Erich had continued to ponder Albrecht’s true intention.

What was he enduring so much for? And what was waiting at the end of it all?

The words that came out of King’s mouth now tied all the events thus far into a single thread.

‘Albrecht is creating the dead… and not just any, but Death Knights and even Necromancer-class entities.’

After returning, the number of cores Erich had seen belonging to Death Knights or Necromancers at the Great Wall was small.

Considering that the number of cores the dead possessed directly correlated to their strength, it meant these were nowhere near the monstrous creatures that had been witnessed during the Great War.

That was why Erich once wondered—maybe even the dead themselves required time to grow stronger.

This incident made that much clear.

‘My guess was right.’

The dead were, in fact, hiding their bodies in the Watch’s research facilities, strengthening themselves.

Through experiments, they were creating advanced Death Knights and Necromancers.

‘They probably only prepared to advance on the Great Wall once they had filled their ranks with these types of monsters.’

Even the involvement of the Barbarian Head Hunters in core production suggested that, during this time, Albrecht and Ungrim were working together.

The Watch had once been filled with incomplete Head Hunters from Ungrim’s legions—and after those Head Hunters and the Watch inflicted near-mutual destruction upon each other, the dead began their rampage.

‘Did they harvest the source of power from the dead Head Hunters and turn it into cores?’

That seemed a reasonable suspicion. In fact, after Mountain King Ungrim was defeated, Albrecht disappeared without a trace.

It hadn’t been clear at the time, but perhaps for Albrecht, that was precisely the moment he achieved his objective at the Watch.

Immediately after, commander August was gruesomely murdered under suspicious circumstances, and the command—a baton seemingly moments from falling—ended up in Erich’s hands.

Having lived through such times, Erich found the current situation deeply chilling.

He had never imagined that such deeds could be carried out in total secrecy.

Especially when the scheme was of such vast scale, orchestrated by a single man—Albrecht.

But there were still doubts.

At the time, there hadn’t been any trace of Albrecht among the dead’s army.

If there had been, Erich would have suspected Albrecht from the beginning.

Moreover, the one commanding the dead’s army was strictly the ‘Lord of the Dead’; there had been no place for humans in that order.

The King’s pure hatred and malice for mankind was something no living person could ever possess.

So where, then, was the Lord of the Dead now—and how was Albrecht involved with him?

Those questions circled through Erich’s mind.

But only for a moment.

Erich quietly smiled.

‘I’ve finally found the lead that will bring all of this to an end.’

From deep inside his chest, a new sense of determination began to flow.

He could now see, if only faintly, the outline of changing the fate he had so desperately wished to alter.

‘Perhaps I can prevent another Great War like in the past.’

Perhaps he could prevent those ghastly scenes from ever being repeated.

And since it was all in Erich’s hands, he suddenly realized his own presence was filling the dark barracks with a crimson brilliance laden with Aura.

King looked at Erich with astonished eyes.

“H-h-heir…”

Erich shook his head, flicking away the traces of light from his eyes. For a Swordmaster, such a surge of emotion triggering his power was not unusual.

Of course, swordmasters generally hid such feelings as much as possible…

It meant that the realization just now had filled Erich with a buoyant hope.

“… King, well done. You have no idea how great of a deed you’ve accomplished.”

“Th-thank you…”

King’s shoulders trembled. Erich left the barracks as he was.

Now, all that was left was to strike at Albrecht.

‘Fortunately, the preparations I’d set in motion should soon bear fruit.’

Messengers traced long tails as they landed here and there on their perches.

***

Ceres, the Tower Master’s apprentice, was concentrating intently, her expression grave.

Right now, she was gazing at a sample of tissue from the dead, placed on a small transparent dish.

She reached out, placing her hand atop a core.

*Crackle!*

Sparks leapt out, transferring a blue-tinted power to her fingertip. That power passed into the dead’s tissue, and Ceres’s eyes narrowed.

‘… Strange, this isn’t producing the same reaction as before.’

According to Albrecht, it was possible to bestow soul and power upon the dead using a core’s strength. But Ceres was unable to do so.

She had used the exact same method, yet it felt like something was missing. And that fact felt all the more important to her.

Ceres slowly closed her eyes.

“Hmm…”

After organizing her thoughts, she opened her eyes again. Her dark lashes trembled.

Her conclusion was simple: Albrecht was hiding something from her and her master, Laurenti.

What he showed them was nothing more than the tip of the iceberg in the dead’s experiments.

Reanimating the flesh itself was not difficult; of course, it was a significant research achievement, but if you knew the know-how, it was possible.

But instilling a ‘soul’—something that could move and think for itself—was a matter of another dimension. That required something beyond the simple energy of a ‘core’.

For example—

“Unless you’re a god…”

Ceres let out a thin, ironic smile. For a mage, who was supposed to be rational, such a thought was far too irrational.

Yet, here and now, it was the only explanation she could find.

Albrecht was hiding something, and the process in question was one that reached toward divine power.

But unlike Laurenti, who was swept up in euphoria, Ceres found the entire situation deeply unsettling.

It wasn’t just resurrecting the dead—if one could forge souls themselves, it implied something far greater.

‘What would happen if these things broke free of control?’

Especially if an entity condensed with a core, wielding powers surpassing even mages and Swordmasters, were to break free of control…

Would they really show any mercy toward the humans who had made them mere puppets?

Ceres dared not speculate on any of it. But one thing was clear—it was not a future filled only with optimism.

The look in the young Commander Erich’s eyes, when viewing the dead, kept pricking at Ceres’s conscience.

*Knock knock.*

At that moment, a soft knock sounded on the door. Instinctively, Ceres knew it was Laurenti.

She’d heard that knock more times than she could count.

“Come in, master.”

*Creeeeak.*

Laurenti appeared, smiling with satisfaction. The sample of the dead’s tissue in Ceres’s dish was twitching as if alive.

Laurenti stroked his long white beard.

“Seems you’ve already made some progress. We might really be about to open a new horizon in magic.”

“… But Master, no matter what I do, I can’t replicate his results. It’s not simply a margin of error—something crucial is missing.”

“That’s most likely because you’re not working with a complete body. To house a soul properly, you need a full vessel. Why not perform the experiment directly on one of the dead?”

Ceres shook her head.

“If Albrecht had made any prior modifications to the dead, it would be pointless. Then, of course, the same result as his would appear. At a minimum, even in fragments like this, traces of a soul should remain.”

“That’s assuming these things are actually living beings, isn’t it? They’re nothing but marionettes. The dead could be incredibly useful tools.”

“How could a body with a soul be a mere puppet?”

“That’s a matter of how you carve and implant the soul, isn’t it?”

A cold air seeped between Ceres and Laurenti’s sharp debate. Laurenti seemed to notice his apprentice’s mood was subtly changing.

Laurenti’s eyes narrowed.

“… Surely not, you’re not thinking of throwing away such a monumental opportunity, are you?”

“… I…”

Ceres cast her gaze downward. Both her doubts and Laurenti’s logic made sense.

Debating the right or wrong of something not yet clearly revealed was meaningless.

Her eyes quivered with confusion. Even though she was young, she was a member of the great Mage Council; yet when it came to the dead, she was like a child.

Still, one thing was certain: a mage is a rational being.

How long she’d spent with Laurenti, or how much she cared—that didn’t matter at all.

The moment Ceres refused Laurenti’s view, their long relationship as master and apprentice would be over.

Of course, she would be the only one inconvenienced by its end.

Laurenti waited for an answer, breathing a low, humming sigh.

But in his eyes, he seemed to expect a particular reply as a matter of course.

No respectable mage could possibly turn away from such a monumental discovery.

Ceres slowly lifted her head.

“… I believe this is not right.”

Laurenti’s eyes went icy cold. Whatever hope he’d had for his apprentice vanished instantly, as if tossed far away.

Ceres, gripped by subtle dread, contrasted with Laurenti, whose sigh betrayed utter disappointment.

At last, Laurenti spoke.

“… Is that so.”

Then Laurenti’s hand slowly emerged from his mage’s robe. His thin hand was covered with countless black tattoos, like a web. The old mage raised his hand, pointing at Ceres.

“I, Laurenti, Tower Master, hereby declare: From this moment, you are expelled.”

With that declaration, the black tattoos on Laurenti’s withered arm glowed. Ceres squeezed her eyes shut.

From within her robes, steam rose. Something was drawn from her into Laurenti in a flash of light.

Ceres bit her lip in pain and collapsed to her knees, drained.

*Thud.*

Laurenti glared down at his apprentice with cold eyes.

“Go. You are no longer a mage of the Tower. Do as you please.”

Without a shred of regret, Laurenti turned his back. Ceres clutched the mark left by the vanished tattoo and stood.

She was now only half a mage. Yet, curiously, she felt strangely liberated. There was only one place she now belonged.

She needed to return to where Erich’s unit was.

But soon she felt an uncanny gaze—the dead nearby had begun to show interest in her.

She didn’t know why, but Ceres felt she had to run immediately.

If not, here and now… everyone she knew would be torn apart by those creatures.

————-= Clacky’s Corner ————-=

【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】

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