The next day, I woke up at our base in the Town of Ghosts to find the sun high in the sky, nearly reaching noon. We had continued the memorial service until late the previous night, so a late morning was only natural. After greeting Sebas and Lord Reinbach, who had taken the first watch, I ate the leftovers of the food we had placed on the spirit shelf for breakfast.
It felt wrong to let the food go to waste. Besides, the act of the living eating offerings is a way to share a meal with the departed—a significant part of the memorial ritual itself. As I sat there savoring the meal, Remily and Sieber returned from their scouting mission.
"Welcome back," I said.
"Ah, you’re awake," Sieber replied. "We took a quick look around. It seems yesterday’s magic was quite effective. Depending on how many undead remained, I’d planned to spend another day on subjugation, but looking at the current state of things, we should be able to head straight for the central tower without any trouble."
"Is that so? I noticed it was quiet, but I wasn't sure if that extended to the area around the tower as well," Reinbach noted.
"The miasma in the city has thinned out considerably, and the undead population has plummeted," Remily explained. "The few that are left are strangely peaceful. They don’t even show signs of moving. Most of them just stare blankly; they’ve essentially become 'living corpses' just lying around the streets. We’ll have to do something about the bodies eventually, but for now, they aren't a threat."
"In that case, let’s leave the remaining undead to the Goblins and the Grave Slimes," I suggested.
I wondered briefly if feeding the remains to the Grave Slimes counted as a burial or more of a consumption burial. Some cultures practiced "sky burials," where bodies were left for carnivorous birds. Perhaps I should call this a Slime Burial? Regardless, it was better than leaving them out in the open to rot.
"Thank you for the food," I murmured, finishing my breakfast.
Once the sun reached its zenith, we began our operation. Following our plan, the Goblins and Grave Slimes fanned out to handle the town's cleanup while we made our way to the central tower. We encountered no ambushes on the way, arriving at the tower's base with ease.
"The miasma still feels heavy here," I noted.
"This is the heart of the city and the site of the execution grounds," Reinbach said. "The smoke from last night likely didn't penetrate the interior."
Because of that, we decided to perform another miasma purge before going in. I went through the now-familiar preparations and began the exorcism.
"This magic really is incredibly convenient," Sieber remarked.
"How do people usually handle miasma removal in places like this?" I asked.
"If it's something that can be set alight, the quickest way is to burn it until nothing but ash remains. If that isn't enough, we typically call in specialists."
"She means mages known as 'Exorcists' or 'Curse Specialists' who focus specifically on undead and miasma," Remily added. "They have a wealth of experience and specialized knowledge, which makes the process safe and reliable. I know a few tricks myself, but I can’t hold a candle to them."
Remily specialized in combat using shadow magic, so this was outside her expertise. I had learned how to purge miasma, but I was mostly doing it by instinct.
"Considering my research on Grave Slimes, it might be a good idea for me to study the proper fundamentals of miasma and curses," I mused.
"If you're interested in that field, I could introduce you to a Curse Specialist with ties to the Ducal House," Reinbach offered. "Remily, what do you think?"
"Having solid knowledge would certainly make things safer and open up new possibilities," she replied. "However, if you're going to find him a teacher, you’ll need to be very selective. Otherwise, Ryoma-kun will definitely be too much for them to handle."
"Master Ryoma already uses a spell that rivals a professional's, so I doubt they would find him boring," Sebas added. "While the people we know are trustworthy, it's also true they are quite... obsessed with the refinement of magic."
I imagine many people want to be employed by a Duke's family. To be chosen from so many candidates, one would need a high level of skill, and reaching that level requires a certain kind of intensity. It made sense that many of them would be magic obsessives.
As we chatted while watching the smoke drift into the tower, several moving shadows appeared near the entrance. However, against a group of elite adults, undead without their miasma armor were no match. They were wiped out in seconds.
"Oh..."
Suddenly, Remily let out a small, disappointed sound. She was looking down at the wand in her hand with a sad expression.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"I knew it was getting close, but it seems it finally reached its limit."
She showed me the side of the wand; a large crack ran down the wood.
"You mentioned needing Everdark Grass to make a new one. Are you going to be okay?"
"It won't affect my combat much. I can use magic without a wand, and this one wasn't a particularly powerful piece of equipment anyway."
She had mentioned it was an adulthood gift from her parents, so its value was mostly sentimental.
"Ryoma-kun, do you mind if I burn this too?"
Despite my thoughts on its sentimentality, she seemed ready to part with it quite easily.
"Are you sure? I thought it was a precious memento."
"It is. I received it shortly after I became a court mage. I was going through a lot back then—I was acting out and felt weak. In a moment of vulnerability, I sent a letter home. I’d run away from the village on my own, so I didn't really expect a reply. I was so surprised when my parents, who had almost never left the village before, came all that way to see me. I was so happy.
"But there's no use mourning something that's broken. Losing the wand doesn't mean the memories vanish. In my village, it’s normal to use things until they can’t be used anymore, then dispose of them as kindling for the hearth."
"Is that how it's done?"
"It is. Besides, you don't magically become a perfect adult the moment you reach the proper age, right? You might be an adult on paper, but the person inside grows over time. These wands are given as a support for that transition—to help you stand on your own as you move away from your parents' protection. A fully grown adult shouldn't be relying on one."
Judging by her slightly bashful expression, it was like the magical equivalent of training wheels on a bicycle. Apparently, the only reason the wand had lasted this long was because she didn't use it for her actual work. Court mages can have the country pay for their equipment, so she had always used high-end, custom-made wands for her job.
"So, if it can be of some use as fuel, I’m happy to burn it. Unless it would ruin the ritual, of course."
"That shouldn't be a problem at all," I replied.
This wasn't a funeral ritual, and in my old world, we often burned hemp stalks or old charms in sacred fires. Burning a memento with intent was easy to visualize.
Remily closed her eyes for a few seconds as if reminiscing. When she opened them, she resolutely snapped the wand into several pieces and tossed them into the fire. The wood crackled as the flames took hold, and it soon began to smoke heavily, turning to white ash.
"Once this burns out, let's head in. The miasma inside is thinner now, so Mana Perception should be easier to manage."
"Understood."
For a short while, we stood in silence.
With the initial miasma purge complete, I placed a Light Slime on my head to act as a lantern and let the Emperor Scavenger lead the way into the tower.
From above, the tower was shaped like a doughnut. It was divided from the outside in: the barracks and duty stations for the jailers and executioners, the holding cells for death row inmates, and finally, the execution ground itself in the center.
The internal corridors were deliberately labyrinthine to prevent escapes. It was dark inside the abandoned facility, but the Light Slime on my head provided plenty of illumination.
The undead remaining in the tower were no trouble at all. Near the entrance, the corridors were narrow enough that the Emperor Scavenger's massive body blocked them entirely. The jailers that rushed us were simply swallowed up like they were caught in a tsunami.
A few Wraiths occasionally drifted through the walls—likely hiding there to avoid the smoke—but I neutralized them with a single Light Shot each time. As long as I focused on Mana Perception to track them through the stone, it was a simple task.
"Looking at the town from the outside, I thought this would be a grueling ordeal. But now that we're actually doing it, we haven't struggled at all," Reinbach remarked.
"I tried to take the best possible approach by using the slimes, but... it’s become so easy it’s almost anticlimactic," Sieber admitted.
"Ah, Sebas-san, could I have some water?" I asked.
"Certainly. 'Water'."
Sebas produced a large volume of water with magic, and the Emperor Scavenger drank it happily. After about ten seconds, it gave a little shiver, conveying the feeling that it was satisfied.
"Thank you. It says it's had enough."
"It's no trouble. Please ask whenever you need."
We continued walking. I didn't know about the other towers, but this one felt massive. Then again, if you included an execution ground, housing for inmates and staff, and all the necessary support facilities, it would have to be.
"The Everdark Grass was in the basement, right?"
"It’s a medicinal herb that usually grows in caves or dark places without sunlight," Remily said. "The Execution Ground of Hunger and Thirst provides the perfect environment."
"It brings back memories..." Sieber mused. "In the old days, I used to accompany the rookies here for training every year. Those stairs are perfect for tempering your legs and hips."
"The stairs are long enough to be considered a workout?" I asked.
"Hm? Did I not mention the layout?"
"I heard it was where they starved death row inmates, but I don't know much about the actual structure..."
"I see. Let me explain, then. Although it is a grim tale."
With that warning, Sieber began the story.
The Execution Ground of Hunger and Thirst consisted of only two things: a long spiral staircase descending deep underground and sets of restraints. Every day, one new prisoner was brought to the execution ground and chained at the very top of the stairs. The next day, another was brought in; the previous prisoner would be checked for life and then moved exactly one step down the stairs. This process was repeated daily, with the prisoners being moved further and further from the surface.
When the life checks were finished, the prisoners were given hard bread and water. Hearing this, one might wonder why they were given food at all if it was meant to be a place of starvation. It wasn't an act of mercy. The food wasn't poisoned; it was ordinary bread and water.
However, the food was only provided once a day. The total amount was only enough to feed two-thirds of the prisoners currently in the staircase, and the entire supply was placed in front of the person at the very top. Not only was there not enough for everyone, but those lower down could only eat if the people above them passed the food down, like a bucket relay.
The result was predictable. The prisoners at the top would try to monopolize the supply. Even if it was only delivered once, they simply wouldn't pass it down. If there was enough for two-thirds of the group, a single person could easily secure three days' worth of food for themselves. Many would hoard as much as they could carry.
And the prisoners below would never accept that. They might have been able to secure food easily when they were near the top, but as they moved down, the supply dwindled. Eventually, driven by desperation, they would fight to get even a single scrap of bread.
The chains were adjusted to a length where they couldn't stand up to trade blows, but they could reach the person next to them. If they were lucky, they could knock the food out of someone's hand. This incited constant conflict, though they couldn't fight enough to actually kill each other.
Further down, the food simply stopped arriving. The inmates there lost their strength to hunger and thirst. Instead of reaching for those next to them, they spent their time hurling abuse and curses at those above who could still eat.
Even that was considered "energetic" for the lower levels. The starving would eventually lose their sanity, and some would even commit the taboo of cannibalism. They would use the last of their strength to try and consume the "meat" within their reach.
Actually eating another person was difficult given the restraints, but a desperate bite that caused a wound was often a death sentence. Chained all day, they had no access to toilets; they were forced to live in their own waste. With their immune systems ravaged by starvation and no medical care, they had no chance of survival.
The voices from the top, middle, and bottom all echoed up through the central well of the execution ground. From the moment they entered until the moment they died, the inmates were subjected to a never-ending chorus of screaming, agony, resentment, and madness. That was the reality of the Execution Ground of Hunger and Thirst.
"That's... horrific," I said softly. "I believe people should be punished for their crimes, but that... I can see why such powerful undead were born here."
"Good. Don't forget that feeling," Sieber said. "When a human being is fully convinced they are in the right, they are capable of unbelievable cruelty and malice as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"At the time, what happened here was considered justice. They were punishing criminals, so there was no shame in it—it was seen as a virtuous act that deserved praise. The jailers' own 'extra' punishments were overlooked for the same reason. I’ve read that anyone who spoke out against the practice was treated with contempt and punished themselves.
"The Knight Order used this place for training to teach the next generation that justice is not absolute. A knight must have a sense of justice, but they must never drown in it. If they lose their sense of moderation, their 'justice' quickly becomes nothing more than violence."
In my previous world, history was full of such examples—the witch hunts being the most famous. In certain eras, executions were both a punishment for the guilty and a form of entertainment for the masses. "The misfortune of others tastes like honey," as they say. The tendency to enjoy another's suffering while brandishing the shield of justice seemed to be a universal human trait across all worlds and eras.
For someone intending to become a knight with both power and authority, keeping that truth in mind was the only way to stay on the path of humanity.
"Well, it seems our story ends at the perfect time," Sieber noted.
As I was reflecting on his words, we had arrived at the entrance to the execution grounds.
Turning left at a T-junction, the corridor opened into a wide hall. Guard soldiers likely used to line the walls here. At the end of the hall stood a heavy, rotting double door, and on either side stood a suit of decaying armor.
"I suppose this is the standard for a place like this," I muttered.
With a series of metallic creaks, the two suits of armor leveled their spears at us.