Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

---Arget Nore---

The preparation to exchange the native meat sacks for golems was a hot topic among all circles. Even the lowest skeleton soldiers didn't get tired of clattering with their jawbones about it. Although they paid a hefty price for the treaty, it was seen as a positive outcome by most.

After the reveal of Spatia's involvement with Y-City, the undead became careful. Although Arget Nore could not fully compare to superpowers like Chrona or Spatia, they had no intention of backing down. The golems they could purchase at a low price in exchange for a bunch of useless slaves would be a tremendous help in case Spatia decided to move personally.

Only one person clenched his fist until the sinews of his hand cracked, at the sight of a convoy of ragged slaves being escorted out of the capital. From his high spire, he watched them with a deep bitterness eating away at his heart.

With a scoff, he turned away from the window and fell into a luxurious chair. Moodily, he filled the crystal goblet standing on a small table beside the chair with wine from a carafe made of similar material.

Taking a sip, the cool liquid flowed down his dry throat, soaking into his mummified stomach. He couldn't taste it,but at least it could invoke the memory of the time when there were feelings in his life.

He had sacrificed a lot. He had done a lot he would never be able to repent for. Think that had him sleepless for weeks, thinks that had him puke at the mere thought. He had done a lot. He sacrificed a lot. He did everything to survive in this place. To the point he even let go of his own life to rise among the undead ranks.

Contemplating, he stared into a tall mirror opposite the wall. Deep-seated, eyes glowing in a cold blue light. A face that was only half covered with flesh, the other exposing his blank skull. The incredible pain of being mummified alive, to change race to the highest rank of Zombies.

While others wallowed in their misery, he had stood up to face the pain to strive for a better future, but now? Was it all for naught? Should he have also just begged and crawled on the ground like a maggot, waiting to be saved? His decrepit fingers dug deep into the wooden armrest of his chair.

“It's unfair, isn't it?” an alluring voice suddenly whispered beside his ears. Disinterested, he kept looking in the mirror. Even if he didn't expect it, it was not enough to scare an undead.

“...Who are you, to invade my spire so blatantly?” he asked in a cold, hollow voice.

“Just a concerned bystander who wishes to help justice. Isn’t it unfair that they get to leave just like that, but you can never return?” a shadow thickened in the corner of the room, turning into the silhouette of a person made of darkness.

The words struck a chord in his still heart, as it put into words what he couldn’t grasp. The source of his bitterness, the irrevocable fact that there was no way back for him. Like a riptide, waves of regret he was holding back with excuses and pride washed over him.

It was true, he wished for nothing more than to return to the time when he had a living body. A wish that was crushed by the reality, that there was no way back from undeath. And there was a mountain-toppling jealousy, that these maggots had done nothing but endure and they were rewarded with a price they couldn’t even truly fathom.

These bouts of regret and jealousy only fueled his bitterness and anger, like strong winds driving a wildfire. And despite that! Despite all of the turmoil in his heart, his body showed no signs of emotion, like a calm lake. Not because he wanted to, but because he couldn’t. He had no outlets for his emotions, so they could only eat even deeper into him.

“There is a way. A way to get it all back, a way to get back at all of them. We can grant you power if you are willing to cooperate with us,” the shadow whispered. For the first time, the cold blue eye moved, fixing on the darkness.

“I know that I can’t get everything back. You do not need to lie. But if it’s a way to get back at them, all of them, I’m willing to listen to your conditions,” the cold hollow voice echoed from the parged throat.

“Very well,” the shadow answered with an audible sneer.

…

---Holy Land---

“It was a trap after all...” the saintess mumbled, biting at her thumbnail. She was walking up and down inside a vast and ostentatious sanctuary. Despite its size and opulence, she was currently completely alone.

~We expected it to be a trap. ~ her goddess answered calmly.

“Oh, Kavalla, didn’t we lose too many, despite knowingly walking into the trap?” she asked stressed out. They had lost almost half their knights on the expedition to Delta, where they were wiped out by an unknown force. Now they had lost a band of knights because they rushed things.

The information the dungeon god had given them was twisted and devious. Some were true, some weren’t. They should have never let it poison their mind, but now it was too late and the last few loyal men they had were constantly decimated.

~Why do you feel so anguished? I can always revive our fallen heroes, using the power of the dungeon. ~ the goddess asked, unaffected by the small losses. She was still thinking like a monotheistic goddess who had a world of her own.

The saintess made a grimace at the thought of the things that were “revived” with the dungeon. It was true, since they were her believers, their souls would return to her embrace. The goddess could technically revive them with the power of the dungeon and her own.

The problem was that both were lacking. The power of the dungeon only created mostly mindless drones, that mirrored the original in skill and power, but it was impossible to call them human. The goddess could have augmented this process, returning life to them, but she lacked the power to do so. Their once great goddess, who had ruled over all of them, had diminished to a parasite living in the mind of her saintess.

It was hard for the saintess to suppress these thoughts, as Kavalla was able to read the surface of her mind. However, deep down, the saintess couldn’t help but blame her own goddess for her arrogance and negligence. Their fall began with the Holy War on the dungeons. Even though it was centuries ago, it was the tipping point that brought humanity to the edge of eradication.

And now? They had become one of the many they had fought against. Drifters in the dungeon system, helplessly grasping at the chance to rebuild their home in a new world. They had pawned off their integrity for a deal with the Dungeon God, as they were finally forced to surrender.

~Calm down child, as long as we recover my power and grow the dungeon, I can bring all of them back. ~ Kavala spoke softly, not blaming her saintess for the turmoil of her mind.

~We just need to focus on growing now and getting you out of here. ~ They did not suffer within the abyss, but only growing the dungeon was not enough. Only the saintess would be able to set up their church, effectively and gather faith for herself.

“Yes, as you wish, oh goddess...” the Saintess Delfaria lv,165(Boss) sighed. A dungeon break that could free her, it was not too far off anymore.

~Don’t worry, we will not trust the information of the dungeon god again. When you can finally leave, we will travel west. ~

“West? What is in the West?” Delfaria asked surprised. There was next to nothing in the dungeon god’s information about the West. It was unclear whether that as good, or bad...

~Sheep, my child. I can feel a lot of sheep that need guidance. ~