Project Necro is an official initiative by Re:Library.

It was sometime after sunset when I finally laid eyes on the walls of Schwelm.
Bachen’s desolation had been severe, but Schwelm wasn’t much better. Sections of the wall were crumbling, riddled with gaps that rendered any kind of defensive hold laughable.
I see. No wonder the Miraldia Alliance Army hasn’t risked launching a direct offensive.

There should be some of Mao’s subordinates already infiltrated here. I know how to contact them. If I summon them and get the story, I should learn quite a bit.
But truth be told, I don’t trust Mao.
Besides, with the walls in such a state, I could just return to human form, sneak in, and scout the place with my own eyes.

Yeah. I’ll see it for myself first, then get the details.
That way, even if Mao betrays me, I’ll already have the intel. If he feeds me false information, I’ll be able to tell right away.
I shifted back to human form, changed into the plain clothes I’d prepared, and slipped in through one of the wall’s many gaps.

Unlike Bachen, Schwelm had begun its recovery. The wall repairs weren’t finished, but inside the city, makeshift huts and tents lined the streets, with soldiers bustling everywhere.
Seeing the large open-air depots, I guessed they were storing construction materials. The real rebuilding effort was clearly still ahead.

If I were commanding the alliance forces, I’d prioritize recapturing Bachen before worrying about rebuilding Schwelm. Station your main force in Bachen and rebuild the rear line slowly.
But the Alliance Army is filled with citizen-militia. To the residents of Schwelm, restoring their own city naturally takes priority over Bachen.
Just my impression, but it seems decisions here are being made for reasons other than pure military strategy.
Same as with the Demon Lord’s Army, I suppose—lots of internal complexities.

What did surprise me was how many soldiers were here. There were barely any civilians, so dressed as I was, I stuck out like a sore thumb.
My loose, southern-style clothing was completely different from the tightly sealed northern gear. I thought I’d picked something fitting, but the colors and design were too out of place.
I should get out of here—fast.

I stayed clear of the city center and exited through the same breach I entered. What a failure of a spy operation.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I started thinking about contacting Mao’s men—

When suddenly, I transformed and kicked off the ground.
At almost the exact same moment, I heard a whistling sound cut through the air.
I leapt, pushing off the crumbled wall. Something sliced right through my sleeve.

“Werewolves, huh.”

Three armed warriors had launched a surprise attack on me. A short distance behind them stood a mage-looking figure.
I’m surprised they could ambush me with my heightened werewolf senses.
They must have used magic to mask their presence.

As I kept my distance, I quickly assessed them.
All three warriors had immense magical energy—far beyond normal humans.
The mage behind them wasn’t as strong, but their magical flow was refined. Not someone to underestimate.

“Could you be the Hero?”

One of the warriors responded.

“I am Hero Lanhardt. The Sacred Law alerted us the moment you entered Schwelm.”

So they had magic set up as an intrusion alarm.
To us mages, that’s like a simple tripwire—but I didn’t even notice it. It must’ve been very cleverly disguised.
The man—Lanhardt—raised his sword.

“Perish, foul creature.”
“Foul, huh…”

At that very moment, the trio struck from three directions.
Damn.

I activated all the preparatory enchantments I had stored up.
My body lightened, and my perception of the enemies’ movements slowed just slightly.
My healing factor surged, and my fur hardened with magical reinforcement.

“Tssk!”

Head, shoulder, leg.
A beautifully synchronized three-pronged attack—just barely, I dodged them all.

Even facing the hero alone would be bad enough. Against three seasoned fighters and a mage, there’s no chance I’d win.
I wanted to flee, but the reality is, just evading them alone takes my everything. They were perfectly coordinated to block my escape.
Even fully magically boosted, all I could do was defend.

And the bad situation turned worse when the mage in the back began chanting.
I didn’t know what spell, but in my current state, even one successful cast could kill me.
Even if it meant taking a few hits, I had to stop them.
I planted my feet and roared Soulshaker.

The effect was immediate. The surrounding magic harmonized with demonic energy and began flowing into me. The mage’s chant was broken, their spell disrupted.
Now I just had to survive the heroes’ assault. I had also cast a rapid-healing spell—if I could avoid dying instantly, I could hold out.

But then—something was off.

Looking around, I noticed the hero and his party were frozen in place.
Their faces were twisted in fear and agony.
Unbelievable as it sounds, they were paralyzed by the fear effect of my Soulshaker.
That shouldn’t be possible.
These were supposed to be superhumans, equals of the Demon Lord!

My body moved reflexively, striking with clawed fury.
The werewolf’s talons tore through them in a black storm.
One man’s neck snapped at an unnatural angle. Another’s face was half-blown off. The third had his throat mostly severed. They fell—just like that.
It was over in an instant.
You’re kidding me!
A single werewolf had just defeated the supposedly Hero’s Party.

“This can’t be right…”

I muttered, sensing something odd.
Looking closely, the flow of their magic wasn’t natural.
The Demon Lord had mana flowing from within his body, but theirs came from their swords and armor.
Even after they died, their equipment still pulsed with energy—completely unchanged.

“I see…”

I muttered, picking up one of their swords.
It radiated powerful magic—probably an ancient mage’s creation.

“So they were fake heroes. Isn’t that right?”

I smiled at the still-frozen mage. I doubt a werewolf’s grin was very comforting, but it didn’t matter.

“Eek…”

The voice under the hood was a young woman’s.
As she stumbled, her long hair and pale, contorted face were revealed.
Rather plain-looking for a hero’s companion—but still a beauty.

Her pristine white robe trembled violently as a yellow stain spread across it. She’d wet herself from fear.
I took a step forward. She collapsed, sniffling and begging.

“N-, no… don’t kill me…”

A mage who can’t cast is basically powerless—especially a human.
Facing a werewolf who’d just slaughtered three of her comrades, she had no hope of survival.

“Please, I-, I’ll do, anything, please…”

So, she was surrendering?
One must always be cautious against mage, But she couldn’t use spells for a while, and at this distance, I’d strike first no matter what.

I judged it safe and offered her a choice.

“If you refuse a warrior’s death, then only a shameful life remains. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes! Yes, anything! Just don’t kill me!”

Even I couldn’t bring myself to kill a crying girl who’d pissed herself in fear.
She might prove useful if she’s alive better than dead, so I spared her.
First, interrogation.

“Who’s your employer?”

Their equipment was all high-grade, magical stuff.
Magical swords and armor are not so easy to create, both technologically and financially. And yet, the more you use it, the more chipped and damaged the blade becomes. They’re not something you just give to individual.

“Whoever equipped you like this and passed you off as ‘heroes’—tell me who they are.”

Trembling, she finally answered.

“T-the… Senate…”
“I see.”

It made sense.
The Senate, the real power behind the government of the Miradlia city-states, could easily afford this kind of gear. They also had a motive to fabricate heroes.

“Propaganda, huh.”
“Propa… what?”
“A publicity stunt—to boost the alliance’s morale.”

I rephrased, and she nodded over and over, eyes wide with fear.

Dang, it wasn’t my role to defeat them… If we’d had Division Commander Tiberit handle this, he could’ve blown them away in one strike and boosted the 2nd Division’s morale at the same time.