The Third Brother
The greatest barrier standing between them and the Northern God.
Named Undead known as living terror.
Collectively called the Three Brothers.
The moment the Brothers' approximate positions were pinpointed, the North sprang into motion.
The war was being readied in silence. The warriors gave up their drink, inspected their weapons, and slept soundly through days of deep, uninterrupted rest. Supplies traveled quietly in carts disguised as a peddler's wares.
Only the Grand Duchess kept firing her gale arrows as she always did. She was the North's greatest asset, the one who most ought to be conserving her strength — but what mattered most was making sure the Northern God sensed nothing amiss.
This war rested, above all else, on one precondition: it had to be a surprise attack.
The cunning Northern God was already wary of the Grand Duchess's arrows. If anything seemed out of the ordinary, it might catch wind of what was coming.
Simon, too, threw himself even harder into his Legion Commander training.
With battle looming, the Grand Duchess's training grew even harsher. From her, Simon learned to feel more telepathy at once, and to command ever larger numbers of undead simultaneously.
And the truth was that moving a Legion was nothing like handling ordinary summoned undead.
Even the way the telepathy connects is different.
The Legion's undead moved on Simon's jet-black energy, and their cores were built from that same jet-black. In a manner of speaking, they felt as close as his own flesh.
When he touched their minds, there was none of that unavoidable, instinctive distance — the unease that a living being felt whenever it reached toward the dead.
It took little effort, and devoured little of his mental strength.
The Grand Duchess's lessons were difficult, yet strangely enough, her words had always proved correct in the field. The moment Simon applied her teachings mid-battle, they finally began to become his own.
All I can do is work hard until it's second nature.
And so, with training driving the days forward —
the day of war arrived.
Thrum-thrum-thrum!
In the early hours of dawn, while the townsfolk still slept, hoofbeats thundered through the inner walls of Bilkenos. This time, not even a war horn sounded to announce the muster.
"May you return safely, Grand Duchess."
"And who, pray tell, is worrying over whom?"
The North's forces were split into two armies.
The regular forces, centered on the warriors led by Grand General Ganiro.
And the undead legions of the 2nd Legion, led by the Grand Duchess.
At present, the warriors were scattered across the North under cover of various missions. The moment the Grand General's horn rose and Ganiro marched north, those scattered troops would converge one by one, forming a vast host.
The Grand Duchess's Legion was the same. Once she began her march, every undead of the 2nd Legion within reach of her telepathy would come flocking to her.
"Then."
The Grand Duchess turned to look back.
"I leave Bilkenos in your hands."
Simon, who had come to see her off, pressed a hand to his chest.
"Leave it to me! I'll hold this place down somehow, so don't worry — just focus on the battle."
"Good."
She nodded once and pulled on her helm. The entire atmosphere shifted in an instant, a savage gleam flashing in her eyes.
Soon after, with a rough war cry, the 2nd Legion marched to war.
Alright. Time for me to move too.
The Grand General would take the First. The Grand Duchess, the Second.
The problem was the Third.
If the North committed its full strength to war in the Frost Field, it was a foregone conclusion that the Third would invade the now-empty northern territory.
For every Grand Duchess in the North's history, their true duty had never been 'slaying the Northern God'. It had always been 'protecting the North'.
The Northern God knew this as well — which was why it could send the Third toward Bilkenos, pressuring the Grand Duchess to come home. The Third's march was, by its very nature, a demonstration of force.
But this time, and this time only, the Grand Duchess would not be coming home to defend it. Waiting in the North was a hidden force: Simon, and the 7th Legion.
"[Lord Commander! We have arrived at our destination.]"
"Good work guiding us here, Erze."
Simon had not remained on standby at Bilkenos — he had slipped outside the walls.
His destination was a secret encampment. It had once been a human village, it seemed, but war had left it in ruins.
It was here that Simon pitched his tents and deployed his legion-type undead throughout the surrounding area.
"[I shall take my leave!]"
Erzebet departed with her corpse spiders to weave barriers and webs around the camp.
"[Young Master. I have brought them.]"
Akemus came flapping down into the camp, and behind him appeared the Named Undead Simon had acquired in the North.
Most notably the Gourmet and One-Eyed. Those two were far too massive to tuck into a hyperdimensional pocket, so he'd left them on standby in the northern mountains instead.
"Hello, everyone."
The Gourmet and One-Eyed lumbered over. For all their monstrous visages, they groveled and fawned before Simon, their Legion Commander.
In the North, he had simply ordered the giant undead not to attack humans and turned them loose outside — convenient enough, since all he had to do was call on them when needed.
In no time at all, the encampment was crawling with undead of every shape and description. The Ancient Undead in charge of command were already bustling about their tasks.
All of this... is my force now.
Simon looked around with a face full of strange new emotion.
No matter how powerful the Northern God's Named Undead might be, with an army like this, he was confident he could win.
"[By the way.]"
Prince came shuffling over, having finished marshaling the zombies.
"[Is this Northern God guy running the Frost Field really that big a deal?]"
"Of course. He's a legendary existence — there's even a courtesy title reserved just for him."
"[Then if we catch him later, whose is he?]"
Simon scratched the side of his head and laughed.
"According to the treaty, whoever catches him first—"
Pier, who had been listening in silence, abruptly cut in.
KU-BOOM!
He slammed the Greatsword of Ruin in his hand into the ground and let out a sinister cackle.
"...Ha, haha."
Simon shrugged his shoulders.
"I'd say it's a bit premature to be talking like that."
There was no need to be counting victories already and squabbling over who got to keep the Northern God.
The Three Brothers still stood. For now, all they could do was give their all to what was right in front of them.
"[Lord Commander!]"
Erzebet returned and delivered her report, relaying what her corpse spiders had observed.
"[A host of undead is approaching our position.]"
"It's not the Third?"
"No, it's the offensive we've been seeing all along."
Simon turned his head.
"Who wants to go?"
Prince and Akemus volunteered at once — and so did Herseba, who had been slumped over her staff, hurriedly raising a hand made of sand.
"Erze. What kind of monsters?"
"[Zombies, my Lord. Mostly the corpses of snow goblins. There appears to be one Named-grade among them as well.]"
Snow goblins were small monsters, nothing particularly large.
And they had no means whatsoever of attacking from the air.
Simon turned to Akemus.
"I think it's better to strike fast from the air and pull back. Akemus, let's go clean them up together."
"[It is my honor, Young Master!]"
Prince clicked his tongue in annoyance, and Herseba's sandy body dissolved away into nothing.
The moment Simon leapt into Akemus's broad embrace, black wings spread wide and surged into the sky.
Flap-flap!
Flap-flap!
At the same moment, every Skullwing in the encampment took flight. The sky turned pitch-black as feathers drifted down in showers.
"Let's go!"
Not long after they had entered the camp.
Simon dispatched troops to block the undead swarming into the outlying villages, all the while conserving his strength as much as possible, waiting.
Then, at some point, the undead attacks simply stopped.
That phenomenon could mean only one thing.
From this point on, the timing was everything.
Simon pressed Erzebet's corpse spider squad to redouble their reconnaissance. And before long —
"[Lord Commander! The Third is leading a massive force this way!]"
Just as he had expected.
Simon ordered Pier to move the troops, while he and Akemus set out together on a reconnaissance run — just the two of them.
He wanted to see the enemy's movements with his own eyes.
"[Departing now, Young Master!]"
Akemus flew low, hugging the ground with Simon in his arms.
As they passed over several villages, snow-capped mountains came into view.
And there it was.
— GRUUUURGH!
— KIIIIEEEEE!
A black horde of undead was pouring down in a endless column. Their varieties were as diverse as could be, and quite a few Named-grade undead were visible among them.
And then —
"[Young Master.]"
"Yes. I've spotted it too."
THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!
Simon had found the 'Third' of the Three Brothers.
He had never seen one in person before, yet he knew at a single glance that this was the Third.
THOOM! THOOM! THOOM! THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!
A giant that walked on two legs.
It ran with its elbows glued tight to its sides, its two legs kicking out in a frantic, scrambling gait. Its gums were bare and exposed around its mouth, its ears jutted straight upward, and true to its undead nature, hollowed-out scars pocked its body all over.
It resembled a human — a beastman, in particular.
Ugh.
Wrongness, and an inexplicable disgust, made Simon shudder.
The thing paid no heed to whether its allies on the ground were trampled or not as it scrambled recklessly along. Like a person desperate for the latrine, it pumped its thighs close together, barreling forward with a thunderous da-da-da, kicking trees out of its path as it ran.
Watching from the sky, Simon swallowed dryly.
This fight... might be harder than I thought.
"[Young Master.]"
Akemus pointed ahead.
"[I see humans over there.]"
"!"
It was true.
Far away, down a mountainside slope, several northern warriors were gleefully racing downhill.
"It's the Third! That's the Third for sure, right?"
"No doubt about it! It's definitely headed for Bilkenos!"
A rider appeared to be mixed in among them — a banner of the North was fluttering high. Simon's face drained to the color of ash.
What is this?! The Grand Duchess would have ordered every warrior in the North to stand by!
He wanted to fly in and stop them that very instant, but they were simply too far away. Worse, the Third had spotted them too, and was bounding toward them with thunderous leaps.
"Just plant the banner in its head, and we're done!"
The rider hoisted the banner aloft.
"Then the Grand Duchess finishes it off, and we go down in history as the heroes who saved Bilkenos!"
"Let's go!"
This invasion had been kept strictly secret, so the warriors who had not joined the campaign had no idea the Grand Duchess had even entered the Frost Field.
Simon hurried to move and rescue them —
KIIIIIIIING!
The Third was one beat faster. As its jaws gaped open, the air around it warped, and violet jet-black energy surged upward.
Simon screamed in desperation.
"Dodge!"
FWOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The jet-black beam that erupted from the Third's mouth swept across the mountainside, shearing through boulders and slopes alike as earth and dust erupted skyward like an explosion.
"KHAGH!"
"KUAGH!"
More than half the warriors vanished without a trace in that single strike.
The rider, barely alive, jammed the banner into the ground and pushed himself upright.
"What in the— suddenly this is— Aah!"
A massive head loomed down through the cloud of dust.
— KIRIRIRIRING!
SNATCH!
The giant hooked its index and middle fingers around the rider's legs. The rider's body shot up to a height of several dozen stories in an instant.
"Curse you! Let go of me!"
The rider thrashed wildly, swinging the banner about. The Third watched the spectacle with a flushed face — then plucked a nearby tree from the earth and laid it down on the ground.
And then.
WHUMP!
It brought the rider down against the tree.
CRUNCH!
Flesh and blood sprayed in all directions.
CRUNCH! SPLAT! SPLAT!
Blood poured out as the body in the Third's hand went limp, mangled beyond recognition. The Third lifted the tree, now stained red, and with a satisfied smile slid the ruined corpse of the rider right down between its clumps of matted hair, like seaweed clinging to a scalp.
— KEIRIRIRIRIRING!
Then it roared in satisfaction. At the sight, the remaining warriors lost their will to fight, one and all, collapsing where they stood.
"S-spare me...!"
CRUNCH!
Simon flew to the rescue aboard Akemus, but it was already too late.
Despite its enormous bulk, the Third toyed with the warriors with startlingly nimble movements, killing them one by one. It chewed off and ate their scalps, or tore away pieces of their bodies to adorn itself with.
"[Young Master!]"
Flap!
Akemus halted his flight and landed on a nearby peak.
"[You must pull yourself together!]"
"Ah— yes."
Simon pressed a trembling hand to his forehead. Then he let out a long breath and recovered his composure.
"If something like that reaches Bilkenos, it will be a catastrophe."
"[What will you do?]"
"We move to the point of ambush and prepare the trap."
Simon said, his face hard as stone.
"The Third — and not a single undead gets past us. Not one."
KIIIIIIIING—!
At that moment, Simon's gaze snapped back.
The Third was moving its jaws, mumbling something. Violet jet-black light was leaking from its mouth, tracing letters in the empty air.
That was, unmistakably —
Runic language!
An undead was drawing a dark magic circle in runes. Could it actually understand magical theory?
Just as Simon's face tightened and he stared hard ahead —
RUUUUMBLE—
A great eye rotated a full 180 degrees, fixing its gaze precisely on the direction where Simon was watching.
'!'
Simon felt his skin crawl from head to toe.
A sensation like a serpent slithering down his spine.
"[Danger! Young Master!]"
The instant Akemus wrapped himself around Simon, something detonated with a deafening roar.
'Kgh!'
For a moment, a shrill ringing flooded his ears. Fortunately, Akemus had borne the brunt of it with his own body.
"A-are you alright, Akemus?!"
"[Yes, I am unharmed.]"
Simon looked past him. The Third was letting out a gleeful 'KIRIRING!' of laughter.
The corner of Simon's mouth twisted.
So it wants to play, does it? Fine. Let's play.