Peace Contribution Rises by 5,620

Watching the undead vanish all at once beneath a spell that had looked like nothing special, one could hardly help a gasp of awe.

"Whoa..."

"That was Yujun, right? That spell?"

"So it would seem. In so short a span he has mastered yet another uncanny magic. Still, I would rather behold his swordsmanship than his spells..."

Dokgo Minsu murmured it with open regret.

Having seen what Absolute ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Turn Undead could do, Yujun frowned. The power is decent enough... but the mana cost is far too steep.

Eighty percent of his mana had been spent, and the elite of the undead legion had survived almost to the last. Another spell would have cut them down far more efficiently. Absolute Turn Undead killed quickly, yes, but it was hardly an efficient magic. Had he not been carrying such a monstrous reserve of mana, it would have ended at a few hundred dead.

Better to send a single powerful undead back than to slaughter a crowd.

A lesson, then. There was a reason Turn Undead had never been popular. No one had ever really thought of undead monsters as particularly strong to begin with, and who, having finally become a high-rank mage, would waste the spell on creatures people called the bullies of the early game?

I'll have to find another way.

Of course, Yujun had dozens of ways to bring the undead down. Hundreds. But if hunting them was about to become a regular affair, he needed one efficient technique.

What if I used Touch of Healing?

Touch of Healing, once mingled with Chaos, could serve as a weapon in its own right. There was no chance it would fail against the undead.

I may not even need Chaos.

The restorative power of Touch of Healing alone ought to be lethal to them. Turn that to the hunt, and he would take them with ease—and stack contribution all the faster.

Peace Contribution seems to rise by one, or two, or three for every undead.

A few hundred thousand, and he would almost certainly hold an overwhelming first. His rivals were every player on the Continent.

By then the fireballs hammering the shield had ceased. Only then did Yujun draw it back. The mana-guzzling hippo that had been steadily swallowing a vast tide of mana had, in effect, gone to sleep.

His companions prepared their own magic, ready to meet the undead from a distance. Manuela pressed in close at his side.

"Yujun. You're not actually thinking of walking in there yourself, are you?"

"No. Of course not."

Yujun turned over which spell to pair with Touch of Healing. Plenty would combine, and that only made the choice harder.

A field-type spell would probably serve best.

The magic itself did not need to be strong. What mattered was reach, and how cleanly it would mesh with Touch of Healing. Three candidates came to mind. He kindled each one small in his palm and tested them, and among the three was a spell that amplified the healing's effect.

This one's much better.

A satisfied smile touched his mouth as he looked out at the undead legion closing on the village. They were beginning to ready magic of their own, so time was short. There was no need to raise the shield over the village again. This would not be a long, indiscriminate bombardment like the fireballs before, and the mages inside had already noticed the shield was gone and thrown up barriers of their own here and there. Yujun judged his companion mages the better of the two sides in any case.

That was when Paranet spoke.

"Master."

"What?"

"Might this one go forth and fight?"

"Do as you like. If it looks like you're going to die, run with Space Movement."

"But of course!"

To think the coward would volunteer to be first into the undead host.

You've grown, Paranet.

Whether the fight had been itching in his bones, Paranet broke into a sprint the instant permission left Yujun's mouth. As a summon, the creature's death would cost him nothing at all. If it wanted to throw itself in first, that only made things easier—and every undead Paranet brought down would raise Yujun's Peace Contribution.

This is why you raise a summon.

He had never used them well back in the days when it was only a game, but Paranet had been nurtured extraordinarily well. He had not known a well-grown summon could fill him with quite so much pride.

He had not lifted a finger, and the contribution was already climbing. The hunt had begun.

Yujun prepared the spell he meant to weave through Touch of Healing.

Cold Wave.

A magic that raised a tide of ice and froze a stretch of ground solid. Its power, however, was nothing remarkable. Cast as his New-Generation Magic, it would not be weak, but it was still far from enough to sweep an undead legion.

I'm not trying to solve this with the spell's power anyway.

Cold Wave was only a vessel for Touch of Healing. More precisely, it was a spell meant to deliver that healing in bulk.

The legion had swollen even larger than it had been in the moment after Absolute Turn Undead. The liches were raising the dead without pause.

Didn't account for that.

Fail to wipe them out quickly, and the host would keep resurrecting. The liches, above all, had to be broken—and that was no simple matter. There were dozens of them, scattered in every direction, so taking them all at once was close to impossible.

Well. A wealth of liches makes for fine contribution farming.

Even so, there was no need just now to sit and wait while they revived the dead. Hunting other packs and moving on would stack contribution far faster. Better to save the liches for later, when few undead remained upon the Continent.

Contribution was not the only reason to kill as many as he could. The undead had a trait of their own: a poor item drop rate, paired with a peculiar abundance of experience for their level. The ones that had appeared this time were high-leveled for undead incapable of growth, which made them a superb well of experience for players.

A Cold Wave carrying Touch of Healing swept over the legion. The liches answered with shields, as he had known they would, and he already had a heavier art waiting.

Dozens of enormous fireballs took shape in the empty air. Hellfire.

Cold Wave advanced at a fairly slow pace. Hellfire reached the liches' shields first.

KRA-KRA-KRA-KRA—BOOM!

KRAAANG!

The roar filled the plain, loud enough that several players in the village clapped their hands over their ears. Paranet, deep in a chaotic melee among the host, startled and whipped around. Then, realizing the magic was his master's, he settled and threw himself back into the fight.

CRACK! CRUNCH!

The shield fifteen liches had raised together shattered without mercy the instant three Hellfires struck it. There was nothing precarious about the breaking. On impact, it simply blew apart.

And the Cold Wave following behind crashed straight into the undead.

The wave itself could not deal the legion a heavy blow. But the moment the Touch of Healing energy dripping from the ice made contact, the change began. The undead started to melt. It did not stop there. When one touched by the healing met another, that one's bones dissolved just as fast. Packed as tightly as they were, the entire host began to collapse in a breath.

The keen-minded liches sensed the ill omen and fled at once. The undead whose every ability had been dumped into combat could not.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

As expected, the power was outstanding. Ordinarily Touch of Healing worked best on direct contact, yet for reasons he could not name, the moment it bound itself to Cold Wave it delivered its true force even at range. He had not chosen a spell of modest power for nothing.

Peace Contribution climbed and climbed. Yujun smiled, satisfied, and looked to Paranet.

The summon was wholly untouched. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠If anything, Touch of Healing was pouring still more energy into him, for even among the undead it could tell friend from foe.

Good thing I didn't mix in Chaos. No need for it.

Watching the undead melt away left him feeling thoroughly refreshed. The liches that had fled the healing revived their dead in a panic, but any undead already struck could not rise again. They had melted clean; no bones remained. And even if bones had remained, the Touch of Healing dwelling in them refused an unjust resurrection.

Kanturo, Lich Lord of the host—once Magic Emperor, a man who had dreamed of conquering the Continent only to die an empty death upon the battlefield—stared in horror.

"That—what is that thing?"

An outstanding mage. That much he could see. But to keep the undead from rising again? Undead Revival wrought by a high-caliber lich could not be stopped even by a scattering of holy water. And this player? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠One spell, and he had neutralized an undead legion that was all but invincible. Worse, Kanturo could not begin to understand why they were being undone so helplessly.

He had always believed his knowledge of magic touched the heavens, and the blow to that pride was severe. Had some spell unknown to him been born in recent days? A magic so exquisite that he, the Magic Emperor, could not fathom even the principle by which it worked?

It is Cold Wave. Of that I am certain. The scale and the power were beyond imagining, and yet it never once stepped outside the specifications of Cold Wave.

The liquid dripping from the wave of ice had been the origin of it all.

"Fuck!"

Kanturo, renowned for his solemn dignity, spat the curse. There was no answer to be found. Even now, while the enemy did nothing at all, the undead legion was annihilating itself. From the instant Touch of Healing struck them, his authority to command had been severed clean, and so they would not heed even an order to keep from touching one another.

Raised again as undead, Kanturo had dreamed once more of the conquest of the Continent. Once again, that dream teetered on the edge of ruin.

He called the liches to him. Those who gathered in a heartbeat stared back, blank and dull. A moment ago they had seemed so keen of mind. Why did their eyes look so clouded now?

And then, between Lich Lord Kanturo and his liches, a man appeared—as if he had simply dropped out of the sky.