Crash...!
A crack etched into her ears.
A shard of pain seeping into her heart.
That desolate smile, haunting her memory.
'...'
Right.
You deceived me.
And I was deceived by you.
So, was I supposed to stay silent?
With lips no longer able to hold any melody, glaring at you who schemed your vile betrayal, blaming myself for trusting you to the very end, was I to remain buried here forever?
"...."
Artanis slowly opened her eyes.
And a single question came to mind.
Why am I crouched like this? How did I end up sleeping in a place like this? For what purpose? Since when? Why? How?
Crrrack...!
The crack widened.
The prison began to open.
A glimpse of the world beyond.
She lifted her eyes.
The narrow world that had kept her sealed was splitting apart. Light poured in through the boundary that tore into a thousand, ten thousand pieces.
It was not glorious at all.
Rather, it was a world full of cold, harsh reality.
A world that instantly swept away the dreams that had filled her mind.
"....."
Yes.
My name is Artanis.
The Witch of Melody, and the Demon Queen of the Abandoned Land.
Now, it is time to reclaim the throne that was unjustly stolen from me.
She raised her head.
Slowly, she stood.
The world beyond the crack welcomed her.
With the deafening roar of the collapsing sealed ruin and the screams of those startled by it.
...!
All screams were drowned out by an overwhelming roar and a flash of darkness. At least, the expedition leader, who had proudly planted the royal flag atop the sealed ruin, felt that way.
"....Keuh... haak...!"
A massive explosion.
Compared to that, a human body was but a feeble thing.
After being hurled a dozen meters and slammed into a wall, only then did a blood-soaked groan of pain escape the expedition leader's mouth.
"Ku, kuhuk! Gah...!"
The coughing wouldn't stop. The bloody sputtering wouldn't stop. With each cough, a searing pain tore something inside his chest, as if it was being ripped open and forcibly stretched apart.
Or perhaps something vital inside had broken and been crushed.
'What… what is this…'
The expedition leader barely managed to lift his trembling head.
It was hard to breathe. Were all his ribs shattered? He needed to stand. He needed to check on his team. But his body wouldn't obey.
'Everyone...'
Are they safe?
And what will happen to me?
The sudden explosion. The dense dust cloud it caused. It was around the time his coughing began to ease that he saw the silhouette of a woman emerging from the dust.
Clank, clank…
"...."
One of our members?
No, something's different.
The feeling, the atmosphere, and...
Clank.
"....."
Different.
Not human.
He didn't know why.
But he knew the moment he saw her.
In the shock that made it feel like his breath had stopped, the expedition leader's eyes widened in horror as he scanned the unfamiliar woman from feet to face.
Bare, pale feet.
And chains.
It was a dress made of chains.
Spotless ankles and calves wrapped in iron. Like dozens of vipers, they coiled around her thighs and waist, adorned her shoulders, and wound around her neck—just the sight of it made it hard to breathe.
Yet, she showed no signs of pain.
No, he couldn't tell.
Because her lips were hidden.
An iron mask engraved with strange symbols covered her mouth. Only her violet eyes, peeking out from above, locked with his, sending tremors through his body.
'This is…'
It's certain.
Not human.
The indifferent gaze, as if looking at an unfamiliar object. The faint anger and curiosity visible in her eyes. The voices from behind her. All of it.
"Could it be, these are humans?"
"Looks like it."
"Haa... Moderato, what has that fool been doing with the defenses of the Abandoned Land, to allow mere humans to roam this far inside?"
Behind the first woman to appear, the shadows of a boy, a young man, and an old man rose one after another.
As if guarding her.
As if assisting her.
They looked around and each lifted what they held in their hands.
They were... instruments.
The boy held a harp.
The young man gently stroked a violin.
The old man raised a trombone and bowed to the woman.
"Then, we shall offer our lady the Silent Requiem."
"..."
The Witch of Melody, Artanis, silently nodded.
And so, the soundless performance began.
Truly, not a single sound was heard.
Yet, it was a hymn.
And at the same time, a dirge. It was an overture, a grudge-filled rhapsody, and ultimately, a song of lamentation.
In everyone's ears.
In the hearts of the listeners.
And in the end, in their very souls.
".....!"
A silent melody's guidance.
A blessing of death.
All who heard the music opened their eyes wide and convulsed.
The expedition leader, whose chest had been crushed by the explosion, the vice-leader who stared blankly at the intestines spilling from his severed waist, the members who twitched under fallen rocks—none were exceptions.
...Splurt!
Their deaths were hastened.
Blood poured from their eyes and ears. Their final breaths escaped in faint whispers.
All the while, Artanis looked down upon the dying face of the expedition leader.
The sweet melody flowing into her ears. The creeping shadow of death. As if mourning, as if honoring the nameless man who breathed his last before her eyes.
"...!"
The expedition leader finally felt release from pain. Joy, and fear. And, at last, a horrifying realization.
'I must... let His Majesty know…'
That he and the expedition, who had come seeking the golden land, had awakened something that should never have been stirred. That something threatening to the king and the kingdom had opened its eyes.
Yes, he must tell them.
That was the expedition leader's final thought.
"..."
At last, everything was silent. The groans of pain scattered across the place dissolved into perfect stillness.
It was around then that Artanis made a gesture.
— Enough.
Following her signal, magic runes were drawn in the air. Only then did the three men's soundless performance come to an end.
"Phew... A group performance after so long. I'm trembling a bit."
The boy clutched his harp tightly, his shoulders shaking.
The young man smiled with one side of his mouth.
"After so long. What, 300 years?"
"There's no need for such fuss. We merely did the cleanup our lady desired. Besides, our performance... wasn't even in perfect form."
The old man gave a solemn cough.
At those words, the boy and the young man's expressions darkened.
"Well... one of us is missing, after all."
"The sound does feel a bit empty because of it, damn it."
"Tsk tsk. But it's not like we can go around missing a traitor, can we? Isn't that right, my Lady?"
"...."
The woman the old man had called "my Lady," the Witch of Melody, Artanis, turned her head.
To the northwest of the sealed ruin that had imprisoned her.
To the distant edge of the Abandoned Land.
To where her Demon King's Castle must be.
To the throne she had left behind.
Toward that place—
As her gaze drifted in that direction, she suddenly realized something.
"....."
The iron seal that blocked her mouth. Though the confinement of the sealed ruin had been broken, the final shackle that still silenced her mouth, her voice, her song—remained.
To remove it, she would have to tear out the traitor's heart. Only then could she undo the curse embedded in it.
— Let's go.
She gestured with her hand.
To reclaim my throne.
To restore my complete power.
To carve the Steel Melody into the traitor's heart.
Moments later, her figure disappeared into the dry wind.
Along with the three loyalists who followed her—the former generation of the Four Heavenly Kings.
Whoooosh...
Only the withered wind that blew across the land mourned the deaths of the recently departed expedition members.
***
"This can't go on, Star Master. I really think we'll need to hold a funeral for my knees soon."
"That's right. I feel the same way. Here, take a look. My joints weren't this creaky before."
"It all started while working in the fields."
"Same here, Star Master. Sob sob!"
"My back creaks now, too."
"Me too! Me too!"
"....."
It was total chaos.
Seated on the edge of a field, the 3rd Star Master, Raster, clamped his claw shut with a click as he held back his rising frustration. He repeated what his corps soldiers had just complained about.
"So what you're all saying is... your knees hurt from working in the fields lately?"
"And our hips!"
"My ankles ache, too!"
"...Right, right. Hips, backs, and ankles. Got it. You're all sure it's because of the fieldwork recently, yeah?"
"Yes! Definitely!"
The 3rd Star Legion soldiers huddled closely around Raster and answered in unison. Brave warriors clad in shells—crabs, king crabs, shrimp, and other crustaceans—had tears welling up at the corners of their eyes.
"Farming's fine, but it's just too much! We squat all day, stand up, shuffle a few steps to the side, and squat again!"
"Other Legion soldiers don't seem to be struggling as much as us!"
"So why is it just us suffering like this?"
"..."
Well, it's probably because of the weight of our exoskeletons.
The 3rd Star Master Raster was at a loss.
Under the Demon King's command, the Three Sisters Farming Method was being actively carried out. They had planted corn, then soybeans, and just that morning, pumpkin seeds.
But right after the seeding was done, his soldiers requested an urgent meeting to report all this.
"Please, Star Master, we beg you. At this rate, our knees, backs, and ankles are all going to be shattered."
"That's right. Please tell the Demon King about this."
"Something... something needs to be done!"
"..."
Yes, something definitely needed to be done. The 3rd Star Legion soldiers were tougher than most due to their armored shells—but that also meant they were heavier.
And with those bodies, they had to squat and stand back up hundreds of times a day.
For the fields.
Praying for a bountiful harvest.
Working in cooperation.
"...Alright, I understand. I'll inform the Demon King and have measures put in place."
To outsiders, this might seem laughable. But to those going through it, it was genuine and serious suffering. Their joints were literally breaking down from physical labor.
'If we leave it alone, this could spiral out of control.'
Once joints are damaged, they don't come back.
Even molting wouldn't fix it.
The 3rd Star Master didn't want to see his soldiers become lame and lose their combat effectiveness, or fall behind in their farm work.
'I need to report to the Demon King—immediately.'
He made up his mind.
And moved right away.
To the cozy little farm shack the Demon King was using as a temporary castle.
Knock knock!
"O Demon King, it is I, 3rd Star Master Raster. I have something urgent to report."
"Oh, kkeuh-heung-cha, come on in."
"....."
Kkeuh-heung-cha… come in?
What?
Raster opened the shack door in confusion. And thanks to that, he saw it.
The Demon King, Kim Jangcheol, was strapped into a thick cushion—ridiculously, embarrassingly, bizarrely shaped—and was repeatedly squatting up and down with it tied around his butt.
"Oh, you're here. Wait a sec. Let me just finish ten more reps."
"...."
"Eight... nine... ten... There. Phew."
"...."
"What're you staring at? Is it weird?"
"Yes."
"....."
"Is that... a diaper?"
"Huh? Nah."
"Then..."
Raster was puzzled.
And just then, a meaningful grin spread across Kim Jangcheol's face.
"I figured the kids' joints would start acting up around now, so I was preparing for it. I was gonna call you over anyway, so this works out. Since you're here, you should try it too."
".....Pardon?"
Try it?
That diaper-looking thing?
Me?
...Why?
Raster recoiled.
Of course, he didn't know.
That the thing he thought looked like a diaper—ridiculous and laughable—was actually one of the greatest inventions of the Abandoned Land: the Farming Cushion.
Nor could he yet imagine the cold, hard future ahead, where he and his Legion would be unable to live without that cushion.
"I'm telling you, it's good. Come on. Try it, try it."
"...…"
Kim Jangcheol smiled kindly and gestured.
And all across Raster's carapace, an involuntary shiver crawled up his shell.
[T/L: I am not getting any support from webnovel platform, so please support me and read ahead chapters on my ko-fi page "RevengerScans" : https://ko-fi.com/revengerscans ]