Hrung-ga watched the massive pillar of fire shooting up in the distance with a faint smile.

[Looks like it’s over on that side too. Isn’t it a splendid flame?]

Behind Hrung-ga, who spoke in such a manner, Balmung was being dragged along, bound by ropes. He frowned as he replied.

[… Damn it.]

[Relax your expression. There’s no shame in having lost to Hrung-ga, the Wolf’s Guardian Warrior.]

Of course, it wasn’t exactly shame that Balmung was feeling. He was just consumed by the frustration of defeat.

In fact, Hrung-ga and his subordinates regarded Balmung as a formidable warrior, despite his loss.

After all, even after being struck down by Hrung-ga’s club—his body half destroyed—Balmung managed to walk on his own, without being assisted, while being dragged along, which was no small feat.

Still, no matter how others saw it, Balmung felt bitter.

‘How did it end up like this?’

They should have won. The ones he had to face were Hrung-ga and, at best, some clumsy imperial folk like Erich.

He wasn’t fighting some terrifying being on the level of a Death Lord or anything.

No, if he had lost to such a being, he could at least understand it.

But to be defeated by the supposed mere Guardian Warrior of a wolf tribe?

Not even facing one of those terrifying beings themselves, but losing to a simple “Guardian Warrior”?

What’s more, they had even managed to defeat that terrifying being itself, the Death Lord.

‘How on earth…?’

Until now, those dead had treated Balmung’s fellow shamans cruelly.

But Balmung had only been able to endure such atrocities, not because he was evil, but because, after laying eyes on the Death Lord, he firmly believed he didn’t stand a chance of beating him.

‘Don’t tell me this Erich guy is stronger than Hrung-ga?’

Balmung reached that conclusion. He realized that he had been mistaken all this time.

The strongest in this group was not Guardian Warrior Hrung-ga.

Unless the imperial man Erich was vastly stronger than Hrung-ga, there was no way they could have toppled the Death Lord.

Just as Balmung’s thoughts reached this point, Hrung-ga grinned, as if he’d seen right through Balmung’s intentions.

[There are two here stronger than me.]

[T-Two?]

[What, are you afraid?]

[I never said that.]

Though he tried to cover it up, Balmung’s face became even more rigid.

During his battle with Hrung-ga, he had experienced first-hand how powerful a warrior he was.

He’d even suspected Hrung-ga might be able to challenge Ungrim.

And yet, for there to be two warriors here stronger than Hrung-ga? It was nearly unbelievable.

In any case, Hrung-ga marched triumphantly to the site of the fierce battle, sounding the victory, and the faces of the barbarians darkened.

*

[W-What is this?]

[This is absurd…]

The traces of battle all around them caught their eyes: walls of ice the size of mountains had been shattered, and the ground was cracked as if from an earthquake.

Not only that, but there was magma still boiling from the intense heat. Who would believe humans had caused all this?

There, pierced by a sword of light and slowly disintegrating, was the Death Lord.

The dreadful aura was gone, and with his pale eyes now dim, he knelt before Erich.

Looking at such a monstrous being, Hrung-ga greeted him cheerfully.

[Erich! It was you, as I thought.]

[… Master assisted.]

[I didn’t expect such a flashy battle, but I like it.]

Hrung-ga grinned wide, baring his fangs. Erich answered as if it was nothing.

[You won too, Hrung-ga.]

[How were you so sure I’d win? Balmung was a strong warrior.]

[I was the one who sent you after him.]

Erich said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Listening to him, Balmung, furious, shot him a sharp glare.

[So, that one there is Balmung, then. The most trusted subordinate of Ungrim. I bet there’s much to hear from him.]

[I have nothing to say to you.]

[Is that so? Pity. But it won’t be bad news for you either.]

[… What do you mean by that?]

[What your chieftain, Ungrim, knows and what we know seem to be a bit different.]

Balmung cocked his head. It was the most he could do in response, not fully understanding Erich’s words.

But Erich had other, more pressing matters regardless of what Balmung did.

‘My purpose here isn’t the Death Lord. What’s more important is at the summit.’

Erich’s gaze turned toward the faint pillar of light rising from the summit.

That pillar marked the place where Incensus’s “Will” resided.

That beam of light had always aided Erich—from the very beginning, and up till now.

He intended to follow that light and uncover what it was that Incensus wanted from him, that prompted such aid.

If he did, he would naturally come to understand what the Death Lord wanted to seize in this place—and what those inside were so desperate to keep out the dead.

Soon, Mikhail, the mages who had assisted in clearing out the dead, and shamans who had somewhat regained their strength arrived.

Yet, Ceres did not look in the least delighted despite their victory.

“… Erich, I have something to report.”

“About the effect of the ritual?”

“H-How did you know?”

“I just had a hunch. So?”

Ceres sent a glance toward the summit and continued.

“The suspicious energy is amplifying even more as soon as the Death Lord died. I have a feeling that something might manifest any moment… Did I just say ‘manifest’?”

“Manifest is probably correct.”

Erich nodded quietly.

If his guess was right, the being inside was about to burst forth—more akin to a manifestation.

And while they spoke thus—

― Rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble.

The ground of Haratakan began to tremble subtly.

But, having just finished their conversation with Ceres, rather than looks of confusion, all wore faces that said: Here it comes.

Mikhail spoke hastily.

“It’s begun.”

“Yes…”

Mikhail and Erich exchanged words the others did not understand. It seemed only Ceres sensed the significance.

Without delay, Erich spoke.

“Let’s hurry inside.”

With no time to handle the aftermath, Erich led the party toward the summit, Balmung dragged along in confusion.

***

Erich realized a green barrier stood in their way.

However, this barrier—which had so strongly kept out the dead—gave way rather easily when he applied a bit of power.

Then Ceres added,

“It’s a barrier reinforced by restricting the target. It’s a barrier that only repels the dead. Very clever.”

Once inside, Erich and the group discovered shamans sprawled everywhere.

The recovered shamans cried out to the fallen.

[Ah, Arhan! Lucan!]

Most of the faces seemed familiar to them. Erich checked for signs of life as well.

To his amazement, they were alive, yet not alive.

Their pulses were weak, their complexions poor, as if they might die at any moment.

The lead shaman answered with a gloomy face.

[They have exhausted all their spiritual energy.]

[Is there a way to save them?]

[Tragically, it’s impossible. All these will soon return to the embrace of Haratakan. But for what reason did they push their spiritual power to the limit like this…?]

The shamans looked troubled. Seeing their faces, Erich realized that something out of the ordinary had happened here.

Then Ceres spoke.

“It doesn’t seem to be because of the barrier alone. The barrier is more a restriction preventing entry from outside. That kind of barrier doesn’t steal life. Mages can handle such powers too, but to the point of draining all life force…”

“Do you have any idea what it could be?”

“There must have been something they had to stop at all costs, even if it meant giving everything.”

Erich nodded slowly. There was something only he had realized.

If the shamans’ barrier was meant to prevent the birth of that being, then everything made sense.

Continuing further inside, they found a lone shaman still standing amidst countless fallen ones.

He was a man of noble bearing, with a mane of white hair and beard, easily appearing a hundred years old or more.

Erich approached him.

But the man seemed completely focused, as if pouring all his strength into something—invisible to even Erich or anyone else around.

A green aura rose from the old man’s body.

Even Erich, unaccustomed to the shamans’ power, could sense how intense and overwhelming that energy was.

The chief shaman then spoke.

[… That is High Priest Manukan. He’s been holding on alone this whole time.]

[Can we not wake him and ask something?]

[Impossible. In such a deep meditative state, he wouldn’t hear even if we spoke.]

[What about stopping him?]

[There must be a reason it cannot be stopped, don’t you think?]

Erich nodded. He didn’t want to recklessly wake someone risking everything to protect something here and potentially ruin everything.

He looked around the area.

A tremendous flow of energy from Manukan was directed at a certain spot.

Even the faint stirrings from the fallen added to it—it was almost impossible not to notice.

“This is it.”

Erich moved in the direction of the energy flow.

According to what they’d said, manukan was the high priest, and the area suited that title, decorated like a temple.

At the very center stood the altar. All the power was flowing here; Erich was sure this was the right place.

He placed his hand on the altar.

― Rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble.

With a deep vibration, the altar parted in two, revealing stairs leading downward.

Ancient bricks and immaculately clean walls greeted them.

Erich took only a handful of companions and went inside. In the vast inner chamber, a scene beyond belief unfolded.

― GRRRRRRR!

A massive gust of wind swept over them. It was a dragon’s breath.

Half-awake, the dragon flashed steel-like black scales, as if ready to soar at any moment.

At that instant, Erich realized—this was the dragon of the Lord of the Dead, the one that had dragged everyone into despair before his regression.

The black dragon ‘Karkas’.

The very being that commanded half the power of the Lord of the Dead was here.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep