They had found their way to the second floor of the underground Great Cathedral, a massive space within which the Pleasure Bell that controlled the enslaved demons once hung. Beneath them, the first floor contained an altar, a vase brimming with black liquid, and a shadowy figure.
The figure stood absolutely still, until it groaned with a long and eerie voice, like the sound of wind passing through a hole. It wore a gray robe and held a tin staff with an orb attached to the end, and it emanated an unearthly violet and black aura. Though its form was humanoid, it was certainly no kind of human.
Alice knew exactly what manner of being it was, and on a horribly personal level.
“That’s not very shovel, is it?” Lithisia whispered from the second floor as she hid herself behind a pillar.
What exactly was this creature?
“It’s not human, demon, angel, or a shovel…” she murmured.
“…”
“Alice, do you know what… Alice?”
“Ngh…!”
Finally, Lithisia noticed something was off with Alice. The undead king was perfectly still, not even breathing. Yet she was trembling—no, spasming. The creature below had paralyzed her.
Fortunately, it only took Lithisia a few rubs to the bottom of Alice’s feet to bring her back.
“EEEEK!”
“It’s not very shovel to ignore someone.”
Alice raised a rather…compromised voice in response to Lithisia’s surprise attack.
“C-could you please stop it? Now’s not the time to be messing around!” Alice was no longer frozen, but her expression was deeply serious. “We have to call Alan, now! We don’t stand a chance against…that!”
The chill running down Alice’s neck wouldn’t stop.
“I’ve been trying to call him via Shovel Telepathy, but he’s not answering,” said Lithisia.
“What?!”
“There’s some sort of wall, a really hard wall, between us.”
“This is bad! We have to run!” Alice’s teeth were chattering. The instincts carved into Alice’s very soul were telling her to quake in fear, for before her stood a being she had to avoid at all costs. “That’s a god. The real deal ‘God of Death and Destruction,’ Veknar!”
Veknar, the creator of the Crown of Veknar, the ancient artifact that had given Alice her undead immortality. The god who governed death and destruction. That was this figure’s true identity. He usually resided in the extra-dimensional castle Deardol Vectia, so why was he here? What had happened in this place?
“I have to find out…” Alice focused her mental energies.
As the undead king, Alice was capable of looking into scenes of the past by utilizing the lingering grudges in an area.
A blurry vision ran through Alice’s mind. Sitting at the altar of the Great Cathedral was a whopper of a horned demon—a demon priest. It was performing some kind of summoning ritual, which explained the vase filled with human blood sitting atop the altar. The demon priest was trying to summon the king of demons.
But something went wrong. After all, Veknar was not the king of demons.
“Come forth, Master!” As the ritual neared its completion, the demon priest cried out.
Clank, clank, clank, plop!
Just as he did, a silver shovel fell from the ceiling straight into the vase. It was the Aliscoop.
“Huh?” The demon priest was confused. But even as he spoke, the vase began to shine, and in the next moment, Alice’s vision died as “God” descended upon the land.
Alice’s eyes widened and she screamed. “This is our fault?!”
“EEEK!”
“It’s the shovel you dropped! That was the catalyst!”
Veknar was one in body and soul with Alice. It made sense that if Alice’s personal shovel was used as the catalyst of a summoning spell, Veknar would be called.
This was bad. He was the real deal. They needed to run as soon as possible; if they didn’t, they were doomed. Alice could sense this instinctively because Veknar was her, just as she was him.
“!!!”
A voice made direct mental contact with Alice. No, it was more like the voice was overwriting her own. Why? Lithisia, no! Master. My master…
“Hrm, you’re a part of me. You shall be a temporary body for my resurrection.” A cold thing spoke with Alice’s voice, but it wasn’t her. “You shall not escape.”
“Ah…” The light in Alice’s eyes faded. I’m going to vanish. Even after overcoming death, I’m just going to disappear. Of course I am. I exist to become one with my master.
Alice reached out. She was completely defenseless.
As Alice’s arms lifted, Lithisia thrust her shovel into Alice’s armpit.
Shoop, shoop, shoop!
“EEEEEEEK!!!”
Alice responded as intended.
“What?” A booming voice snarled from the robed figure below. “A mere vessel escaped from my control? Impossible. Once more!”
SHIIIIIING!
Veknar directed a cold glare up at Alice.
“SCOOP!”
The princess continued to scratch and scoop at Alice’s side until the undead king was completely soaked in sweat. The battle for control over Alice’s soul was too intense for her young body to handle. All she could do was shake her head in tears.
“NOOO, STOP IT! I’M GOING TO DIEEEEE!”
Veknar watched this with great curiosity. “What was that just now? How fascinating. What have you done to my vessel?”
“Scooped! (Scooped!)”
“Hrm?”
“Scooped! (Scooped! (Scooped!))”
A few seconds passed.
“Event modification, is it? But I don’t sense any magic or holy energy. A technique born on the surface, then?” said Veknar.
“S-scoop…!” Sweat droplets beaded on Lithisia’s forehead. This is absoscooply bad.
Lithisia was scooping repeatedly, but Veknar wouldn’t let himself get shoveled (couldn’t be shaken). When Alice said he was a god, she meant it in the true shovel sense.
After a few seconds, Lithisia made her decision. “Alice, I’ll hold him off, shovel!”
In the meantime, Alice would call for help. This was their only shot at survival.