Chapter 23
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Chapter 23
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Winter
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On the ramparts. Margrave Killian stood with his mouth agape, as if his jaw might drop off.
"Wh-what is this... Black Magic...?"
Necromancy, forbidden by imperial law. And he was using it openly—no, on hundreds of them.
"Tch."
A tongue-clicking sound came from beside him.
It was Erendel.
She leaned crookedly on her staff, eyeing Killian like some frightened country bumpkin, and snickered.
"See?"
She pointed down at Kasian, commanding his legion of corpses below the ramparts.
"I told you. He's crazier than me. At least I kill clean. I don't play around with dead bodies."
"......"
"But look at him? Recycling them like a thrift shop? Back when he raised enemy corpses as porters, the Saintess's freakout was gold."
Erendel's eyes narrowed, lost in distant memory.
"You crazy bastard!!! Even demons would call you trash!!"
"Disturbing the dead's rest?! Does sewage run through your veins instead of blood?! Undo it now!!"
"Efficiency?! God'll send you to hell nice and efficient too!"
"That was a riot. Saintess chased the madman with a mace instead of her holy staff."
Killian couldn't even muster a reply. If the White Witch herself called him crazy... what in the world was that man's deal?
"But why are you reacting like such a dullard?"
Erendel cocked her head curiously.
"You don't know who he is? Didn't say his name?"
"Name...?"
"Yeah. That red sword not ringing bells? Another loose cannon like that in imperial history?"
Killian blankly shook his head, eyes unfocused.
"Just... the envoy...."
"......"
"His Majesty the Emperor's... envoy only..."
In that instant, Erendel's face twisted oddly. Her gaze on Killian shifted from disdain to deep pity.
"Oh boy... Mistook the tiger for a kitty."
"What do you...?"
"Ignorance is bliss. Keep calling him the envoy."
Erendel patted Killian's shoulder.
That was when it happened.
"Hey! Margrave!"
A booming voice rang out from beyond the thick steam below the ramparts.
It was Kasian.
He propped his glowing red sword like a cane, waving his free hand. Behind him, half-charred wolf corpses stood in formation like honor guards.
If hell's overlord descended, it'd look just like that.
"Done gawking? Come down! Can't negotiate without you!"
"Eek?!"
Killian recoiled in terror. The undead glared up at him with crimson eyes.
"G-go down there? Amid those monsters?"
"Hurry. You know his temper."
Erendel jabbed Killian's back with her staff.
"Hell's demon calls from the grave—dare a mortal defy?"
"Hey! White Witch! Come with me! Please! Aren't you buddies?!"
"Nah. Legs hurt."
Erendel turned away ruthlessly.
"This'll be fun. Never a dull moment with him."
Erendel smiled faintly, watching Killian bolt.
Mid-snowfield, heat still radiating.
I perched on a shattered boulder remnant. Killian, pale as a ghost, hovered awkwardly to my right. Dead ahead: the White Wolf tribe's chief.
[Grrrrr...]
Undead wolves, jaws half-melted, growled in formation around us.
"Now, Killian. Sit. Relax."
"Relax... like this?"
Killian gawked at the undead wolf drool splattering right beside him.
"Clear these things out!"
"Be good. Until I say."
I smirked, turning to the chief.
"Chief, chin up. Let's talk productive."
"....."
"You came down to live, right? Think I'd mulch your whole line on sight? I don't dig pointless massacres."
I tapped Demon Sword Levatein on the ground.
"Proposal's simple. Your tribe lives."
The chief's ears twitched.
"Wh-what's... the price?"
The chief rasped.
"Simple. From today, you're meat shields—er, slip. North's wall."
"Wall...?"
"Yeah. No further south. Hold the north under his command. Block whatever winter chased you."
"!!!"
At my words, the chief shuddered like aspen leaves. Fear deeper than the Meteor strike blanketed his face.
"Not just cold drove you down, huh."
I leaned in, locking eyes.
"What is it?"
"......"
"Battle race like you—fight-lovers—don't tuck tail for weather. What'd you see for this mess? Killian said winter."
The chief's lips quivered, dredging forbidden memory.
"It is not winter."
"Then?"
Long silence, then his bombshell.
"I don't know."
"What?"
"Don't know. Even we don't."
Killian exploded beside me.
"Liar! Don't know? You sniff foes blind—hundreds of kin fleeing, and clueless?!"
"Truth...! No lie!"
Chief bellowed, wronged.
"Not alive! No scent! We detect ten li off wind alone. But it? No smell, no heartbeat, no mana pulse!"
Madness gleamed in chief's eyes.
"Its path? World bleached colorless white."
"Transparent or what?"
"No. Touched ones... cease being known."
"Dead?"
"Death mercy. They lose minds... turn monster."
Chief's voice cracked with terror.
"No rage, no malice. Eyes bleed red, devour living kin, family, whelps! Claws fail, fire ignored—they crawl, shrieking!"
"......"
Killian's face set like stone. No mere plague or curse.
Living dead, infection, reason gone, pain numb, endless hunger.
'Zombie spec...'
Like Great War 500yrs back—Demon King's #4, Lord of Plague's playbook. Corpses into biohazards.
But differed. No rot reek, and bleaching reality? Whole other league.
'If forced...'
I mentally fused affinities.
#5 Ice Queen's deep freeze, #4 Plague Lord's contagion puppetry, Demon King's void—erasing into nothingness.
Blender-shredded mongrel of all three.
'What fresh hell?'
Dark fantasy flipping to cosmic zombie horror? Balance patched by moron?
Operator botched difficulty in my absence? Bug mob from 500yr server rot?
Headache either way.
"How far'd it reach?"
"Halted beyond valley."
"Halted?"
"Aye. White wall blocks descent."
Erendel's barrier. North would've folded sans it.
"Up top? Your old turf."
"......"
"State now? Infected aside—land sound?"
Chief shook head slow.
"Death's domain. Soil gray dust, waters iced, trees white bone—shattered. Life... impossible."
"Pity."
I smacked lips.
Prime real estate flop—land trashed. Redevelop? Dream on.
"Buffer 'twixt valley-here livable? Food handouts?"
"Aye. Survivable."
"Good. Sitrep done."
I slapped knee, rose. No solving winter-plague head-scratching now.
Formless, yet Erendel magicked it. Means counters exist.
Demon King felled once; worst, rally empire, hero party redux.
Key: Leverage these assets.
"Now, killer deal for you."
"Deal?"
"Two paths."
I folded finger one, nodding at risen wolf husks.
"One: Clean beheading here. Undead Legion 1st Battalion CO."
"......!"
Chief's eyes quaked.
"Sweet gig. Ponder: Dead? Hunger gone, cold nil, sleep optional. Survival off-table—win for you?"
"....."
"Winter-whatevs can't taint corpses either."
"Such atrocity...! Dead yet unrested, eternal thrall?!"
Chief blanched. Postmortem slavery—honor-warrior hell.
"Two."
Finger two down.
"Aid drip, northside mercs. Minions dust, naturally."
I bored into chief's eyes.
"Empire mercs. Shield vs winter. Luck lives ya; no starve minimum."
"Proud tribe as human hounds?!"
"Pride? Spine? Hate it, pick one. Leaning one—zero upkeep, instant obey. Mana cap sole bummer."
"Yes, Master! Can't we slaughter 'em all and let me guzzle their blood?!"
Levatein erupted sword-black aura like a falls.
"F-fine! Two! Two it is! No fallback! Shelter us—we fight lives out! No empire raids!"
"Deal sealed. Other beast tribes? Relay. Cross again—Meteor-Necro combo drops your pad. Clear?"
I sheathed, eyed Killian.
"Hear that, Margrave? Feast tonight. Crack warehouses. One more night here. Flush with cash now?"
"You... true devil?"
Killian dead serious. I grinned wide.
"High praise. Best compliment."
I whistled, strode fortress-ward. Walltop, Erendel smirked down—as expected.
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