Death Knights
“What the hell is this…!”
A massive greatsword and longspear oozed a thick, viscous darkness utterly unlike ordinary demonic energy. Wielding them to block Zerik’s path were knights—no, monsters—clad in black armor astride skeletal horses. Their builds varied slightly, and the distinct weapons made them easy to tell apart, yet they somehow looked eerily identical, these black knights. The dark blue flames flickering within their helmets spread waves of shadowy aura, ceaselessly prickling his nerves.
I’ve heard of this somewhere before.
Zerik pushed the memory aside, focusing instead on unleashing his rage.
“…You goddamn boneheads!!”
Boom!
But the moment his silver aura clashed with the black darkness, it was Zerik who was shoved back, sliding across the ground.
“Son of a bitch!”
He spat out a thin trickle of blood, forcibly suppressing the shock boiling inside him.
“…Death Knights!? How are they here already!?”
A startled voice rang out as Tiny landed beside him atop his massive wolf.
“Tiny, you know these monsters?”
“Only by reputation. The elite of the Demon Realm’s 5th Legion, the Undead Corps. You’ve heard of them too, right? From the ancient records.”
“Demon Realm? Oh… right!”
Only then did Zerik recall fragments of knowledge passed down from his ancestors. Vague memories of the ancient Demon Realm wars surfaced.
But still.
“That was actually real?”
“Then what do you think the Ma-yeok and Great Labyrinth are for? Huh!?”
Even as his human friend snapped irritably, Zerik couldn’t bring himself to bark back. They couldn’t afford infighting in front of these unmoving monsters.
Still, Tiny’s attitude nagged at him.
“You’re talking shorter. A lot shorter?”
He couldn’t resist tossing out the jab while keeping an eye on the foes.
“That’s not the issue right now! The problem is why Superior-grade demons are showing up this early!”
“…Right. Ngh.”
Sensing the gravity from Tiny’s sharp tone, Zerik clamped his mouth shut, deflating.
And Tiny? His mind was a whirlwind of chaos, on the verge of snapping.
Superiors shouldn’t even be summonable yet. That beast last time too—did they descend already? No, no way. If so, the world would already be in chaos.
The common sense and experience he knew crumbled before these two Death Knights.
In that moment.
“Superior demons—some top demon duke’s elite guard or something?”
Zerik chimed in with half-remembered nonsense.
Of course, half-knowledge was worse than none.
“Elite guard my ass! They’re just the legion’s top troops, not even officers!! Stay sharp anyway! Even two would overwhelm you right now!!”
Tiny could only snap back irritably.
“You’re getting way too mouthy for the situation…”
“Shut up and watch the front!”
“…Fine. We’ll settle this later, kid.”
The stubborn hothead grumbled, but Tiny had no time for it.
“G- go on the attack! Why are you just standing there! You, you! If you came to help, take them out! Hurry!”
That fallen orc Nergui seemed a bit unhinged, but.
Why aren’t they moving? Why?
The Death Knights stood stock-still, their helmet flames rippling calmly. Their stillness only deepened his confusion.
But as he gradually regained his composure.
Yip!
As Wolrang alerted him, he sensed their faint souls.
Why are a Superior monster’s souls so dim?
His eyes narrowed at the unexpected weakness—then he spotted a hazy clump of demonic energy drifting into their helmets. So faint and subtle, only he might have noticed it.
No way?
The moment he thought it resembled a message spell cast by a wind-attribute sorcerer or high mage.
—Kill!
—The enemy!
The eerie voices pierced not his ears, but his mind directly. The Death Knights sprang into motion.
Intense, thick darkness erupted simultaneously—a glossy, pitch-black mana condensing across their bodies.
“Yes, that’s more like it!”
Nergui brightened.
“Damn it, what the hell are those things!?”
Zerik cursed.
A faint smile crossed Tiny’s face.
“Good!”
“What?”
“They’re not normal Death Knights!”
He’d only read about the Undead Legion in reports, but the Demon Realm’s elite—right below officers—couldn’t be mindless brutes. Whatever the reason, they weren’t at full strength. That meant they could handle them.
So.
“Zerik, watch my back!!”
“What the—!?”
Chilling killing intent flashed in his friend’s yellow eyes, bearing down on him.
“Dark aura corrupts mana! Watch out for that!!”
Leaving those words, Tiny spurred Wolrang and bolted from the battlefield in an instant.
“Hey! You bastard!!!”
Boom!
As Zerik’s howl echoed like a death cry and explosions resumed, Tiny raced toward the direction of that message spell, senses razor-sharp.
It didn’t take long.
Yip!
Beyond a lone boulder in the thicket, he found a strangely wavering space. Wolrang’s Soul Site pinpointed the demonic clump hidden within.
* * *
Damn idiots, all of them—nothing but morons!
#1 gnawed his lips, barely containing his burning frustration.
And rightly so. If Nergui had mobilized his full forces properly, trapping the Warlord alone after leaving Bator would’ve been child’s play.
Yet he’d brought only a thousand rhino troops. No matter how fierce the front lines or blessed by demonic energy, no one could’ve imagined such arrogance against a Warlord.
Stupid orc, all pride and no brains.
That alone was infuriating, but thankfully, the tide had evened out somewhat. Nergui’s black magic fused with shamanism—black shamanism—had exceeded expectations.
But it was only a temporary rally. Things were unfolding as predicted.
Except the cause was utterly unforeseen.
The Knight of Glory—that Morse bastard—had power beyond imagination.
Expert or Blader at best?! Even His judgment’s gone bad… No, sorry. Slip of the tongue—thought, I mean.
The leader, now an 8th-circle archlich, was beyond comprehension. Terrified she might’ve read his mind, #1 hastily apologized inwardly.
Still, he wavered.
Intervene? Or not?
By orders, he should wait for the Warlord to leave, then kill Morse. The bastard was strong, but no Superior—couldn’t handle two Death Knights alone.
But.
If I leave it and Nergui dies, the orc plan crumbles.
It was out of his hands, but still the organization’s goal. Fixing it at the brink with his aid?
She’d see me anew. I could rise to high demon…
Ambition overrode caution. #1 charged the Death Knights.
“Block the Warlord—protect that orc!”
Timing was perfect. Nergui was pushing, but living beings tire using mana and demonic energy. Seize him before exhaustion.
Yet the Death Knights, summoning skeletal horses and charging like phantoms, then… just stood there after blocking.
Boom!
His mind blanked momentarily, but he intuited the issue.
“I said block—not stand there!?”
Fearing the Warlord’s counter, he rushed the next order. His tense message spells faltered a few times, but the enemies stayed put, letting him succeed.
—Kill the Warlord!
—And Nergui too.
—Malum’s will! Assist and slay the Warlord here! Now!!
Firm intent delivered. Wiping cold sweat as confirmation hit.
Then—Morse bolted toward him like lightning. Terrifying momentum, his form zooming in real-time.
“N-no way…!?”
Dread twisted his face.
—Found you!!!
The barrier shattered under the hammer swing. A roar followed.
“Time to die, trash!”
Warhammer incoming, sunset mana blazing. He hastily surged demonic energy.
Boom!
“Kuhk!”
Blood spewed, but the black mage endured. Tiny ground his teeth.
“Yeah, you won’t go down easy!”
Wolrang sensed six mana circles—not to be underestimated. Instant kill would’ve screamed trap.
But soon.
“Die!!!!”
Sensing insidious energy probing his mind—still ignorant of his traits—he smirked involuntarily.
Not because he liked it.
A curse, huh.
One that didn’t work on him? Brushed off effortlessly.
“You first.”
Closing the gap in a breath, he swung Stamp mercilessly. A late black shield rose, but.
Boom!
It couldn’t protect him.
Got him! The puppeteer’s down!
Unclenching his fist into the air triumphantly.
Thud!
Boom! Boom!
Lightning flash.
Bang!
Distant noises meant the battle raged on.
And.
“G-gurk. You’re… late… Orders… done. War… Warlord dies. My… merit…”
The black mage’s gut exploded, eyes unfocused on the sky. That hollow mutter gripped him.
—This is your grave, Zerik!!
Unintelligible yet thunderous—the mad Nergui’s voice stirred dread. Rhino legion and surviving orc warriors charged Zerik anew; black auras still withstood his assaults…
It all snapped Tiny alert.
“Damn it! Zerik!!”
Things weren’t ending cleanly this time either.
Gritting his teeth, Wolrang rocketed back toward the fray.
Then—odd movement caught his eye. Opposite his position, from the battlefield’s east, a group hurtled at terrifying speed.
Leading: a horse gleaming silver-blue, and one black as if devouring daylight.
Familiar voices pierced his ears.
⊳ Luna: “Bro, I’m here. I’ll help.”
⊳ Jenas: “Tiny, we’ll assist. Not too late, right?”
Joy nearly burst forth, but no time. He bellowed back—no wind or shadow arts, so voice it was.
“Help the Warlord!!!!!”
Roaring ahead at max speed toward Zerik.
Amidst, orcs on his flank crumbled. Battle not over, yet he smiled.
Too soon?
Bang!!
“Hup!”
Zerik’s massive frame flew like a cannonball—the one needing aid most.
Cough.
“Hah, damn it!”
Blood from his mouth—Tiny’s eyes bulged.