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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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