With a flash of the purple light, the muscles woven like iron were torn to shreds and the thick cervical vertebrae were shattered.

　A physical scream that he had never heard before. Verg sobbed as he rolled down the street, a cut he had never received before. She shouldn't have moved, but she had every reason not to.

　A moment later, a bolt of lightning and purple lightning struck the spot where his skull had been just a moment ago. As the blood spurted from his neck, he saw it.

　A green-robed swordsman with an evil look. A man who bows to the Lord Drigman, no doubt. A man whose martial arts had a hint of magic in them.

　I had a hunch. It's him. He is the one we must kill here.

　The Warg knows he's dying. She can no longer outlive this terrible wound, much less escape this man.

　He can either be stabbed in the back miserably or risk his life to kill him. The Verg naturally chose the latter, and so jumped. The horse's hooves clacked loudly.

　The horse's hooves clattered loudly as it leaped, using its massive frame to crush the enemy from the sky. It was a martial art in which the Verg excelled. In fact, not many people would think of leaping when they saw the Verg's huge body.

　Many adventurers and mercenaries cowered before it and were crushed to death. Raising the stone axe swinging at his waist, Verg howled.

　The swing of the axe was so vicious that it would have taken a human to kill it. It had a power that would have destroyed a small unit of humans by itself. How many of us would not be prepared to die in the face of this?

　But the swordsman said as a matter of course.

"Are you all right, Erdis?

　The words flew through the air. In a dead land where blood and dirt danced, a beautiful blue was visible. The Vague heard the neighing of hearts.

"Of course, my knight. I don't mind being in charge of everything.

　The moment the blue flashed. The moment the blue blinked, the huge body of the Verg fell. It twisted the original laws of physics and was sewn to the ground as if it had crashed into the spot.

　The stone slab shattered with the impact of the fall of the giant body, and Verg's nearly shredded neck coughed up blood in a rage.

　At first, Verg didn't know what had happened. He only knew what had been done to him.

　Spiritualism. A blessing or a curse. A mystery that sometimes identifies you with nature and allows you to create illusions and fly your voice.

　But its essence speaks of a ruinous bondage. The method of binding and identifying oneself with nature is one of them.

　Blessings were once given by the gods in exchange for the freedom of their people. The other side of it is a curse.

　The Verg feels it in the depths of his teeth. The only thing that binds you to this earth now is necromancy itself. The same as his master Drigman's. Wasn't there one in the last barracks who used the same technique to bind you?

　I'm out. If there are people who use spirit magic, then it makes sense that the humans who were skewered by the magic arrows earlier disappeared. So it was the Phantom Army.

　But why? The Verg, still tied to the ground, gritted his teeth and shouted in annoyance. There was a hint of evil right beside him.

"Why da... Elves or fairies? Either way, they're not our people. Why do we give to humans when we can already see the age of demons?

　It was a question and a puzzlement at the same time. You are related to the demons, yet you shake off your own hand. For the Verg, it was an unmistakable betrayal, and one that could only raise questions.

　In the past, there was no need for demons to fight each other when there were powerful demons and demons in control. These words may have been filled with sorrow.

　The Queen of the Elves spoke to Verg, who could no longer move even her fingers.

What awaits you when you take my hand? I'm not sure what the future holds for you, but I'm sure it will be a great one. ...... I hate it when dignity falls to the wayside if you're not careful.

　The air was convulsing as if it were trembling, and you could hear the excess of indignation in his voice. The words were as if contempt itself had coagulated.

　As if in tune with the voice, the curse that had been poured into Verg became a murky stream that raged through his entire body. It was as if the yoke of life was about to be pulled out of him.

"Don't underestimate me, servant. I will not be broken. I will be Finn-Erdis until the day I die.

　And with that, Erdis clenched his fists. As if obeying the queen's command, the curse converged and burst the huge heart of the Varg.

　For a moment, the giant's body twitched, but it soon stopped moving. For all intents and purposes, it was nothing more than a beast in a state of death.

　The demonic beast that had once glared at the region and crushed the heroes had stopped breathing in a daze. Its name is no longer known to anyone.

"...... should've at least heard his name. I've seen him before.



　As if to eclipse Lugis's murmur, Elddis took his hand and said. It was a sultry tone of voice that was out of place in this deadly land of bloodshed.

"Don't you have more important things to learn than the names of hexenbiests?

　Like how to treat me properly. I'm not sure if I'll be able to do it, but I'm sure I'll be able to do it. It was only a matter of time before the heraldic and elven troops overpowered the enemy demon soldiers waiting in the buildings on either side.

　Even though the emphasis is on speed, you can't just leave a demon that you know is there. If we are attacked from behind, we will be destroyed if we are not careful.

　Therefore, he had to control at least this place, if not all of it.

　Lugis narrowed his eyes, holding his frustration in his heart. He stared at the royal palace, which was still far away, but was now within his sight. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do it.


　The palace.


　The royal palace. In the event you're not sure what you're looking for, there are a few things you can do.

　A black sword is wielded as if to cut off a luxurious candlestick. At the same moment, the blood of the demons blew away with the candlestick, shaking the floor cloth.

　Richard shook his cheeks in self-deprecation, saying that the floorcloth, which he would have had to pay gold for in the marketplace, would not even have a price tag on it. The floor was already smeared with bits of flesh, blood, and an unidentifiable demonic fluid.

"Half of you do the trick. Half of you follow me.

　Splitting his forces in half, Richard gripped his black sword tightly and sniffed. A slightly unpleasant feeling bit at the inside of his skull.

　This royal palace was the enemy's main castle, so to speak. It is a place that should have been a central hub.

　However, the number of demons defending it is quite small. The few that remained were not cooperating at all. Of course, this could be said to be the result of a successful diversionary tactic. But still, it worked too well.

　Something inside Richard's skull rang a warning bell. On the battlefield, too much of a good thing is not necessarily a good thing. In fact, in my experience, it was far more often a sign of something bad.

　Now, we may be falling down a slope without even knowing it. I even have this feeling.

　But now, retreat was not an option for Richard. Retreating may be wise, but wise is always inextricably linked to foolishness.

　There was no choice but to go on. It was possible that now was the perfect time.

　The course of the palace was surprisingly unchanged. Just as Richard had known them in the past. The path to the throne was no different. Perhaps they were trying to preserve the legacy of the previous king.

　Not once on the way to the throne did he encounter a demon. The sound of alarm beating in Richard's skull grew louder and louder.

　It would be better if the demons had abandoned the palace and joined the army outside. If that's the case, they're just that. If they behave in a sensible manner, there are many ways to deal with them now that they are inside.

　But if he's the only one left here alone. That would be both the best and worst thing that could happen.

　The strong footsteps of Richard and his men stamp on the throne room. A dull thud echoed around them, and then a voice.

　A heavy, low, even feverish voice. Richard cleared his throat unconsciously.

It's fate, I guess. I'll take it as God's voice telling me to fulfill my destiny.

　And so. The worst kind of death was out there.