Six Spears Into the Abyss
With the Grand Duke gone to Bilkenos, the Northern army began its retreat soon after.
In the meantime, Simon gathered the remaining forces of the 7th Legion, slipped out through the back routes, and dug in behind the mountain range. Erzebet wove an airtight barrier around them, and there they waited, quiet as mice, for a long while. All reconnaissance was handled exclusively by the corpse spiders.
Then—
[Lord Commander!]
Erzebet came rushing in with a new report.
[The Northern God's undead forces are finally on the move! They're swarming after the retreating Northern army!]
Simon nodded.
"Good. That's our window to strike."
The core of the plan was simple: while the Northern God's forces were busy with the Northern army, the 7th Legion would cross the mountains and reach the 'true Abyss' where the God lurked in a single push.
Simon turned his head.
"I'm counting on you, Herseba."
Herseba appeared, turning an aerial somersault out of the sky.
[Leave it to me, kid!]
Sand poured from her staff and shaped itself into a woman's form. She stretched out her arm, and Simon stretched out his.
Their hands met, and both closed their eyes.
Thump—
The instant his thoughts touched hers, he felt the deep pulse of jet-black energy. The emotions of a woman lost in memory came flooding in like a tide.
Longing. Yearning. An aching devotion.
Simon affirmed every last one of her feelings.
Go, Herseba.
And with his thoughts, he lent her his own imagination as well—the fragments of memory she had spoken of, so she could recall them more vividly and unfold them anew.
Kuuuuuuuuguuuuugu!
Across the canvas-white plains of the snow mountains, golden sand spread like scattered sesame seeds. It rippled and rolled like waves, and before long the shapes of rooftops were springing up everywhere across the terrain.
[Oh-ho.]
[That's incredible, Sand Auntie!]
The Ancient Undead beside him let out sounds of admiration, and a smile tugged at the corner of Simon's mouth.
The expansion of the World of Sand.
Herseba's authority, the 'World of Sand,' was something achieved by inviting others into her own dungeon.
But this time, she was unmistakably expanding her ability in the real world to the level of the 'World of Sand' itself.
Kuguuuuugu!
In the very heart of the blizzard-wracked Frost Field, a desert city made of sand unfolded.
Once it had built up to a certain scale, the sand city detached from the ground like an island and began to rise into the air.
Simon sprinted over, grabbed the roof of one of the buildings, and shouted with an excited voice.
"Now! Everyone climb aboard!"
The undead swarmed up as if they'd been waiting for exactly this. In no time, the Legion's remaining forces had boarded the city of sand, and it floated serenely into the sky.
"Erze!"
[Leave it to me!]
She, clinging to the very edge of the city, clenched her hand. The spiderwebs forming the barrier stirred and clung tenaciously to the underside of the island-city.
Soon the island's underside transformed into a mirror, turning the same color as the sky.
It was a kind of 'camouflage' ability that Erzebet favored in her daily work. Anyone looking up from below would find it nearly impossible to distinguish.
Of course, if flying undead were scouting the area, they'd have been spotted instantly—but the Northern God had no flying undead right now.
Because before Grayson joined the 7th Legion, she had severed control of every flying undead within her sphere of influence and set them free.
Thanks to you, Grayson.
Giving silent thanks, Simon stretched out his arm.
"Let's move, Herseba!"
[Here we go!]
Herseba set the city in motion.
The sheer snow-capped mountains fell away far below. On foot the journey might take days upon days, but aboard this flying fortress, reaching the Northern God's location would take less than half a day.
[Everyone, be careful! We're right at the limit of what I can hold up!]
At Herseba's warning, the rampaging undead went silent at once. Sand was, in fact, steadily trickling away beneath them.
"Alright. All you captains, gather round."
Simon clapped his hands together sharply.
"The moment we reach the Abyss, a battle will break out, so let's divide up the assignments."
[Divide them up?]
Prince cocked his head and came closer.
Boing! Boing!
Pluto, the blue rabbit of the 2nd Legion, came hopping over and landed neatly on Simon's shoulder.
[Got it, myong! You remember from the memory you saw—there are ten Abysses, right? Myong myong!]
"That's right."
Pier let out a cackle. Kkeheheh!
[Only one of them will be real, I'd wager!]
"Yes. The Northern God probably hoped the attackers would give up and turn back—but I intend to dig through all ten of them if that's what it takes to find it."
Simon curled the corners of his mouth upward.
"Let's make that thing understand, once and for all, exactly who it's made an enemy of."
At that single remark from Simon, a fierce fighting spirit blazed up within the thoughts of every Ancient Undead present.
"We're under attack from the rear!"
"Damn it all! They keep coming down from the mountains too!"
The Northern army retreating toward Bilkenos found itself face to face with the massive undead force the Northern God had unleashed.
With no chance to even lick the wounds of defeat, the Northern God's relentless undead kept surging in without end.
"It's over. It's really over."
One warrior muttered in despair.
At the Abyss, which they had believed would be their final battleground, they had achieved nothing at all.
There was no Grand Duke to lead them, and food and supplies were desperately short.
"After coming all this way..."
"Are we going to end up like the royal army?"
As the tide darkened and a bitter despair hung over them—
"Pull yourselves together!"
Crack-crack-crack-crack!
Black lightning crackling around him, Grand General Ganiro shouted from the very front of the line, leading the soldiers. Every time his sword scorched through the air, the Northern God's undead burned pitch-black and crumbled.
"Grip your swords! Raise your heads! Where is the pride of the North?"
But morale, once broken, did not easily recover.
Rich combat experience aside, the Northern army was defined by its peculiar passion and blazing spirit—and with that spirit snapped, they were helpless.
Ganiro groaned in anguish.
The Grand Duke could rouse the soldiers with a single gesture. Where, then, lies the difference between me and Her Grace?
But his wavering lasted only a moment. Ganiro remembered the Grand Duke's voice.
—There must be no more sacrifices of any kind.
A retreat always comes hand in hand with sacrifice.
That the Northern God's forces would strike their rear during the retreat was an obvious certainty. The Northern God had always done so, and there was no way the Grand Duke didn't know it.
And yet she had said there must be no sacrifices.
She had always been that kind of person. She had spent her strength trying to save even those far beyond her reach.
Her gale arrows were like that, and so were the undead of the 2nd Legion, covering a vast expanse of the battlefield.
The Grand Duke does not use us as expendable pieces. Is it not Jean Arskalt who searches for a way to keep her people alive even in the worst of situations?
"Trust in Her Grace the Grand Duke!"
Ganiro leaped into the sky. Jet-black energy sparked violently along his blade.
FWAAAA-BOOOOM!
As he brought his sword down, a black thunderbolt crashed into the very center of the undead formation. At that blazing light, the soldiers raised their heads and looked at Ganiro.
"A miracle is about to happen!"
Ganiro raised his lightning-wreathed sword above his head.
"There is a road where every one of us survives! Trust the Grand Duke and strike down the enemy before you!"
"Grand General! What are you saying at a time like—!"
At that very moment.
As if by a lie, every single undead stopped its attack.
"?!"
The Northern God's undead, frozen mid-motion and staring blankly, suddenly began turning their backs.
"Th-the Northern God's undead are pulling back!"
"...We're alive!"
Relieved sighs erupted everywhere, and warriors collapsed to the ground one after another.
Ganiro's mouth split into a grin.
I knew it!
The Northern God was recalling its own soldiers.
Someone was attacking the Northern God.
And if so, there was only one thing they could do.
"Chase down the ones retreating!"
Ganiro shouted, running ahead of the line.
"R-retreat? You mean we're not retreating?"
"Sink your teeth in and never let go! We are not a defeated army!"
Ganiro roared until his throat tore.
"Right now! The Northern God's throat is right before our eyes! Our role matters!"
Over several more snow-capped mountains, the sand city carrying Simon's 7th Legion at last arrived above the Abyss.
It was exactly the sight Grayson had shown them.
A terrain stained crimson, with ten holes opening across it.
[The garrison forces really have drained away completely, Lord Commander!]
Erzebet cried out, clasping her hands together. With the main base's defenses thinned as they chased the Northern army, Pier chuckled low. Kluk kluk kluk.
[The Northern God is certain to be here! I can feel a truly dreadful current of jet-black energy.]
Simon nodded, listening to the reports from his captains.
"Alright, we go in all at once. It'll be rough, but I'm counting on you, Herseba!"
[Got it!]
As Herseba invoked her authority once more, the enormous sand city split into six sections.
Pier's skeleton unit.
Erzebet's corpse spider unit.
Prince's zombie unit.
Akemus's Skullwing unit.
Pluto and the surviving forces of the 2nd Legion.
And last of all, Simon and the Legion's Named Undead.
Six units in total.
"We push all the way to the deepest point of each Abyss and confirm whether the Northern God is there! Once you've finished checking, come back up and move on to the next Abyss! Whoever finds the Northern God first, send the signal."
[Understood!]
Simon truly intended to comb through every single Abyss. He lifted the tips of his fingers and pointed at the enemy lines.
[Advance.]
The six sand castles, split apart, came crumbling down over the Abysses. Every soldier of the Legion poured down into the holes.
"Herseba! Over here!"
Simon stretched out his arm as he fell. Herseba came down through the air with a somewhat weary expression and settled into his hand.
"Sorry, but can you fight a little longer?"
[Whaaat? I'm dead tired!]
"I know. But—"
The Northern God's undead were surging out of the black holes. Simon swung his staff.
"This is the final battle in the North. We have no choice but to wring out every last drop and fight!"
⟨ Goldification ⟩
As Simon swung Herseba against the wall of the Abyss, the surface turned to gold, and from a small passage born within it, mummies came pouring out.
"Go, mummies!"
Simon, the mummy unit, and the Named Undead they'd claimed across the North came surging down with a battle cry. The Gourmet tore worm-like undead apart with its claws, while One-Eyed crushed undead beneath its massive arms.
"Hah!"
Simon more than held his own, swinging his staff. Linked through his thoughts, the mummies flung their bandages in unison.
Whirrrrrr!
In one stroke, the onrushing undead of the Northern God were bound in bandages and slammed into the walls. The undead that evaded the mummies' attack, Simon leaped up to handle himself.
⟨ Hong Peng Original – Chita ⟩
CRUUUUNCH!
He smashed an undead's face in with martial arts, then spun his body and raised his arm.
The bones snapped neatly into place along his right arm.
⟨ Bone Armor – Handgun Mode ⟩
RATATATATATAT!
Bone rounds spat from the muzzle, punching hole after hole through the undead's body.
In his right hand, the techniques he'd learned at school; in his left, Herseba's authority. He opened a subspace with his right hand and wielded Herseba with his left to command the mummies. The mummies' bandages snaked into the subspace, hauled out zombies, and hurled them away head-on.
Simon halted his handgun fire and clenched his outstretched palm into a fist.
⟨ Corpse Explosion ⟩
KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-BOOM!
Dashing fiercely through the thick clouds of dust billowing up across the front, Simon hammered the staff in his left hand against the wall again and again.
Shaaaaaash!
A golden slide bloomed across the wall, and Simon planted both feet and shot down it at speed.
[Kid! There's a massive undead force on the front line!]
"Yeah."
Only now was the Northern God committing its forces in earnest. Their numbers were considerable, and by the jet-black energy they radiated, they were elite troops.
This might be more than we can handle.
Simon reached his right hand behind his back. At once, a golden flag settled snugly into his palm from the subspace.
The Archduke's Flag.
With the flag held before him, Simon's eyes sharpened.
Is now the time to use it?