows me, the others block all exits. You will remain at the palace.
This tomb raider will not have any chance to escape.
As you command, Your Majesty.
...
Leaving the buzzling downtown of Necrovia, you quickly arrive at the suburban outskirts.
Some gravestones are planted in the deserted land by the roadside, without names or raised graves. Some ghouls kneel before the nameless gravestones, bowing to them, with fresh tears on their faces.
These are bodies that have been Dissoluted.
Noticing your puzzled expression, Doresain gently explains to you.
Vanished names and memories... I've witnessed this many times before in my world.
I've met various ghouls during my time here. You defile bodies, yet your reverence for the dead is genuine...
Those are not acts of blasphemy. Everything a ghoul does to a body is permitted and blessed by the deceased.
The... dead's permission and blessing?
As you can see, in this world, the issue of Dissolution is far more severe than in your dimension.
Even without Dissolution's influence, after a person dies, all memories and emotions, all the treasures they cherished, will eventually disappear forever.
Everything will inevitably fade... Dissolution is merely the manifestation of this unyielding law. A tragic destiny, isn't it?
Doresain's smile carries a touch of desolation.
You once led the Awakeners to face the God of Destruction. Like you, we refuse to succumb to this fate.
Necrovia imbues every citizen with Silver Cores. Their Silver Cores record their memories along with their flesh.
When a person dies, their loved ones consume their corpse to inherit the Silver Core within them, along with all attached memories.
Every year's Soulsfeast Ball is a feast, a reunion of the deceased and the living. Necrovia has been passed down through such memories until now.
I spoke too harshly earlier. Your customs have meaning I didn't comprehend. For that, I apologize.
Human prejudices are as ancient as human history. It is quite normal and should not be taken to heart.
If I truly wish to offer something in return, I do indeed have a method...
Looking at his gaze assessing your neck and arms, you roll your eyes and move two steps away from him.
How exactly do you get this "permission"...
Roar!!
Please be careful.
A black mist appears beside you, blocking the sudden claws that strike at you.
You converse with Doresain, completely oblivious to the ghoul lurking beside you.
A rustling sound arises. From the surrounding bushes, several corroded ghouls rush toward you.
These ghouls... They've been dissoluted...
It seems this tomb raider has prepared a special gift for us.
Doresain looks at the circle of ghouls surrounding you, letting out a soft sigh as the black mist gradually condenses around him.
Rest in peace, my people.
8. Inconsequential Footnote, after the fight
110 linesThe Dissoluted ghouls lie on the ground, turning into a pool of D-Slime. There is nothing inside.
No Silver Cores...
Someone stole their Silver Cores, turned them into monsters?
Doresain does not respond, walking forward with his hands behind his back. He arrives outside a small house in this wasteland.
Your Majesty, this is...
Doresain raises his hand, stopping him, and walks into the house.
Inside the dilapidated house, broken tables and chairs scatter on the ground, and two worn plates shatter on the floor. A pair of Dissoluted ghoul couples have their skulls roll off the plates.
Amidst the scattered items, a little ghoul girl in tattered clothes lies in a pool of blood, breathless.
Her time of death is two hours ago. We have checked; none of these three corpses have Silver Cores.
Doresain walks towards the girl, holding her in his arms, his fingers gently brushing over her head.
My subjects, my kin, please do not rush to the land of the dead.
In the name of the King of Ghouls, under the moon's purest light, I call upon you, summoning your return.
Please tell me everything you need me to know...
The surrounding light dims. The moonlight seems to gather on Doresain's hands, flowing through his fingertips into the little girl's body.
Soon, a spirit formed from moonlight gently floats from the little girl's body, overlapping with the flesh.
She looks in disbelief at her deceased body, the messy house, and the scattered heads on the ground.
I... I am dead? ...
Daddy... Mommy... I'm sorry...
It's okay, child. Someone will pay for what happened to you.
The little girl raises her sorrowful eyes, looking at the man in front of her.
Mommy said our king Doresain can talk to the dead...
Are you... our king?
Mommy and Daddy told me to eat them during the Soulsfeast so we'll stay together forever...
I cleaned them up and set them on the dining table, and then... someone barged into our home...
What kind of person?
A... painter...
The moonlight escapes from her mind, forming a blurry shadow in the air, fleeting. Doresain watches that shadow; his breathing becomes heavy.
But he still maintains a gentle tone, as if fearing that even a loud voice might disturb the soul of the little girl.
Why did he come here?
He asked me to hand over my parents' bodies...
Mommy and Daddy left their remains to me... I can't let him have them...
And then?
He said not to let anyone know he had been here... He showed me a painting...
After seeing that painting, I fell asleep... When I woke up again, I... saw you all...
She turns her head and looks at her parents' heads.
Mommy and Daddy's Silver Cores are gone... I failed to protect them... It was their last wish, and I failed...
Bandits broke into your home. You are the victim, and this is not your fault.
But Mommy and Daddy said...
I will fulfill their wishes for them.
Y-You will? But... you are the King of Necrovia...
Precisely. I am the King of Necrovia, yet I let some bandits hurt you under my watch. This is my fault, and I must resolve it for you.
Do you have any wishes for yourself? Please tell me.
Then... Could you please eat me? Eat me, and eat Mommy and Daddy...
The little girl looks up at Doresain.
They are already dead. All my families have died... They left their memories to me. But now I am dead too.
Mr. Doresain, you are the master of Necrovia... Could you please find their Silver Cores... and preserve our memories for us?
...
Moonlight. Suffering. Life draining away. Fragile pleas being made.
Familiar scenes replay before his eyes, just like the day she bid him farewell.
Celina!!
Brother... you... You're back...
He rushes to the sickbed. The girl from his memories, as lively as a nightingale, now only leaves a withered body and face.
Father, he...
Dissolution took him away, a month ago... his body has already vanished, and the memories he left behind are beginning to fade...
You have just assumed the throne; you must have a lot to handle. Father did not wish to disturb you, nor did he... want you to handle his remains...
Stop thinking about that, Celina. How far has the dissolution on you progressed? I know a very reputable doctor who might be able to...
You haven't changed. Every time you lie, you look toward the window where the moon is, brother.
Celina...
His Adam's apple rolls with sorrow. Doresain tightly grips his sister's arm, marred with black dissolution holes.
Brother, there's something I want to ask of you...
If there's something, tell me. I will do it for you no matter what!
After I die, can I ask you... to consume me?
Time seems to come to a halt for Doresain. He widens his eyes, looking incredulously at his sister.
You... What did you say?
You've always wanted this, haven't you? Even when we were young, you whispered how you longed to taste a kin's blood and flesh, saying it must be more delicious than anything you've ever tasted. Father's, Mother's, mine...
But you never did, brother. Not even after Father poisoned you, after you woke up immortal and powerful... You still held back.
Celina... but... you did not truly accept this... why must you...
On my fifth birthday, you took me to the cemetery. You told me that you weren't committing a crime. That it was simply an art people couldn't understand.
You want to find the perfect corpse for me... I was so scared that I don't dare to look at you. I just listened and tried to make sure no one would see us.
Like father, like everyone else, I am just an ordinary person... I cannot grasp things beyond my understanding, nor your talk of feasts.
But I trust you, brother.
Celina's voice begins to tremble slightly. She tightly holds Doresain's hand.
I don't want to die, brother... Not without leaving something behind, without purpose...
Dissolution takes everything. But if you devour me... perhaps that taste could linger, even when Dissolution claims the rest?
Celina smiles at Doresain, gently patting the back of Doresain's hand in comfort.
Father called you a freak, our family's shame... Yet from childhood until now, you've been the kindest to me, even as I feared you increasingly.
You must have been so lonely all these years, brother?
He is the king who rules this land. He once locked eyes with the lofty gods and the most vicious enemies, and at this moment, he realizes he has no courage to look directly into his sister's eyes.
I'm sorry... I should have been the one who understood you best...
I never could before, but now... now I have this chance.
Celina lifts her head, looking earnestly at Doresain. A tear slips from her smiling eyes, like the last drop of dew before the morning sun rises.
Doresain, Necrovia's new king... I beg you to consume me. To carry my memory, carry my soul, so we may live on together.
In life, I couldn't stand beside you. In death, brother... let me stay in your heart forever.
...
A memory of blood-related kin: a story of a city-state's royal family, a heavy history.
A memory of a commoner: a story of an ordinary family, a negligible footnote.
To the King of Necrovia, they should not, and will not, be any different.
Doresain switches to a solemn expression. He lightly pats the little girl's head and nods at her.
I promise you... I will retrieve your Silver Cores. I will help you hold onto those memories until the day my spirit perishes.
The little girl grins happily. Her body lies in Doresain's arms; her nearly dried blood flows over his body.
Don't worry, child... I will be very, very gentle...
Doresain takes a deep breath, solemnly lowers his head, and bites the little girl's neck.
Perhaps due to fear of the fangs, or due to confusion over what is about to fade, her spirit trembles slightly, just like on the day Celina died.
Doresain gently strokes her head. Under that soothing touch, her soul calms down, quietly gazing at Doresain, and also at herself.
Helpless souls, take one last look... all that you cherish will remain under the moonlight forever...
In the name of the moonlight, in the name of Necrovia, I shall grant you remembrance, I shall grant you an ending...
Sharp teeth pierce the skin, separating flesh from bone. A piece of flesh is bitten off by him, chewed, and swallowed.
It seems he has forgotten everything about ingredients and cooking techniques. He eats slowly and carefully, solemnly, gently, and with all his passion, consuming the little girl's corpse.
Those ordinary stories flash through his mind. He watches this family rise and fall, witnesses their countless joys and sorrows, sees their end before the Soulsfeast.
They should have disappeared in the long river of history, but now, he will remember them in the name of the ghoul king.
Thank you... our King...
Moonlight shines on the smiling soul of the girl, like a pure veil. The next moment, the veil shatters into points of light within the room; the young soul disperses with the wind.
Purple mist, filled with intense sorrow, spreads from Doresain's eyes, surrounding the spot where the girl disappeared, comforting and bidding farewell.
He chews and swallows. His long, sharp nails embed deep into the wooden floor, moving slowly. With each chew, the temperature in his eyes drops a degree.
Your Majesty, we found the location of the tomb raiders...
Snap...
The plank finally cannot withstand the wrath of the Ghoul King, breaking suddenly under the fierce claw marks.
This long devouring has come to an end. Doresain gently wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth, raises his eyes as chilling as an ice cave, and walks silently out the door.
9. Painter, before the fight
38 linesDozens of corpses hang in various postures, gently swaying in the air of the basement. The smell of mold is mixed with the stench of rotting flesh, pervading every corner of this filthy room.
A ghoul stands before the canvas with a brush in hand, gazing solemnly at the hanging corpse in front of it. The candlelight casts fluttering shadows in its hollow eye sockets.
The hanging posture, the expression, they just don't match; his smile needs to be a bit more bitter...
Keep the rotting purple spots on the chest, yes, exactly like that! Now, add a gradient that blends perfectly into the night...
He dips pigments ground from ochre and black bones; the tusk-crafted brush scrapes against the human skin canvas, making scratching sounds.
The seventh section of the spine is a bit displaced! Oh, gods, I shouldn't have been so rough while moving them. This is a disaster...
The painter throws away his palette smeared with rotten flesh and blood, cursing as he lunges for the freezer, rummaging for the resin to restore the body. Suddenly, he stops, slapping his head forcefully.
AHH! No, no no no... I understand now! What perfect displacement! A structure the living can never achieve!
This displacement, only this, is unique to the Dance of the Miryad Souls! I must include them all!
He suddenly turns back and picks up the paintbrush again, nervously dashing across the canvas.
The brush jabs at a spot on the canvas; dark red plasma is squeezed out from the heart specimen just dug up last night, staining the skirts of the ghoul dancers with patches of varying depths.
I didn't expect the tomb raider to be him...
Doresain's voice soon returns to its previous mocking elegance; the intense anger is well hidden in his eyes.
Do you know him?
Pickman is Necrovia's renowned painter. I used to admire his work.
Such a talented artist, now reduced to stealing corpses... A true pity.
This dilapidated house has been surrounded layer upon layer by Doresain's soldiers. You and Doresain find this studio, hiding in the corner, watching the busy figure of the painter.
Tell the people outside to prepare.
Yes.
Snap...
The soldier turns around and accidentally bumps into a hanging corpse.
Under the candlelight, the shadows of the swaying corpses are as clear as the shadows on a white canvas.
Ugh... You know what? I'm just going to say it...
The painter lets out a long sigh, helplessly tossing his brush and palette aside.
You've been in here for ten minutes; I don't know what you're doing, nor do I want to know. Talk all you want, I don't give a damn.
But these corpses took me so long to arrange, the composition, the light and shadow... You've ruined everything!
You are interrupting my creation! You are destroying ART!!
Your artwork does have commendable aspects. But a tasteless grave-robber has no right to speak of art.
Doresain emerges from the shadows. Pickman seems to still be in shock, looking at him in confusion.
Doresain? You... how did you get in here?
Painter Pickman, we've met. Abstract, maddening, your work is filled with postmodern dross.
As a subject, your actions violate Necrovian law. As a painter, your creations insult these remains.
You... you...
Pickman's pupils tremble violently; vivid paint gathers from all corners of the house before him, solidifying into a massive, sharp claw.
You have insulted a staunch defender of surrealism! This room does not welcome those who don't understand art!
DISAPPEAR!
Pickman's figure instantly vanishes from his spot, rushing towards you with a strong gust of wind.
A cold glint flashes in Doresain's eyes; a thick cold mist suddenly appears, moving forward...
10. Painter, after the fight
54 linesHuff... huff...
Yes!
Watching the soldiers approaching, Pickman struggles to get up.
You bunch of scoundrels... unforgivable! My art shall not be desecrated by you!
Pickman closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The paints swirling around him merge onto the canvas like a floating stream.
My artwork, my perfect Relic, I have endowed you all with Life and Power... come, let us together create a masterpiece of life...
Look, those paintings!
As those pigments are injected, Pickman's paintings begin to tremble, as if struggling like a trapped beast.
Struggles intensify, and one by one, terrifying creatures surge out from his paintings.
These are...
Your ability remains as eye-catching as ever, Pickman.
But it is you who desecrated corpses and defiled art.
I appreciate your talent, and I'd offer a chance for confession. Killing a remarkable artist is something I truly can't bear.
But I'm left with no choice. My kingdom cannot tolerate those who desecrate the dead. Stealing corpses, killing innocents, you cannot escape responsibility.
Since you refuse to admit your sin, today, in the name of the Lord of Necrovia, I grant you death.
Thick mist emanates from Doresain, shrouding the entire art studio.
Even if not the target of Doresain, you still feel a bone-chilling cold in this dense fog.
The monsters pouring out from Pickman's paintings also become sluggish in this cold mist.
I can't understand a word you're saying... what is all this talk about desecrating corpses and violating laws...?
Aren't these the corpses you asked me to find?
You said... what?
The cold mist stops, and Pickman halts the monster's movement. Doresain frowns, locking eyes with Pickman.
You sent someone to tell me this Soulsfeast Ball is crucial, that it needed a colossal painting to capture its grandeur.
He gave me addresses, saying he'd prepared many bodies for me to temporarily borrow as models.
The Dance of the Myriad Souls! I've wanted to create such a colossal piece for ages! What a perfect opportunity, I agreed without a second thought. So, are you backing out now?
If you're using corpses as models, why seize their Silver Cores?
Aren't those Silver Cores what you wanted? After retrieving the bodies, I sent them all to you. How was I supposed to know what you wanted those Silver Cores for...
...Then, what about that little girl? Why kill her?
Stop slandering me! I'M NOT A PERVERT! My artwork this time doesn't even need her as a model. Why would I kill her?
I went to her house for some fresh bodies, but she refused. I feared she might spread rumors, causing trouble for both you and me, so I let her sleep a while.
So, uh... she's dead?
...Who ordered you to collect corpses for painting?
It's just a guard from your palace, I can barely remember what he looked like. He had no distinct features, wasn't representative at all, making him quite unsuitable for innovative art...
Clang, Clang, Clang...
Ugh...
The bell tolls like a muffled thunder echoing over the city. The faint chill that has been hanging around you since entering the city of remains seems to dissipate gradually with the ringing of the bell...
It appears something has attacked Doresain. He tightly clutches his heart; a stream of crimson blood flows from his lips.
Y-Your Majesty!
The cold mist of Necrovia... has dissipated...
Doresain looks up at the window. The originally vague mist dissipates with the chime of the bell. The cemetery you saw upon entering Necrovia faintly reveals itself in the air of the city.
The city and the graveyard, like a block of randomly assembled building blocks, are peculiarly piled together.
What the hell...?
I used a sigil, what I call the "Veil of Murmurs", to shroud this cemetery in cold mist, keeping Necrovia safe within dreams.
I kept that sigil in my palace, and now... it has been broken.
This city is completely exposed to the outside world... Ha, the invaders will soon appear.
Doresain's voice is somewhat hoarse. He no longer pays attention to the blood at the corner of his mouth and silently gazes at the magnificent and swaying royal mansion.
Some long-lasting, precious things were destroyed along with the sigils, and his hands tremble slightly from the force.
You look in surprise at Doresain's face. There is no surprise from an unexpected incident, no anger from being betrayed. It is a weary face belonging to a monarch.
The mist slithers around him like a venomous snake, offering a detached farewell to those about to be sentenced to death.
...Who did this?
Only one person could achieve these feats, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper.
Let's go. Return to the palace. I want to ask him face to face why he did all this, why he wants to destroy Necrovia.
11. Oath, before the fight
39 linesFran stands beside the throne in the kitchen. His attire remains impeccably neat, and his posture still appears respectful.
He has forgotten when he began to follow Doresain. He is as familiar with everything here as Doresain.
The light from the skeleton chandelier casts a solemn, peaceful veil over the corpse on the central table.
Fran's hand brushes over her already decayed face; the corners of his mouth curl slightly, as if reliving a lengthy story.
Footsteps sound behind him. Steady, indifferent, coming closer and then moving away.
You've arrived more swiftly than anticipated, my lord.
He stands up and bows to Doresain, as if this was just an ordinary day in a long span of time.
Do you think the soldiers you sent to guard the entrance have the courage to stop me?
I merely hoped the tomb raider might occupy your attention a while longer. Even that seems a luxury now.
But you won, Fran.
Doresain squints slightly, gazing at the traces of energy emanating from the seal in the air.
The Veil of Murmurs is something you and I maintained together. Aside from me, only you knew its location and how to destroy it.
I recall when I wished to store it in my kitchen, you strongly opposed, calling it irresponsible to Necrovia.
But now... you went to great lengths to trick Pickman into stealing corpses, killing innocent little girls, luring me from the castle just to destroy this seal, to ruin the kingdom you've lived your whole life in...
I want to know, why, Fran?
Others may not comprehend, but you understand perfectly, my lord.
Fran lowers his head, staring at the corpse on the stage that has rotted for years, his voice thick with some choking.
I've forgotten when she died, or why. Forgotten how many times I've begged you.
I know that you have a way to bring her back. I am willing to offer you everything, my lord, as long as she can open her eyes again, stand before me once more, and smile at me...
Lord Doresain, you never granted my plea.
Death is our belief, Fran. Let the deceased rest in peace, devour their bodies, inherit their memories, and carry on their will. This is our respect for death.
You were my most loyal friend, and I truly wished to see you reunited with your wife. But I have long made it clear... bringing the dead back to life comes at an extremely painful price.
The cost is something no one wishes to see. For this reason, resurrection methods are classified as taboo.
You are one of this kingdom's most esteemed ghouls. You should understand these principles.
The gap between understanding and action is as vast as that between life and death.
Death is your creed, this realm's foundation. Mine resides solely in her.
Fran takes the decayed hand that was forever suspended in youth, places it against his aged lips, and kisses it deeply.
All these years, I searched relentlessly. I sought to steal resurrection secrets from the castle, yet found nothing.
Your wisdom astonishes me, my lord. Yet the moon favors the devoted, I've met such individuals.
They claimed to know how to restore my wife. All they required was a small... favor.
They need the Silver. Every Silver Core from Necrovia's citizens...
To resurrect your wife, you would offer your entire hometown to the enemy?
You know how many covet those Silver Cores. You know how many will die because of it.
I care not, my lord.
Fran gently pats that rotting hand and tenderly places it beside the corpse.
Even if they truly can resurrect your wife, do you believe you'll live to see their arrival?
The cold mist suddenly rises from Doresain's body, while another, even more oppressive black fog swirls at the same moment around Fran.
A pair of huge bare wings burst through the formal wear, spreading from the back of this aged ghoul. He blocks the decaying corpse, raising his eyes to stare directly at this ghoul king before him.
But without attempting, how could one know?
12. Oath, after the fight
24 linesCough... Cough...
Fran ignores the blood flowing from his mouth and carefully brushes off the rubble and dust splattered on his wife's corpse, looking at you with a complex expression.
Summoning warriors from memory? Most extraordinary. This guest's abilities are remarkable.
Lord Doresain, after decades of service... I realize I never knew you.
Your power exceeds all estimation.
It's over, Fran.
This battle may end in my defeat... but the war is only beginning.
The old butler struggles to lift his head, staring straight into Doresain's eyes.
Necrovia has manifested, and invaders approach. The seals cannot be restored in time.
I've already dispatched messages from here. Soon, they'll revive my wife...
Nothing can save Necrovia now. I've won, Lord Doresain.
You are now powerless to resist; are you not worried I'll gnaw your and your wife's remains to the bone?
This serves no purpose beyond petty vengeance.
You always say anger is weakness, that a true gentleman never lets it cloud his mind.
And you, my lord, are the most impeccable gentleman I've ever known. So, of course, you won't do that. You'll gracefully let me go, gracefully accept your defeat, and gracefully watch as I finally claim my heart's desire.
Fran smiles at Doresain. After so many years of companionship, he believes he knows Doresain better than anyone else, even better than Doresain knew himself.
Doresain's body trembles slightly, and he lets out a deep sigh.
Losing a friend who understood me so well is a pity. But you don't understand me enough, Fran.
True, as you said, I won't lift a finger against you. But make no mistake... you cannot win.
Your Majesty!
Doresain gestures to the soldier. The soldier leaned in and whispered a few words into Doresain's ear, and he gives a slight nod.
My soldier told me that Soulsfeast gatherings are the liveliest times.
Let's go, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper. I think we have some time now to enjoy Necrovia's scenery.
From that old steward, Doresain turns away his compassionate gaze and walks out of the old castle.
13. Funeral & Wedding Gown, before the fight
54 linesHey! Did you see that! The mist covering Necrovia has already...
My eyes haven't been eaten yet. Of course I saw it.
Then you still have the mood to drink here?! If there's an intruder sneaking in...
What's wrong, scared they'll steal your food?
His Majesty's here to handle 'em. We can't miss the celebrations before Soulsfeast...
The disturbances occurring around Necrovia have little impact on the citizens. The market still buzzes with voices, as if it had never stopped.
The damaged seals and the abruptly appeared cemetery merely provide the locals with a little more gossip.
Doresain sits on the chair of the Memory Cerebrospinal Fluid Drink Shop, tasting the tranquil liquid in the skull cup while eagerly watching the live dissection theater on stage.
Though the dissection technique is swift, it's a bit rough, with no proper control over thickness or shape. Perhaps they're merely a second-rate dissector.
You've got time for this?
For a ruler, the best entertainment, of course, is watching their subjects live and thrive peacefully.
Take some time to appreciate their lives, much like one savors a delicious, carefully crafted dish.
Have you forgotten what we came here to do?
Oh, not at all. Those invaders have just concluded their discussions.
One group has already left Necrovia to report to their leader. Another is now approaching us, ready to act.
While waiting for them, one should certainly find something interesting to do; otherwise, it would be a waste of the night.
You haven't been here long; you can use this opportunity to experience the market thoroughly.
The memory canning shop should suit you quite well. Even if you're not a ghoul, simply sampling some brain lets you experience someone else's memories, which is perfect for a tourist like yourself.
The corpse amusement park is splendidly designed, but given your age, I'm afraid you can't enter.
No thanks.
You're awfully relaxed in the face of impending doom.
Ah, thank you for the compliment. "Relaxed"... a rare quality only a corpse sleeping in a fine oak coffin for three hundred years could possess. I rather like that word.
You monitored the intruders before they entered. Controlled their every move in Necrovia.
It seems as if they did not come willingly, but rather...
The "Invitation," was it?
Doresain puts down the cup and smiles at you.
I don't know your plans, don't want to. I'm not here for Necrovia's wars.
You should know any choice that leads to further complications aren't wise for me.
If you would, keep your promise and tell me what you know.
I will certainly fulfill my promise, but not just yet.
Aw, please don't look at me like that. I will naturally fulfill what I've promised. But right now, I truly am powerless.
Because the information you seek isn't in my hands, but in the hands of the enemies we're about to face.
You suppress the anger in your heart and take a deep breath.
I can wait. But no matter who you're fighting, that's your business, not mine...
A subtle wave of spiritual energy does not escape your mind. You alertly stop and carefully sense.
A dozen individuals, clearly different from ghouls, are hiding behind the crowd at the market, approaching you from different directions.
Doresain exchanges a glance with you and rhythmically taps his fingers on the table. The dark sentry receives the order and silently disappears around the corner.
...I'll play guest. Settle your affairs, then honor your deal.
Me? What do you mean...
Your identity has been reported to these invaders by Fran.
They're after Necrovia's Silver Cores. Now that the seal is broken, that Silver Key in your hand, and you yourself, are more alluring than I, the Ghoul King.
Did you deliberately tell Fran this?!
Your head jerks up to Doresain. He smiles and puts down his cup, signaling dozens of figures to spring out from the crowd, drawing weapons and charging toward you.
The unmistakable smell of blood and the fish-like appearance brings you back to that memory on the Sona-Nyl.
...Seafarers?!
Grrrrr...! Capture that human! Offer {Male=him,Female=her} to our Lord!
We cannot be so rude to our guests.
An arm formed from the cold mist emerges from the ground, locking the legs of the Seafarers like thorns.
Not far away, dozens of ghoul soldiers, fully armed, are quickly encircling here.
Intruders, you are surrounded!
Grrr...!
The leading Seafarer, seeing no way out, struggles fiercely, disregarding the thorns piercing his legs, leading a dozen or so followers in a desperate charge towards you.
14. Funeral & Wedding Gown, after the fight
104 linesIn the kitchen of the palace, corpses hanging in the air sway gently with the breeze. The old ghoul stands with his back to the door, gazing for a long time at the elegant table before him.
Doresain knows Fran just as intimately as Fran knows him. He doesn't need to imprison Fran; he merely imposes calculated, symbolic restraints on his abilities.
Fran still sits beside his wife's corpse, not even changing the position of his hands and feet, like a loyal servant waiting for a distant answer over a long time.
What he awaits is a group of Seafarer's captives.
Fran's slightly disgusted gaze traverses over those abominations from the deep sea, looking towards Doresain.
Your efficiency is remarkable, my lord, though it changes nothing.
Compared to those who desire Necrovia, your kingdom is woefully fragile.
Why bring these aberrations here, defiling your sanctum, when they could be executed or imprisoned?
It would be meaningless to tell you directly. I want you to witness it yourself.
Doresain waves his hand. Ghoul guards force the prisoners from the deep sea to kneel on the ground.
Doresain goes behind a Seafarer and reaches out. A black mist emanates from his hand, forming a rope that drills into its mind.
Gahhh!!
A shrill scream echoes briefly in the room. Soon after, the Seafarers collapse limply, no longer making a sound.
The senses of the other Seafarers are blocked by the dark mist, kneeling on the side without any reaction.
Seeing you frown slightly, Doresain gently pats your shoulder.
Ah, apologies, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper. Rest assured, pure sadism serves no purpose now beyond venting; I have no such unrefined preference.
This Seafarer sir here just revealed quite a bit. They used the communication device on the third captive. Guards, bring it out.
Yes.
Following Doresain's orders, the ghoul soldiers quickly find a conch-shaped miniature device.
Fran furrows his brow, observing the scene before him, pondering Doresain's thoughts.
This is a specially modified communication device. We'll use this Seafarer's fingers to report to their superiors.
Tell them they've successfully infiltrated Necrovia, securing the city's Veil of Murmurs seal, which Doresain's steward has confirmed as destroyed. With the Soulsfeast approaching, chaos now reigns within Necrovia.
Advise them to move swiftly before Necrovian corpses organize any defenses. On the day of the Soulsfeast, they should launch a full-scale assault.
That is all I wish for you to convey. Pay attention to your tone, yes?
!!!
My lord, you...
What? You think I should tell them Necrovia is fully prepared, to delay their attack and buy time?
...At least this way we might evacuate more citizens, spare some lives...
Even after betrayal, you still care for Necrovia and its people, Fran.
No matter what you've done, your life is destined to be tied to the identity of the Ghoul King's butler.
Doresain smiles at Fran with some relief and emotion.
You are right; if Necrovia is destined to fall, the best outcome is to use any time gained to organize residents for refuge.
But how do you know who is the prey?
Your courage honors you, my lord, but with the seal broken, your strength alone cannot suffice...
Do you truly believe the seals have been destroyed?
Doresain's tone remains relaxed, but this sentence falls heavily like a knife on a chopping board. The entire hall falls silent, and everyone turns towards Doresain.
No... impossible... Necrovia has already...
What you destroyed was my pre-set false seal.
When you shattered it, the true seal was also temporarily closed by me.
...Why, my lord?
You were first approached by those from the deep seas many years ago. At that time, consumed by grief, you still firmly rejected them.
Your loyalty was heartening, Fran. But you didn't report their invitation to me.
And that worried me. I knew you still clung to a sliver of hope that perhaps the Seafarers could help.
Over these years, I've spoken with you many times. We were born in Necrovia, and we will perish in Necrovia. A ghoul's life is always accompanied by death; no race in this world understands death better than us.
That is precisely why we should earnestly embrace death.
So, when you first reached out to the Seafarer, I was disappointed... Or rather, disheartened.
When my father wanted to kill me, you were the first to secretly inform me. When I returned from the altar, you were the first to greet me.
When the people of this city were still hesitating over becoming ghouls, it was still you who stood up first to embrace Rebirth...
I felt sad, Fran. I knew from the day you accepted the Seafarer's offer, I would lose my last bosom friend.
My lord... you... knew all along?
Doresain raises his head and sighs softly.
As you said, many covet the City of Necrovia, and we alone cannot withstand their desires.
You chose to betray Necrovia; they will find us, it's only a matter of time.
If the City of Necrovia is to survive, it must seize the initiative back into its own hands.
You mean to lure them into Necrovia before activating the seals to obliterate...
All these years, I never suspected a thing. I must admit... you've outplayed me, my lord.
Your acting is flawless, Fran. Tit for tat.
Doresain closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh.
My victory or loss against the entities of the deep sea remains uncertain. But you did not achieve what they demanded; even if they win, they will not keep their promise to resurrect your wife.
As you said, I will not deceive you regarding an unchangeable ending. You know I speak the truth. Your plan is destined to fail.
You lost, Fran. Completely.
Fran slumps against the counter, as if all the strength in his life has been drained away.
You were the person I trusted most. I witnessed the parting of you and your wife, witnessed your decline over the years.
You came to me, seeking a way to resurrect your wife. There were times I even considered helping you.
How I wish the person who did these things was not you.
Doresain raises his head, looking longingly at the full moon outside the window.
The remaining time is yours.
Eat her body now, Fran. Go meet her, confront her pain, and witness her silent passing.
This is your only punishment... Consider it my final grace.
Footsteps sound behind him. Steady, indifferent, coming closer and then moving away.
Doresain leaves. In the empty kitchen, only Fran and his decayed wife's corpse remain.
He gazes at the corpse with more scrutiny than ever before.
He remembers every protrusion of the bones of this corpse, every line of its skin.
But he can no longer recall what kind of person she was. He remembers what she loved, what she hated, what she dreamed of, but he can remember nothing.
The moonlight falls on the corpse, beautiful like the day of the wedding, with the veil fluttering in the wind on her body.
Fran stretches out his aged hand, parts the veils, and kisses his deceased wife's lips. Then, sharp fangs pierce the skin, gently tearing the lips of the deceased away.
The kitchen under the moonlight is as silent as a grave; only the sounds of gentle tearing and swallowing can be heard, tears and blood falling together.
Where is this?...
Elena?!
The old butler suddenly raises his head. The soul of a young female ghoul appears before him like mist.
Elena... I'm here...
The young spirit looks at him in confusion. The preparations Fran made for her resurrection and the dark arts protecting the corpse had long since eroded her memories.
Who is this elderly ghoul? Why is he wearing tattered clothes? Why is he in tears?
Why is he crying out, calling the name Elena with the gentlest, hoarsest voice?
She feels bewildered, fearful, yet tender. She hesitantly reaches out her hand.
Fran staggers to his feet and rushes towards her, extending his hand. That mist-like slender hand gently passes through the gnarled hand of Fran.
She seems to remember something, yet also seems not to. She hesitantly and shyly smiles at the elderly man in front of her.
In this smile, her body gently dissipates like mist.
The moonlight shines on Fran's face, as if passing a silent sentence.
...
I wonder, what would Fran's wife say to him?
Her body was preserved by Fran in a special way, and the information recorded in her soul has dwindled. She can no longer say anything to him...
Fran understood this. Eating her is merely completing a ritual he should have accomplished long ago.
Doresain looks up at the moonlight shining down on Fran, his hands behind him. He bids farewell to an old friend for the last time with a calm voice.
Looking at the soldiers running towards him, the slight compassion and sorrow in his eyes vanish without a trace.
Your Majesty...
Have the intruders made their move?
Yes. Our scouts have relayed news that a large number of Seafarer's ships have been discovered 70 nautical miles from the coast.
Based on the Silver Core energy we detected... Their numbers are more than ten times ours...
Ten times?!
I think we both heard correctly, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper.
Doresain looks at the moon gradually growing fuller in the sky and smiles.
Tomorrow is the Soulsfeast. Ensure everything is prepared.
Let us properly welcome our guests.
15. Dance of the Myriad Souls, before the fight
51 linesNecrovian waters, 70 nautical miles from shore.
The coastline of the city-state fades in twilight. Over a hundred enormous gray ships sail across the sea surface. The dull sound of waves slapping against the ship's bow mixes with the low roar of diesel engines, tearing apart the deathly silence of the nearby sea.
Twilight spills through the windows of the control room of the leading ship, lighting up the face of a priest, making the scales on it glimmer.
Any news from the advance team?
Lord Goliath, the advance scouts have sent news that the plan is proceeding smoothly.
But the patrolling ships in the coastal area have noticeably increased in number these days. The heretics of Necrovia seem to be aware.
The seal's broken. With the Soulsfeast coming, I'd be damned if Necrovia didn't stir.
What about that human?
It has been confirmed that that person is indeed in the city.
Good, very good! Your god foretold a human tied to the Silver Cores would appear, but we never expected to actually find them.
We have to seize this chance.
Rest assured, my lord. The followers of our lord are fully prepared. No matter what Doresain does, it will not change the outcome.
I will lead the believers to seize Necrovia and offer the Silver Cores to Him!
All glory be with our Lord!
A loud siren mixed with thick smoke suddenly sounds as hundreds of ships begin to accelerate, cutting through the deep dark currents, stirring up massive waves, and sweeping towards the coast of Necrovia.
...
When the high-hanging full moon permeates the black reef coast, the wails of the bone conch from the seabed break the tranquility of Necrovia.
A dense fleet tears through the thin mist, as if hundreds of peaks burst into the eyes of the city's guards, standing near the coastline.
Seafarers, advance! Under His guidance, we shall take back what is rightfully His!
The repulsive sound of dampness rises and falls, as Seafarers roar loudly and leap into the water from the ship.
They swim to the coast at an astonishing speed, soon covering every inch of water near the shore like seaweed that has found a home, spreading towards the land.
A thin defense line composed of ghoul soldiers is about to be completely devoured under this tidal wave of assaults.
The Seafarers kick up gravel with their flippers, swinging the blades in their hands, mercilessly slaughtering the soldiers and civilians blocking their path, rushing towards the city gate with the foul stench of the deep sea.
Go to where the city walls are! In the name of our Lord, purify this territory!
Just as the Seafarers charge towards the city walls, the gates of Necrovia suddenly open.
The rusted friction sound makes all Seafarers stop their actions. They turn their heads and look at the figure walking out from the city gate.
Guests from the deep sea, welcome to Necrovia.
The earlier guests, we've already entertained. I believe you'll wish to take them back?
Doresain snaps his fingers. The ghoul soldiers carry twelve Seafarer corpses and throw them onto the sand outside the city gate.
Evil heretics... The wicked shall be scourged, for the Lord judgeth their iniquity...!
Watching the Seafarers surge towards the city gate like a tsunami, the king of ghouls contemptuously shakes his head, slicing his wrist with his long fingers.
Blood drips onto the land of Necrovia, casting a dark red glow that flickers beneath the entire city.
A thick cold mist suddenly appears, shrouding the entire coastal battlefield.
This is... the Veil of Murmurs? What is happening... wasn't the seal...
Ugly hybrid kin, ignorant visitors from the deep sea. You know nothing of Necrovia. You will never have the opportunity to learn anything about this city-state again.
Doresain takes out a painting from his bosom. In that painting, countless ghouls, each with different expressions, bathe in the glow of the blood moon, gnawing, dancing, and celebrating the Soulsfeast.
Before the Soulsfeast began, Pickman completed his painting. Doresain lays this "Dance of the Myriad Souls" in mid-air, raising his head and stretching his arms, as if embracing that massive moon.
Citizens of Necrovia! My subjects, my dear friends!
The bone urn soaked in moonlight is fermenting, and the shroud's woven strings are taut.
Oh, corpses buried here, spirits wandering the night sky...
Answer your kin's call! Forge decayed bones into the crescent moon's blade, and blow the counterattack horn with rotting lungs!
Under the massive full moon, purple mist flows out from Doresain, drilling beneath the graveyard on the coast of Necrovia.
Countless graves in the graveyard begin to tremble, and a hidden rumble shakes the entire city.
In the name of the King of Ghouls and the Lord of Necrovia, I invite you to return to the land you cherish.
I invite you to awaken, within the sunken coffin!
Doresain looks up as if to offer himself to the moon.
Majestic mist flows into every tomb from his body; the underground of Necrovia shines with purple brilliance.
Doresain's incantation stirs the ground with a rumble. The graves in the coastal graveyard explode one after another, and countless decayed corpses crawl out of the mire.
The undead warriors who have slept for centuries have purple flames flickering in their eye sockets, emitting battle roars like sandpaper rubbing.
Doresain grins, revealing his sharp teeth, looking at these prey from the deep sea with a beast-like smile.
Enjoy this night, my subjects, the Soulsfeast begins!
16. Dance of the Myriad Souls, after the fight
71 linesWhen the huge fishman's head is thrown into the sky, the moonlight breaks through the clouds just in time. A curtain of blood casts a mournful arc in mid-air, falling like a torrential rain onto the sandy ground of the graveyard.
The young Seafarer's last glance before dying is at the sharp fangs of that King of Ghouls.
Hehehehe... HAHAHAHA!
Welcome, welcome to the Soulsfeast, my dear guests! Savor Necrovia's ceremonial hospitality!
Elegance and demeanor are a secret spice, disappearing in this bloody platter of the Cemetery battlefield.
Doresain laughs maniacally, his reddened eyes glinting, capturing every Seafarer invading his territory.
His claws pierce through their protective scales, his sharp teeth tear into their flesh, chewing and swallowing their screams and lives.
By his side, the purple-glowing undead legion merges into the Seafarer's Tide, tangled with the invaders from the deep sea under the moonlight.
...
Hah... too many... endless...
The sounds of slaughter continue, as if they never cease. The standing undead and Seafarers visibly decrease in number, their bodies covering the cemetery like disordered tombstones.
Doresain spits out a piece of fresh neck meat from his mouth, arranges his blood-stained long hair with his hand, and takes a deep breath of the putrid smell of corpses and flesh in the air, a satisfied smile creeping onto his face.
Doresain?
Ah... no need to worry, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper. Controlling the dead always comes with a small cost.
Once this battle is over, I will immediately fulfill my promise to you.
The sound of metal clashing rings out sharply as the Seafarer Priest's staff falls, stuck in the mud like a brand new tombstone.
The Seafarers soldiers encircle him for protection. Outside, they are surrounded by an endless army of corpses that keeps getting reanimated.
Crossing over the densely packed crowd on the battlefield, he sees Doresain's mocking gaze.
Generally speaking, I'm quite willing to offer my enemies an escape.
But unfortunately, Mr. Priest, you have disturbed the Soulsfeast.
In this celebration, I shall grant you the honor of being the main dish.
We... have failed...
Our Lord... He entrusted me with such an important task... but I...
The Priest looks at the spikes on the staff, prepares, and closes his eyes in despair.
Dying for nothing is spitting on your faith, disrespecting your god.
That voice... is that...?!
Oh? Do we have new guests arriving?
Behind the Seafarers, a tall figure brings reinforcements ashore from the ship.
L-Lord Goliath...? You're right... I deserve to die...
Yeah, you deserve death. But don't you dare die without value.
You still have a chance to uphold your faith, to grasp that long-held wish. You haven't forgotten the ritual the steward taught you, right?
The commander's body trembles. He understands exactly what kind of pain and desecration that evil ritual means.
But he also understands that once the ship sails away from the homeland's coast, he and the followers he led have long lost their retreat.
Go on, fulfill your god's task... go and use your blood to cleanse this land of sins!
Doresain!
The howl filled with despair and unwillingness startles the crows at the edge of the battlefield. The priest struggles to support his staff and stand up.
This is the opportunity I have waited for a lifetime... I will not let you escape from my hands!
Seafarers! Bring out all the Silver Cores!
Gurgle...!
That's right, just like that. Go, take your god's devout believers and complete the ritual of sacrifice. Don't worry, I won't let anyone disturb you until it's done.
Your blood will bring you supreme glory!
The Seafarers signal to the ships at sea. The ship closest to the coast emits a low hum, and a large box on the deck slowly opens.
Silver Cores, neatly arranged in small containers, shine with a cold light under the moon.
The silver light reflects in Doresain's eyes, emanating a cold glow.
Are those the Silver Cores Fran helped you steal?
Originally, I wanted to witness these Silver being offered to my lord along with Necrovia, but now it seems there is no chance left...
Regret fleets across his face. He suddenly stands up, raising the staff in his hand.
A purple light appears on the surface of the sea, and Doresain's pupils widen suddenly.
Doresain, you look pale...
I never imagined Fran and the Seafarers had such deep collusion, even revealing Necrovia's most taboo secrets...
A taboo secret? That's...
Seafarers! Listen... Hear the divine revelation of our lord!
Your words are interrupted by the furious roar of the Seafarer Priest. Upon hearing the command, the Seafarers tremble as they raise their blades.
My Lord, we dedicate everything to you, please grant us the courage to overcome all...
Hearken unto the Lord. Submit... unto the Lord!
Hearken unto the Lord! Submit unto the Lord!
Sacrifice...!
Poof...
The sharp tip of the divine staff pierces the scales, penetrating the heart. Led by the Priest, the Seafarers orderly stab the blades in their hands into their chests, exerting all their strength to carve a massive wound.
Blood gushes from their bodies, merging with the blood of the Seafarer corpses on the ground, flowing into the scarlet magic circle.
Necrovia's oldest taboo ritual can only be used when the ghoul realm faces utter ruin...
I must stop them!
For the first time, Doresain's expression turns grave. Black mist coalesces beneath his feet, rushing towards the commander who is initiating the sacrifice ceremony.
As you follow him and approach the ritual range, a giant blade suddenly flies in, cutting off your path with precision.
A group of Seafarer devoutees come at you. They haven't been sacrificed yet.
This is...
You recognize that giant blade. You finally understand where that sense of familiarity came from when he spoke with the Seafarer Priest.
The giant tyrant stands before you, gripping the massive blade once again, pointing it straight at you.
So you want to disrupt the ritual... Survive this blade first, then.
17. Blood Sacrifice, before the fight
31 linesThe massive blade reflects a chilling glow. The giant cruelly laughs, unabashedly radiating a thirst for slaughter and conquest, just like when you first saw him on the ship of Sona-Nyl.
Goliath, it's been a while.
Ha... to be honest, fighting you is a pain. But tough luck, you stepped into this mud yourself.
This time, we're enemies again.
Don't worry, just like last time, I will stop you. Time is running out... Doresain!
The undead army quickly converges upon your figures, and you have the advantage in numbers. Doresain laughs excitedly, transforming into black mist and dashing towards that blade.
Lord Goliath, be careful!
Caecus darts out like a shadow from behind Goliath's massive figure, blocking the approaching undead soldiers.
Goliath charges forward, leading the unsacrificed Seafarers into the undead army, like a reckless rock in the tides.
The blade intertwines with the black mist, as Caecus and Goliath attack you in familiar unison, blocking Doresain from breaking through while striking at you, who hold a glimmering silver weapon.
Get a good taste of the Seafarers' blade and shield, King of the Ghouls... before your kingdom falls.
Your bravery and greed are commendable, fishman, but your rudeness leaves me uninterested.
But please, rest assured. Regardless, I will reserve a seat for you at the celebration banquet, after my people have devoured your army.
The black mist spreads rapidly, enveloping those Seafarer believers completely. The rapidly dropping temperature causes their bodies to tremble uncontrollably, unable to withstand the blades raised by the multiplied undead soldiers.
Goliath's narrowed eyes scan the surroundings, finally landing on the shining Silver Key in your hand.
While your pile of rotten bones is indeed numerous, with this Goliath here, you won't easily disrupt the ritual.
Power, time, everything stands with me.
You said earlier we could be friends, right?
Goliath grins wide, revealing his sharp teeth.
I see something different in you, a power I've never seen in this world. That's your value.
From now on, stand with the Seafarers. When we breach the Ghoul King's palace, you'll get your due share.
Perhaps there will come a day when we fight side by side again, but it certainly won't be now.
You stand beside Doresain. In the flickering silver light, the phantoms from your memories appear behind you.
Seeing your displayed abilities, Goliath's face does not show disappointment, but rather becomes somewhat excited.
He drags the great blade in his hand and slowly walks towards you. In the magic circle of the Seafarers' sacrifice, crimson light seeps out like threads, entwining around his body.
The thick fog and red light silently battle, transforming the entire sandy graveyard with his every step. He brings the ocean to your side.
I thought this would be a dull invasion. Infiltration, slaughter, looting, just waiting for the boring spoils to be handed to me... I didn't expect such surprises hidden here.
Ha, show me, then, King of the Ghouls, show me...
His pace quickens, the giant blade scraping against the gravel, sparkling with faint sparks under the moonlight.
With a sudden surge of strength in his legs, Goliath leaps, leaving a huge pit on the beach. The giant blade cuts through the air and instantly appears before you...
...how long you can last under my blade!
18. Blood Sacrifice, after the fight
37 linesA giant blade spins out and embeds deeply into the gravel. Goliath barely withstands the tremendous impact on his body, staggering back a few steps.
He wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth, his beast-like eyes staring directly at you.
A solid physique, usually quite tough as an ingredient, but with a little processing, it can certainly become a very delicious feast...
With a wave of his hand, Doresain speaks. The endless black mist suddenly converges on Goliath, yet fails to devour him as anticipated.
Goliath stomps back abruptly on the gravel. The speed brought by unimaginable power helps him evade Doresain's attack.
...The battle just now was far from your limit.
Heh... I'll admit, compared to the cowardly monarchs who've fallen to this blade, you actually deserve to be called a ruler.
But beating me? Not that easy.
Goliath brushes off the sand from his body, glances back, and shakes his head with a smile.
I said, power and time are both on my side...
I've played with you long enough. The rest is theirs.
As Goliath's words fall, a blinding red light emanates from the magic circle behind him.
The soldiers on the city walls hear the ocean's wailing. Thousands of rotting Seafarer corpses float up, with phosphorescent tendrils protruding from their wounds, sewing together like fetid threads manipulated by an invisible tailor.
A young aberration, bisected, has its upper body attached to a sea monster's tail fin, while a head-splattered devotee has several still-beating hearts stuffed into its chest cavity.
I'm very interested in you and your abilities, foreigner. Too bad you rejected my offer.
I'd still be interested to hear your secrets, if you can survive.
Goliath, carrying the great blade, turns to leave without even glancing at the dead Seafarer followers.
With his footsteps, a muffled thunder-like vibration echoes from the seabed, and all the battling spirits suddenly stiffen.
Doresain's clothing splits open in a web-like pattern, and through the shattered cold mist, he glimpses the thousand-meter-deep trench writhing, some great entity covered in barnacles and shipwreck chains is being awakened by the Seafarer's blood sacrifice.
The silver on the deck seems to hear some kind of decree, vibrating fiercely. The silver light merges into the magic circle, linking with blood, infusing into the body of every seafarer.
The sound of the mud crunching beneath your feet alerts you. You look up and see the body of a Seafarer slowly moving on the ground, seemingly pulled by an invisible force.
This corpse moves... yours seem conscious, while these stay lifeless...
You are right; I control the spirits of the dead through communication, while the Seafarers now use Necrovia's forbidden techniques.
They give strength to these corpses through the Silver, and then...
Drawn by the light, the bodies of the Seafarers begin to move toward the Seafarer Priest, like a decaying tide.
The silver and red threads pierce through the body trunk and limbs, like a clumsy weaver stitching a strange, gigantic doll.
Ugh...
The ground... it's shaking...
A deep voice echoes from the shore. The Weaver from Abyss has completed his work.
When the last crunch of bones echoes, a mountain-like abomination stands in the middle of the battlefield.
This giant monster, formed from thousands of corpses, grows a covering stack of pearlescent scales.
Dozens of arms of varying lengths protrude from it, ending in a mix of marine claws and human hands. The main head bears the face of the priest, his pale soul-flame flickering with a satisfied smile.
The dark purple light gradually fades, and the giant slowly rises from the center of the magic circle. Vocal cords made of bones vibrate, emitting a low moan.
Unstitched corpses continuously fall from the giant's body. Their soulless eyes tightly closed, they grip knives under the dull light, approaching the gates of Necrovia.
Boom...
The giant steps forward, crushing the undead beneath its feet like insects. Eyes formed from corpses glare at you. Their vocal cords, stitched from bones, vibrate, letting out a deafening wail.
Devotion... my lord!
19. Lord of Necrovia, before the fight
31 linesBlock it! Don't let it get close...
Snap...
The enormous monster pays no attention to the buzzing ants below; its limbs, woven of corpses, crush these ants into a pile of minced meat in the graveyard.
The Priest's blood stimulates the soldiers' nerves. Taking cover behind this giant mountain, the remaining Seafarers let out piercing howls from their mutated vocal cords, launching another assault on the army of the undead.
Uggghhhh... Grrr...
Meaningless syllables issue forth from its mouth along with the scent of decay, dozens of glowing red arms waving on the battlefield.
As its power draws, the seawater behind you begins to churn. Waves, increasingly stronger, rush towards the coast.
It wants to trigger a hurricane...!
Doresain transforms into a cold mist and rushes toward the battlefield. The mist spreads, forming a huge wall on the coast.
The hurricane stirs the waves. The towering tides suddenly crash against the mist-congealed wall. The intense shaking makes standing difficult for those on the battlefield.
The tide, strong enough to drown Necrovia, momentarily recedes, and mist recondenses around you.
Cough... Cough...
Doresain!
You reach out to steady Doresain, who is about to fall to the ground. He licks the blood from the corner of his mouth, raising his slightly dazed eyes to gaze at the monstrosity covered in limbs.
This confrontation has almost no effect on the Puppet of Putrescene. It swings numerous limbs; red light bursts forth, and the waves gather behind it once again.
Heh... fearsome sacrifice, the stitching of souls... this is a play with death.
Ghouls revere death, holding it in supreme respect. Such filthy creatures, I will never allow them near anything in Necrovia... cough, cough...
You're burning too much spiritual energy... you won't last.
What you said might be correct, Keeper.
But how can a cook who arrived in the kitchen on the day of celebration fall before the banquet ends?
Doresain licks the blood at the corner of his mouth. His face is already extremely pale, but his eyes remind you of the first time you saw him in the luxurious kitchen of the royal mansion.
Calmness, joy, desire, pride. That's the look of a gourmet standing in the kitchen. That's the look of a king standing before his subjects.
Do you remember that dance, Keeper? You know, according to Necrovian tradition, after dancing with the corpses, we will...
Yeah, yeah, I remember clearly... Forget your damn banquet, will you? We need a solution...
The Soulsfeast full moon is already high in the sky. Illuminated by its light, there lies the Soulsfeast dinner table. My method is also on this table.
On the dining table...?
The earth trembles. The giant curtain formed from seawater looms high like a ferocious sea beast, staring at the toy-like city before it.
The ghoul's remnant troops are almost unable to resist any further. Under this vast, sky-blocking curtain, the Seafarer's army easily tears through that weak defense line and surges towards the city gate.
Doresain, you...
Rest assured, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper. As the King of Necrovia, I shall never allow these filthy abominations to stain my territory!
He opens his hand. Thin streams of blood flows from his body to his palm, and a dark red symbol appears on his hand.
20. Lord of Necrovia, after the fight
71 linesUggghhhh... Grrr...
A tremendous roar erupts from the skeletons across the vast battlefield, shaking the very ground and sending tremors even through the great ocean.
Under your counterattack with Doresain, hundreds of corpses are stripped away from the giant's body, like broken armor, crumbling to the ground.
Now's the moment!
Watch closely, under the Soulsfeast moonlight, what kind of dance should bloom...
The cold mist slices through the silver threads sewing the monster, like a sharp blade.
Doresain's ghostly figure moves through the battlefield, the power and glory of Necrovia flowing in his eyes for countless centuries.
As he prepares to re-engage the massive, stitched monster, it suddenly turns, aiming its gaping abdominal wound directly at him.
Massive spiritual energy... Careful!
The monster's abdomen swells, and a massive wound, ten meters in diameter, splits open. From within, a high-pressure jet of corrosive poison erupts.
The skeleton warrior's bones sizzle in the dark green poison mist, while the ghoul commanders' bodies instantly dissolve into gelatinous masses.
Doresain wrenches himself aside in midair, narrowly dodging the poisonous torrent, which scorches the tips of his gray hair as it passes.
The dance has reached its end. You dishonor the departed... your debt shall be paid in death.
A sinister smile reappears on Doresain's face. His claws suddenly grow, and thick fog envelops and freezes the massive corpse creature.
Under the illumination of the giant full moon, claws swiftly penetrate the corpse's body, reflecting a chilling light.
UUUGGHHHAAAHH!
A heart-wrenching scream echoes through Necrovia.
The sharp blade slices through every joint of the Puppet of Putrescene; dozens of arms are disassembled, and countless corpses rain down from the sky, shattering into pools of dark red, foul-smelling mush.
Without the support of the silver thread, the massive monster falls helplessly. The tremendous impact causes the entire coast to tremble.
Destroy... Necrovia...
The outer shell of the giant monster is stripped away, revealing the head of the Seafarer Priest beneath the ghastly wounds, with all the red light converging towards his corpse.
For... oUR Lord!
The rotting heart inside the corpse giant's chest suddenly explodes, and thousands of worm-like spells burrow into the waves.
The bones of the Seafarers are arranged in a reverse vortex formation on the shallow beach. The remaining head of the giant roars to the sky; the sound waves shatter the clouds, revealing the gigantic whirlpool writhing behind the starry sky.
Graz@2okerthos...
The spell tainted with dirt awakens memories of the underwater rock bed, and the wave crests absorb the moonlight, forming a giant wall of ghostly blue a thousand meters high.
The fading giant gathers its last strength into the ocean. The entire Necrovia hears the ocean's wail, and thousands of corpses burst open, blood mingling, dyeing the angry sea red.
It's a forbidden art from the deep sea... Seafarers have sacrificed their last strength to the ocean...
The ocean accepts the Seafarers' sacrifice, roaring up from all directions like a giant monster crawling out of the Abyss.
Numerous towering appendages sway slightly in the air, aimed at this tiny kingdom below, aimed at those ghouls looking up at themselves like ants.
Our spiritual energy can no longer hold back this hurricane...
I have no choice. May I request one more favor from you, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper?
Gazing up at the vast cobalt curtain hanging in the sky, Doresain's expression grows grim.
I see...
Without any hesitation, you channel all your remaining spiritual energy into that point of light.
Do what you must, Doresain.
The entire Necrovia will sing for you, my dear friend.
Doresain smiles and nods at you.
In the next moment, the corpse wax in all the land of Necrovia seems to have boiled.
Doresain takes out one of his ribs and inserts it into the soil of the cemetery battlefield. The blood of the Ghoul King seeps into the grave, and purple light rapidly flickers beneath Necrovia.
Feeding on the silent flesh and blood, drinking the rushing blood as wine. Oh, spirits of the ancestors...
In the name of the King of Ghouls, I call upon your protection...
The ocean tentacles, coveting Necrovia, suddenly drop as a thick chill fog rises from Necrovia, condensing in the air into a gigantic barrier that fiercely collides with the tentacles aiming at Necrovia.
The sunken ship's mast in the wave wall suddenly sprouts ghoul fangs, gnawing on the vengeful spirits within the waves. Doresain leaps into the crests of the waves. The royal robe is shredded by the water pressure, revealing a back etched with purple spells.
My spiritual energy... it's nearly gone...
The enormous magic circle is like an endless abyss, devouring your spiritual energy completely. Under intense dizziness, you can only barely maintain the link with Doresain.
The power of the sacrificial ritual consumes Doresain's body; his arms corrode to withered bone, his chest pierced by tentacles from the deep sea.
He stands above the purple mist, looking disdainfully at the towering waves before him. His sharp claws pierce deeply into his chest.
I am the King of Ghouls, the guardian of Necrovia.
I hereby declare: the intruding tides will recede at this moment.
The City of Necrovia shall enjoy its feast!
The talon is suddenly pulled out, and a torrent of blood sprays from Doresain's chest, merging into the thick mist in mid-air.
The cold mist trembles, like a deity having sipped a worthy sacrifice. An intense vapor condenses from the air and seeps into the azure ocean.
The ocean suspended in mid-air is eroded by cold mist, and trillions of tons of seawater crystallize into inverted glaciers under the curse power. Like a giant beast of the deep sea, life ultimately halts just before being preyed upon.
We... have won?
We won... we won! His Majesty Doresain... he saved the City of Necrovia!
A distant voice comes from the ground; Doresain can no longer hear the whispers at this moment. He looks around to confirm the safety of his people.
He wants to greet the subjects beneath his feet. Just as he reaches out his hand, his consciousness seems to be pulled away in an instant. Doresain's eyes go dark, and he falls from the air.
Doresain!
You run to him and try to deliver as much of your limited spiritual energy to him as possible.
His body, riddled with wounds, is like a dry well, without any support from spiritual energy, he would not survive to open his eyes again.
...Keeper... I...
Let's get you treated first... We can talk about that later...
But it's... very important... I must...
Doresain's voice is weak, but the expression in his eyes is not to be refused. You come before him.
Hang on, Doresain! I'm listening...
Necrovia... Royal... codex...
Doresain stares at you intently with utmost seriousness, and you feel an intense sense of foreboding.
After saying this, Doresain no longer pays attention to your horrified expressions. He faints with a satisfied smile.
21. Beyond the Tides, before the fight
111 linesTwelve bell tolls come from a distant place. The bright waning moon jumps into your eyes through the thin clouds.
Ghouls in formal attire gradually fill the palace's dance floor, conversing in hoarse voices as they gather in the corners.
Ah, so many guests are chattering about my achievements. I'd intended to handle this discreetly, but it seems that won't do.
These servants truly can't manage a thing without Fran.
Cut it already, "Your Majesty". You look like you just had a liter of honey mead.
As a king, what could be sweeter than the love and respect of my subjects?
I'm afraid, only the feast I've prepared for the Soulsfeast itself.
Isn't the Soulsfeast already over... Besides, your doctor said no cooking with those injuries.
The Soulsfeast night's full moon has indeed passed, but how could such a vital holiday be ruined by mere war?
Even with the full moon gone, as long as our connection with the undead remains, every day can be Soulsfeast.
As for my injuries... The physician's words are best taken with a grain of salt.
Compared to my protection, the subjects of Necrovia need my culinary art far more.
Doresain looks at the ghouls on the dance floor beginning to dance with the undead, sharing the corpses on the plate, revealing a satisfied smile.
...You really love praising yourself.
Unfortunately, I am wounded this time and can't complete all the dishes. However, I have put immense effort into preparing an exceptional main course.
I usually don't like to boast, but please believe me, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper, this must be the most delicious offering you have ever encountered in your life.
Doresain opens the gorgeous plate cover. A rich fragrance wafts into your nostrils.
The corpse of the Seafarer Priest lies quietly on the platter, adorned with splendid corals, delicate marine plants arranged in the shattered chest cavity, making the entire body appear dignified and solemn.
Impartial as it is, this was a respectable opponent, and they should enjoy the honor of being the main course.
You know his corpse was shattered; I spent a great deal of effort to restore his form.
Compared to terrestrial animals, the flesh of deep-sea folk is softer, their most notable feature. To preserve this core flavor, I slow-cooked the meat with corpse oil specially processed with fragrant spices.
I must also thank you for your assistance. As I mentioned, removing the pungent odor from Seafarers is of the utmost importance. I gained this valuable experience through countless trials.
I still remember your last words... no matter what you say, I'm not eating corpses.
Oh well... one day, you'll regret your meager life experiences.
Doresain shakes his head regretfully.
Enjoy your festival. Don't forget your promise.
Rest assured, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper, the King of Ghouls never breaks his vows.
This main dish is indeed prepared for you, for this promise.
Seeing your puzzled eyes, Doresain cuts off a piece from the body of the Seafarer Priest and places it on his own plate.
Your friend once visited Necrovia, but he only observed from the outskirts before vanishing. He did nothing to harm Necrovia, so I lifted my surveillance.
In Fran's memory, there was a conversation with the Seafarer Priest, where they discussed this matter. And judging by the priest's reaction, he knew this person.
!!!
How did he...
This is precisely why I prepared this main dish for you. The information you seek is within this very plate.
Doresain brings the plate to himself. His slender fingers grip the knife and stab into a bloody piece of meat.
Hmm... The fishy smell has been entirely managed. The aroma of herbs and currants is quite refreshing.
To the secrets we are about to unravel, my dear Keeper.
He slightly bows to you, tilting his head back, chewing and swallowing the piece of meat slowly.
...
Your Highness...
That intruder. You found him?
When he approached the island, our followers monitored him closely. We found no trace from his ship.
According to residents near the coast, they saw a blonde male human, but the exact location is unknown.
I guess he must have fled the ship when it was about to dock.
This person is clearly well-trained; it makes me wonder where they come from...
Useless! You can't even locate a single human?!
Yes... I'll send someone to search right away. We'll definitely find him...
Forget it. He's beneath concern. Focus on your actual duties, unless you'd like to disappoint me further.
What of your preparations?
Our ships are ready, and all the faithful have received the guidance of our Lord.
...Good. If the housekeeper's loyalty is confirmed, we will waste no more time. Move out.
This mission must succeed. Failure is not an option.
We need those Silver Cores from Necrovia to welcome back our Lord!
Yes, Your Highness!
Found it. They did all of this to welcome back a so-called "Sovereign".
But what is this place, precisely? I've certainly never read about anything quite like it...
Doresain's consciousness wanders in the priest's memory, arriving in front of a map, and sees the names marked on this island.
This map... it's entirely different from what's marked on the land. Could it be...?
Cease your prying, foreigner.
Who?!
Doresain snaps around. This is not a part of the priest's memory.
This voice converses directly with him.
Interesting. I have never encountered such a situation...
What kind of being are you, that can cross dimensions through another's mind, and speak directly with me?
My identity is not your concern.
Mark these words: The people of This One's dominion will one day storm your city's gates. They cannot hope to best you, yet their assault will scar your lands and your kind regardless.
On that note, I shall apologize to you in advance.
Heh... a message from an alternate dimension, an apology from the past. Intriguing, truly intriguing.
Logically, I should leave this dream. But such a rare occurrence is indeed hard to come by.
I would love to meet you. If you wish, I also want to invite you to taste my cooking.
The person I anticipate is not you... Here I shall remain until {Male=he,Female=she} arrives.
What needs to be said has been said. Remove yourself, foreigner.
What's wrong? I've never seen you like this before...
In this priest's memories, I encountered a... rather special presence.
I've also found news about your companion.
My calculations were correct. I don't know if he discovered something, but after leaving Necrovia, he traveled to the island where the Seafarers hide.
It was a place completely unknown to me... That nameless individual could speak to me through the memory of another, yet they knew everything happening here and now with startling clarity.
He said he's waiting for someone's arrival. I believe the person he's waiting for might be you.
...What's that island called?
Doresain gently strokes his chin, seriously recalling the strange map from his memories, along with the words on the map that make him feel somewhat dazed just by reading.
It's called... the Kingdom of Annihilation, "Lemuria."
...
The coastline has just begun to turn white, while on the other side, the moon falls between the Gothic buildings' gaps.
The footsteps on the sandy ground make a rustling sound, startling the gray and white seagulls on the mast.
Are you leaving so soon? I was hoping to wait until your injury is completely healed to prepare a grand feast for you.
If you haven't tasted my culinary skills, you'll regret it for the rest of your life.
Life is, after all, meant to have some regrets.
You sigh and put away your smile.
William... He's still waiting for me.
Thank you for your help. Any... minor diversions of your person were a necessary ingredient for our success. Please pardon my intrusion, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper.
I get your position. You've helped with William's case...
You look at the map marked with Lemuria in your hand, the ship engraved with ghoul symbols on the sea, and the dozens of busy crew members on board.
You have done more than you promised. We owe each other nothing.
There is no need for such formality, {Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper. My debt to you for saving Necrovia is one I can never repay.
What are you planning to do next?
The world covets Necrovia's endless Silver stock. We consume the deceased and their Silver. It's not easy to resist endless desire.
But we are still alive, aren't we?
Doresain looks at the moon about to disappear between the buildings and smiles lightly.
After the Veil of Murmurs is restored, Necrovia will disappear from this world once again.
My kingdom belongs to another dimension. I will revise its anchoring point with this world.
No matter what, as long as I'm here, no one will be able to destroy it.
He reaches out, gently patting your shoulder.
Once I have seen to my subjects, I will find a way to aid you in return. I trust we will have another chance to fight side by side.
We'll see.
If fate allows, we'll meet again, Doresain.
A distant foghorn plays on the calm sea surface.
The ship gradually drifts away from the shore. The magnificent architecture of Necrovia fades into the mist, until it completely disappears after you blink, as if it never existed, leaving only a cemetery filled with countless gravestones.
You turn around, standing on the deck, feeling the warm and humid sea breeze against your face, basking in the morning sun, sailing towards that long-lost kingdom you have heard of countless times.