How to Exterminate Zombies with Magic

"Kweaaaagh!"

"Glurk, krrrk, kwaaaaagh!"

"My lady!"

I bolt to Esmela and tuck her behind my back.

"So they weren't only appearing in the square?"

She looks more than a little shaken herself.

I try to gauge how many zombies are charging us.

Forty? Fifty? Maybe more than that...

I can't pin down an exact count, but there look to be at least twice as many as the pack we ran into first.

"Kh..."

And of course the ambush comes now, when I have almost no stamina left, and even less mana.

"Fall back, my lady."

I draw the hilt from inside my coat again, just about to begin the chant, when—

"Haah. Enough. I'll fight too."

With a sigh, Esmela steps out to stand at my side.

"What? No, it's all right. I can handle them, so—"

"And what, exactly, is a man who was half-dead a minute ago talking about?"

She glares at me from the corner of her eye.

"..."

It is, unfortunately, an accurate jab.

Even against some thirty zombies, simply wielding Herta's Flame had already cost me a great deal of mana. With scarcely any left, taking on twice that number is not realistic.

Damn it. If I could only have brought some other weapon!

No one attending the crown prince's wedding was permitted to enter while carrying arms of any kind. Nor is the rule limited to this wedding. It applies to every ceremony in which the royal house takes part. So at this moment neither Esmela nor I has a proper weapon. We are empty-handed.

Strictly speaking, even this hilt counts as contraband. The family head made me hide it on my person anyway, with orders to insist, if I was caught, that it was nothing but a hilt.

If I had so much as one ordinary sword, I could at least try to fight on sheer stubbornness, mana or no mana...

A normal blade needs no special function, only the muscle to swing it. A sword formed from Herta's Flame, without mana, is nothing more than a hilt with no edge.

In the end, I have no choice but to admit I have reached my limit.

"...I am sorry, my lady. My strength failed me, and so I have failed in a butler's duty."

It does not matter who is stronger and who is weaker. When a master must step forward to do a servant's work, that is a butler's shame. No—before any of that, I am simply ashamed that I am not strong enough to protect my favorite.

"You don't need to apologize. If you were stronger than I am, you'd be the one bearing the Herta name instead of me."

She lets the apology pass as if it hardly matters and walks on ahead, the tap of her heels ticking over the stone.

"But my lady, please be careful. You must see to your own safety, of course—but you must also take care that your flame does not set everything around us alight."

"I know. I won't use Herta's Flame."

Perhaps it is because she understands the zombies now. In that confident voice I can no longer hear the slightest fear, or the slightest hesitation.

"That many, basic magic is more than enough. Don't push yourself. Back me up from behind."

"As you command."

She will not see it, but I offer a silent bow to her back. Then I close my hand around the hilt once more and follow.

In a few seconds the distance will have closed enough for us to collide ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with the horde ahead. Even so, Esmela calmly lifts both palms and aims them at the ground directly in the zombies' path.

Kugu-gung!

The ground heaves up all at once and becomes a great wall, cutting the zombies ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠off.

The magic of the Loina setting is built on five elements—fire, water, wind, earth, and lightning—and follows the familiar logic of a typical fantasy world. Except in special cases, a verbal chant must come before any casting, and for basic magic that chant is two words: the element, and the kind of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spell.

Take basic fire magic. If the caster means to loose a ball of flame, the words that have to be spoken are Fire Ball. And of course the might of these two-word basics is modest. An ordinary mage's Fire Ball would be a flame about the size of a soccer ball, enough to drop one goblin, or perhaps two.

From that, one can work backward and—

Kugung!

"Kweek?"

—judge just how skilled Esmela truly is, raising a barrier three meters high with nothing but a simple basic earth spell and stopping an entire horde cold.

The zombies slam into the wall of earth she has raised and let out cries that sound almost bewildered. At once she thrusts out her right index finger, points past the barrier, and chants the next spell.

A bolt flashes into being in empty air and falls upon the zombies' heads.

Crack!

"Graaaagh!"

The sound of lightning slamming into the earth tangles with the screams of zombies searing under the strike.

"Kraaaaa!"

But even a bolt that comes down hard enough to turn the ground inside out cannot wholly break their momentum.

"...!"

Zombies begin to crawl up over the wall of earth in front of me.

"Hm. Did they climb by stepping on one another's heads?"

"Ggik... ghek!"

"Gyaaaak!"

And that is not all. Along both flanks, where the barrier does not quite reach, zombies start squeezing through one and two at a time.

"My lady. Your orders."

Now that Esmela has taken the field, I am nothing but a soldier, here to carry out her commands to the letter.

"You deal with the ones boring in from the left. You can manage that much, can't you?"

"As ordered."

Without a shred of hesitation I sprint for the left side of the barrier, shouting as I go.

The sword of dark-crimson flame cleaves in half the head of a zombie that has just hauled its whole body clear of the wall.

"Haah!"

I do not let the blade slow. I drive it through the head of the next zombie thrusting out past the barrier, and—

Thud!

—slam my right foot into the skewered thing's chest, toppling every zombie piled up behind it at once.

"Hoo..."

"Kwek?"

"Graah, gyaaak!"

I catch my breath, looking down at them tangled together on the ground, unable to rise. Then I turn my gaze to the right, to see how Esmela is faring.

What meets my eyes is a fan of clear ice thorns she has formed, piercing in the same instant the heads of those crawling over the barrier and those trying to slip out on the right.

"Gak, kraaak!"

But the dozens still left keep straining with everything they have, desperate to get over the wall and devour us.

"..."

Esmela watches that scene, and thinks for a moment.

"Renit, fall back."

She leaves me only that short command and closes her eyes.

I dismiss the flame sword at once and leap back to where she stands. The instant I retreat, blue light leaks from the left side of her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chest. She has engaged her Mana Heart and is drawing out a vast quantity of mana.

When she opens her eyes again, the mana spilling from her is whipping up a small gale with her at its center. She spreads both hands toward the horde and cries out.

The huge barrier that had been holding the horde back sinks once more beneath the ground.

"Gwor?"

Thrown into confusion by the wall's sudden disappearance, the zombies—

"Kraaaak!"

—immediately break into a dead sprint straight at us.

She does not so much as shift where she stands. She chants the very next spell.

As the mid-rank chant ends, an enormous magic circle draws itself before her outstretched hands, standing perpendicular to the ground. Only when the zombies have closed to a few more seconds from sinking their teeth into us does the circle finish forming.

And then—

Kwoooooooom!

A colossal pillar of fire blasts from the magic circle and burns the zombies away, every last one.

Kwooooom—

The immense flame pours forth as though it means to incinerate everything before our eyes, then slowly gutters out.

"..."

I stare, dazed, at the ground the fire has scoured.

Zombies struck head-on by the mid-rank flame magic are gone without a trace, scattered into ash. Even those that had been trailing at the very rear have had their upper bodies melted clean away. Only their lower halves lie sprawled on the ground, still twitching. The street itself is gouged into a trench along the path of the fire, and the scar runs on for dozens of meters ahead.

I look around once more. Not a single zombie remains.

I am just beginning to feel, in my bones, the weight of the magic she has unleashed, and I am about to offer her words of praise, when—

Fwoosh.

Flames have caught on several of the buildings touched by the spell.

"My lady!"

"I saw."

Thoroughly unimpressed, Esmela begins another chant.

Shaaaa—

This time rain streaks down out of empty air and drowns the fires that have sprung up around us.

"Haah..."

And Esmela herself, having just swept this whole stretch of street with magic, shows no particular feeling at all. Looking thoroughly put out, she plants both hands on her hips.

"This is why fighting with magic in the city is such a pain. Do the slightest thing, and the buildings collapse or burn..."

...Grumbling from a full stomach. A complaint only she could afford—she who was praised as a magical genius the likes of which the kingdom would never see again.