CHAPTER 127: CHAPTER 127 - BLESSING THE SOULS

Lucien who was still glowing with borrowed power, descended beside Cielius and Sebas.

For a moment, the three of them stood in silence.

No words were spoken.

They had survived.

But the thought lingered... Whatever being that hand belonged to, it wasn’t something they ever wanted to face again.

The hand alone had nearly crushed them. If the full body appeared... the outcome would have been certain death.

Cielius’s gaze fell to the Gargoyle Ring on his finger. His throat tightened as he swallowed hard. The power Lucien had borrowed... its aura felt disturbingly similar to that unfathomable entity.

And yet... he knew that it was a force no one in this world could wield without consequence.

He studied Lucien closely. His chest became heavy with worry. ’Would this power destroy my boy from within?’

Then... his fears began to unfold.

The glow wrapped around Lucien flickered... then faded.

The gargoyle-shaped light that had forced its way into him surged back out, retreating into the ring. The artifact dimmed and its brilliance vanished into dormancy.

Lucien staggered. His knees hit the ground as the strength bled from his body, leaving him utterly drained.

"Ugh!" A raw cry escaped him as a searing headache spiked through his skull.

"Grandson!" Cielius rushed to his side. He casted healing magic with trembling hands. Sebas caught Lucien before he collapsed completely, holding him upright.

And then they saw it.

Cracks split across Lucien’s skin.

Wounds opened as if carved from within.

Veins bulged and burst.

Blood seeped down his body.

The truth was undeniable. His current body couldn’t bear the weight of that borrowed power.

The sudden wave of exhaustion only made it worse.

’Crap... of course it wouldn’t be that easy.’

"Please... just let me lie down," Lucien muttered through clenched teeth. "My body will heal on its own."

Cielius and Sebas carefully lowered him to the ground.

And then... it began.

His body started to mend itself. Wounds slowly stitched together as if guided by invisible hands.

It was painful, unbearably so. Groans slipped past his lips. It was a sharp reminder that unlike Sebas, Lucien was not accustomed to enduring this kind of pain.

His divine energy churned wildly. Unstable and chaotic. With effort, he forced it into order. He circulated it properly once more.

Time dragged on. Seconds stretched into minutes.

Finally... the healing was completed. The cracks sealed. The bleeding stopped.

But still... Lucien lay there, utterly drained. His chest was rising and falling heavily.

"I’m okay now," he managed a faint smile. "Just... really tired."

Cielius and Sebas exchanged wide-eyed glances before exhaling in relief. Against all odds, he was... okay.

Lucien sank into silence, lowering himself to a seated position.

’Good thing I used the Core of Eternal Flesh... without it, I wouldn’t be here.’

But then he noticed something strange.

The dungeon wasn’t collapsing.

Normally, once a dungeon core was destroyed, tremors would soon follow. Within hours or days, the entire structure would fall apart.

But now... nothing.

No tremors. No rumbling. No signs of collapse at all.

Lucien rummaged through his inventory, searching for something to fight off the exhaustion.

"Coffee? No... that’ll just keep me awake. Energy drinks? Ugh, I’ve had enough of those."

Then his eyes caught on a certain item.

Giant’s Breath Salts.

Perfect.

He pulled it out, raised it to his nose and...

Snort!

A rush of adrenaline tore through his veins like wildfire. His eyes widened, his heart hammered and his body felt light.

"Hoo! Amazing!" Lucien laughed, practically bouncing on his feet. "Grandpa Ciel, Sebas. Try this! Good effects, good effects! Hoo!"

His strange outburst left the two stunned but curiosity got the better of them. They each took a breath of the salts.

The result was immediate.

Their fatigue vanished. It was washed away by an exhilarating vigor that surged through their muscles. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though they could lift the entire world.

Lucien straightened fully as strength returned to his limbs.

But then silence settled over him. His expression grew thoughtful.

Everything that had happened moments ago...

That monstrous hand, the borrowed power, the near-death struggle...

It all felt distant now. Like a fleeting dream. Unreal.

Still, Lucien didn’t forget the spoils. From his inventory, he carefully collected the severed giant’s hand and its massive fingers.

The Gargoyle Ring would hunger for fuel and this was more than enough to satisfy it.

With proper use, this power could make him untouchable.

’A good harvest indeed.’

As for the system notifications and rewards that waited for him... those could be dealt with later.

For now... the surface awaited.

Lucien still had matters to attend to.

When they emerged, the brainwashed group stationed outside brightened with relief.

They had been worried sick, debating whether they should charge in after him... but here they were, alive and well.

"Young Lord! Welcome back!" they greeted.

Lucien gave them a small nod. No word about the monstrous hand or the battle within. That truth would only bring unnecessary fear.

Instead, his gaze swept over the scene. The pit was empty now. Every last bone had been brought to the surface. They were now being carried carefully toward the graveyard.

It looked like a procession.

Heads bowed. Steps slow. Each person mourned silently as they bore the weight of countless fallen souls.

"Have Uncle Ed and Uncle Max arrived yet?" Lucien asked.

"Not yet, Young Lord."

’Strange... they’re taking longer than usual. They must have been delayed by something.’

Lucien’s eyes lingered on the graves being dug. After a moment, he stepped forward. He took a tool and began working alongside the people.

The subjects froze in horror. Their Lord... digging graves with his own hands? To them, it was unthinkable. Yet their shock soon gave way to a warmth they couldn’t suppress.

Their new Lord was willing to lower himself... to honor the dead by sharing their burden. The act left them torn between guilt and gratitude.

But of course, the truth was simpler. Lucien still felt the rush of vigor from the Giant’s Breath Salts and he needed something to do while waiting for his uncles.

And he didn’t have to wait long.

An airship soon descended, docking in an open space.

Edric and Maxim stepped out with wide grins, clearly eager to share good news. But as they reached the streets, their smiles faded.

The atmosphere had shifted.

Before them stretched a solemn procession. A silent march of people carrying the bones of the dead.

Edric and Maxim exchanged a glance. The news could wait.

There were more important matters at hand.

They searched for Lucien and found him at the gravesite. Hands in the dirt, digging without hesitation.

Even Sebas and Cielius had joined him.

The two of them felt their throats tighten. ’Even Sir Cielius...?’

If someone like him was doing it, then who were they to remain idle?

The two joined in. With the powerful addition, the graves multiplied quickly.

Sebas wiped his brow and approached Lucien.

"Young Lord, I’ll fetch Clara now."

"Good... ah, and bring the Division Representatives as well. We’ll hold a meeting here afterward."

Sebas bowed and boarded the airship.

...

Moments later, the vessel returned.

A group disembarked, each with firm expressions. Sebas had already briefed them about what transpired. Still, they couldn’t wait to see the land their Lord had claimed nor to take part in its future.

Clara led several members of the Spiritual Division. Their white robes swayed as they marched with steady steps toward Lucien.

"My Lord, you called for us," Clara said, lowering her head.

Lucien’s eyes softened. "Good. Clara, we’ll bless the souls here. You understand these rites better than I do. I’ll leave it to you."

"As expected of My Lord," Clara replied with her usual reverent tone. "Ever magnanimous and kind... I shall not fail your expectations."

Lucien ignored the excessive praise. He then nodded for her to proceed.

At once, the Spiritual Division fell into formation. They spread into a half-circle behind the rows of open graves.

When the first bones were lowered into the earth, a low humming stirred the air.

The Division began to sing. Not words but resonant tones, weaving together like a choir born from divine resonance.

Their voices rose and fell. It carried the weight of sorrow yet glowing with hope as if guiding the wandering souls toward rest.

The crowd fell silent. Every eye fixed on the solemn ritual.

Immediately, the effect spread.

A wave of vigor washed over the people. The choir’s voices were laced with light magic. It carried blessings through the air. Wind magic amplified every note, letting it resonate in every direction.

The atmosphere softened, wrapped in warmth.

Some wept openly. Their tears fell as grief surfaced.

Some fell to their knees in prayer.

Others tilted their faces to the sky as though searching for lost loved ones among the clouds.

And then... Clara stepped forward.

She raised her hand high as if beckoning an unseen angel.

Her voice rang out.

"Advanced Light Magic: Sanctus Lumina."

At once, the world changed.

The ground itself seemed to glow. Holy light spread outward until it felt as though they stood within a consecrated sanctuary.

Then from the earth... countless orbs of light began to rise. They floated upward, drifting toward the heavens like lanterns released in a festival of souls.

Everyone within range felt it. An unexplainable uplift in their hearts as though a burden had been lifted.

The crowd froze as their gazes locked on the ascending lights. Tears clouded their vision as they clasped their hands and whispered prayers.

To them, the orbs were the souls of the departed finally finding peace.

Lucien, however, knew better.

’Wow it’s the right thing to bring Clara here. Sanctus Lumina. A large-scale buff. Those orbs aren’t spirits... just visual effects.’

But as he watched, he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt their belief.

The solemn air brightened. Sorrow softened into acceptance. The people smiled through their tears as they watched the lights vanish into the sky, content with the thought that their loved ones had ascended.

The hymns lingered, echoing like a gentle lullaby. Hearts eased. Grief gave way to peace.

The people then recalled Lucien’s words.

Their loved ones may no longer walk this world... but they will live forever in their hearts.

And so, in that moment... the people truly said goodbye.

...

At last, the poor souls had all been laid to rest.

Lucien rose and faced the gathered crowd. He then announced...

"Everyone! Mark this day on the calendar. From this year onward, it shall be a holiday. A day of remembrance. To honor the souls that have been freed."

A ripple went through the people. Gratitude welled in their eyes.

They bowed, offering praise for their lord’s magnanimity.

Lucien only gave a faint smile, letting their words pass.

He turned.

There were matters yet unresolved.

He summoned the key figures. Division Representatives, important people... and notably, the former key figures of the Coalheart family.

When they assembled, Lucien’s gaze sharpened.

"Tell me everything," he said. "How did the Coalhearts manage these territories?"

The servants exchanged glances. For a moment, silence stretched.

Then one by one, they nodded. No hesitation in their eyes anymore. Only firm resolve.

And so, they began to speak.

Lucien listened in silence. His expression shifted as the accounts unfolded. Anger flickering... then grim realization... then weary disdain.

When at last they finished, Lucien exhaled a long, heavy sigh.

"Grimmer than I thought...."

To summarize:

There were five territories under Coalheart control.

The Fishing Territory in the East.

The Mining Territory in the West.

The Farming Territory in the Northeast.

The Logging Territory in the North.

The Outlying Territory in the Northwest.

Each of them was crushed beneath the same burden... An oppressive monthly tax quota set by the Coalhearts.

At first, the territories resisted.

The fishermen refused to overharvest, fearing it would anger the ocean and bring calamity.

The miners couldn’t work endlessly. Without rest, they would collapse. But without constant toil, the quota could not be met.

The farmers were pushed beyond what the soil could yield. No matter how much they tilled or prayed, the earth could not answer the Coalhearts’ greed.

The loggers believed spirits dwelled within the forest. They would not overcut their sacred groves nor desecrate their home with reckless deforestation.

The outlying territory suffered most of all. Bordering monster habitats, they were forced to deliver monster materials as tax. But each time hunters were sent out, the territory itself grew vulnerable to attack.

When resistance rose, Coalheart made an example of them.

Soldiers were dispatched to seize people from the territories. "If you cannot pay the tax," the Coalhearts declared, "then you will repay with people. Those taken will work in the main territory."

At first, the other territories accepted it... grim though it was. They told themselves that those people had simply been reassigned. That perhaps someday... they would return.

But days turned to months. Months into years. And no word ever came back.

But now... The servants finally know the truth. Those "taken" were either brainwashed or fed to the horrors that sustained the Coalhearts’ twisted rule.

Despair grew in the other territories. Populations dwindled. Some fled and seek refuge wherever they could.

Lucien leaned back. His eyes were heavy with thought.

"Sigh... This is worse than I imagined. I’ll need to conduct an inspection of each territory myself. And perhaps... connect them all together. Using the airship every time is wasteful. If I can avoid burning through High-Grade Mana Cores, all the better."