"A prisoner who rivals a Hero, huh..."
I ruminated on Luciana's words.
I had forgotten until now, but I knew of only one person who fit that description. As I delved into the memories of my former life, Luciana leaned in to peer into my face.
"Do you have someone in mind?"
"It’s been ten years, so I can't be certain. Let's go see for ourselves."
"Right. If we don't back them up soon, he might actually break through."
Luciana and I took to the sky and headed for the Prison. It was a direct path, so the journey was brief. Before long, we arrived at the facility situated on the edge of the Capital.
It was a stark, rugged building of black stone, surrounded by a barrier that had frayed and lost its functionality. The wire mesh fence encircling the grounds had been torn down, and Undead wandered aimlessly across the property.
"Is this it?"
"Aside from that one prisoner, the occupation is almost complete."
We touched down and entered the Prison through a mangled entrance. The interior was also swarming with Undead; the majority of them wore the tattered remnants of prisoner uniforms or guard gear. They stood in a state of idle suspension, awaiting orders. Without purpose, they simply shuffled through the rooms like lethargic shadows.
I followed Luciana deeper into the building.
"Just ahead."
Almost the moment she spoke, a roar of commotion reached my ears. We rounded a corner and emerged into a large, open hall. Judging by the scattered plates and remnants of food, this was the cafeteria.
"Oraaa!"
A boisterous shout rang out.
A lone man was swinging a heavy long table like a club, scattering the Undead like dry leaves. He wore a filthy prison tunic, and his wheat-colored hair was a matted, unkempt mess. His face was obscured by a thick, unshaven beard, but even from a distance, I could clearly see the ferocious grin plastered across his face.
Broken, dysfunctional Undead were strewn across the floor. I counted well over a hundred of them. This man had dismantled them all single-handedly.
I observed him from the shadows of the doorway.
"That's the man..."
"The casualties have increased since I left. Honestly, what is he made of?" Luciana asked, her voice tinged with exasperation. It was an understandable sentiment given the carnage before us. "By the way, do you actually know him?"
"I wouldn't call him an acquaintance, exactly. I just didn't expect him to still be behind bars."
Luciana’s expression grew more perplexed at my vague response. She crossed her arms and let out a soft groan.
"A Hero-tier powerhouse known to Dwight-kun... I would have thought the Demon King's Army would have kept tabs on someone like that."
"It's no surprise you haven't heard of him. The man was locked away long before the conflict with the Demon King's Army reached its peak."
"What did he do?"
"His personality was his downfall. He was far too free-spirited to follow orders, and worse, he committed crimes without a second thought. He was little more than a violent ruffian."
I had no personal relationship with him, but I had heard plenty of rumors regarding his misconduct. He had been a washed-up mercenary when this Small Nation hired him as a soldier. His strength was undeniable—so much so that he was once shortlisted as a candidate to slay the Demon King.
Had he not been imprisoned shortly thereafter, he likely would have been part of the party that set out with us. Considering that journey ended with my execution in the Valley of the Dead, I suppose it was a blessing he hadn't joined us.
That such a man remained a prisoner was likely due to his own peculiar sense of stubbornness. I recalled hearing that he could be surprisingly dutiful in the oddest ways. Perhaps he had taken a liking to the simplicity of prison life, or perhaps it was just a passing whim. Regardless of the reason, containing a man of his caliber must have been a nightmare for this country. They likely lived in constant fear that he might decide to walk out the front door on a moment’s notice.
"He likely escaped execution because they didn't want to waste his combat potential. Though, I never imagined he would still be a convict ten years later."
"Quite a contrast to the Kingdom that threw you into the Valley of the Dead," Luciana remarked.
"...Indeed."
While we spoke, the man continued to demolish the Undead. He moved with wild, boundless energy, wielding his blood-stained table to clear the room. Since the remains of the Undead could be reassembled and reanimated, I wasn't particularly concerned about the losses, but letting him run rampant any longer would be problematic.
Just as I prepared to step forward, the man spun around to face us.
"Hey! You, the Black Skeleton over there! Yeah, you!"
His voice was loud and resonant, carrying easily across the hall. He was clearly addressing me.
I glanced at Luciana, who merely shrugged and shook her head, signaling that she was done dealing with him. I commanded my Undead subordinates to part, creating a path for me to approach.
The man lowered the splintered table and spoke with casual familiarity.
"You're the big boss of these corpses, aren't you? Let's talk."
"About what?"
"I'm bored of crushing these small fry. How about a duel, just you and me?"
He made the proposal with a smile that reminded me of a predatory beast. There wasn't a hint of humor in his eyes; he was entirely serious.
I came to a halt, keeping a reasonable distance between us.
"A duel? I have no time to waste on—"
"Hyahhou!"
He cut me off by lunging forward. He stayed low to the ground, sprinting with explosive speed. He was in front of me in the blink of an eye, spinning into a reaping roundhouse kick.
I reflexively leaned back.
"Hm."
A sharp impact jolted my jaw, and white shards of bone flew into the air. The kick had grazed me, shattering part of the mandible. If I were still human, the shock would have rattled my brain and left me paralyzed, but as an Undead of bone, the damage was trivial.
"Fragile, aren't ya! Come on, give me a real challenge!"
The man followed up immediately, throwing a punch with a sharp, lethal trajectory. I manifested Defense Magic at the very last second. His fist slammed into the magical barrier, making it groan and buckle until it shattered under the pressure of his raw strength.
However, the barrier served its purpose by slowing his momentum. I used that fraction of a second to leap back and create distance.
(...What terrifying destructive power.)
I was genuinely impressed. There was no trace of magic in his movements. He had pierced my defenses through sheer physical force alone. Even with my guard lowered, my barriers weren't something that should be broken so easily, yet the proof was right in front of me.
Close-quarters combat was clearly a losing game. While I had mastered various martial techniques in the Valley of the Dead, they weren't enough to match a specialist like him. Only the Hero’s swordsmanship could truly counter a man like this, and I saw no reason to play into my opponent's strengths.
In my previous life, I was a Sage. I specialized in long-range manipulation and indirect tactics. My nature as an Undead only enhanced those caster-focused abilities.
I took direct control of the surrounding Undead, commanding them to swarm him simultaneously. Unlike their previous semi-autonomous attacks, these were coordinated and precise, making them vastly more difficult to repel.
"Oh?"
The man's eyes widened. He snatched up his makeshift club and swung it with his whole body. With a thunderous boom, the Undead were sent flying. He had neutralized the entire coordinated assault with a single, sweeping blow.
(Even that won't work, then.)
However, in a fight, the time taken for a single massive swing is a fatal opening.
I thrust my palms forward and unleashed a massive Fireball. The sphere of flame roared across the floor, charring the stone as it raced to swallow the man whole. Unable to dodge in time, he was engulfed by the blaze. The Fireball continued past him, slamming into the far wall and detonating.
A massive explosion rocked the cafeteria. The wall and floor were gouged out, and a thick shroud of white smoke filled the air.
"..."
I stared into the haze, refusing to lower my guard. After a few moments, a silhouette emerged from the smoke.
"That stung. Another second and I’d have been a barbecue," the man complained, brushing soot off his tattered uniform.
He was barely bleeding. Looking closer, I saw that his palms were scorched. It was almost impossible to believe, but he must have caught the Fireball with his bare hands to deflect the brunt of the explosion. To do that to a spell capable of leveling a reinforced fortress wall was nothing short of monstrous.
Luciana hurried to my side.
"Demon King-sama, are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
I stopped her before she could touch my chipped jawbone. Physical damage meant nothing to me; I could simply migrate my consciousness to another vessel or repair this one.
Luciana glared at the man, her expression one of genuine wariness.
"Who is this guy? 'Rivaling a Hero' doesn't even cover it. He’s well beyond the average. This is insane..."
Her confusion was warranted. While preparing my next spell, I finally gave her the man's name.
"Henry Brarkin. The Ever-Victorious Warrior... and the man once whispered to be the one most likely to become the 'Demon King Slayer.'"