The Villainous Son Loves His Mother - Chapter 78

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“Young Master, you may have already noticed, but… the forest is acting strangely. Not just the trees, but even the smallest weeds seem to be losing their vitality.”

I reported the anomalies to the Young Master as I walked slightly behind him.
He showed no particular surprise at my words, merely nodding slightly while keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

“Hmm, that’s to be expected. That ‘Tower’ was draining a tremendous amount of life force from its surroundings. Its crude construction only exacerbates the problem.”

“But… still…”

“I know what you’re thinking. You want to say that for a power-gathering device of that scale, its influence is far too widespread, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, considering the purpose behind building such a contraption, I suppose… it must be desperately hungry. It’s gathering power at maximum output without any regard for the consequences—utterly lacking in refinement. The forest’s trees will eventually wither and die. If left unchecked, this land will become a barren wasteland. Though, frankly, none of that concerns me.”

The Young Master continued,

“We could fly to the northwest tower, but—”

He seemed to be pondering something, his gaze drifting toward the withering trees around us.

“I’d like to learn more about the Undead. There are insights one can’t gain from books alone.”

The Young Master’s intellectual curiosity was always insatiable.
But why go to such lengths?

“If the Undead hold the key to producing Night’s Dew, understanding their mechanisms might allow us to create it ourselves. We could even capture a relatively clean specimen for research.”

The Young Master is truly remarkable.
While his primary goal was to obtain a gift for his Mother, he wasn’t content with merely achieving that objective. He sought to use the opportunity for personal growth as well.
Even the malevolent Undead and this death-filled forest would become equally valuable subjects of study in the face of the Young Master’s relentless pursuit of knowledge.
No, it might be more accurate to say that everything in this world belongs to the Young Master.
Of course, that includes my heart, body, and soul.
And so, we continued our journey through the lifeless forest.
The Young Master would occasionally stop to meticulously examine the structures of withered plants, test the altered soil with his fingertips, or focus his awareness on the faint remnants of magic power lingering in the air.
His earnest demeanor resembled that of a renowned alchemist or a sage seeking forbidden knowledge.

“Feri, look at the color of this soil. It’s clearly different from ordinary mold. This is likely the result of life processes ceasing and the soil being altered by negative magic power. In such an environment, the Undead might be able to obtain energy more efficiently.”

“Ah, those mushroom-like things again. They’re essentially crystallized formations of highly concentrated Magic Power. Quite fascinating.”

The Young Master seemed genuinely amused.
Seeing him so cheerful made me happy too. I wish this moment could last forever.
We continued walking like that for a while—until it happened.
The bushes ahead rustled violently, and with a low groan, several shadows emerged.

“…Undead, is it?”

A horde of Zombies, their rotting flesh blackened and decaying.
Leading them was a knight clad in ominous black full-body armor.
He gripped a rusted longsword in his hand, and a sinister black miasma rose from his headless torso.

A Dullahan.

One of the most troublesome and high-ranking Undead.
And there wasn’t just one—there were three.
Behind them stood a vast horde of skeleton soldiers and zombies.
I immediately stepped forward, placing my hand on the dagger at my hip.

“Young Master, allow me to handle this.”

No matter how large the undead horde, I couldn’t allow them to trouble the Young Master.
While my past self might have struggled, my current abilities made repelling such a trivial threat effortless.
However, the Young Master stopped me.

“No, wait. If you engage them, you’ll have to get close, won’t you? I could deal with them myself, but that would undermine your authority.”

With that, the Young Master casually waved his right hand at the undead horde, as if brushing aside roadside pebbles.
There was no incantation of special magic, no aura suggesting the release of power.
Just a simple, effortless gesture, like swatting away a fly.
In that instant…
A faint breeze, so subtle it was almost imperceptible, swept through the air.
In the next instant, all the undead before us, including the Dullahan, collapsed to the ground like puppets with severed strings.

“Undead are fundamentally sustained by external magic power or some form of pseudo-life force. Overwriting that power with my own magic power… results in this.”

The fallen undead slowly began to stir again.
The creaking of bones.
The dragging of rotting flesh.
But the hostility and murderous intent from before were gone.
Instead, one by one, the undead knelt before the Young Master, bowing their heads as if paying homage to an absolute ruler.
The Young Master accepted this spectacle as a matter of course, issuing a single command:

“As you see fit.”

The kneeling Dullahans rose in unison, silently dispersing into the forest in all directions with disciplined movements.
Stunned, I couldn’t help but ask the Young Master:

“Young Master… what about the Undead now?”

“We’ll use them as pathfinders. Let them clean up their own mess. Feri doesn’t need to get involved—it’ll make you stink.”

“S-stink?”

“Yes. You’re always by my side; it’s your job. I don’t mind that. But I hate the smell. I have a keen sense of smell. What if their rotting fluids splash on your skin? The stench they leave in the air will be dispelled by the Magic Power we constantly emit. Look, neither of us smells bad right now. Everything is made of particles, so when particles collide, they don’t leave a lingering odor. But direct contact with liquids is different.”

I was stunned.
I hadn’t even considered that.
Being by the Young Master’s side is my reason for living.
The thought of that being threatened is unbearable.
That was close…

“Alright, since these inferior rotting corpses are drawn to our Magic Power anyway, let’s mass-produce these ‘pathfinders’ using this method.”

With those words, the Young Master proceeded to do exactly that.