Chapter 5: Foundation Day - (5)

I turned around.

There lay a corpse with its head blown open.

I looked back at the notification floating in front of me.

No way… That guy was the Snake-Eyed Slane?

There are a hundred dead ends in raising the Empress.

And this was the fourteenth.

It was one of those endings I’d barely brushed past, so I didn’t remember much in detail. But that name—Snake-Eyed Slane—was definitely familiar.

If I recalled correctly, he was one of the cult’s assassins who targeted the Empress in Act 2.

In the game, he didn’t even have a proper standing CG—something about “adult circumstances” or whatever.

But the way he was described in-game matched exactly with what I saw in person. The name alone—Snake-Eyes—was impossible to forget.

Come to think of it, if Slane was an assassin from the cult, it was weird he didn’t appear during the prologue, which was triggered by a cult-led terror attack.

So the character who was originally supposed to debut in Act 2 just got himself killed in the prologue.

Guess I accidentally overcame the 14th ending.

Talk about catching a mouse while backing into it.

But then… what does this “Survival Score” mean?

It was something I’d never seen in the original game.

That must mean it’s a new mechanic—one added only in this Death March mode.

“Survival score…”

I muttered quietly. Nothing happened.

“Status window.”

Still no response.

“Stats. Shop. Menu. Logout. Helpdesk. Cockpit. Womb-window.”

I threw out every buzzword I could think of. Nothing worked.

They threw me into this brutal world without even a hint of system assistance?

The devs really don’t know the meaning of mercy. Bastards.

As I silently swallowed my frustration, I suddenly heard a flustered voice ring in my ear.

“Um… Sir Freud…? What… are you doing?”

“Ah.”

I’d been so focused on the notification that I’d completely forgotten Lincia was standing right next to me.

I turned my head toward her.

[ Status - (Locked) ]

Unlock Condition: Clear the Prologue

A phrase was floating above her head.

It felt like someone had hit me square in the skull.

Right. I’m just a side character.

This game’s playable character is Lincia, not me.

It made perfect sense that she would have a status display while I didn’t.

Even in the game, the prologue had most systems locked off.

I need to get into Act 1 as soon as possible if I want access to system functions—this survival score included.

“It’s nothing.”

Right now, the only priority is to clear the prologue.

****

I passed the alley and emerged onto a main street.

But even there, cult soldiers were everywhere.

They were engaged in a skirmish with some imperial guards—but it was obvious who had the upper hand.

Headcount? About fifteen.

The one relief: unlike Slane, these guys were poorly equipped.

They looked like nothing more than foot soldiers.

“Haa…”

I took a deep breath and pulled out a brick and the curved blade I’d taken from Slane.

The fear was gone.

Ever since I made that first kill, my mind had been unnaturally clear.

“Stick close to me as much as possible,” I said.

Lincia nodded stiffly, her face pale and tense.

“Alright. Let’s do this, Freud.”

I slapped my pounding chest a couple of times and bit down hard on my lip.

Then I kicked off the ground and charged forward.

“What the hell?!”

“Draw weapons! It’s a knight!”

A few of them jumped in surprise and raised their weapons.

I hurled the brick in my left hand.

Crack.

With a sickening crunch and a scream, one of their skulls caved in.

I plunged straight into the confused group, swinging the curved blade wide.

It wasn’t a skillful slash—it was crude and clumsy.

But the result? Devastating.

Slice.

Two cult goons in my path were split in half at the torso.

The sheer brute force of the swing shredded their flesh like a blender.

Blood burst into the air like a fountain.

The rest of the soldiers scattered like panicked chicks looking for their mother.

“Shit! He’s a holy knight! Where the hell is Slane?!”

“Open your eyes, dumbass! That sword!”

What I held was the pale-blue curved blade I’d taken from Slane.

That was the spark.

Realizing their leader was dead was enough to crush their morale.

I cut down two of the retreating soldiers.

Blood splashed across my face.

My earlier wound throbbed like it was screaming, but I could still move.

“Haha…”

I didn’t know why, but I laughed.

Just hours ago, I was a modern-day civilian.

Now I was laughing while stabbing a sword into the back of a fleeing enemy.

I didn’t have the mental room to question the absurdity of it.

Like a rabid dog, I chased after the next target.

By the time I stabbed another one in the back of the head—

Sssseeeaaak.

Thud.

A sound sliced through the air.

Then a heavy impact.

An arrow.

It took a moment to realize—

An arrow had lodged deep in my calf.

“Gaaaaaah!”

I staggered, agony flooding my entire body.

The arrow was buried so deep I couldn’t even see the tip.

I’d been careless.

Just like I’d thrown a brick, there was no reason they wouldn’t use a bow.

Far off in the distance, I spotted an archer with a deadly glint in his eyes.

“You son of a…”

The archer notched his next arrow.

It flew, sharp and fast.

I saw it.

I twisted my right arm outward—

Ting!

A sharp metallic clang.

My gauntlet had deflected the arrow.

My hand screamed with pain, but what mattered was that I blocked it.

I grabbed the arrow stuck in my leg.

Clenching my teeth, I yanked it out—along with a chunk of flesh.

I nearly screamed but held it back.

I glared at the archer.

“You’re dead.”

He fumbled, trying to notch another arrow.

I limped forward, step by step.

The archer finally got his next shot ready, pulling the string taut.

I focused all my senses into my eyes.

If I had Freud’s dynamic vision, I could dodge it.

Or at least, take the hit without dying.

But the archer didn’t aim at me.

He aimed at someone else—someone far more important.

“Ah.”

His target was Lincia, standing just a few steps behind me.

By the time I realized it, it was too late.

The bowstring stretched tight.

I heard the dull twang of the release.

I moved before I could think—

I leapt backward, pulling her into my arms and curling around her body.

It was a position that screamed kill me please, leaving my back wide open.

Sssseeeaaak.

That eerie whistle rang in my ears—

And a venomous snake of an arrow flew straight toward us both.

“……”

Or rather… that’s what I thought was going to happen.

A moment of stillness.

There was no impact.

That’s when I realized—

The arrow had never been fired to begin with.

“Huh?”

I opened my tightly shut eyes.

Lincia was also blinking blankly, her emerald eyes wide.

I reached out to feel around her body, checking for any injuries.

Her face turned beet red, but I didn’t care.

Did the shot miss?

Or did he never fire it?

I quickly turned my head—

And saw something beyond belief.

Whooooosh.

A massive vortex of radiant, multicolored wind was tearing down the center of the main road.

The ground it passed over was carved up in layers, like it had been slashed by a wild beast.

“Shit… it’s magic. A damn mage!”

“Scatter! Get the hell out of the way!!”

The cultists panicked, utterly overwhelmed by the sudden catastrophe.

But their scrambling meant nothing.

They couldn’t resist what had come.

They were either hurled into the air or torn limb from limb.

Even the archer who had drawn his bow against me was shredded into bloody chunks, his body twisted unnaturally.

I instinctively held my breath at the sheer brutality of the strike.

“What the hell is this now…”

But the mystery didn’t last long.

At the heart of the rainbow-colored storm, standing tall like a tempest incarnate—

Was a knight with blazing red hair.

He held his sword vertically, its blade cutting a smooth, elegant line.

And at the very tip, dancing lightly as if caught in a breeze, was the form of a tiny glowing girl—

A blue spirit.

That’s when it clicked.

I knew who he was.

“Lautrec.”

I said his name.

Lautrec, the Spirit Knight.

Like Freud, the body I had possessed, he held the prestigious title of Guardian Knight—one of only six in the Royal Guard.

Even in the game, he played a significant role.

The winds raging down the avenue slowly subsided.

The only ones left standing were me, Lincia, and the red-haired knight.

The cult soldiers had vanished, leaving behind only scattered bits of flesh.

Overwhelmed by the sheer destructive force, I steadied myself.

The knight—Lautrec—sheathes his sword with practiced elegance and walks straight toward me.

As he came closer, I finally got a good look at his face.

Crimson hair, amber eyes—

A strikingly handsome man, the kind who’d leave anyone breathless.

Though he was smaller and had a slim build, he never seemed fragile.

And perched on his shoulder was a tiny blue girl—likely a spirit—swinging her legs playfully.

“Freud, are you alright?”

Lautrec dropped to one knee as he spoke.

I nodded, still stunned.

After checking on me, his gaze shifted to Lincia standing behind me.

His eyebrows lifted in disbelief.

“You’re the one who saved her?”

“It’s a long story, but… yeah.”

“I see. That’s good… really good.”

Lautrec bowed respectfully to Lincia.

She knew who he was too, it seemed—her expression stiffened, and she nodded back.

“Freud, where’s Oswald? Weren’t you with him?

”

“That guy… I mean, Oswald… he’s dead.”

“Ah…”

Lautrec’s face darkened.

He shook his head slowly.

“Same here. Siegvalt is dead, and Millia is critically injured.”

The development matched the game exactly, and in a strange way, I felt relieved.

It felt wrong to be comforted by death and injury—

But ever since coming to this world, my mind had been disturbingly calm.

Maybe Freud’s personality was seeping into me.

“With Lord Uriad still out on deployment… you and I are the only Guardian Knights left.”

Lautrec stood and dusted himself off.

“I’ll take over here. You get the Princess to the palace.”

“Got it.”

Lautrec once again drew his sword.

A mysterious glow seeped into the strange runes etched along the blade.

The girl—surely his spirit—waved at me playfully, then leapt onto the blade.

Spirit Knight Lautrec.

His title wasn’t just for show.

“Freud.”

Just as I turned with Lincia to head toward the palace gate, Lautrec’s clear, resonant voice called out to me.

I turned—and saw him grinning.

“I’m seeing you in a new light. There’s no doubt—you’re a knight worthy of pride.”

With those parting words, Lautrec sprinted down the road, sword slashing through the air.

At his signal, the blue spirit raised her tiny hands—

And each swing of his blade unleashed a tidal wave of mana that ripped through the remaining enemies.

An overwhelming force.

Spirit Knight Lautrec,

One of the strongest Guardian Knights of the Royal Guard—Freud’s equal.

“…Your Highness, let’s go.”

I said, a bit reluctantly.

This world’s unfairness weighed on me again.

No matter how hard I tried to stay calm, I couldn’t look at Lautrec without a deep sense of unease.

It wasn’t just because he was overwhelmingly powerful.

It was because that perfect paragon of knighthood, that ever-proud protector—

Would one day fall into darkness.

He would become the man who tried to kill the Empress.

Corrupted by the collapse of the Spirit Realm,

He would reappear in Act 5 as a major antagonist—Apostle of the Outer God, Lautrec.

The scene where he greets the Empress with his head bowed inside the ruined Knights’ HQ— It’s chilling.

One of the most shocking twists in Raising the Empress.

Once again, I was reminded just how messed up this world really was.

“…Goddamn it.”

I swore under my breath.

Beside me, Lincia flinched.

-- The End OF The Chapter --

 

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