Chapter 56 – Holy Power is Weak Against Undead

Do you know the feeling of the ground squelching underfoot? Walking a polluted path where sticky tar bubbles like boiling sludge feels like trudging across the back of a giant slug. And the smell—what about that? The stench of rotting food and corpses vibrates in the air, surging up your throat with nausea if you dare breathe it deep. When fighting undead, one of the biggest hurdles was this unhygienic hellscape. Poison seeped into any bare skin on contact, making it impossible even to cool off with sweat.

"There it is."

"Straight in, no hesitation."

"If anyone shows even a hint of infection, purify them without mercy. Understood?"

Since this was an undead extermination op, they'd opted for the saint knights' methods. A small village, but every animal and resident had turned undead. The goal was to thin their numbers as much as possible, so swift sweeps were essential.

"Breaching—mages first."

"By the way, can you lot cast anything besides Iron Tower spells?"

"We can handle 1st or 2nd Circle magic just fine."

"Guess you think we're all brawn, huh? We're still mages, you know."

Melee was their specialty, but they weren't incapable of elemental spells. The mages began chanting fire magic, and Lawrence pulled sacred meat from his subspace pocket. He recalled the artifact he'd set up.

'Engravings are eating up too many slots. Gotta find a fix for that soon.' For ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now, it only had one option, but eventually he'd layer two or three into a single artifact.

By the time the mages finished chanting, Lawrence charged in with the soldiers.

"I'll take point."

"Together."

Beatrix flanked him, and the pair surged forward. Saint knights, knights, and regular soldiers followed into the village depths. Lawrence activated his artifact right away. This was where his true power shone.

Woooom—!

A massive wave formed around Lawrence. The light pulsed with both healing and destruction. Frail undead exposed to it shrieked in agony.

[Keeeaak!]

[Kuuuaaaah—!]

The wails rising from deep in their chests sounded ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like pleas for mercy—or cries of release from torment. Grimacing at the piteous screams, Lawrence faced the horror head-on from the vanguard.

"Holy magic?"

"And at a ridiculous level, too."

"Why does that kid have holy magic...?"

The Holy Kingdom's troops gawked at Lawrence. High priests and saint knights ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were stunned. Holy power—reserved for the most devout followers of Seikria, a blessing they wielded—was being flung around casually, mid-movement?

"Apostle material?"

"Pardon?"

"No, nothing. Let's start the op. Purify this land, everyone!"

Prayers echoed everywhere as pure white light rained down. Clearing one village didn't take long. But turning its inhabitants to ash left a bitter taste—no surprise there.

"All clear. No undead left."

"Faster than expected. Zero casualties, too."

"Low-grade undead helped. And... that mage's performance."

All eyes turned to Lawrence. Melting undead with sacred-meat shrapnel cloaked in holy magic? Pure sensation. No one had seen meat used like that—mouths hung open in shock. His style was bizarre, brutally efficient.

"Plenty to learn from him."

"Ahem, but food as a weapon..."

"If it works that well, why meat specifically? Probably because holy magic bonds to it best."

Not even close. Clueless, they spun his grind-fest hack positively. Lawrence, stone-faced, scanned the surroundings.

'Not even corpses left... That's what bugs me.'

Holy magic incinerated undead completely—bodies crumbling to ash, gone with a breeze. No one was born to end as windblown dust. Time to crush that smug emperor's skull.

"Undead don't even leave loot."

He could've promised revenge using their remains as materials. But they left nothing. After lingering, Lawrence turned toward the next target. Senior mages approached, clapping his shoulder.

"Good work. Impressive stuff."

"First undead sweep? Can't reverse it once they're turned."

"Toughen up. Worse sights ahead."

Casual words, genuine warmth. Lawrence felt his dulled senses stir, a faint smile forming. Unlike his past life, people here encouraged him. It fortified his mind, steeling him against PTSD triggers.

"Moving out now. Encircle the castle by nightfall."

"Understood."

Their mission was just beginning. And the one Lawrence awaited arrived.

#2

"Oh, there it is."

"Looks like they've already tangled."

"Hurry. Even Freyja's captain can't hold forever."

"She'll be fine, right?"

Loria and Ades jogged lightly, chatting. Light running conserved stamina over long distances better than walking. They reached Lawrence's frontline quicker than expected.

"Lawrence... he'll be okay, yeah?"

"Worried about that monster?"

"What? He's still my little brother."

Ades laughed genuinely at Loria's words. Unlike the Benoman clan's kill-on-sight vibe, these siblings had real bond. He smirked wryly, joining the reorganizing group ahead.

"Suspicious folks incoming!"

"Wait—that's... the Montemer crest?"

"Oh, you've arrived."

Someone recognized the Montemer emblem. Lawrence spotted Loria too. Her grimy look evoked a filthy rabbit scampering through woods.

"Loria Montemer. I had to break from the field unavoidably."

"Why leave the field?"

"A group targeting me was ambushing to sow chaos."

Loria declared she was being hunted—with poise. Genetic? Commanders' faces darkened.

"So you were pursued..."

"Who targets Montemer's alone?"

"Probably black mages."

Sighs rippled. Black mages heading this way? Empire Central Military Academy's chief instructor, Argon Bredley, turned to the Iron Tower Master.

"Your call, Master. What now?"

"Hmm—."

"Holy Kingdom says eliminate black mages immediately."

"Already short-handed. Splitting more delays the castle assault..."

The Tower Master pondered, chin in hand. Charge ahead, and they'd get pinched. Black mages summoned undead—few posed big threats. Overcommit, and advance stalls. Perfect split crucial.

"Send me, sis, and Cadet Beatrix as a strike team."

"Just three?"

"Uh... add one saint knight and a priest."

"Five enough?"

Lawrence nodded. He'd make it work. This lineup feared nothing—Ades included.

"Don't know their strength?"

"They'll come here anyway. We ambush instead. Black mages are predictable."

Ades's experience rang true; Lawrence's brief black mage encounters matched. Odds overflowed. They could predict the path.

"Leave it to us."

"...Fine. This Tower Master approves."

"Beatrix, you in?"

Beatrix nodded silently. Prime for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠merits and record. Perilous real combat forged tough knights. He'd volunteered.

"Holy Kingdom sends two."

"I'll go with Priest Luci."

"Good. Bring the goddess's wrath..."

Strike team formed. Tower Master named Lawrence leader, ordering black mage pursuit disposal.

"Come back safe."

"No worries. Handle it quick."

"Go."

Loria eyed Lawrence. Things unfolded as he'd said. What scheme was her brother plotting?

"You saw this coming?"

"Kinda?"

"So, grand plan again?"

"Eh... maybe?"

Lawrence just smirked mysteriously. Watching, Loria snickered, turning primly.

"Hmph, fine. I'll trust you this time. Gotta make them pay for targeting me."

"Ooh, knew you had it figured. Right?"

With Ades chiming in, Lawrence smirked more. Truth? He wanted their materials.

'Say it's for their loot... yeah, I'd catch hell.'

Lawrence zipped it. This squad would manage.

'You're enemies anyway.'

Better as quiet EXP and mats. Their end was sealed.