Part 3 –
The green strands never stopped moving. Plumes of black dust rose with each clash of sword and bone. But the beast never ceased its advancements no matter many times its limbs were severed. The figure that surfed the roofs left a disrupted path of broken tiles, then sparks as they rode the cracked streets, narrowly dodging fallen debris by the slimmest of margins.
Blood trailed in spectacular arcs, spilling from the lacerations Haiyoto had quickly accumulated over the course of his battle. The quakes continued. The Undead regenerated its lost limbs with disheartening ease. They felt as though their combined efforts were being spat on each time the thick fibres of bone and muscle reconstructed itself.
Each cycle went on indefinitely. Time could barely be sensed in their futile attempt of fighting that thing head on. The injured citizens took refuge in the wreckage far behind them, watching on hope brimming in their eyes as they prayed for their success.
But the page of their fate was already written. One would have to be blind to not see it. The book that was their life lingered on its final page. The conclusion of their story was destined to be received by that Undead.
Yet they didn’t stop believing in them. And neither did the trio stop believing in themselves. In the darkest shadow of despair is where hope shone the brightest; like a lone star in the sky of midnight – all would set their sights onto the only place where the light shone.
Haiyoto severed yet both of the colossal Undead’s legs with a hoarse cry, the pitch heightening with every passing second until the beast toppled over. At the peak of his launch another strand latched onto him. For each cycle that passed the strands had steadily shrunk until it was nothing more than a single threat.
“My quill is nearly empty! Haiyoto! I – I won’t be able to recover you for the next one!” Vevi’s voice invaded his mind as he surfed along the rooftops again, nearly losing his footing once the Undead finally crashed like a fallen skyscraper.
“We’ve made it too far to give up now!” He cried out at the top of his lungs.
His ankles buckled and twisted as the fibres ripped from the seams. [Absolute Fortitude – Tungsten Skin] could no longer defend him from the onslaught of fragmented bone, let alone his brisk manoeuvres. The very sinews of his body tore the moment they were relieved as he was swung around for the final time.
“We can’t fight it anymore! You’re going to die in the next clash!”
“I’m pulling you away now! We can take this chance to flee while it’s down –!”
“Like hell that matters to me!” His voice cut through Vevi and Khalis’ words, his grip tightening around his chipped blades. “Amy – Anoma – Everyone at the tower – We can’t let it reach them no matter what! Even if it’s just a minute – even if it’s just a second more –!”
Haiyoto, against Khalis’ will, cut himself loose from Vevi’s strand just as he began to descend at a steady angle.
“We have to do it! Who else is going to fight other than us!?” His voice flailed through his ravaged throat as he was flung off to the side into the surrounding backstreets.
Their voices of concern could no longer reach him. He devoted his heart, body, and soul into protecting those that could only helplessly watch his back with clasped hands. His body contorted unnaturally as he bounced from wall to wall like a pinball, cutting through narrow corners at an impossible speed.
He eventually returned to the main street with both his blades in hand, his body far worse for wear compared to his chipped weapons. What he strove to accomplish was to bleed out what was essentially a mountain. An impossibility in every sense of the word.
But sense didn’t matter when lives were on the line.
“It seems like we don’t have a choice.” Khalis whispered, somewhat amused by the young man’s demeanour. “I’m entrusting these to you, Vevi.” He held out a bouquet of rusted paper in one hand before her face.
“Pre-chanted papers? O-Of [Melt]? You had more!?”
“One last stand. Never underestimate the human spirit.”
“I… I can do something with these. It’s worth a shot but –”
“I know. It won’t be enough. But at the very least it’ll buy us some time to get that fool out of there. I’m certain you also wish for him to live.”
“I don’t wish. I – I believe our story is still incomplete.” Vevi’s book glowed a bright green as strands began to form into a ball within her outstretched palm.
“Haha! Do you mean to say fate smiles on us? Given that it’s from you; I shall believe in it too.”
“What? Isn’t it weird to trust someone you just met like that?” Vevi mumbled.
“Rest assured, I have my own reasons to put my faith in you.” Khalis briefly remembered when she reversed Gruggur’s flow of mana and grinned.
Once the ball finished forming, a mass of strands burst forth from the object and towed in each individual pre-chanted paper. The object rolled forth like a ball of yarn, its size increasing rapidly until it was twice as large as an ordinary man. The pre-chanted papers were glued across its surface as it compiled dirt and debris into its mass.
Haiyoto’s [Dash] had become second nature to him now, and in these final moments, he devoted his all into eliminating the Undead once and for all. After images of his body lingered for seconds after he leapt from place to place as he neared the Undead with weapons securely reeled to one side.
Then, with a glorious lunge forward, he spun over the fallen beast and carved his blades across the length of its back like a circular saw. The sheer speed alone, combined with the spin nearly robbed him of his consciousness for good. His landing was clumsy, but as soon as his footing was secured, he unleashed another [Dash] straight towards the Undead.
And another.
And another.
And another…
He tore through the Undead with ten consecutive [Dashes] in a single second. At this level of complexity, it could no longer be denoted as [Dash] alone. A newfound, stronger variant that specialised in dicing the enemy apart emerged under the name of [Dash – Consecutive Strikes].
A thin web encased the Undead. But these were no webs. To the untrained eye it would certainly appear as such, though in reality, these were merely the afterimages of his blades. After that single second elapsed, the strands immediately converged inwards and lacerated the Undead as he skidded backwards in the same direction of the oncoming ball of [Melt].
His body could no longer move. Thankfully, he was just an inch away to the side of the ball as it ploughed straight through the shredded folds of mass into the Undead. The thermite-like magic began to eat away at the Undead, instantly causing it to catch alight as the fire disintegrated its central cavity. Its wails shook the immediate vicinity, shattering glass as it struggled to fight the flames.
Haiyoto’s vision rocked back and forth into the darkness like a boat struggling to remain afloat on a raging sea.
He had reached his limit.
No… He had exceeded it.
No matter where he placed his hands, he could no longer hold himself up, and before long –
“HAIYOTO! RUN! GET OUT OF THERE!”
“IT’S NOT TOO LATE! SOMETHING IS HERE!”
The voices of Khalis and Vevi were the last things he heard before a massive bony limb was thrust straight towards him from the depths of the hellish flames.
He was going to die. He knew that straight away. The Undead had the last laugh in the end, finally squishing the insect to a pulp…
But nothing happened.
Or so he thought. For a split second his vision disappeared, as did the voices of the two far behind him. He felt something in that fragment of silence. A quake, the sensation of his bones shaking, and a gust of air. When his senses returned – the silence still remained.
But this time something stood before him. It was the mountainous back of a man. It was bigger – far bigger than Khalis’ and a thousand times more reliable than his own. An outrageously large blade hung horizontally across his back, clad in black darker than the skies. The massive bony protrusion was at least 5 metres in diameter, yet it did not dwarf the man.
Rather – it was the man who dwarfed it.
The attack was abruptly blocked by his body alone, as if it the beast had pounded into a cliff-face lined with diamonds. A strand of black similar to Vevi’s suddenly released him, slipping back to the skies as if part of rising smoke.
“Kha… os…?”
His eyes didn’t deceive him. The hearty voice of the man whose strength was unmatched by any spoke in the face of absolute terror.
“Just… in… the… NICK OF TIME, HEY!? Didn’t think I’d find myself stuck between a rock and you, young man! But… this… works out… REGARDLESS OF THAT DAMNED COLOUR!”
He twisted the entire length of the bony arm like a screw, ripping it straight out from its malnourished socket. The weight of it easily surpassed tens of tons, collapsing straight into the ground with a devastating thud. With his hands still embedded within, Khaos reeled himself backwards and with a single, mighty heave – he thrust it forward like an oversized stake.
His legs sifted through the cracked brickwork as if they were no more than gravel. The material directly beneath his feet pulverised to fine grains in an instant as an insurmountable heat arose from the sheer thrust alone.
Khaos was always strong.
But ‘strong’ was a gross understatement to his actual strength.
Exrite wasn’t the only one who had grown from the Trial. Like Exrite, he had fought tooth and nail to reach the bottom. Without magic, tools, and the like – Khaos relied solely on his own body to preserver.
And his enhanced, unbounded strength was the fruition of his efforts.
Thrusting the massive bone was not an effortless ordeal by any means. But that did not detract anything from his might. He stood there with a hand reached for the sword behind his back as he turned to them with a gallant smile.
“You did extraordinarily well Haiyoto. Khalis. The young woman as well. I’m sure there is much you want to say, but for now it is best if you watch on and take care of yourselves. Please, leave it to me. Just like how those standing behind you did.” He pounded his chest before he shot them with a thumbs up.
Their gaped mouths failed to utter a single word. Trembling eyes on the verge of tears helplessly hovered onto the wide back of their saviour. After the agony. The grief. The hopelessness. The loss…
“Help has arrived!” He announced to the world like a beacon of light.
Relief flooded through the seeping tears of all that stood behind him.
Their struggles were not in vain.
Haiyoto finally collapsed into the warm arms of Khalis. The sight of a burly man shedding their tears so heavily was a sight he had seen too many times in this hellscape. But Khalis’ tears resounded differently, for each fallen tear belonged to each of those who had passed.
Among those tears was one that belonged to Lizen.
It was only Vevi who failed to shed a tear, her eyes instilled with disbelief instead. She had noticed the strange, twelve-sided object pinned to Khaos’ chest.
“You are…!”
“Yet another termite?! That – That strength cannot possibly belong to a human! You – WHAT ARE YOOOOOOOU!?” A twisted wail emerged from the flames as Khaos turned to face it, brandishing the flat side of his dreaded blade.
“I am Khaos!” He proudly proclaimed before the ground split in the wake of his lunge.
The Undead were infamous as harbingers of terror, but never the bearers of it. Insignificant emotions were of no use to the Undead for they were no more than puppets to the orchestrator that was the intelligent Undead. However –
It panicked. A massive sweeping attack was thrown by the Undead’s last remaining arm, flattening the surroundings further with unparalleled force. But it then met with the mountainous man. Like a twig swung against the trunk of a tree, the arm cracked at the point of contact as he pushed through with devastating might.
The remaining stump was severed off with a single clean cut. Its attempts to regenerate its limbs were made futile as gore piled into the central flames, feeding it until it became a blazing wildfire. Exposed sinew left in the aftermath of the thrown stake were like a trail of matches, spreading the fire far and wide. The horrid wails of the Necromancer filled the air alongside the crackles of flames as Khaos hauled the massive bones and began to roll it over what was essentially left of the Undead.
What remained now was a heaping mass accumulated in the centre. One by one, like a bonfire, he hoisted the severed bony limbs like logs as the flaming tongues reached new heights.
The green yarn of [Melt] ended up working terrifically in their favour thanks to him. Although, this was beyond the last outcome they could have ever imagined. A 20-metre beast was reduced to what was essentially a 5-metre parody of a bonfire. It had virtually zero time to regenerate for the man denied its every avenue of survival.
Khalis’ last-ditch effort was supposed to be no more than a distraction. That way they could rescue Haiyoto, and at worse, he’d take his place for one last bout. But it turned out extraordinarily well. Undead were normally more flesh than bone. Bone was considerably difficult to incinerate and with the measly amount of [Melt] pre-chanted papers on hand, defeating it was but an impossibility.
Or so he thought.
No. How could he have thought of this? Who in the world can singlehandedly lift a staggeringly large column of bone on their shoulder as if it were no more than a felled log? To pummel an Undead dozens of times their size to a grounded pulp with their own limbs? To bathe in the heat of the flames, uncaring for the skin that burnt, and the steam that rose from their back as they slowly cooked?
Thankfully, the flames only sheared off parts of his knuckles and skin, revealed when he finally turned to face the others with a raised fist.
“FRIENDS! PEOPLE OF THIS LAND! YOU ARE SAFE NOW FOR WE HAVE ARRIVED!”
As few as these words were –
– They were the words these people wanted to hear the most.
“… saved. We’re… saved…” A woman trembled as she fell to her bloodied knees. “We’re… alive… still –”
“Unbelievable. What strength…” A man with a missing arm could only move his mouth, his entire body struck with awe as others adopted similar reactions.
“Does that mean… we have a chance against the monsters now? Will they all go away?” The little boy whispered, clutching onto the sleeves of lady.
“I… believe so. Yeah. Mmm.” She eventually entrusted her hopes to the gallant face of that mountainous man as her eyes quickly soaked with tears.
It was only now that she could finally grieve all that was lost.
“Khaos… companion of the Exrenity. You have our gratitude. Thank you for arriving for us. For… preserving our lives. Thank you.” Khalis spoke with broken form, his deep voice cracked and riled with unending emotions.
“Thank Inkshard. Not me. I am only doing what anyone else would.” He simply stated as he slowly approached the sunken trio. “But I will admit, I don’t think you will find anyone else capable of pummelling a giant. Haha! Neither will you find people willing to fight the impossible!”
Haiyoto wanted to laugh. He truly did. But as the man drew closer a small frown formed on his face as he uttered beneath his breath:
“… if only… we weren’t so… weak… then maybe…”
“You’ve done all that you could. You should be proud of that!” Khaos responded, causing the young man’s eyes to suddenly widen.
“Pr…oud…? What a weird… way… to put it…” He spoke between long pauses.
“It takes more than guts to do what you all did. Your wear tells me you set your heart out to fight for those behind you. Rather than feeling sorry, admire that your hearts are in the correct place. Cheer up Haiyoto!”
“… right. Cheer up… why the hell… does that make me… so happy… to hear now… of all times…?” He wondered in a faint mutter.
“Ma’am! Those tears don’t suit a pretty face like yours! Good work with that magic! I’ve never seen anything like it before. Must be of Elven origin. Your race’s magic is something, alright!”
“E – Elven origin? Ah – I mean… mhm. Y-Yes… that’s right.” She stammered; her gaze glued onto the insignia by the man’s chest. To an onlooker she would appear like a love-stricken maiden who had fallen at first sight.
“And Khalis, never should a man make a sorrowful face in front of those he protects.”
“My back is turned to them anyway.” He refused to wipe away his tears. “… this city is in ruins. We condemned thousands of innocents to the flames. I at the very lest cannot remove these tears until this city sees the light of day… You came with others, I presume?”
“I’ve arrived with everyone. Believe it or not, but Inkshard was the one who spread the news to us. Still, the situation is blurry even now, but that doesn’t change that there is only one thing we must do.” Khaos placed his hands onto his hips, his gaze set to the Well of Wishes with unquenchable courage.
“… yeah. Protect… what’s left of this place… who’s left, at least…” Haiyoto coughed. “What… will you do… now?”
“Firstly, it’s best if I escort you to safety. None of you are in any shape to fight.”
“Then… the tower… is the safest place. People are in there. Waiting for all of this to end.” Haiyoto revealed as Khaos set his sights to the heavily battered tower in the distance.
And then, with a mighty yell –
“Everyone! Gather round!”
One by one, the survivors trudged until all were gathered before them, huddled over one another for support. Their sunken eyes sparkled immediately in the presence of their saviours. Their mouths moved, most left agape but nothing but drawn-out breaths escaped. Undying gratitude destined to last thousands of generations down was supressed only by the weight of their emotions. Khaos saw it in their eyes, sparkling like the stardust of the midnight sky.
Boundless hope filled them amid the background of despair.
Heroes. Though Haiyoto was the only acclaimed Hero present, they believed that Khalis and Vevi were also Heroes. If not, then for what reason did they stay back and defend them – people whose collective worth amounts to no more than their ruined homes?
Why? With strengths surpassing that of normal man they still could not prevail against the inevitable. And still they fought.
How could these people not be grateful?
“Friends. I promise you’re in safe hands now. Wherever danger may wander I will be there to pummel it. You have my word. So long as this calamity lasts, I will not allow a single one of you to get hurt.” He vowed, and with a heart clad in gold, he took the first step onwards past the desolate main street, scooping those unable to walk into his mighty shoulders.
“Awa!? S- Strong!”
“You’re not worn out after that!?”
“… this isn’t real is it?”
Haiyoto was not among these people. Khalis, with the last remnants of his strength, supported Haiyoto in one side as Vevi quickly swooped in to take the other. Vevi was the only one in reasonable shape. Her wear was near immaculate, with the only notable stain being the blackened dirt settled beneath her eyes. Before Khaos could take another step, a hand suddenly reached out for his back.
“P-Please wait! I… I need to know where you received that insignia from!” Vevi called out in a near desperate plea.
“Oh? Do you recognise it?” He wondered if she knew what it entailed. She had been transfixed on the object ever since he arrived for whatever reason. No one aside from themselves should have recognised the dodecagonal insignia, considering it was also the first time Uru of all people had seen the object.
“Y-Yes.” She stammered before composing herself with a deep breath. “Yes. I’ve heard of it, actually. A twelve-sided badge with one face white and the other black. That other side is black, isn’t it?”
“I don’t mean to sound rude, but I need to know why you’re asking first. I was under the impression that not many are supposed to be able to recognise it.” He raised a brow.
“R-right. Ah… Let me apologise. And, let me formally introduce myself. My name is Vevi. I am one of the Librarians of the Atlas. The last, more accurately.”
“Of the Exalia!? You – you’re from Scourth!?” Khalis was the only one who turned to her with shock. Most of the eastern and southern world of Eastern Six Point knew so little of the Exalia that its existence was but a legend.
Many tens of thousands of kilometres separated it from their side of the world. It came to no one’s surprise that its presence was so miniscule that the ordinary would only blankly blink whenever the name crept into a conversation. Khalis on the other hand was a Greater Knight; blessed with the knowledge of lands near and far and secrets normally withheld from the public.
The Exalia – The Beacon of the Maidens – was one of these. A mythical location where only the devoted secluded themselves to study, archive and seek for the truth of all in this world. Knowledge described this legendary sanctuary perfectly, for it was not only where all hand-written knowledge was stored outside of the Domain of Wisdom, but it was also where an individual was chosen to become the next Grand Archivist.
Or better known as the Maiden of Wisdom.
“Where have I heard that from before? Right! She was a Librarian as well! You are better off talking with my companion. If she’s willing that is.” He ended up mumbling his words towards the end.
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“Another Librarian!?” Vevi exclaimed, unable to believe Khaos’ words. “A-are you –!?”
“We’re all wrapped up in the same predicament. Believe me, in a few moments it will be hard to miss her. But if you turn out to be one of her enemies –” Khaos’ tone suddenly took a dark turn. “Hah… Then don’t come hiding behind my back.”
For now, Khaos had no reason to suspect her as being one of the people who betrayed Uru in the past. That business was not something he could delve into… is what he would have insisted before Uru became a trustworthy companion of his.
Although, he wouldn’t dare to rob Uru of her vengeance.
“… that person couldn’t be…” Vevi gasped as Khaos began to walk away, leaving the three wrecked with shock. Save for Haiyoto, who was far too weak to process whatever they were talking about.
Whether Vevi and Khaos had the same person in mind was bound to be unravelled in due time.
* * *
Pillars of flames danced at the feet of the Undead like tornadoes. The unparalleled might of Amy’s [Fire] magic eviscerated through hundreds of their ranks, leaving only their withered remains in mere minutes.
Yet the onslaught of Undead never ceased. The waves only grew with each hundred slayed. The waves turned into a sea, and then, an ocean of black like an army of ants. Their tower was the rotting apple that whetted their insatiable appetites.
“[Blazing Vortex]!” Whirls of blue flames spun from their feet and rose ten meters into the sky at Amy’s command. A quivering wall of flaming tornadoes cut through their marching ranks for 30 seconds before the giant pillars were snuffed out like a blown-out candle-flame.
“How are they still marching on!?” A female Black Knight screeched as the swallowed sections replenished themselves a moment later, the mass of Undead moving like spilt ink. “Oh Hero Amy – can you not unleash that [Seventh Tiered] spell again!?”
“Are you blind!? They are all of the [Seventh Tier]!” Another Knight roared as he and a civilian tossed a chest-sized brick over the edge of the tower. “Else they would not last any longer than a complete second!”
“The Undead concentration is stronger than when we first arrived. Our magic just fizzles out! LOOK!” A woman donned in tattered robes of worship exclaimed as she attempted to enchant the arrow of an archer with [Light] magic, only for it to fizzle out into pale particles. These particles then turn a shade of black as they were devoured by the darkened world itself.
Magic beneath the [Seventh Tier] was vanquished by the all-consuming nature of the Undead’s presence. Their greedy miasma devoured all mana that dared to exist, heightened further by the presence of Maw of the Uboros.
“[Amassed Fire]!” Flames emerged meters in front of her. The mass of fire soon exploded and spread its blue fire thin like the shockwave of an explosion. Surprisingly, the flames did not spread throughout the air. As if carrying tangible weight, the flames fell to the base of the tower and spread evenly beneath the swarming Undead.
“Not enough! It’s still not enough!” Calin cried, anguishing over her inability to summon even a single ember no matter her conviction. “Hurl the rocks over the southern side! They’re going to surround us again!”
Like liquid, the swarm of Undead spilled into the backstreets and alleyways, eventually reaching the neighbouring main streets until they saturated the ruined world in black in every cardinal direction.
[Firebomb]!” The blue [Seventh Tiered] variant erupted from Amy’s severed hand, instantly scorching many tens of meters worth of Undead along the northern trail. It swept until it faced the far west before the magic fizzled away, leaving a haze of heat and molten brickwork in its wake.
Yet their numbers never declined. Bodies of the perished became pathways, defending the army from the blazing pools as if directed by a higher order. No matter the magic Amy threw she was only delaying the inevitable. Though her reserves were still far from depleted, there was only so much she could do to keep them at bay. At best she could defend the tower for hours until…
Until what?
Amy perished the thought. Even it all seemed hopeless, her heart had become incapable of surrendering to despair.
“[Firebomb]! [Amassed Fire]! [Scorched Earth]! [Blazing Vortex]!...” Amy relentlessly unleashed magic of the [Seventh Tier] one by one in a legendary display of Heroism.
The blue flames only added to the holy image that would undoubtably be recited by the masses, written in history, and cited in future literature. Though that was only if they were to survive.
“By the Children of Balance… how many people cities have been ravaged to amas such a vast number of Undead…?” A White Knight trembled with a creaky voice, hardly able to comprehend the absurd number of their foes.
“A-Alazia bless us all! This… C-can the Hero not dispel them any further!? Oh Gods – oh Gods of the Empyrean Rise – what must be done to keep those things at bay!?”
“Your prayers are worthless under the Maw of the Uboros! Stop begging and start… HELPING US YOU OLD FOOL!” An adventurer’s fuse was set off as he and a handful of others poured their hearts and souls into throwing what rubble remained below their feet.
A pointless prayer to Gods who have long since communicated with the mortal realm was foolish to say the least. The old man stiffened before he scuttled towards them as if his legs were stilts.
“W-What else can a feeble old man like me do then? Our times are unprecedented. Oh, our bleak world… Can you blame me for praying to Goddess Alazia for her Faithful Light?” He complained underneath his breath, his twig-like arms at the verge of snapping as he tried to shove a rock over the shattered edge.
“Hope. Hope is all we can believe in.” The Greater Knight present calmly spoke. “Vials. Any vials of oil left?”
“None here ma’am!”
“We’ve used it all up!”
“Sister Calin –!”
“Prepare to defend the tower! The Undead will attempt to climb once they’re clumped up. Use that opportunity to dump everything you have!”
“And after that!?”
“What else other than to fight tooth, nail and with your skin on the line?” Calin grinned. “If your only hope is through prayer, then come and stand right here in front of me! I’ll personally send you straight to your Goddesses! We don’t need cowards to survive! If it strips me of my honour as a Greater Knight to defile the name of our Goddesses, then I couldn’t give less of a damn! Fight until there’s nothing left of the Undead to take from you!”
Like a crazed warrior, Calin knew that no divine intervention would rescue them. All they had was themselves to survive. Only the tangible could be relied on in the end. They say a person in the last moments will either turn to a supreme power or forsake all that is divine. Calin made her choice glaringly clear. Perhaps this choice was made long, long ago in Katho.
Whatever the case was – her declaration managed to amuse one person in particular.
“Hmhm~ Didn’t think I’d find some level-headed individuals here.” A single figure clad in the darkest black spoke as she fell from the skies.
If it weren’t for her Otherworldly attire, they would have believed she was a being sent by Goddess Despair to bestow them her aid. Behind her swooped a pale dragon with wings wider than their eyes could contain, causing Black to appear like a descended Angel for a split second.
Unlike any ordinary dragon, this one did not spout any flames. Instead – the dragon glided low enough for its belly to scrape against the ground as its wings bisected thousands of Undead along the northern path in a splendid display of death.
Amy’s eyes split wide suddenly. She could have sworn she had caught a glimpse of golden strands along the back of that dragon. But before she could confirm its owner – a curved streak of blue suddenly reaped the leftover Undead faster than she could think.
A blue disk of light seemingly blinked from place to place, wreaking havoc in the ranks of Undead like an unstoppable storm. The object in her arms that twisted with spectacular fury was an ice-blue scythe of unreasonable proportions. A cold trail followed in its wake as she realised that figure was Frosty. She cleaved through the Undead with terrifying proficiency.
After all, this was not the first time she had fought against a swarm of enemies. The Trial had bolstered her in this regard, and as a matter of fact – these Undead were hardly comparable to Nav’s golems. Withered bones were cut cleanly like a sickle through reeds, their body parts spewed over as she rapidly slayed her way north to the only soul-bearing Undead.
Considering none of the thousands of Undead retained a soul at all – it easily became an obvious first target.
“Frost… ty…” Amy whispered dumbfoundedly.
“I’m here too~” Black hummed. “So that’s the Undead. How disgusting. They don’t even scream.”
“Pale is here too!” A silver-haired child suddenly chimed in from behind the woman. She saluted with exuberance unbefitting of the situation, leaving the large group of ten utterly bewildered at their combined display.
“H-huh!?” Amy was the only one who failed to immediately realise that the two had arrived. By some miracle her landing only barely shifted the already crumbling platform. “W-ah!? When did you –!?”
“Commander Black!?” The female Greater Black Knight interjected in confused shock, unable to believe her eyes as she clawed at the grime and soot from her visor. “You arrived by dragon-back!?”
“An Arch… no, without wings you are without doubt a human. Yet you descended upon us like an Angel. P-Perhaps that child is one!?” The old man exclaimed, nearly prostrating at the sight of the silver-haired child who continued to hold her salute, smiling like a tiny star amid the chaos. “Oh Alazia! Could this be one of your blessed Faithfuls!?”
Unsurprisingly, heads and eyes darted back and forth from the fleeting dragon and the woman who stood before them with her arms tucked behind her back. A small hum followed by a yawn left Black’s unamused face as she slowly walked up to the edge, paying little heed to their unintelligible noises.
“That person… is shredding through them… as though they were grains of wheat… What is that weapon she wields?” Someone uttered beneath their breath as Black set her gaze to a certain target just beyond Frosty’s rampage.
“Black! A-Are you here to –!?”
“Why did you stop? The Undead aren’t going to finish off themselves.” Black spoke before Amy could finish her sentence. “Unless you have a taste for sadism?”
“U-ah. You can’t use magic?” Amy’s face slumped at the realisation, like a candle of hope had suddenly been snuffed out. At the very least another wick of hope remained alight, as Frosty easily carved a path along the northern street.
“None. At. All. Do I look like a witch to you?” Black hummed, amused by the girl. “Look at her go. She’s been set up nicely by that place~ Too bad it didn’t temper me quite as well as them.”
“… Alright. Please stay back then –!” Just as Amy pointed her only hand out towards the writhing Undead –
– An impassioned voice screamed.
“You can’t help us!? Not at all!? Why did you only decide to show yourself now, you cursed Otherworlder!” The Greater Black Knight suddenly roared at the woman who only smirked as she continued to track her distant prey. “Tch. Why the fuck am I surprised? I should’ve known a monster like you wouldn’t lift a fucking hair to help anyone. ARE YOU LISTENING!?”
“Enough! All that matters is that we have another pair of hands to help. Two if we can count whatever that blue thing is.” Calin urged the Greater Knight to seal her tongue, knowing well of the cruel stories surrounding this black-attired woman. In an instant, her spirit was diffused, for Black reaped it straight from her heart and devoured it with that uncanny smile plastered over her face. “You called it ‘Frosty’, Amy. I heard it. I only know one person with that name.”
“She’s a friend of Exrite’s! A companion of the Exrenity!” Amy proclaimed as a seething flurry of flames spewed out from her fingertips, coating the Undead like a giant net. “She’s stopped most of them in their tracks. But they’ll be back on their feet soon enough. Please don’t stop fighting! B-Black! Please – please help us! Everyone’s too weak to keep on fighting! No matter what Calin or anyone else says – they can’t keep it up!”
Black didn’t utter a word, let alone spare her a single glance. Amy was no more than an ordinary human, albeit one from the same world as her birthplace. Heroics, titles, power, despair – what did that all matter to a weapon that cared not for anything other than its purpose to fight?
Yet she paused at the edge of the tower in shallow thought, her purple eyes never leaving her distant prey. With a small smirk, she suddenly spoke up amid Amy’s one-sided battle.
Indeed. Combat was all she cared for in this very moment. But those Undead hardly proved worthy of being called anything more than a collection of earth worms.
That’s why –
“Hey Pale. What do you think?”
“Hmm… even though Frosty sliced and diced them apart they’re clearly still not dead. Awa. My Minicube won’t do anything will it?”
“Correct. We call these enemies trash. Fodder. Experience points. These are the kind of enemies you kill without hesitation. No point in savouring what they can’t express. What an insufferable existence it must be to live without emotion. I’m sure you can understand.”
“Mhm. I do.” Pale softly spoke, clutching onto her wrist as she took Black’s side with eager eyes. “Death is natural. I know it is. So why are they still… ‘alive’?”
“Why can a machine cry? Why does a weapon care to take said machine under her mantle? Why are all these pathetic excuses for humans still struggling for life in the face of death? Don’t try to understand these contrived things. That’s an order.”
“Understood!”
“What the hell are you spouting to a damned child –!”
Bang.
“GAAAAAAAGH! AAAAAAGHH!”
A bullet suddenly pierced through the stomach of the Greater Knight, instantly downing her as if struck by a boulder. The cobalt-plated armour cratered into her stomach, squeezing her organs to near mush as she desperately struggled to breathe. A rush of arms and worried faces came to the Knight’s aid as Calin, Amy and a few others stared on in perpetual shock.
“Amy. And your caretaker, I presume. Are there any competent healers inside?”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Calin carefully growled. “… don’t tell me you’re here to kill us. Do you think you can do as you please just because we’re stuck here!?”
“I can be an enemy if you so please.” Black did not even attempt to hide her animosity, instantly causing Calin to sweat bullets as she gulped in fear. “As far as I can tell, you don’t need my help. The others should be enroute here shortly. But~ I will warn you. You will absolutely need my mercy. A higher dog of Pathfist can only bark until it is put down. The same goes for any other dogs, don’t you think, caretaker?”
“What the hell do you want?”
“To help of course. C’mon, you didn’t think I was an enemy, did you? I’m only enforcing the chain of command you have all seemed to forgotten. Talk only when you’re spoken to. That’s how I ran the Airship. That one has seemed to have forgotten~ So, Amy. Answer my question. Your friend there has around… lets see, ten hours before she dies.”
“We have healers! But none of them are capable of using magic anymore. The thing in the sky… the Maw of Uboros and the Undead saps us of our mana. We can’t replenish our reserves!”
“So five hours give or take. Try to convince Exrite to heal your dying friends if you see him~”
“Exrite’s here as well!?” Amy blurted out.
“Most likely already heading straight for the Well of Wishes. Leave it to him to figure something out. Now then, where was I? Right. Pale. You’re in charge here with this one” She pointed to Amy. “You have permission to claim the kneecaps of anyone who questions you.”
“Kneecaps specifically?” Pale tilted her head.
“Was that a question?”
“NO!” Pale firmly saluted. “But kinda. Why the kneecaps?”
“So they can’t stand over you, mechanical brat. You need to stand tall to assert your authority.”
“I understand! That makes sense!” The girl pounded her palm.
“And try to tone down the flames Amy. I’d hate to see a child get hurt~” Black hummed. “Good luck. Not that you’ll need it with Pale around. And caretaker. Was my appearance really that sobering? I’d love to imagine what would have happened if White ended up touching down instead of me.”
She gulped, and by some miracle, the injured Greater Knight ceased her squirming out of pure terror.
“I thought so. It kinda pisses me off that White’s more feared than I am. Oh well. What can you do~?”
The mere mention of White instantly tamed all but the citizens of Palvel who could only carefully speculate who these people were. Unsurprisingly, these people of Di-Lock’s allegiance knew nothing of the Commanders who only operated in the northern parts of the Greater Plains.
And besides, it was not like there was anyone left up there to warn them anymore.
For Truebirth and Pathfist on the other hand, their carnage along the Great Plains spread far and wide like a cautionary tale among its militaries. It was anything but a tale of glory or victory for Pathfist. The soldiers unfortunate enough to embark on their endeavours retold their stories with shaken trauma, most never seeing the battlefield again ever since.
If there was anything Pathfist’s dogs feared equally as the Undead, it was their ill-appointed Commanders. Both were monsters in their own twisted right, revelling in their wicked art of ferity and barbarism.
Calin had only heard of these tales, as did most ordinary soldiers and servicemen across Pathfist and Truebirth. But only now did she understand the weight of those stories. Those harrowing eyes did not see them as anything more than the scraps of rubble beneath her boots. All was dehumanised, stripped bare as either one of two things.
And an ally, or an enemy.
Thankfully, the Greater Knight was not an enemy.
After all, she didn’t outright kill her.
How merciful.
“Now then – Make this interesting for me, will you?” Black spoke to her distant prey with bloodlust. Before words could be exchanged with the malevolent being, she thrust herself from the tower with only the black object by her hip drawn.
“Eh…!?” Amy was dumbfounded initially right until Pale swiftly dove after her headfirst like a penguin. “Y-You’re from Earth, right? No way you’re from Earth. What is wrong with you two!?”
“The child!”
“Why did the child follow!?”
“D-Do something Hero!”
“Monster… using a child for your whims… to what lows will they swoop just to sate their madness!?”
A congested myriad of screams instantly filled the air as the two fell to what many presumed was their deaths. They had yet to digest Black’s arrival from her great height. Additionally, it was human instinct to doubt their odds of survival. After all, what else short of a monster could survive such a fall?
Humans were fragile beings to begin with.
Black kicked off the ground with demonic elegance, dashing through the Undead with an insidious, black blade in hand. She followed the opening provided by Frosty, disappearing into the mass of Undead in the next moment. The last they ever saw of her was her sadistic grin, perpetually longing for battle.
The child flipped mid-air and crashed clumsily along the way, battered by loose brick until she landed directly atop a pile of compact stone. She instantly rose to her feet and gave a single salute to Black’s back before gazing up at Amy with a childish smile.
“… I’m in another world. I’m in another world so… I really should stop thinking about common sense. At least that proves that kid won’t get hurt by my magic… I hope.” The sight nearly broke Amy’s mind. “Alright. C-Calin! Everyone! Please leave it to us!”
“I wish I had a choice in this matter… and here the Kingdoms thought I was the one insane. You all heard her! Head downstairs! All of you! This isn’t the time to be fucking starstruck!” Calin ordered. “We’re all depending on you now!”
“Like you weren’t ever since I woke up?” She tried to laugh. “I don’t know what that kid can do, but help is help!”
“We can’t afford to be picky either. Not with them.” Calin regretfully sighed, still sobered with her face-to-face encounter with Black. “For better or worse, they seem to be willing to help us. But King Ectarod really did fuck up when he chose his Commanders.”
As the tired bodies slowly stumbled themselves down into the safety of the tower, the aided Greater Knight suddenly coughed between each shaken breath.
“What are you… saying…? Pathfist… is governed… by the merit… of strength… Monsters of that kind… will… be given leeway... tch… shut your mouth… don’t sully our King… razer of homes…”
“Maybe it’s better if you did die.” Calin took one of her arms and wrapped it behind her shoulder for support.
“… kill me then… bastard born… Sister Calin. You’re an affront to all Greater Knights…”
“Blight. Call me a blight.”
“Blight… but at least… you can speak your mind well…”
“And you’re not?”
“I… I may die… in this miserable place… with those murders present… so at least let me have… the liberty to ramble… bastard. And Hero Amy…”
“Yes?”
“Win. Win… for our sake! Don’t let those… damned… MONSTERS… rob us of our… glory. Our struggles… our commitment… the sacrifices… don’t let them…”
“Misses Knight! Please save your breath!” A healer donned in pale robes cried.
“They won’t… I know they won’t. We need their help! Otherwise, everything would have ended up in vain!” Amy reasoned, smiling back at the child underneath. “I’m only alive because of Lizen. I’m standing here because of Alice. And I’m fighting because I don’t want anyone else to die!”
A beautiful spiral of flames came forth from her extended palm. It unveiled like a giant whip, incinerating hoards of Undead while it left Pale entirely unscathed.
“… then we’ll leave it… to you… our Hero…” The Greater Black Knight retired her hopes onto Amy’s fragile back, her face finally dropping with content.
With those final words they eventually disappeared into the tower, regretfully leaving behind the only two capable of fending off the Undead. It was impossible to argue Pale’s strength. A normal child would have perished long ago. Furthermore, for Black of all people to have her mandate her authority was already enough to turn a few heads.
As for the ordinary people – they still could not fathom a mere child being capable of confronting the Undead where the strongest Knights and individuals could not.
Was that child an Angel without wings?
If not, then how could they believe otherwise?
* * *
The Undead were at the mercy of Frosty’s scythe. As beings of flesh her soul-reaping weapon cleaved through dozens at a time. Unlike the Golems of the Trial, these monsters posed little resistance to her weapon. Yet similarly, the Undead swarm possessed no soul.
The only soul in her direct line of sight was a quivering pale-blue ball hidden deeply behind layers of streets. Another soul could be sensed somewhere off to the right, but she entrusted its death to a certain cruel woman.
The proximity of this soul to the Undead was the only red-flag she needed to hunt it down.
Like a dazzling spiral of light, Frosty twisted the scythe at the tip of her palm, its momentum alone easily reducing them to a fine mist of entrails as she pushed through with speed surpassing Haiyoto’s [Dash – Marathon]. When it came to ground speed alone Frosty was unmatched. And this was without any [Body Enhancing] or [Body Strengthening] magic.
Her agility as she wove between swings and lunges from the Undead was so perfect that it would not be a surprise if she possessed some form of foresight.
She took a sharp turn into the left and threw herself high onto the rooftops. The soul wavered like a floating flame, growing steadily as she drew near with each rooftop she dashed across. Eventually, the Undead were so congested that it became difficult to see them as a mere mass of individuals. They were like one organism, each sprouting hands as they desperately reached for her heights to no avail.
Their sheer numbers fractured foundations and easily surged into walls like floodwaters.
Thank goodness there isn’t anyone nearby. I can sense multiple souls away from here. Much closer than the tower. I wonder, can the Undead sense them or are they ignoring them? Whatever it is, that soul looks like the source of them. The Undead keep getting thicker the closer I get…
There’s so many of them. All without souls…
Just how many people were sacrificed for the sake of one wish?
Lament. Frosty lamented the lives lost in this hellscape.
What wish was worthy of countless lives? She failed to understand the logic behind such reasoning. For so many lives to be discarded for one’s selfishness caused her immense sorrow.
If people could carry the weight of their bloodshed like me, then would there be anyone cruel enough to cause so much misery?
Frosty asked herself. If one could bear the souls they’ve reaped; then perhaps their murderous intents would forever fade. However, her thinking was naïve, like a newborn hoist into a desolate world of normalised brutality.
… Of course there would be. What am I even saying?
Well of Wishes remained in the background like an omnipresent being wherever she went. Through cracks, smoke and flames, its presence was always there, lurking and watching her every move.
It did not help that anytime she gazed into it she would be momentarily blinded by the innumerable number of souls within. No shielded hand, no metal and not even her eyelids were able to ward off the light.
The stench of death drew near. Her agile footwork eventually led her towards what could only be described as a beating womb wrapped in sinew. It hung suspended with each branch of flesh attached to the walls of the homes she traversed like webs. But she quickly realised that these webs were in fact grossly exaggerated limbs and the womb was its gaped mouth, vomiting Undead in the hundreds as they tore themselves into existence from the flesh within.
If she had not witnessed the ugliness of the Geared firsthand then she would have undoubtably frozen in terror.
“I hate…” Frosty huffed, twisting her blade as she propelled herself from the rooftops. With a single vertical slash, she tore apart a limb anchoring it in place and swiftly moved onto the next one.
“That this…” Another five were severed with zero resistance on the Undead’s part. The monstrosity seemed to serve no purpose other than to create the Undead. Otherwise, why else would it have chosen to hide itself so deeply away from the main streets?
The face collapsed into itself, deforming hideously like a giant tar-filled balloon. A black fluid spilled from its orifices, its mouth quivering as if it uttered a plea for mercy.
“Can even exist!” She tore it in half, beginning from the corner of its mouth. Incomplete Undead spilled like the spawnings of a spider. Consecutive slashes followed, claiming the… lives of the Undead until only ribbons remained in the ruins of sinew, carcasses, and death.
“… its sweet. Why is it so sweet…” Frosty gagged on her own blood. She instantly drowned her senses with the taste of iron. “How the hell has White’s blood run out already? Ugh...”
The choir of voices returned as did the nausea. The Well of Wishes wailed with the voice of millions to a deaf world. It sickened her knowing that the number of souls she counted was only but a fraction of what existed within.
The voices of souls resonated differently from mortals, for they began from the bowels of her being and remained there like an endless echo. The only way to relieve their pent emotions was to release them. Or in other words – to consume them, effectively erasing them from existence. The closer one’s soul was to the source of their emotional attachment or trauma, the more pronounced their voices were.
Just like in the Trial, it was not until she reached the bottom where she finally heard their voices. This was no different. No. This was worse. Far worse than she could ever imagine.
If you could hear them – all of them – then how far could someone go before they went insane? I don’t get it… I DON’T UNDERSTAND!
Frosty clutched her chest as she spat another mouthful of blood.
There was another voice. It was the voice of a child. The soul she had reaped cried endlessly in torment, wondering when the agony will end. That same Undead used to be the person this soul belonged to.
Why was it not taken? Frosty despised that realisation more than she needed to. A prolonged suffering destroyed the innocent soul she caressed in her heart as it wept in fear for the one it called ‘father’.
“I hate it… urgh… It’s getting to my head. Enthile. Here. There. Can’t the world stop just being so bleak for one second?”
As she hung over her scythe in deep pain, a strange presence suddenly appeared by one of the shrivelled anchors ahead. Interestingly, the giant Undead died after having its soul taken. Its limbs only continued to wither, its black ashes rising to the sky in thick, shattered particles.
But that was second to the presence that only just stood there, staring off in a single direction. Where did she look towards? Survivors? Frosty guessed her intentions, squinting hard through the darkness and overpowering light of the Well of Wishes to make out the features of the woman.
She was ghastly. Pale, with hair of a similar colour and a small tint of blue. She was gorgeous and oddly free of injury. Moreover, the figure walked barefooted, yet there was not a single scratch on her feet.
“H-Hey! Stay there! I’m coming right now!” Frosty exclaimed. She didn’t need to think twice about saving this person, no matter how out of place they seemed. She clasped onto the woman’s hands, feeling a strange warmth as she suddenly tugged her into the direction she had set her sight upon.
“Other people are there, right!? C’mon! Let’s go before more of the Undead arrive!”
The woman didn’t speak. Her pale-blue eyes only stared at the back of her head blankly, blinking a couple of times as if starstruck. Her eyes eventually widened, and with her pointed hand, she poked Frosty’s back.
“Huh!? What, you can’t talk!?”
The woman shook her head.
“Wait, really? Then don’t let go of my hand, alright! Thank goodness you have a… easy figure to spot if you get lost.” She wanted to say soul. “But things might get rough along the way! And isn’t it dangerous to go walking out here alone!?” Frosty suddenly scolded her, tugging her along like a lost child.
She has a soul and doesn’t look like an Undead monster like whatever that thing was. She’s human no doubt. But isn’t she… slow? Wait, is she royalty? A noble of this city, maybe. Huh. A pampered woman…
“You know what, get on! Don’t worry about me! I’m much stronger than I look!” Frosty said to the woman who was easily twice her… size in all the areas a woman would consider vital. “Hurry!”
The woman eventually relaxed onto Frosty’s arched back. With her secured in place, Frosty then suddenly lunged forward, causing their hairs to bond as they fluttered far behind. The woman raised her arm again, pointing in a direction that Frosty had no choice but to follow for she believed survivors were in that said direction, made twice as believable for she sensed additional souls somewhere ahead.
Now to start the rescuing phase. I won’t be able to carry them all at once. Maybe it’s better if I bring her to the tower. But that’s hardly efficient… tch.
Let’s see what we can do!