The Fourth Ancient Undead
Several dozen meters away from where Simon stood, hidden behind a curtain of illusion magic, Serne, Kajan, and Student Council President Phantasos had gathered.
"...This thing, is it actually reliable?"
Kajan prodded the curtain with a dissatisfied look, and Serne, who had been sitting beside him with her knees drawn up, answered with a sly grin.
"Of course! It may not look like much, but this is dark magic that blocks sound, blocks magic detection, and even muffles your presence. Don't you dare underestimate the Ivory Tower!"
"Right, right! A splendid illusion barrier!"
Phantasos gave a thumbs-up. "Hiding out like this takes me back to my first Mission Assessment as a freshman! Ah yes, that was a drizzly dawn, if I recall."
Contrary to his imposing appearance, Phantasos was quite the chatterbox. Serne and Kajan traded a look, only half listening to his rambling.
"The condition is that Simon comes alone, but the other side won't be coming alone either, will they?"
"Obviously not. And even in the unlikely event the prisoner exchange goes through smoothly—"
Kajan's expression turned grave. "Our orders from above are to capture Magnus."
"Your 'above' really does love giving impossible orders, don't they?" Serne flashed a foxlike smile. "Any interest in working for the Ivory Tower instead of Kizen?"
"No."
"Aww, how cruel. At least look at my face before you refuse."
"No."
While the two of them traded banter, Phantasos announced that the flow of mana lying in wait had shifted.
'A flow?'
Just as he said, something changed. A door materialized out of thin air.
'He's here!'
Simon's eyes sharpened. A single door, suddenly hanging in the empty sky—not so much a grand gate as an ordinary door you might find in any house.
Creeeak—
The door swung open, revealing a white expanse beyond. From within, accompanied by slow, heavy footsteps, someone was approaching.
White hair spilling down to his back. Pale skin. A man draped in a grey robe, collarbone and torso fully bared, barefoot, water dripping from his body.
Apparently he was wearing nothing under the robe. He looked for all the world like a man who had just stepped out of a bath.
'That man is...'
Tension crept into Simon's expression.
Uncontrollable. The prime mover behind countless incidents and catastrophes. A pleasure-killer who would murder first and consider his feelings later. And on top of it all, the 5th Legion Commander—the man who had even murdered a professor back in his days as a Kizen student.
'Magnus Alban.'
He was holding something chain-like in one hand. When he gave it a yank, a figure was dragged into view from beyond the door.
'!'
It was a being with black feathers. Half human, half bird. Rotting feathered wings shrouded its entire body, and its legs split into three taloned toes like a bird's. Its face was that of a middle-aged man—no beak, but the fierce glint of a bird of prey burned in its eyes.
Only, its condition looked dire. Blood trickled from wounds across its body, and a foul stench wafted off it.
This was Akemus, the Ancient Undead formerly of the 7th Legion—the king of aerial combat, commander of the 'Skullwings,' undead modified from harpies.
Taeng! Taeng!
When Magnus yanked the chain again, Akemus staggered, the links digging into his neck. Simon felt a deep, simmering fury rise from within Pier's thoughts.
"Hmm—"
Magnus glanced once at the Zombie Butler, still bound in spider web, then swept his gaze around every corner of the surroundings. "I distinctly remember telling you to come alone?"
Simon replied without a flicker of expression. "Those were my words to you."
Magnus grinned. Simon lifted the corner of his mouth in answer.
Two pillars of the Dark Alliance. Two Legion Commanders stared each other down, and then slowly began to laugh out loud.
The calm before the storm. Their laughter rolled and echoed across the vast empty plain, taut with tension. The moment either one tore open a subspace, this entire field would be blanketed pitch-black with undead and transformed into a battlefield.
"What a disrespectful little brat."
Magnus clicked his tongue with a dry, rasping chuckle. "I'm your senior Legion Commander and your senior from Kizen. Practically a direct line of succession between us, you could say."
"I've never had a senior like you."
Simon fired back without yielding. "More importantly—why do you keep coming after me?"
"Surely you know."
Magnus sneered. "I will have every Ancient Undead that exists in this world in my grasp."
'...As expected.'
That was likely a large part of why Magnus kept Simon's identity as the 'Legion Commander of Betrayal' hidden from the outside world. If Simon were ever arrested, the Legion Commander's seat must not pass into another necromancer's hands. Ironically, it was precisely because Magnus stayed so faithfully true to his own ambition that Simon could rest easy.
"You said you'd have every Ancient Undead, did you?" Simon fixed Magnus with a wary glare. "Even if that ambition of yours thins out the total number of Legion Commanders?"
"Oho. Worried the balance of power against the Holy Federation will collapse? Admirable thinking."
The man curled his lip. "But it's no problem at all. I'll simply do the work of all seven myself."
Simon's face scrunched up in disbelief. What kind of lunatic nonsense is that?
"Did you know? There used to be more than seven Legion Commanders, once."
Magnus strolled barefoot across the wasteland floor. "The Saintesses, on the other hand, have been fixed at seven all the way down. And when a Saintess dies, a new one is born—but not so for Legion Commanders. When an 'Administrator' is destroyed, the number of Legion Commanders dwindles with it. All the more reason, then!"
"However."
Magnus cut him off. "In the old days, it took two or three Legion Commanders to stand against a single Saintess. But nowadays, a Legion Commander and a Saintess are considered nearly equal in power. The gap keeps narrowing. And why do you suppose that is?"
"......"
This was the first Simon had ever heard of this history. He held his tongue and listened.
"Obvious, isn't it! Because today a single Legion Commander commands multiple Ancient Undead! As you well know, we Legion Commanders have no 'limit on numbers.' Seven commanders leading seven armies, or one commander leading seven armies—it's all the same! And when every Legion Commander finally becomes one—"
Magnus's eyes gleamed with ambition. "Not merely Legions, but the King of all undead! A being reborn to finally win the endless war against the Priests!"
Simon let out a long sigh. "That's just your opinion."
"You're still a greenhorn, so you simply can't grasp it. You need to learn more. Broaden your horizons, learn far, far more."
Magnus tapped his own brow with the tip of his index finger. "And on that note, as your direct senior, shall I teach you one thing? The true way to use an Ancient Undead."
"!"
In that instant, the Zombie Butler—bound in spider web and curse talismans—showed the whites of his eyes and began to writhe in agony.
Simon startled and whirled toward him.
Crack!Pop!
The Zombie Butler's body began to swell like a giant's, and at the same time the webbing began to come undone.
"Simon!!"
Kajan had already thrown aside the illusion curtain and leapt out, shouting. "Negotiations are over! Take him down!"
"Ah—yes, sir!"
The moment Simon re-gripped the Doom Greatsword—
-UooOOOORGH!
The bloated Zombie Butler spat a pale white liquid from his mouth.
Simon scrambled backward. It spread like white paint dropped onto clear water, and in the blink of an eye it swallowed the entire field.
Not just Simon—Magnus and Kajan found themselves standing within the white expanse as well.
"What the—"
Grind. Grind-grind-grind.
Countless zombies began clawing their way up out of the white floor. They were the elite soldiers that had given Pentamonium so much grief—the zombies shaped like the 'Baekgwi,' the White Demons.
'This many, all at once?!'
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
Magnus threw his shoulders back and roared with mad laughter. Just then, light flashed across the sky, and Student Council President Phantasos descended.
SssshaaaaaaAAA!
As a wall of black water crashed down from the heavens, Magnus slipped both hands inside his robe and simply tilted his head up with a smirk.
Krak! Krak! Krak!
His shadow swelled and erupted, becoming countless shadow monsters with eyes and teeth that surged upward to meet the falling tide.
KWAAAKWAAKWAAAKWAA!
Sea and shadow. The two forces collided with such ferocity that it looked like the end of the world.
"So that's you."
Magnus gazed lazily at Phantasos, eyes glinting. "The 'masterpiece' that the Witch of Death has supposedly been touting lately. To think you'd try to put me to sleep. How amusing."
Tang!
Just then, Magnus's gaze snapped around. Simon was charging straight at him, the Doom Greatsword raised high.
"HAAAAAAA!"
"Tough one, aren't you?"
As Magnus grinned and raised a hand, the fanged shadows converged and wrapped around it. In moments, a black sword of bizarre design had materialized in his grip.
The distance between the two closed in an instant.
KAAAAAAAANG!
The moment the two Legion Commanders' swords met, the world shook, the clouds split apart, and the very axis of the earth warped.
Simon shouted through pain that felt like both his arms were about to tear from their sockets. "NOW! Prince!"
Whoosh!
Prince had already burst from hiding and bolted away with the shackled Akemus in tow.
[Hah-hah! Akemus is ours!]
Kagak!
Magnus—one hand holding back Phantasos's waves, the other locked blades with Simon—let out a short snort of laughter. "Ah—don't worry. I came fully intending to carry out the prisoner exchange."
"What?"
Grrrk... grrrk...
The limp Zombie Butler had begun sinking into the white swamp.
"I'll return Akemus to you. The stubborn fool never listens to a word I say anyway, and sooner or later—"
His eyes flashed with a chill that crawled down the spine. "[He will be mine. All of them will.]"
Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, Magnus's body plunged down into the white swamp and vanished.
Simon's swinging greatsword and Phantasos's waves slammed hard into the ground where he'd disappeared, but all they did was split the innocent earth.
"He slipped away!"
Phantasos cried out in frustration. With Magnus gone, the white floor receded and the surroundings returned to normal.
Simon wiped his mouth with his sleeve and turned around.
[Akemus! Wake up! Akemus!]
Prince was shaking the unconscious Akemus, trying to rouse him. Simon rushed over at once, and Erzsébet, who had been lurking nearby, joined them.
'...He's been through hell.'
Traces of torture were visible everywhere. His whole body was drenched in black blood; the collar around his neck bristled with spikes on both the inside and the outside. Burn marks and clawed wounds scored his flesh in a dozen places.
Simon swallowed dryly. 'He endured all of this torture... and still held out to the very end, refusing to join Magnus's Legion?'
Barely had the thought crossed his mind when Akemus's eyes snapped open.
'!'
Both arms rose, seized Simon by the shoulders, and yanked him powerfully forward. Simon's startled body lurched toward him—but Pier sent a signal telling him to relax.
Akemus's huge face drew close, and deep russet eyes began to scan Simon's face from every angle.
[...Ah.]
Soon those russet eyes began to tremble with emotion.
[You look exactly like him.]
"I'm sorry?"
[You look just like Lord Richard.]
In Akemus's eyes, the image of Richard in his childhood Kizen uniform overlapped with Simon's own.
[Forgive my disloyalty, Young Master!]
THUD!
The massive body moved. He dropped to his knees and slammed his forehead into the ground with a resounding crack.
[This humble Akemus begs pardon—took far, far too long to join the 7th Legion.]
Simon's eyes brimmed with gratitude, and with relief. Pier at last let out a great booming laugh, while Prince and Erzsébet exchanged quiet, knowing smiles.
"You've suffered enough, Akemus. For now, just get yourself back on your feet."
Simon nodded toward Pier as he tore open an enormous subspace, and Pier stepped forward to help Akemus up.
[What joy, to fight at your side once more! Akemus!]
Akemus nodded. [The same goes for me. My long-lost comrade-in-arms.]
At last—the fourth Ancient Undead had joined the 7th Legion.