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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Buried Alive
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His consciousness was hazy.
"Damn it, it hurts like hell. Siegfried, you sneaky bastard. I should have seen your true colors when you said it was all over."
Me, of all people?
I'm at least twenty years older than that punk.
What an insolent little shit.
Recalling the memory of his head being severed, a surge of feverish rage rose even through the fog of his mind.
"...Tch."
But that lasted only a moment. Lucas clicked his tongue briefly and quelled his anger.
Regrettable, but what could he do?
The defeated have no say.
Whether through dirty tricks or a sucker punch.
Siegfried had won, and he had lost.
That was the Hegemonic Path.
No one knew what end awaited, nor was there any guarantee of reaching it.
And yet.
One pressed on to the end.
He had walked that path in silence, only to stumble over an obstacle named Siegfried.
That was all.
...Stab! Slash! Stab! Slash!
"Well, this must be death. What a curious sensation."
Shaking off the regret, he contemplated death—the first of his life—within his hazy mind.
...Stab! Slash! Stab! Slash!
"Not much to it, surprisingly. Feels like I've been drugged to sleep."
Stab! Slash! Stab! Slash!
An Overlord must view any situation with cold clarity, no matter the circumstances.
Lucas calmly observed the movement of his soul after death...
Stab! Slash! Stab! Slash!
Observed...
Stab! Slash! Stab! Slash!
Observe...
Stab! Slash! Stab! Slash!
"No."
He was trying to meet his end with the dignity befitting an Overlord, but what bold fool kept shoving this noise into his reverie?
Pushing aside his contemplation of death, Lucas forcibly dragged his consciousness back to the surface.
If he was going down, he at least wanted to see the face of whoever was committing this rude(?) act.
With his sharpened mind as the center, touch, hearing, smell, taste, and sight slowly awakened.
Through his reviving senses, various pieces of information began flooding in.
Stab! Slash!
Cold.
Damp and uneven.
An unpleasant tactile sensation pressed against his body.
The dawn-specific smell rising from it irritated his nose.
A hard, cloying taste invaded his mouth, tormenting his palate.
Black and brown clumps partially obscured his returning vision, blocking his grasp of the situation.
And finally.
"...Huh? Bro, what do we do?"
"Ugh, it's cold. Why? What's up?"
"Nah, uh. Nothing big."
A rough but unmistakably light, flippant voice tickled his ears, devoid of any weight.
"This punk's eyes just opened!"
"...What?"
A man with a surly face struck the back of the head of another scratching his cheek awkwardly while holding a shovel.
"Hey, you idiot! You should have led with that!"
"W-what do we do, bro?"
"What do you mean what? You moron! Do you know how much this job's worth?! Bury him quick before the drugs wear off and it gets messy!"
Stab! Slash! Stab! Slash!
...The brown clumps covering his nose and mouth doubled in volume.
Having pieced together all the information, Lucas's mind froze for an instant.
"...Huh?"
No way.
Hold on.
Is this the situation I think it is?
As if to prove to the denial-stricken Lucas that this was no dream, the two men flung a shovelful of dirt onto his face.
Splat!
"...Yeah, it is."
Realizing his absurd judgment was correct, Lucas felt "bewilderment"—an emotion he hadn't experienced in ages.
Yes.
He was being buried.
While still alive, in real time.
By the hands of common street thugs, the kind you see in any back alley market—nothing special.
No fine coffin, no funeral rites.
Just shoved alive into a shallow hole in the ground.
"...Hah. Is this... for real?"
It was so ridiculous he couldn't even get mad.
Even if he had many enemies.
Me, of all people?
The Overlord who had swallowed the entire North Continent.
Isn't dumping me in some random hillside ditch with a shovel a bit much?
Embarrassment, fury, humiliation, scorn—a whirlwind of negative emotions.
Whoosh! Splat!
A mound of manure-laced dirt poured down onto Lucas's face once more.
"...Stop throwing it, you damned bastards!"
Stab! Slash!
Regardless of what Lucas thought, the two thugs diligently shoveled dirt onto his body.
Determined to finish before the drugged man woke up.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Whatever they'd done to his body, his limbs wouldn't respond even as he was buried in real time.
"...Stay calm."
Flail, flail!
Was it an instinctive drive for survival?
He barely shook his head to clear the dirt clogging his nostrils.
The man shoveling with his underling noticed and squatted beside him, saying,
"Aigoo, kiddo. I get you wanna live, but stop making us work so hard and go peacefully, yeah? We're not even beating you right now. We'll just cover you nice and easy, so stay still, okay? If you keep this up, we'll have to hit you."
Heh heh heh.
With only his head exposed and the rest buried, the man mocked him, convinced escape was impossible.
Instead of raging at the jeer, Lucas focused his sharpened sight on the men's attire.
Shabby and filthy.
The typical look of dime-a-dozen back-alley punks.
If they knew who he was, they wouldn't dare act so leisurely, even with his battered body.
So.
"Time to use my head."
This was his chance, while they remained ignorant of his identity.
"Hey."
For some reason, his voice sounded a bit boyish as it emerged from his throat.
But buried on the brink, Lucas had no time for such minor oddities.
"Oh? Look at that. Tongue's loosened up, even talking now. Hey, bury him quick—the drugs must be wearing off."
"Pull me out, and I'll give you all the magic scrolls I have hidden."
...Halt!
At "magic scrolls," the underling froze mid-scoop of dirt.
Scrolls.
Items from the South Continent's Magic Tower, enchanted paper allowing even commoners one-time spell use.
Prices varied wildly by spell, but one thing was certain.
For bottom-feeders like them, even the cheapest scroll was unattainable no matter how hard they tried.
And this guy said a "bundle" of them.
"Not just one?"
Play it right, and they could reverse their entire lives with the payout.
"B-bro?"
"Don't freak, you idiot! The kid's desperate to live, so he's spouting bullshit!"
The squatting man scolded his underling, then sneered down at Lucas's exposed face.
"Aw, kid. That's the best excuse you could come up with?"
Slap, slap!
He lightly smacked Lucas's cheeks and tsked.
"And listen, punk. If you really had scrolls, why would we bother digging you out? We could just let you die here, find 'em, and take 'em—then kill you after."
Sound logic.
"You wouldn't understand. Typical bottom-dwellers."
"...What?"
"Think the scrolls would stay intact after I die?"
Lucas glared at the thug, eyes unwavering.
"You don't seriously believe someone like me wouldn't have safeguards? The moment my life ends, the imprinted scrolls lose their function—become worthless paper."
"...Who the hell are you? Don't get cocky."
The man sneered still, but Lucas noticed.
The slight delay in his reply. The unconcealed greed in his eyes.
"What's there to fear? Just pull me out and check. If I'm lying, bury me again."
Lucas curled his lip provocatively.
"I can't even twitch a finger. You wouldn't be idiots too scared to seize a lifetime opportunity, right?"
"..."
Conflict etched clearly around the man's eyes.
"Please, take the bait."
Unlike his calm facade, Lucas swallowed dryly inside.
Honestly, he pegged the odds below fifty percent.
Drugged or not, he was a towering 2-meter giant.
A bit—no, definitely—too much for average street punks.
His strategist, Stion Ballanty, would have sweet-talked them into digging him out themselves.
What could he do?
He was the type who preferred cracking skulls over clever words.
"Should've listened to Stion and practiced fancy talk."
Too-late regret surged, but regret was always late.
First, would his clumsy scheme work?
Lucas anxiously awaited the thug's response.
They'd seen his size while burying him, so probably deliberate for a while...
"Kid. If you're bullshitting even a little to cling to life, I guarantee you won't die easy. Got it? Hey, dig him out."
"...He did?"
For some reason, the thug chose to extract him without much hesitation.
"More skilled than they look? Nah..."
The decision came so easily that Lucas instinctively glanced at their lower bodies.
The foundation of all martial arts lay in the legs.
If they felt confident facing his build, they must have a hidden ace...
Stab! Stab! Slip!
"Whoa!"
The underling, blinded by scroll greed, slipped on soft ground mid-shovel and fell.
"...No way."
His eyes hadn't deceived him.
They were just ordinary neighborhood thugs.
Then why?
What gave them such confidence?
"That greedy for scrolls?"
The puzzle unsolved in Lucas's mind cleared as his body emerged.
Along with an even bigger new question.
Stab!
As the underling brushed off the last dirt, the thug menaced Lucas.
"Kid, we pulled you out like you said. Now, where's this bundle you're so sure of? Let's see it."
"...Kid?"
How dare these specks call him "kid"?
Though his flowing Blood Luo True Qi was absent, neighborhood thugs needed only a finger.
He'd make them pay for their excessive greed.
Slowly rising with partial sensation restored, Lucas looked up at the thugs.
"...Huh?"
Wait.
Something's off.
Why was he looking "up" at the thugs?
"This little shit must have dirt plugged up to his eardrums. Where're the scrolls? Bro's asking!"
The underling, shovel over shoulder, glared at Lucas.
Thinking his threat worked on the immobile boy.
But Lucas ignored the kittenish(?) intimidation.
What he stared at.
Was his reflection in the underling's wide, sparkling eyes.
"...What is this?"
Where was his massive frame? Why this dainty child's body?
"This punk really...!"
Irked that Lucas ignored his threat, the underling flushed and swung a fist.
Scrolls wouldn't lose power if he lived, so a little roughness was fine.
Whoosh!
He expected blood from Lucas's nose.
Swish!
His fist cut empty air.
Crunch!
Followed by a dull, alien sensation from his elbow.
Lucas dodged and drove his knee up—the underling's elbow shattered, dangling.
"...A-AAAAAAGH!"
Unforeseen agony hit; the underling screamed and rolled on the ground.
"Shut up, punk. I'm thinking."
Whack! Thud!
Grabbing the dropped shovel, Lucas smashed his head; the underling collapsed like a marionette with cut strings.
Half-dazed by this not-his body, Lucas hadn't lost his lofty realm.
Even in a boy's—or baby's—body, it wasn't so feeble as to lose to street trash.
Still.
"What the hell is this wretched body? And where am I?"
The surrounding trees had broad leaves.
Impossible in the North Continent's cold climate.
Nor were there such hills in Kairon Plains, where he'd met his end.
Thus, not the Alexandros Empire.
"Hmm..."
As Lucas planted the shovel and pondered, chin in hand.
"You insolent brat!"
The thug, enraged at his underling's fall, charged Lucas.
"Oh."
Come to think of it.
A convenient thug to explain his situation stood right there.
Grin!
Lucas's lips curved wide.
No need to strain his unresponsive brain.
Just do what he did best, as always.
Knock.
And it shall open!