Chapter 544 : Declaration

In the depths of the royal mausoleum, within the shadowed sepulcher, grey-black soul mist continuously surged from the massive stone sarcophagus. Within the fog, only a faintly discernible humanoid silhouette—distorted and fluctuating—could be made out. A clear aura of murderous hostility and resentment emanated from the figure, making it obvious that the spirit within the sarcophagus was anything but normal.

Seeing that the soul just released was clearly a vengeful spirit, the soul of Uta, who had taken possession of Nephthys, immediately whispered to one of Dorothy’s corpse marionettes at his side.

"This spirit has been warped and corrupted. It’s extremely dangerous. I’ll begin the appeasement rite immediately—you stall for time and try to talk to him."

After Uta gave his instructions to Dorothy, he sat down silently to begin the soul-soothing rite. Dorothy, having heard him, controlled all the corpse marionettes in the chamber to kneel neatly in unison before the sarcophagus. In accordance with the formal etiquette of Addus, they addressed the floating phantom above the coffin.

"Honorable King Rachman, we are not the decayed descendants of the Baruch lineage. We are rebels who seek to overthrow the Baruch monarchy. In pursuit of power, we have come to disturb your slumber. Please forgive us!"

“Hah… not my worthless heirs? Don’t lie to me! No one but them can enter this place. Whatever tricks you’re playing this time, I won’t be fooled again. Die!”

As he spoke, the twisted shadow lunged forward, rushing into the body of the leading corpse marionette. That marionette’s body immediately began to twist and swell grotesquely before exploding with a bang, erupting into a spray of blood and mangled flesh.

“Damn, just as I thought—he’s totally deranged.”

Witnessing the spectacle, Dorothy immediately had the other corpse marionettes rise to their feet. She made one of them show a look of terror and shout angrily at the phantom rising from the pool of gore.

“Despot! Mad tyrant! You’re no better than your worthless offspring—corrupt and blind!”

Hearing these words, the shadow visibly snapped. It hurled itself at the insulting marionette, possessed it, and forced its own hand to wrench its head off in a single motion.

Dorothy then controlled the rest of the corpse marionettes to scream and flee in every direction. While fleeing, several marionettes hurled insults and curses at the shadow. The spirit furiously pursued them, killing each one in twisted, brutal ways.

For a while, the chamber turned into a blood-soaked massacre scene. Dozens of corpse marionettes were swiftly wiped out. Dorothy, while watching, silently noted how lucky she was that the vengeful spirit was insane—otherwise, tricking him wouldn’t have been so easy.

Finally, after the wrathful ghost had slaughtered dozens of marionettes and turned the entire royal mausoleum into a B-grade horror scene, Uta’s appeasement rite began to take effect. The bloodthirsty spirit gradually slowed, eventually hovering motionless. The surrounding soul mist began to dissipate, and the ghost’s twisted form slowly stabilized into a proper humanoid shape.

Little by little, the phantom regained a clear figure. In front of Dorothy and the others now stood the translucent spirit of a tall, powerfully built man—nearly 1.8 meters tall—dressed in engraved metal chest armor resembling muscular form, draped in a cape, helmeted, and with a sword at his waist. He had the distinctive heavy beard of an adult male from North Ufiga and bore some resemblance to Mazarr in his features, though his spirit was far more commanding and vigorous than Mazarr’s flabby build.

As Rachman’s spirit regained clarity, his eyes were full of confusion. Glancing at the horrific, bloodstained scene around him, a flicker of remorse crossed his expression. The fear and anger etched into the faces of the dying marionettes replayed in his mind. He looked at his own hands and murmured.

“…What did I just do?”

"You didn’t do anything, King Rachman. They were just marionettes.”

At this moment, Dorothy had the remaining marionettes stop running and speak in unison. One addressed Rachman directly.

Hearing this, Rahman scanned the corpses scattered about and recalled that while killing, he hadn’t sensed any true souls. They were indeed all marionettes.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my tomb? Only my unworthy descendants should have access here.”

With stern composure, the now-rational Rachman stared down the marionette. He knew that whoever could control so many marionettes and access the royal mausoleum was no ordinary being.

"As we said earlier, we are not your descendants. We are rebels against the corrupt rule of the Baruch line. We awakened you to gain power to fight them. You called them your unworthy heirs… So surely, you must be aware of their rot. Will you help us?”

Dorothy, speaking through a marionette, addressed him steadily. Rachman did not reply immediately. Instead, he looked toward the mausoleum’s exit, sensing something in the distance. After a moment, he turned back and asked.

“What… is that thing outside?”

“Oh, that? That’s one of your successors—the current king of the Baruch Dynasty. His name… is Diedin.”

“Diedin…” murmured Rachman. A flicker of recognition crossed his face. He turned toward the damaged soul-binding array beside the sarcophagus, widened his eyes, then immediately floated toward the exit of the mausoleum.

“Please wait, King Rachman.”

Dorothy had the marionette call out quickly. Rachman paused and looked back. The marionette continued.

“King Rachman, you may not know this, but due to certain heretical conspiracies, Diedin has become something entirely different. If you go alone as just a wandering soul, I fear you’ll be of little help. If the dead are to make a difference, they must possess greater power—and that requires a host.”

As the marionette said this, a figure stepped forward from the tomb’s shadows. It was Nephthys, looking slightly nervous. She bowed to Rachman. Uta’s spirit had already left her and was watching silently nearby.

Rahman glanced at Nephthys, then at the marionette, and spoke once more.

“Even my own blood betrayed me. And you expect me to trust you, marionette?”

The marionette smiled faintly, then quickly drew a simple array on the floor. Rachman recognized it—it was a divination array.

Dorothy had the marionette bring out a coin, a lantern, and a stone fragment carved with inscriptions. When the lantern was lit, a soft amber glow spread forth. Rachman could immediately sense the Lantern spirituality within—it was an Illuminating Beacon.

Then Dorothy had the marionette shine the lantern’s light onto the carved stone. Both items shimmered with faint violet light. This signified the presence of Revelation spirituality in the stone—an authentic mystical item, one she had acquired during her interactions with Claudius of the Eight-Spired Nest.

At last, under Rachman’s watchful gaze, Dorothy placed the stone into the divination array, uttered a prayer of divination, and tossed the coin into the air.

“We bear no ill will toward King Rachman.”

The marionette slapped the coin down as it landed, and as the ritual concluded, the soft violet glow on the lantern faded—signaling that the Revelation spirituality had been consumed. It was a genuine divination.

Seeing all this, Rachman watched the marionette’s hand release, revealing the coin’s face-up side.

He stared at the result for a long while, then finally murmured.

“…You’ve certainly put in the effort.”

With that, he floated forward—and merged into Nephthys’s body. Her eyes closed, and when she opened them again, they shone with a firm resolve not her own.

Nephthys turned, walked deeper into the mausoleum, and approached the sarcophagus. Reaching inside, she retrieved a sword buried under layers of dust.

She examined the corpse inside briefly, dusted off the blade, and gripped it tightly before striding out of the sepulcher.

Dorothy and her corpse marionettes followed closely behind.

…

To the north of Karnak, across the vast wilderness and mountain ridges, violent gales howled through the landscape. Massive clouds of dust were whipped into the air, swirling and flying at incredible speed. The sky was completely blotted out, casting a doomsday-like pall over the entire city of Karnak.

The edge of the sandstorm vortex had already reached the city. All of Karnak was now shrouded in a dim yellow hue. The blazing sun in the sky had vanished behind the dust clouds. Yellow sand slapped relentlessly against the walls, and thunderous noise filled the surroundings. The streets had become uninhabitable. Under Shadi’s orders, many soldiers had already evacuated Karnak—but many others who couldn’t escape in time remained trapped inside buildings, praying in despair for King Diedin’s mercy.

The whirlwind sandstorm caused by Diedin had by now swelled to double its previous power. On the northern outskirts of Karnak, Shadi froze his legs in place to avoid being swept away by the gale, while still doing his utmost to halt Diadin’s advance. The flying sand lashed painfully at his skin. In this desperate moment, Setut roared in his mind:

“Kid! That’s enough! If you don’t run now, it’ll be too late!”

“But... at least half the troops in the city haven’t evacuated yet…”

“Then they’re staying behind! There’s no helping it! Save yourself first!”

Setut shouted back, his voice tinged with urgency.

“Setut... Is there really nothing we can do to stop that thing?”

“Nothing! I already told you—this thing is being fueled by the belief of over a hundred thousand citizens nearby, and seven centuries of Baruch’s lawful legitimacy! We cannot possibly counter it! The more fear it instills in your soldiers, the stronger its presence becomes! It will only continue to grow! Run—now!”

As Setut shouted, Shadi’s grimace showed a hint of bitter defiance. Through clenched teeth, he forced out a few words.

“Damn it… In the end, we’re still forced to submit to your tyranny… Diedin…”

Just as Shadi grit his teeth in fury, Diedin’s spirit at the center of the sandstorm stirred again. As though preparing for another surge of power, it once more invoked the environment and broadcasted a sweeping declaration.

“All resistance is futile! Rebels! You cannot defy me! I am Diedin, King of Addus! I am the nation! I am Addus!”

The monstrous face within the sandstorm bellowed this declaration in a ferocious snarl. The words echoed far and wide—whether fleeing or trapped, soldiers clutched their heads and crouched in fear as their terror reached new heights. Under this immense pressure, every soldier instinctively recognized the being as the true King of Addus. With this new wave of affirmation and belief, Diedin’s power surged again. Shadi could no longer withstand the onslaught. Diedin, in his sandstorm form, loomed over tiny Karnak like a living apocalypse.

But at that very moment, another voice arose within the hearts of the people.

“You are not the king...”

The voice was firm, deep, and steady. It echoed calmly and clearly in the hearts of every soldier, bringing with it an unshakable peace.

“What… whose voice is this…”

Shadi muttered in astonishment at the unfamiliar voice within. Setut, puzzled, asked.

“What’s wrong, kid? What did you hear?”

“Uh… Setut, you didn’t hear that? A man’s voice—he said Diedin isn’t the king…”

As Shadi replied in confusion, the steady voice once again echoed within him.

“People of Addus, fear not. Do not bow. That which threatens you with disaster is not your king. The King of Addus does not need calamity to earn recognition.”

This resonant voice, not carried through the air but directly into the minds of all Addus citizens present, spread rapidly to distant cities, reaching the ears of countless citizens in Dorsa. They, too, were startled and began to wonder at this new voice’s origin.

“Who is it?! Who dares spread heresy!?”

Seemingly hearing the mysterious voice as well, Diedin’s storm-formed visage twisted in rage, roaring toward the surroundings.

Meanwhile, in Death Eagle Valley north of Karnak, atop a mountain peak, “Nephthys” stood, clad in robes, gripping a plain longsword pointed southward. Her resolute eyes were locked on the towering sandstorm looming like a wall across the sky.

Upon hearing Diedin’s outburst, “Nephthys” opened her mouth and solemnly proclaimed toward the swirling sands.

“People of Addus, hear the voice of the ancestral bloodline. I am Rachman Baruch, the first King of Addus. By the enduring soulbound contract, I now formally declare to all citizens of Addus:

The sixth-generation royal lineage and the entire High Priesthood have ignored ancestral law, acted recklessly, and committed great sins for personal gain. They have defiled sacred order and broken the law—unforgivable crimes!

I hereby strip King Lihhan of the sixth generation down to King Diedin of the thirty-fourth generation—twenty-eight kings in total—of their royal titles! The power held by these twenty-eight kings is illegally obtained! Their wealth, too, is illegally seized! They are no longer Kings of Addus!”

Rachman’s bold proclamation resounded in the hearts of countless citizens of Addus. Though none had ever heard this voice before, it inexplicably evoked a deep sense of trust.

Upon hearing this new declaration, Diedin’s massive sand-formed face twisted to face south, glaring toward Death Eagle Valley. “Nephthys” raised her sword, pointing it directly at his face, and proclaimed again.

“I deny you, Diedin! You are unworthy to be king! You are no longer king—forevermore!”

With that sentence, the two pillars supporting Diedin’s power—recognition and lawful legitimacy—were simultaneously shaken. The latter shattered instantly. Diadin felt a massive portion of his strength vanish; the storm that had been expanding halted and began to shrink rapidly.

Sensing the sudden drain of power, Diedin grew increasingly panicked. His gaze turned northward, fury surging within him, far stronger than his earlier rage at Shadi. Driven by wrath, he turned and hurled his titanic form northward in a crushing wave. Though his strength was fading, the sheer mass he had accumulated remained enormous.

“Go back to your grave, you fossil!“