Evil Avalon
“But they’re still young, and they look kinda weak too.”
“…If we meticulously and carefully instill fear and despair… there’s a nonzero chance they could become a high-quality Servant.”
The white-coated figures of the Holy Empire lit up with delight, as if they had found prey, weapons now in hand. There were three of them: a brawny man wielding a double-edged axe, a woman holding a short staff wand with a skull-shaped tip, and a tall man swinging a slender sword back and forth with a smug grin.
Though their clothing and weapons were wildly different, their shared curiosity and sharp, menacing malice aimed at me were unmistakable. Each of them unleashed their Aura freely, waves of immense magical power piercing through my body.
The tingling sensation deep in my chest told me they were each above level 30—a sign of formidable strength. In other words, I was now faced with three opponents, all superior to me, at the same time.
It wasn’t entirely hopeless, though. I had allies. If we coordinated well, even stronger opponents weren’t unbeatable—
“Hii! I-I was dragged here against my will by this guy! Please, just spare me!”
Before the overwhelming magical pressure, the idiot noble, Mamiya Subaru, collapsed to the ground, begging for his life. It was no surprise, as such oppressive Aura could easily crush a person’s spirit—but to betray me so easily?
He’d been confident even when I warned him about the Holy Empire being our enemy and showed no reaction to horribly mangled corpses we’d passed on the way. I thought he might be somewhat capable, but it seems he wasn’t thinking at all. Trusting him was my mistake.
I glanced up at the white-coats, wondering if groveling now might earn their mercy—but their twisted smiles and glaring, predatory eyes made it clear: the chances of being spared were near zero. This was what true desperation looked like.
“Oh my, that one in the ethnic clothing has such a lovely expression. But weaklings have no place as my Servants—let’s just kill them quickly.”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to try keeping at least one Japanese around? Why not keep this one for now?”
“I… I have to survive no matter what—!!”
Overwhelmed by the clinging malice, Subaru shouted nonsensically as he crawled on all fours toward the staircase. The tall man declared, “Leave him to me,” before pursuing him, but all I could do was watch. After all—
“Come forth, [Rise Dead].”
The woman chanted the skill name, flipping her wrists as the black Aura around her condensed into two skulls that struck the concrete ground. Moments later, two magical circles, glowing red and black, flickered to life.
Without pause, a decaying arm, pale and rotten, emerged.
What climbed out next were the bodies of a magician-type man wrapped in barbed wire and a ranger-type woman with her hair and body brutally slashed. They twisted their heads unnaturally, cloudy eyes locking onto me as they exhaled hatred and slowly took fighting stances.
“Here, these might be your future friends. Go play with them, won’t you?”
“Ah… ah…”
“Ooooh… aaah…”
Gray-skinned, with deep wounds leaking black blood, their mangled forms reflected the extremes of pain and torment inflicted upon them. What kind of twisted mind would treat humans this way, even going so far as to carry their corpses around? Was turning people into Servants really worth all this?
Corpse Servants couldn’t heal from damage, unlike summoned beasts or spirits, making them essentially disposable. Strategically, it was far more practical to use monsters with uniform stats and easier replenishment than to rely on humans with fragile, irreplaceable bodies.
Of course, human Servants had their merits: shared equipment and the ability to form specialized tactics. Back in Dungeon Eclipse, there had been necromancers who loved to hunt and collect humans, but their playstyle had always seemed more like a self-imposed challenge than anything practical.
Perhaps these people didn’t fully understand the drawbacks of being a necromancer. Or maybe they were just insane.
While observing the corpse Servants to gather intel, the axe-wielding man leaned in close to study my face.
“Svetlana, this one doesn’t seem too scared. Maybe those corpses look too weak to him?”
“Mind your tongue, Kafka. Those two were powerful soldiers who took down countless of our comrades in the Euro Union frontlines. This brat simply lacks the ability to recognize their strength.”
Kafka waved his axe lazily, taunting me with his words, while the woman—Svetlana—gave him an irritated glare. Apparently, those corpse Servants were skilled fighters who had defeated many of the Holy Empire’s soldiers on the Eastern European front.
It seemed they still had open slots for more Servants and were evaluating whether I was suitable to fill one of them. They openly debated how best to instill fear and despair in me. I had no intention of letting that happen.
It was clear now that combat was unavoidable. I removed the handkerchief covering my mouth, preparing myself, and drew my sword from the magic pocket of my bag.
(Helping Subaru… seems out of the question now.)
I glanced briefly in the direction he had fled. He was one of the rare nobles who would speak kindly to a commoner like me. Not a bad guy. I’d like to rush to his aid, but there’s no way to do that without dealing with these enemies first.
"…Ah…Ah…"
The Servants behind me had been responding sharply to my every movement of magic. It seemed like a clear declaration that they wouldn’t let me escape. They were pitiable, used like tools by the Holy Empire. If I could, I’d like to set them free… I might even consider helping the unconscious Kirigaya sprawled nearby. But first, I had to survive this ordeal.
If I fought them head-on, four against one, I’d surely lose. Even escaping would be an uphill battle. Fortunately, the axe-wielding man, Kafka, wasn’t rushing to attack. Instead, he casually started talking to me, giving me precious time to think.
"Hey, are you with Kinrankai? Can you even understand what I’m saying?"
“…What is your goal? Why are you doing this? Wreaking this much havoc—”
“Oh, looks like we can understand each other just fine.”
Kafka ignored my question. As soon as he confirmed I could understand him—though it was really thanks to a translation item—he grinned and pointed at one of the monitors.
The screen showed several people wearing the Holy Empire’s white coats. In front of them was a nobleman, his head severed, lying in a pool of blood. The area was drenched in red, with other victims implied by the scene. A few survivors were still alive, but their sobbing and wailing made it clear the situation was dire.
In the corner of the screen was the label “37F,” suggesting this footage was from the 37th floor.
“They’ve already started, huh.”
“Yeah, that’s a little warning for the noble who tried to bolt first.”
Despite my presence, Kafka and the necromancer woman, Svetlana, spoke without sparing me a glance. Such confidence. Part of me quietly hoped they’d just ignore me entirely.
But then, the monitor displayed a man bravely launching an attack. His swift movements were a blur, weaving feints into his approach and closing in on a white-coat soldier’s back. With practiced ease, he unleashed a weapon skill in a seamless flow. His movements alone marked him as a highly skilled fighter.
However, the Holy Empire had anticipated his every move. One soldier blocked his slash, and another closed in to flank him, delivering successive blows. The man was impaled repeatedly and fell.
It was shocking to see such a skilled combatant dispatched so easily. But the real horror came next.
One of the nearby white-coats extended a hand and chanted something. The corpse of the fallen man, lying in a pool of his own blood, erupted in black flames and slowly stood up. His pale face was devoid of life, and with swords still protruding from his body, fresh blood continued to pour out. His jerky movements completed the picture of a nightmarish zombie.
The sight was too much for some of the gathered guests. A scream tore through the air but was cut short. The resurrected man, now a Servant, ripped a sword from his chest and swung it, cutting down a guest in a single stroke. The monitor labeled “37F” went silent, consumed by a spray of blood.
This horrifying footage seemed to be broadcast in the party venue as well. A monitor labeled “55F” showed terrified guests clutching their heads, crouching in fear. Some scrambled to the elevators, desperate to escape, adding to the chaos. Hana should be among them. She might be trembling in fear right now.
“Man, that last guy was Kinrankai. I thought he’d put up more of a fight. Guess this country’s full of weaklings after all.”
“Unregistered individuals aren’t worth much, huh? What a disappointment.”
Even the highly skilled man who had been turned into a Servant had been a letdown to them. Perhaps the odds had been stacked too heavily against him. But their coordinated movements were far more dangerous than I had anticipated.
“That Sanada guy is seriously unhinged. To drag his own allies into such a horrific show…”
“Hey, it gave us a great chance to play. We should be grateful!”
“Yeah, now we can experiment to our heart’s content, and there’s plenty of material to use.♪”
From their conversation, it seemed the main figures in this building had been cataloged in some sort of list. The plan was to exterminate them all and use the area as a testing ground for the Holy Empire’s new strategic job class: Necromancer. Kinrankai appeared to be the perfect target for both data collection and creating Servants.
Other monitors began showing scenes of guests being slaughtered. In just the short time I’d been watching, the death toll had surpassed twenty. It seemed the so-called “Escape Game” had begun in earnest. The “demons” referred to in the announcement were none other than the Holy Empire’s soldiers.
Using a magical array to turn the entire building into an enclosed space, they had set a time limit and thrown everyone into the depths of fear and despair. Their cruelty was unmistakable. And yet—
(How did things change so drastically… This is nothing like the game I knew.)
The DunEx Kinran-kai clan party ended peacefully without a single death, but the clan party in this world was utterly horrifying in comparison. The disparity in content was so extreme that it left me shaken. What caused this massive deviation from the game scenario? Was it the ripple effect of the "Gate" being exposed? Am I the one who pulled the trigger for this disaster...?
As I stood dumbfounded in front of the monitor, the man named Kafka seemed pleased with my reaction. He intensified his magical energy and made a slashing motion across his neck with his axe.
"Did you finally feel a little despair? No one in this building will escape... they’ll all die. That boss of yours, Kuki, and even that ‘samurai’ Rokurogi, who everyone in this country clings to. By the way, what level is this guy?"
The woman, Svetlana, casually pointed an appraisal magic tool at me, but thanks to [Fake], my true status was concealed, and my skills and job remained unreadable. As expected, unable to glean any information, she shrugged and made a gesture of surrender.
"His level is 25, but because of [Fake], I can’t discern anything beyond that. Maybe he’s not from Kinran-kai but part of Japan’s underworld…?"
"Coming to a place like this, I had some expectations, but level 25? What a letdown. How boring."
"But if he has underworld skills, he could still be useful. Let’s test how well he fights... try to put up a decent effort, okay, servant candidate?"
After assessing my state, the two operatives declared they would "test me" and then sat back in their chairs, entering spectator mode. Before I could muster a retort to their indifference—
A dazzling light suddenly flared from behind me at an angle.
Though a few strands of my hair were singed, I twisted my body in time to dodge it. Looking up, I saw a ranger-type servant flying low to the ground in a rush, thrusting a survival knife toward me.
As the descending blade came down, I hurriedly blocked it with the one-handed sword in my grip. Sparks flew as our weapons clashed violently. While locked in a fierce exchange of glares during a deadlock, I began to be pushed back.
The ranger's STR (Strength) was higher than mine, their stance unwavering, and their combat techniques sharp. They must have been a renowned fighter in life.
Knowing that grappling with a powerful opponent was dangerous, I widened the gap between us, clashing weapons several times. While dodging magic bullets flying from the side, I maneuvered to place the ranger in the magic's line of fire, casting the STR-enhancing skill [Flame Arms] to counter.
"You’re surprisingly skilled."
"This feels like someone with experience in group battles... or maybe even wars. But my servants are level 30. There’s no way a level 25 could win."
My sword grazed the ranger’s side, causing black blood to spurt, but the exchange of strikes continued. Though it was a two-on-one battle, I was clearly on the offensive. Even with [Flame Arms], the ranger’s STR was slightly higher, but their attacks were monotonous and lacked any feints, making their timing easy to predict.
Svetlana, seated in her chair, made no move to intervene in the fight. It seemed she didn’t fully grasp the nuances of the [Necromancer] job she held.
The servants, now devoid of intelligence and emotion, became mechanical in their decision-making, unable to exhibit even half of their combat potential from when they were alive. Typically, a necromancer would augment this deficiency with their own combat experience, directing their servants with precise instructions and employing group tactics, such as trading minor sacrifices for critical blows. This was the standard approach for a [Necromancer].
However, Svetlana left the servants to fight alone, clearly unsatisfied with my success in pushing them back. Naturally, I had no intention of giving her any helpful advice. Instead, I decided to end this swiftly.
"…Haah… [Lightning Sting]."
"Perish already—"
The ranger crouched, activating a dagger skill. The knife in their hand transformed into three bolts of lightning that surged toward me.
But because they weren’t being commanded, the slashes lacked any deviation in trajectory. After suppressing the magician with magic bullets to prevent a large-scale spell, I stepped forward with force, accelerating.
Spinning, I evaded the first lightning bolt at the last second, deflected the second with my sword angled diagonally, and closed the distance. Simultaneously, I activated my weapon skill.
"—Get the hell back where you came from! [Vorpal Thrust]!!"
The final lightning bolt was sliced through along with the skill user, a high-speed triple slash. Dense magical energy surged forth, severing the ranger's head and upper body. In the brief moment before the head hit the ground, I thought I saw a faint light flicker in the ranger's eyes.
There was no time to confirm it. The magician nearby had gathered an immense amount of magical power, forcing me to quickly shift my focus. They were trying to layer magic on top of my skill's cooldown.
"…[Fire Lance]"
"[Sway]"
A spear of hellfire wrapped in pale-blue magic shot forward, flashing with light. I canceled the skill cooldown using the ducking skill [Sway] and dodged sharply. Taking advantage of the opening, I fired magical projectiles back, gradually closing the distance. There was no way I could engage in a magic battle with such a higher-level magician, so I targeted close combat instead.
Dozens of dazzling magical projectiles crossed paths, but I managed to close the distance by several meters. However, I couldn't get any closer. We ended up in a firing contest, each trying to unbalance the other. It was clear from the way the magician fought that they had faced numerous warriors, but their movements were still mechanical.
When I intentionally shifted my balance to provoke an opening, just as expected, they launched a large attack. A tiny magic circle appeared at my feet, which rapidly expanded to about two meters and emitted a blinding light.
"…Ugh…[Flame Strike]"
A fire magic spell, [Flame Strike], that unleashed over a thousand degrees of heat and an unbearable amount of light erupted. Though I was startled by its speed, it wasn't a problem. I had predicted this situation, so I was already leaning forward. I pushed off the ground and charged toward the defenseless servant.
Just as I was about to close the distance, a fist flew toward me, which I cut through. Even as the servant spewed black blood, they attempted to retaliate with magic using their other hand. But before they could, I decapitated them—and that was the end.
The magician crumpled to the ground, their magical energy rapidly dissipating. Even though they were a corpse, cutting down a real human being still left a bad feeling. However, it was better than letting them be used by the others.
As I steadied my breath, preparing for the next fight, Svetlana, with her neatly styled blonde hair, clutched her head in despair. It seemed she hadn't expected me to win, and now her blue eyes glinted with murderous intent.
"My servants… both of them! How could they be defeated by someone at level 25?!"
"Too bad. But it's simple, we just make this one a new servant."
"Yes, but I won't let you die so easily. I’ll make sure you suffer, then turn you into a servant at your peak…"
Kafka threw off his white coat, a savage grin spreading across his face as he channeled magical energy into an axe that seemed to be some kind of magic item. Svetlana cast buffs on herself, glaring at me with eyes full of hatred, as if I had done something wrong.
(Now, the real battle begins…)
The two servants were relatively easy to defeat, unable to use their full strength. But these two weren’t going to be the same. My instincts told me that if the fight continued, I might lose. However, I had doubts.
This was the heart of Tokyo. Outside the building, there were likely many people on edge, wary of the Holy Empire. If such a commotion was made, it would almost certainly be noticed. Even if the commotion wasn’t noticed, if communications were cut off, adventurers or the military could arrive at any time.
Yet, they didn’t seem concerned. On the rooftop of this building, members of the Holy Empire had been meeting openly, and they had even used the stealth job skill [Necromancer] in front of me. Weren’t they worried about information leaking?
As I considered this, I heard Kafka laughing, as if he’d seen something amusing.
"We're not just jamming communications, you know. We're using magic barriers for 'people avoidance,' 'magical barriers,' and even illusion magic circles. You can’t detect any of it, even though you know you're in danger. And even if you tried to intervene, you'd never even make it to this building."
"Also, just so you know, this rooftop is shielded by magic that prevents anyone from spying or eavesdropping. No matter how loud you scream for help, no one will hear you. Got it?"
Kafka and Svetlana gleefully explained this, as if it was all a game. In other words, everything happening here was undetectable, and no one could get close. Even though we were having an open meeting in front of the monitors, it would never be discovered. I understood now.
While they continued to talk, I was piecing together the information and the situation. Then, Kafka began to laugh as if he had just noticed something strange.
"Still not feeling any fear? Well, let me show you why the Holy Empire is called the world's strongest adventurer nation…[Berserk]…"
Kafka raised his double-headed axe high, and when he activated his skill, red-black magical energy shot out, warping the air with a grinding sound.
"[Rise Dead]… Come, my greatest masterpiece… Hero Raksha!"
A massive amount of magical energy erupted vertically from the magic circle, bordered with black magic, and in the darkness, a silver full plate armor glimmered as it crawled upward. Hero Raksha, they had called it… I couldn’t place it in my game knowledge, but I wondered who this person was.
The skill Kafka used and the summoned servant, Hero Raksha, were likely some of the Holy Empire’s top-secret assets. They were taking advantage of the situation to do whatever they wanted.
And that look in their eyes. They were completely certain of their victory, focused only on how to terrorize their target and kill them in the most brutal way possible.
In DunEx, there were many players with extraordinary strength, but they were all challengers, seeking to reach greater heights and constantly searching for stronger opponents. But these two were only interested in tormenting the weak. Seeing this firsthand was sickening.
I knew that even if I didn’t take action, players like Akagi or Pink-chan would eventually deal with these kinds of people if they grew strong enough. But by then, the Holy Empire would likely have killed many and dragged others into their madness. After all, I was partially responsible for the situation. I had to stop them, even if it meant taking risks.
"Now, are you ready to fall into despair?"
"We'll have so much fun with you. Don’t give up hope too soon, okay? [Iron Maiden]."
Kafka grinned like a beast showing its fangs, and the magic he slammed into the ground was tainted with madness. At the same time, Svetlana cast a spell, and a bell tolled from somewhere above. Hero Raksha, the summoned servant, began to bleed as a result of the reinforcing magic that raised its magical power. It was all an ugly, twisted use of magic.
But, just because they could do whatever they wanted didn’t mean I couldn’t either. If they wanted to pull out all the stops, so would I. I would show them everything I had learned from my time in DunEx.
Ah, but before that—
"Uh... I’m not quite ready yet, so could you give me just a little more time?"
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