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As the situation shifted, Lieselotte and Viola heightened their vigilance several notches, but surrounded and immobilized, there was little they could do. They could barely keep their minds focused on the circumstances when a panicked voice broke through—Cestlavie’s, strained and desperate, like a rooster being strangled.

“This isn’t some run-of-the-mill opponent! He’s definitely undead but on a different level from wraiths, specters, or phantoms. He’s at least a Lich!”

Seeing one of the anti-evil talismans he kept on him ignite and burn to ashes in an instant, Cestlavie’s forehead broke out in a cold, heavy sweat.

Everyone else who managed to maintain consciousness had the same reaction, collectively gasping in horror, their faces turning a deadly shade of white. Unlike regular undead, a Lich is a sorcerer or priest who has mastered magic or ancient religious rituals in life and achieved eternal life through their own power. Such beings were classified as SS rank—calamitous threats that could potentially bring entire nations to ruin.

There was no way they could win.

Despair spread in their hearts, but it seemed the dire situation wasn’t as bad as it could be—until the next words from their foe plunged them into true hopelessness.

“Kah-hah-hah-hah! To compare me with such lowly beings—how far the standards of modern sorcerers and priests have fallen! Listen well! I am Igoronak, the Evil God—the No-Life King who has transcended both life and death!!”

That declaration erased any trace of hope, severing the last threads of courage from everyone present, including Luke, who stood atop the bell tower.

No-Life King was the highest rank among Lichs, his power rivaling that of Angels, Devils, Elder Dragons, and even True Vampires. Such a being was practically a myth, a legend. Only multiple SS-rank adventurers or an entire regiment from the Cardinal Rose Superempire could hope to defeat him, and in such an event, the continent’s map would undoubtedly be redrawn.

As the black-cloaked figure—Igoronak the No-Life King—reveled in the waves of negative emotions radiating from those around him, his gaze shifted toward the closed doors of the church’s sanctuary.

“Hmm… it seems some lambs are hiding inside.”

With a casual flick of his left hand—

“ “ “ “ “GYAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!” ” ” ” ”

The thick brick wall was blasted apart with a thunderous roar, sending debris flying. The students and clergy who had sought refuge inside huddled together, trying to flee, but a single glare from Igoronak froze them in terror, causing them to collapse in place.

That they had only collapsed was, in a sense, a mercy—not out of kindness, but more like a cat playing with its prey before the kill, indulging in sadistic pleasure.

As Igoronak descended to the ground, he moved slowly and deliberately, taking his time as he walked toward the group. The trembling students, desperate to escape, shoved one another aside, forming a tangled, pitiful mass as they struggled in vain to distance themselves from him.

“Get out of my way!”
“No! No!”
“Let go! Who’s grabbing me?!”
“You’re a guy, aren’t you? Go face it!”
“You’re all in my way!”

In the midst of this chaos—

“You! Stay back and hold him off!” Fueled by panic-induced strength, the Student Council President, Barry Carter, screamed hysterically.

“Huh?” One of the council members, Elias, was kicked by Barry, his face blank with confusion as he tumbled right in front of Igoronak.

“Hmm, not much life force… but it’ll do as an appetizer.”

Without any particular emotion, Igoronak extended his left hand toward the boy, his tone and movements coldly indifferent.

“Huh? Wha…?”

Elias, still unable to grasp the gravity of his situation, stared blankly at the approaching hand, his legs giving out beneath him as he remained frozen in fear.

Igoronak seemed completely unaffected by the boy’s panic—his actions were as routine as picking up a dish from a table. His hand continued to reach out.

“Damn you—!”
“Rapid!”

Luke managed to gather enough wind to form a blade, slashing toward the seemingly defenseless Igoronak, while Cestlavie sent forth a lightning-charged talisman. Both attacks hurtled towards their target…

“Kukuku… How futile, little insects. I’ll devour you after I’ve finished with my appetizer.”

Igoronak shrugged off their attacks without so much as a flinch, his tone condescending, as though scolding a child throwing a tantrum. The immense difference in power was clear, and Luke and Cestlavie, trembling with humiliation and fear, could only glare at Igoronak.

Satisfied that no further interference would come, Igoronak reached for Elias, who was already half-unconscious from terror.

Squish!!

In that instant, an enormous figure —a massive, pitch-black knight, clad in armor so heavy it seemed forged from solid iron plates— descended from above. With his back turned to the spectator, the knight crushed Igoronak beneath its weight, pressing him halfway into the ground.

“ “ “…Huh?” ” ”

Luke, Cestlavie, and Elias could only let out stunned, bewildered voices.

“ “ “ “ “……” ” ” ” ”

A tense silence fell over the scene, broken only by the sound of wings beating as a giant, wolf-like beast descended from the sky. The sudden appearance of this new figure heightened everyone’s alertness, but Luke’s face lit up with joy as he quickly recognized the person riding on the beast’s back.

“…Couldn’t you handle this a bit better? You’ve completely ruined the moment,” the maid with orange hair, seated on the back of the beast, complained with a displeased expression as she glanced down at the armored knight sprawled out in a large X-shape on the ground.

“It couldn’t be helped. It was an accident. The reins snapped under the weight… a most unfortunate incident. Though I will admit there was a little intent behind it,” replied the girl seated in front of the beast. She had long, waist-length hair that was a delicate shade of pink-gold, and her breathtaking beauty gave off an air of fragility and elegance. A simple gold tiara adorned her head, a subtle accessory that only enhanced her striking looks.

She wore a white robe embroidered with intricate golden patterns, and even through the robe, her flawless figure was evident. Combined with her appearance, her presence was nothing short of overwhelming.

“So,” she continued, gazing down from above at the undead wandering aimlessly around the church, her expression somewhat melancholic. “Those undead… they’re failed experiments that escaped, aren’t they? Is there a way to defeat them?”

“Simple purification should do the trick. After all, corpsegrass is just another form of undead,” the maid responded casually.

“Understood. But before that, we need to wake up those who have fallen,” the girl said, nodding. The tip of her magic staff gleamed with a dazzling healing light.

“「The Great Healing Hand shall kindle your flame of life.」” The light expanded to cover the entire church, illuminating everyone who had collapsed. “—Regeneration.”

The bodies of those who had been in a state of unconsciousness began to glow. The pale skin regained its color, and groans of recovery could be heard from all around.

It was an unprecedentedly large-scale and effective healing spell.

“Unbelievable…”

An elderly monk, who had been watching the scene with wide eyes, staggered out of the church with unsteady steps. He seemed to stumble, dropping to his knees on the ground. With an overwhelmed expression, he looked up at the girl and began to cry tears of joy.

“O-o-o-o-oh…! That beautiful visage, that power, never once did I forget, it’s Lady Clara the Shrine Maiden Princess!!”

He trembled with joy and bowed deeply.

Author’s note:

“Either way, why don’t we name it the “Ultimate Attack — Jet-Black Dark Meteorite” for the Bartholomew-Dropping-Technique?”
“All you did was just let him fall, you know?!”

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After the earth-shaking impact finally subsided, Luke suddenly witnessed a massive pillar of light rising from the surface of Quartz Lake into the night sky from the highest bell tower of St. Campbell Church.

The light wasn’t one of the primary colors—red, green, or blue—nor was it a rainbow-like red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, or violet. It could only be described as a “black light,” an eerie, sinister glow that made anyone who looked at it feel nauseous.

“What is that!? What’s happening? Could Jill possibly be there…?”

Luke had guessed correctly, driven by his instinct as a boy in love. However, it wasn’t because of any particular intelligence or intuition on his part. Rather, his mind had been so consumed by thoughts of the girl he loved that he followed this overly simplistic logic: strange event = related to Jill’s disappearance = Jill must be there.

In other words, he hadn’t arrived at the correct answer through reasoning; the correct answer had simply come to him by happenstance.

Resisting the urge to rush out immediately, he focused all his energy on maintaining the wind barrier protecting the church—an intense storm-like wind that engulfed the building. This was, of course, not a natural phenomenon, but one born from Luke’s pledge to the wind spirits, who answered his call.

Sweat dripped down his face only to be blown away by the wind, while his golden hair—like a crown that usually drew cheers from female students as he walked through the academy grounds—fluttered wildly. His blue eyes, usually filled with melancholy and kindness, now bore a deep exhaustion and weariness.

Peering through the wind barrier, Luke saw undead creatures emerging one after another from between the trees, marching in a straight line toward the church, surrounding it.

Under the glow of the church’s lights, Luke recognized their faces and equipment. Many of them had once been the adventurers introduced to him as part of a group bearing a crest of swords and wheels, now reduced to these wretched forms.

“—Damn. Were they wiped out?”

For a moment, the worst-case scenario—total annihilation—flashed through Luke’s mind, but fortunately, it seemed that fear was unfounded.

He spotted adventurers holding torches or casting magical light, along with soldiers, though whether they belonged to the national army or were the lord’s private troops was unclear. Their uniformed equipment made it obvious they were professional soldiers, and they were chasing down the undead from behind.

“Surround them!”
“Burn them! Use this wind to our advantage!”
“Don’t let them near the church!”

Hearing their brave shouts even through the wind barrier, Luke sighed in relief.

Though it was too early to fully relax, from his vantage point above, it was clear that the number of undead was steadily decreasing thanks to the overwhelming numbers and superior skill of the adventurers and soldiers. Even the large masked ogre, the most concerning threat, seemed to be slowing down.

It looked like they were finally escaping this nightmarish battle. As soon as things settled, he could go search for Jill… With that thought in mind, he glanced once more toward the lake, only to find that the pillar of light had vanished without him noticing.

—bathump!

Oddly enough, it was now—after the light disappeared—that Luke felt something far more ominous than when it had appeared. His heartbeat surged in alarm, and he prepared to send out a gust of wind to investigate when—

“Nyaa!?”

Sechs, who had been perched on his shoulder, suddenly let out a deathly wail and, nearly falling from the tower, scrambled to hide behind a column, curling up and trembling violently.

What’s wrong!? Luke thought, but before he could even voice his question, the wind barrier he had been maintaining shattered like a soap bubble.

His senses as a wind user picked up the sound of the wind spirits screaming in terror as they fled.

“What… what is this…?”

Despite it not being winter, Luke’s entire body began to shiver uncontrollably, and his teeth chattered.

Without knowing why, he leaned against the nearest column, trying to support his legs, which threatened to give out beneath him.

If he let his guard down for even a second, he felt as though he might fall straight down from the tower.

And then—

“Oh, a spirit user, is it? Interesting. You’re still somewhat inexperienced, but your life force and magic are plentiful. Most importantly, your mind is untainted. A pure and righteous spirit, indeed.”

A gloomy, oppressive voice that seemed to shake not just the ears but the very soul echoed from nowhere in particular.

Luke’s eyes darted around, searching for the source, but before he could find it, that thing appeared in the front yard of St. Campbell Church—suddenly materializing in midair, at the same height as the bell tower. In an instant, the church’s barrier was reduced to ash.

“ “ “ “ “WHA——?!” ” ” ” ”

The barrier, though weakened by the fierce assault of the undead and the large ogre, Gus, was still one of the strongest in existence. After all, it had been reinforced by none other than the shrine maiden Clara herself.

Moreover, the truth was that only the outermost layer of the barrier had been on the verge of breaking. The exorcists of the church and the academy’s instructors had all predicted that the multi-layered protection around the entire church wouldn’t be breached in a single night.

Yet, it had been torn apart in an instant, like a fragile paper balloon!

What is that thing!?

Naturally, every gaze was drawn to the figure—cloaked entirely in black, with a single arm visible beneath the robe—hovering in midair.

“Heh heh heh heh heh…”

In response, the mysterious figure lifted its face from beneath the hood, and its eyes gleamed with a sinister light.

“ “ “ “ “—————” ” ” ” ”

In an instant, before anyone could even resist, their consciousness was snatched away, and they collapsed like a doll with its strings cut.

“Ugh…”
“D-damn you…”
“Ugh…”
“Monster…”
“This…is no joke…”

The only ones who managed to withstand it were Luke, Cestlavie, Lieselotte, and Viola, along with a few adventurers and instructors. Even so, they were barely able to stay on their feet.

When Luke glanced down, he saw countless flies, mosquitoes, and other insects lying dead at his feet. It was clear that they had perished from a mere brush with this unknown power. It wasn’t surprising that humans with weaker wills had fainted.

“…This seems a bit beyond us, does it not?” Lieselotte, who rarely showed weakness, muttered as she surveyed the fallen adventurers and soldiers around them, lying motionless but still alive.

Beyond her, with the barrier gone, the undead were slowly advancing, and Viola forced a bitter smile. “Indeed, we are practically sitting ducks. Honestly, I always thought if I had to go, it’d be surrounded by beautiful ladies, dying in peace.”

Unfortunately, the only people lying around her were rugged men. Viola shrugged once more, muttering, “What a pity.”

Listening to their conversation, it almost seemed as though there was still hope. But in reality, they were far beyond a desperate situation—on the brink of being snuffed out. The undead were so close that their foul, rotting breath—if they had any—could be felt on their cheeks.

Meanwhile, they could barely move. The only reason Viola and Lieselotte could still make snide remarks was their extraordinary courage. As for the leader of the adventurer group—a man named Orland, second-in-command of the Steel Wagon—he was on the verge of panic, letting out a scream like a teenage girl as he frantically tried to crawl backward.

“Wait,” a voice commanded from the figure cloaked in black. “I must replenish the life force and magic I lack. Leave those still breathing alive. They shall serve as my sacrifices.”

In obedience to those words, the undead froze in place, halting like wind-up dolls that had run out of power, crouched in their positions.

Lieselotte and the others swallowed hard at the sight.

This man—likely a man—had complete control over the undead. Even the Great Ogre Gus knelt humbly, bowing his head to the ground like a servant before a king.

“…So this is the mastermind?”
“This aura, this miasma… clearly, we’re dealing with something far beyond a mere necromancer.”