Chapter 49
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Wild Hunt (2)
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Ignatius's great disciple wore a horrified expression at the command to open the barrier.
"I-Impossible! Even for Grand Duke Zahav, how could you face that many undead alone...?"
"You know what they say? Bullying the weak is House Zahav's specialty."
...Well, I'm not actually from House Zahav.
Still, I only said it because I think I can pull it off.
"To be honest, even Mortheus gives me pause. I know from Ignatius that he can't use magic..."
"He can't cast spells, but his Dragon Heart remains. He just channels that immense mana into releasing deathly aura or strengthening and moving his massive body."
"Just as I thought. I'm confident in raw power, but I can't ignore the sheer difference in scale."
No matter how hard I've worked to survive and grow stronger with aura, grappling with that colossal monster feels a bit much.
Even if it's just bones now, it was once a great dragon called the Dragon Lord.
But the other undead are a different story. I know they were great heroes in life... but they're still human-sized, and their pure physical specs aren't inferior to mine.
So, it's worth a shot.
"If we keep going like this, we'll end up facing the Wild Hunt bare-handed without accomplishing anything. Might as well try something."
"...Understood. The Magic Tower will join Grand Duke Zahav's plan. The high-ranking mages, including myself, will focus on restraining Mortheus, but every mage below that rank will support Your Excellency."
"Music to my ears."
I smirked and propped one foot on the railing. Just as I was about to jump down.
"And."
"Hm?"
"We sincerely thank Grand Duke Zahav for your dedication."
The great disciple bowed deeply, even as he struggled with the magitech beyond his capabilities.
It made me feel oddly ticklish, so I grumbled curtly.
"...Nobles bear duties. It's only natural."
"...!"
I deliberately avoided looking at the great disciple's reaction and threw myself over the railing.
I landed safely with a simple roll and headed toward the barrier. Seeing Karen still following me from below, I waved her off.
"Karen, Karen. You're not weak, but you're outclassed this time."
"But..."
"I'm not telling you to sit back and watch. You're fast on your feet, right? Grab some potions from the mages and toss them to me. That'll be enough."
"Toss potions...? What exactly are you planning, Patriarch?"
"You'll see."
I shrugged and approached the front of the barrier. It was the most visible spot from anywhere in the Magic Tower, as confirmed by the command center.
Thud. Thooom!
Dull impacts relentlessly hammered the barrier. Beyond the translucent mana, bony limbs and rusted, broken weapons flew at it and were repelled.
From now on, all of that would be gunning for my neck.
"Bring it on."
I deliberately curled my lips into a grin to steel my resolve. Then I casually waved toward the great disciple as a signal.
Just like with Karen, the mages' curious stares quickly turned to shock. It didn't take long.
Craaaack.
With a sound like tearing frozen vinyl, part of the barrier split open on its own.
At the same time, a chill seeped through the narrow gap.
A cold utterly foreign to the south. An artificial chill laced with death aura. I fixed my gaze ahead and opened my mouth.
"Karen. First order of this battle."
"...Yes, sir."
"This is colder than I thought. Ask the mages to cast some warming spells."
"Understood."
Only then did Karen realize what I was up to. With a stiff expression, she kicked off the ground.
She headed to the group below the elders—mages on par with or slightly stronger than Maykin.
The moment Karen left, the finger-width crack exploded open.
Craaaash!
A deafening noise, and a clear fissure appeared before me. Exactly wide enough for one person, as requested.
...In other words, just small enough that if one person plugged it, no one else could get through.
"Nice skills."
I cackled and swung at the first skeleton clambering through the gap.
I circulated my aura but didn't concentrate it in my fist. I was holding back to gauge their level.
Boom!
The skeleton blocked my punch with the flat of its axe.
The axe shattered, but its bony body was unscathed. No flesh meant no damage from flying shards.
But what surprised me wasn't the unexpectedly sturdy rusted weapon or the skeleton's resilience to sharp debris.
"It blocked?"
Even holding back, a plain-looking skeleton had blocked my punch. That alone shocked me.
"I see. So that's what 'heroes' corpses' means."
The skeleton tossed aside the broken axe haft and charged, ripping off one of its own arms.
Even that blunt bone somehow evoked the shape of an axe. A testament to its perfect form.
I focused on its slashing arm... and drew up my aura.
Vrrr—
The pattern started at my heart, snaking up my arm. Buff spells from the Magic Tower rained down just in time.
The death-chilled air no longer bit, every scene in my vision slowed slightly, and unprecedented power surged through my muscles.
"Hup...!"
With a short shout, I lowered my stance and slipped inside the skeleton's guard. I felt its swung arm graze my shoulder, but the impact glanced off harmlessly.
Seizing the opening, I clamped down hard on its skull.
Crunch.
It resisted for a moment, then shattered easily.
The headless body collapsed like any undead.
But that wouldn't end it. Even decapitated, the Wild Hunt's abundant death aura would revive it soon, or so I'd heard.
Sure enough, the once-lifeless death aura acted with intent, gathering the debris and pulling it inward.
And through the emptied space, the next undead thrust its head forward and charged.
"Makes sense, thinking about it."
This death aura around us stemmed from Mortheus himself. It must carry his will.
I smirked and thrust my fist at the next skeleton.
Boom!
I smacked aside the flat of its thick greatsword, then aimed a kick at its waist as it staggered.
"Kuh!"
But as if this were routine, the skeleton deftly twisted and countered with bare-handed combat.
I'd gone for the kick, but suddenly I was the one about to eat a punch.
"Not happening...!"
I wrenched my waist forcibly, dodging the incoming fist by a hair's breadth. Then I sank my teeth into the arm that grazed my nose.
Crunch!
Using the snap of its arm bone as my cue, I twisted my body. The skeleton, caught in my jaws, traced a perfect arc and slammed into the ground.
-...!
Blue soulfire flickered in its empty sockets, conveying dismay, but I had no time for that.
Slam!
I stomped its sprawled skull to pieces, then hefted the now-masterless greatsword and swung wide at the next foe emerging from the fissure.
Not all skeletons were as seasoned as the last; this one shattered without resistance.
Thanks to that, I glimpsed the countless soulfires undulating beyond the crack.
Blind hostility. And woven within, a hint of sense of duty.
"I get it."
They surely fought for a greater cause and died crying out for tomorrow.
And nothing had changed now.
To them, their vision clouded by Mortheus, I must appear as an evil that must be felled at all costs.
No one acknowledged them, and even in death, they were mere tools.
Yet those standing here were undeniably heroes. So I had only one thing to do.
"Come at me."
I'll be the opponent for your unfinished war.
Whether they understood my words or were swept by undead instinct.
Numerous soulfires blazed fiercely, spewing eerie wails.
I blocked the ceaselessly emerging skeletons and swung my fists without pause.
Clashing techniques. Keenly opposed wills. And starkly divided victors.
It was a space barely wide enough for one person... but this was undoubtedly a battlefield.
"H-He's insane..."
Maykin, talented enough to become Ignatius's disciple but still limited to mid-tier magic due to insufficient training.
She stood among the combat mages, pouring all her mana into blasting the undead pounding the barrier.
She cast spells frantically, cast more, chugged mana potions when she ran dry, and squeezed out more magic...
Everything was grueling, but what wore her down most was something else.
This wasn't her first Wild Hunt, but facing it without her master was.
As anxiety over victory gnawed at her mind, she saw it.
Dead center, visible from anywhere in the Magic Tower. Enoch standing before it, single-handedly luring the undead and smashing them bare-fisted.
"Reckless... Even House Zahav can't hold out until Master awakens... And this isn't even his fight—why go this far...?"
Incomprehensible. But the moment she saw Enoch's back—so steadfast firmer than any spell—she realized.
"Ah."
Enoch was House Zahav's patriarch.
And House Zahav was a grand ducal house like Ignatius's.
The empire's final bastion, wielding power far beyond mortals like her.
...And with that power, they nobly fulfilled their duties, sacrificing themselves willingly.
Maykin—young, inexperienced, but high in hierarchy as Ignatius's disciple—shouted as if entranced.
"E-Everyone, stop! From now on, we're focusing on Grand Duke Zahav, not the undead!"
Because Enoch's presence was more vital than any barrier.
And similar scenes were unfolding throughout the Magic Tower.