That's One Hell of a Flashback
"Ggh…?!"
When Ben regained consciousness, his own hand was gripping his face.
"Wh…?"
A clean face without burn scars or a ruined eye.
'What the hell? Why am I looking at myself…?'
As he thought that—
The Ben examining his face lost interest and casually handed him over to the judges.
"This one's no good. Dispose of him."
As he said that, Ben made a slicing gesture across his throat with the side of his hand.
'W-What? Dispose of…? This is…!'
Feeling that something was horribly wrong, Ben opened his mouth and shouted,
"W-Wait a moment! If you contact the main family, they'll send peop—!"
But the moment he spoke that far, Ben's eyes widened.
"Why does my voice sound like this?"
The frantic voice wasn't his own.
Neither were the weak trembling limbs, nor the unfamiliar terror toward the reformatory.
When he lowered his gaze to his hands, he saw the skeletal hands of an emaciated old man.
'W-What… what happened to me…?!'
He was moving someone else's body?
"Right. This is the one?"
While he panicked, the clean-faced version of himself approached a group of clergy.
"W-Warden Ben…"
"To send such a young child to the reformatory… it's too cruel!"
An elderly nun protested while holding a silver-haired child in her arms.
But the spotless Ben merely gestured toward the judges with a stern expression.
"Warden…!"
"The Order commanded you to deliver that child to me, not defend him, didn't they?"
Then he bared his teeth, threatening the other clergy.
"Or have you already fallen for that devil's tricks?"
The scene buried deep in his memory.
And amidst it all, the eyes of that little child staring directly at him.
The moment he saw them, Ben finally understood the situation he was trapped in.
'Klein… Leinrant…!'
The instant the realization hit him, terror followed.
Klein.
No—Archimond.
The punishment he had sentenced him to was clearly…!
Shiiing—!
As he drowned in thought, the sharp sound of metal brushed past his ears.
"W-Wait! Please!"
A voice that wasn't his own screamed involuntarily.
And just as he tried to continue thinking—
Slash—!
His vision spun violently, and his head tumbled from his neck.
'GAAAAH?!'
After experiencing death once, Ben lost consciousness.
No—
He only thought he had.
"Hrk?!"
He woke again, looking around at the judges surrounding him.
"You arrogant bastard. Trying to escape?"
"Do you know how much trouble we went through to catch you?!"
SMACK—!
A judge kicked him in the head, leaving his mind spinning.
The moment he tried to move his body and do something—
"AAAAH! AAAAAGH—!"
Horrific pain exploded throughout his body.
Pain so terrible that he couldn't make any sound except screams.
"Well, looks like the torturer did his job pretty thoroughly."
His own face smiled in satisfaction, as though savoring the screams.
Hatred that wasn't his boiled from deep inside him.
"I already didn't like how that proxy bastard kept protecting that demon brat anyway."
As he spat those words, his gaze turned toward one corner of the prison cells.
Eyes far too cold and sharp for a five-year-old child.
His silver hair was messy and unkempt, yet Klein's hair still hadn't lost its distinctive shine.
"Well now, look at those eyes. Feels like he's gonna devour me."
But back then, the child had seemed like nothing more than insignificant prey.
After sneering briefly, his past self gave another order to the judges.
"Kill him. We need to show what happens when someone dares rebel."
And with those words—
Agonizing pain exploded in the back of his head.
CRUNCH—
The sound of a judge's mace crushing down onto his skull.
With the dull impact, blood burst from every opening in his face.
'Ghk… ghrrrk…!'
As his brain was smashed into pulp, his consciousness gradually faded—
'Ughhh…!'
And once again,
he awoke inside the body of a nameless prisoner whose name he couldn't even remember.
"I'm innocent! Why are you doing this to me—?!"
As a merchant falsely accused of crimes.
"Please! At least spare our Stella… at least the child…!"
As the father of a nameless child born inside the reformatory.
"Brother Ben, don't do this! I merely offered advice for the future of the Order…!"
He even experienced death as a foolish monk who had investigated Palliman's secrets.
'Stop… please… stop already…!'
Horrific agony tore at a mind already on the verge of collapse.
Unable to die,
unable to escape,
how many deaths had he experienced inside that despair?
"Huff…! Huff…!"
Now he was running madly toward an exit in the form of yet another prisoner.
"Catch them! The prisoners are escaping—! Gaaagh?!"
"What are the priests doing?! Why is that thing underground—?!"
CRAAASH—!
Every prison cell had been destroyed, and prisoners fled in every direction.
The judges who should have stopped them had all descended to the lower levels, desperately trying to contain "that thing."
'This was… what happened eight years ago…!'
A memory he could never forget.
And then, a scream rang out nearby.
"AAAAAAGH—!"
There he was.
His own body, collapsed on the ground while blood poured from him.
And standing above him—
a young boy.
"Don't think this settles your sins, Ben Drake."
A calm composure impossible for a seven-year-old child.
The hateful little monster who had led the prison rebellion amid the chaos.
'You… YOU were the one who killed me—!'
Ben hurled curses at the young Klein, but it was meaningless.
This was merely the past.
Not reality.
He had already died, and was now only reliving the deaths of other prisoners.
"We can't stop them!"
"The Warden's fallen! At this rate, we're—!"
"Retreat! Fall back outside the reformatory—!"
The judges fled outside while carrying away his body.
Those left behind were surrounded by shadows emerging from a black pit, melting away into the darkness.
Sssssss—!
Even he himself, pierced through by a spear and unable to die, was no exception.
"Hello there?"
At that moment, just as he thought that, an unfamiliar voice called out.
"…?"
When he lifted his head, standing there was a girl in a maid outfit.
Brown hair.
Large black eyes.
And glasses even larger than those eyes.
An ordinary young maid one could find anywhere.
"You are…"
But after staring at the girl for a moment, Ben's face twisted in shock.
First—
this place was a world of memories created by Archimond.
And yet the girl was speaking not to the nameless prisoner inhabiting the memory,
but directly to "him."
Second—
her appearance.
Something was leaking out from beneath the hem of the maid skirt.
A grotesque body made entirely of black shadows.
"H… how…?!"
Ben's voice trembled.
Because he remembered the final death he had experienced.
The great incident that overturned the entire reformatory.
And the true cause behind it all.
"Why are you here…?"
The real purpose of the Kripel Heretic Reformatory had never been imprisonment or research.
Its original purpose—
was excavating the existence sleeping at the bottom of this abyss.
And this girl was that existence.
The aberrant being sleeping in the deepest layer of Kripel.
A fragment of a gigantic power with no discernible limit.
'Impossible! Back then, it was definitely destroyed by Garrison…!'
Ben shook his head like a madman.
Then suddenly stopped.
Because after retracing the memory, his mind arrived at a single conclusion.
"It… wasn't destroyed…?"
As Ben muttered blankly, his eyes drifted toward her neck.
The nape of Arin's neck, barely visible.
A grotesque rune was engraved there.
"Hehe—!"
With an innocent smile, Arin lifted the hem of her skirt slightly and bent her waist.
The posture of a lady greeting someone at a ballroom.
A clumsy imitation of it.
"Young Master told me that if I came here, I'd meet lots of friends and get looooots of food too."
Friends.
Food.
The moment Ben realized what those words truly meant, he couldn't stop his entire body from trembling.
"So it was all that bastard's plan…?"
Unable even to think about escaping.
Unable even to imagine resisting.
Overwhelmed by absolute helplessness, he muttered in despair.
"Your rampage… the rebellion that happened alongside it… even Garrison… all of it…!"
And just as the last shred of Ben's consciousness finished speaking—
Creeeak—!
A gigantic shadow filled his entire vision and opened its mouth toward him.
"Ah… ah…!"
The drooling maw approached right before his eyes.
"Please… spare m—!"
CRUNCH—!
Warden Ben Drake drew his final breath before he could even finish his last words.
"Mmm~"
An empty void.
Inside the pitch-black shadows, Arin chewed thoughtfully before scrunching up her face.
"Bleh—!"
What she spat out was a ruby-red liquid.
Holy Blood—
the pure essence of life itself.
"Tch, it doesn't taste very good. It's such a pretty color too."
***
Crunch— crunch—
Along with the sound of bones being chewed apart, Ben's body sank into the shadows.
"With this, I guess I've vented all my anger."
As I said that, I issued orders to part of the assembled legion.
—Go below. Show your rage to those hiding there trembling in fear.
The undead answered my command immediately.
—KRAAAAAH—!
—Bark! Bark—!
Just like when I first ordered the charge, thousands of Grave Hounds rushed underground.
'The life map shows roughly two hundred people down there. That should be enough.'
The necromancers underground weren't combatants, only researchers.
With their escape routes blocked, there weren't many options left for them.
They weren't even worth giving direct orders over.
"So. What are you planning to do now, Priest?"
After ordering the lower levels cleansed, I immediately turned toward Garrison.
"An army of the dead made of demonic energy and vengeful spirits."
Even though the battle had ended, Garrison still hadn't withdrawn his power.
"With this, the accusations placed upon you have become truth."
As though acknowledging it, Garrison nodded and met my gaze.
"…Ah, fuck. This is driving me insane."
What I sensed from him was delight—
and killing intent.
'As expected, this guy's the biggest problem.'
Realizing the situation had become dangerous, I immediately ordered the remaining undead to prepare for combat.
Shrrrkkkk—!
A wall of skeleton shields rose between me and Garrison.
At the same time, the undead army surrounding the entire upper floor of the reformatory aimed themselves at him.
Ruuuumble…!
As the ground groaned under the pressure, Garrison lowered his stance at the center.
One fist pressed against the ground as he stared at me.
Like a bull preparing to charge.
"Archimond. The continent's worst necromancer."
Having reached his conclusion, he no longer called me Klein.
"Before you grow any further, I'll personally crush your throat—!"
The instant Garrison assumed his battle stance—
"No, Priest."
Arin, still wearing her maid outfit, stepped between him and my undead legion.
"Lady… Arin?"
Caught completely off guard by her sudden appearance, Garrison's voice faltered.
But Arin paid him no attention at all and simply pointed toward the underground levels of the reformatory.
"Young Master still has friends waiting for him down there!"
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