Chapter 658
One hundred kilometers away from the Northern Fortress.
Fremont Village.
Sweat-soaked warriors hid their bodies behind the hill of the ruined village. Every one of them held their breath, faces taut with extreme tension.
“He’s coming!”
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The earth quaked with the pounding of footsteps.
An undead elephant, with bones glaringly exposed, raised its trunk thick as an ancient tree and charged into the village.
“It’s the named one—‘Glutton’!”
They had already taken down over a hundred undeads in the village, but no one could do anything against that Glutton. The warriors all revealed themselves from the hill and drew their bowstrings.
“Fire!”
Swaeaaak!
Swaeaaak!
Arrows rained down like a storm, yet they didn’t inflict even the slightest damage on the massive undead body. Instead, it only seemed to enrage the beast as it charged toward the warriors.
“As expected, he’s not an opponent we can take down with our strength alone.”
“Go with the plan! Lead it into the canyon behind the village!”
The warriors quickly exchanged words and retreated, with the Glutton lumbering after them.
They soon reached a narrow canyon where they had intended to lure it.
The warriors measured the timing, then shouted:
“Captain! Now!”
Ta-at!
As the undead elephant pursued them, a man who had been waiting on the hill suddenly leapt out.
“Hraaah!”
He raised the flag in his hand high and drove it down precisely onto the undead’s forehead.
Thunk!
With a heavy sound, the tip of the flag pierced a wound into the Glutton’s forehead, but in the same instant the creature’s violent thrashing sent the man flying.
Ku-dang-tang-tang!
He crashed harshly onto the dirt ground, rolling over rocks. His bones broke, his thigh was torn open by sharp stones, blood gushed freely—yet he grinned.
“W-we… won, you bastard!”
The Glutton’s eyes gleamed murderously as it stomped forward.
Where the flag had struck, a strange black “target” mark appeared on its forehead, as if drawn in ink. The man shouted:
“Everyone, down!”
And in that exact moment, it happened.
Kuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrr!
The atmosphere roared. The mountains and forests trembled. Even the Glutton—who until now charged through anything—halted in its steps.
The sky suddenly bruised black.
Swaeaaaaaak—!
From far away, a straight black streak—like a falling meteor—shot forth. To the warriors, it looked as if space itself twisted, a dark line ripping straight toward them.
Then came an ear-shattering detonation, followed by a tsunami of earth erupting skyward.
Through the cloud of dirt that blinded their vision, only a few warriors saw the black streak pierce directly into the Glutton’s forehead.
The strike didn’t just hit—it drilled straight through the flesh, leaving a massive, caved-in hole across its entire head.
—Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!
The infamous Glutton shrieked in agony. Its enormous body swayed—
Kuuuuuuuuung!
—before collapsing helplessly to the ground.
The warriors, still lying flat, raised their heads. Once they confirmed the beast’s fall, they erupted in cheers.
“We did it! It’s down! The Glutton is finally slain!”
“Glory to His Grace, the Grand Duke!”
They lifted their weapons high into the air, chanting the Grand Duke’s name. The villagers, who had been hiding, finally emerged with relief.
Another victory had sounded across the North.
* * *
Meanwhile, at the same time.
Fwoooosh—
More than a hundred kilometers away, in the Inner Fortress.
The wind tossed her hair as the Grand Duke lowered the bow she had just drawn.
“W-wait! What did you just do?”
“It was nothing remarkable.”
She curled her lips in a faint smile.
“An assassination.”
“...?”
“I shot and struck down an enemy a hundred kilometers away.”
Simon stared blankly out the window where the arrow had flown. All he could see was a peaceful snow-covered townscape.
“Did you… actually see the target?”
“Of course not. I only sensed it.”
She tilted her head.
“This also relates to the legion commander. Let’s talk more while getting some fresh air.”
Simon and the Grand Duke stepped outside.
Simon’s face reddened slightly as he stole glances at her. Slinging her bow over her shoulder, the Grand Duke walked ahead and said:
“Is something bothering you? How insolent.”
“N-no, it’s just…”
Simon scratched his hair awkwardly.
“Aren’t you cold?”
They were outside, where the freezing wind howled, but she still wore nothing more than a short training uniform.
“Such trifling cold cannot break the pride of a northerner.”
Simon could never understand the culture of the North. The two stopped before a large tree growing inside the fortress.
“First, a premise.”
The Grand Duke stopped walking and turned to him.
“I will teach you everything I can, but remember—you and I are different.”
She pointed to Simon, then to her own chest.
“Every legion has its own unique traits. The personality of the commander, the ability of the master, and above all—the Ancient Undeads they command. The power of a legion commander varies greatly.”
“That makes sense.”
“So first, we must grasp your abilities and decide how best to strengthen them. Now…”
She halted, raised her bow once more, and shot an arrow into the sky with another thunderous sound. Then, as if nothing had happened, she slung the bow back over her shoulder.
“Y-you’re busy, I see. I’ve always wondered—how exactly do you shoot those arrows?”
“Hmm, yes. Perhaps this is where our talk should begin.”
She sat down on a bench near the tree.
“In the North, there are those known as… the ‘Riders’.”
In the northern lands of Carlos, a Flagbearer was a commander-rank position, the one who led units into battle. They were called Flagbearers because they had the authority to carry the flags that could guide the Grand Duke’s arrows.
“When an enemy too powerful for the warriors to handle appeared, the Flagbearers would stake their lives to rush forward and plant the flag into the enemy.”
She tapped her index finger against her palm to mimic the motion.
“The flags are imbued with my miniature undead. Once the undead attaches itself, it leaves a mark on the enemy like a target. From the fortress, the moment I sense its presence, I can release an arrow toward it anytime, anywhere.”
Chuk.
She raised the pitch-black bow.
“And this is the Bow of Tempest, belonging to the 2nd Legion’s master, Hate. With it, I can strike even distant foes.”
It was a weapon similar in stature to the Greatsword of Destruction Simon wielded.
But what caught Simon’s attention was something else.
“Are you saying you sense the thoughts of legion-type undead and then shoot your arrows toward them?”
“That is correct.”
“H-how far can you sense those thoughts?”
Lowering the bow, her face turned expressionless.
“The entire Northern Domain under my rule.”
The defining trait of the Grand Duke—Jin Arskalt—as a Legion Commander, was her incredibly vast range.
She could sense the thoughts of legion-type summons spread throughout her northern territory. Simply by deploying them, she could detect the approach of enemies, and they would act accordingly.
The lands originally governed by the Arskalt family had been far broader, but with the growing assaults of monsters and undead, the effective “territory” she controlled had shrunk to the range within which her thoughts could still reach from her inner fortress.
‘Don’t tell me…!’
Simon’s mouth fell open.
The undead soldiers he had seen when entering the North—moving on their own without a necromancer to command them. All of that had been the Grand Duke remotely controlling them from afar.
It was beyond astonishing. No wonder people called her a hero of humankind.
“Of course, it is not limitless.”
She touched her forehead.
“The farther away, the weaker the sense becomes. I can only issue simple commands to the undeads at distance. And if the voices of thousands of thoughts are constantly echoing, even I would go mad. So I control it moderately.”
“E-even so, that’s incredible.”
Simon let out a breath of awe.
“To protect the North, I had to do everything possible. That’s how I came to be able to do this. Now then, arrogant one—how far does your thought reach?”
Simon scratched the back of his head.
“From what I can tell, it reaches about as far as I can see. I’ve never properly measured the range.”
“Good. Then we’ll test it here in the vast North.”
Simon had mostly spent his time on Roke Island, so he had rarely ever commanded legion-type undead at long range. When leading independent units, he usually delegated command to Ancient Undeads, while he himself focused on fighting with Feer.
Seeing Simon’s embarrassment, she chuckled.
“There is no need to rush. Circumstances simply differed between us.”
Simon owned many general-class undead, so he had focused on strengthening his personal abilities more than expanding his command range.
On the other hand, the Grand Duke only possessed two Ancient Undeads. She had chosen not to increase their number further, instead researching the most effective way to use them.
Above all, her Northern Domain was vast, requiring her to win multiple battles simultaneously to protect her people.
Her obsession with protecting every life within her reach manifested as an abnormally wide range of ability.
“Separate from myself, you must also have a talent you excel in.”
As she said this, she casually fired another arrow toward somewhere unseen.
Even now, she was destroying named undeads, saving countless northerners.
‘Amazing.’
Simon felt that coming North to meet her had been the right decision.
It was the first time he had met a true senior as a Legion Commander. His standards had just been raised sky-high.
“Well then.”
Her questioning continued.
“What is the maximum number of undead you can control?”
A Legion Commander could theoretically control limitless numbers of legion-type undead. So what she was asking was how many summoned undeads Simon, as an ordinary necromancer, could control at most.
“A bit embarrassing, but… right now, nine.”
Thanks to creating the Chaos Dullahan recently, his capacity had jumped, increasing the number. Still, it felt shameful to admit in front of her.
“You are doing well.”
“P-pardon?”
“Keyzen’s guidance was correct. You’ve never been trained to increase the number of undead you can control, have you?”
Simon nodded.
“For a necromancer who has not even studied black magic for two years to already expand the limits of thought would risk his mind breaking apart. The orthodox way is to focus on building control and knowledge, and increase the number of undead you can control slowly. Of course—”
She pointed to Simon’s chest.
“‘We’ are somewhat different.”
Simon’s eyes widened.
“Ordinary necromancers would go mad simply making contact with the thoughts of Ancient Undead, yet you already keep them under your command, and you’ve led countless legion-type undead as well. Whether intended or not, the mental strength of a Legion Commander is exceptional. Over this period, we’ll work on increasing the maximum number of undead you can control. The more they increase, the stronger you’ll become as a commander.”
Simon nodded, heart pounding.
[Khuhuhuhu!]
Feer’s clone, watching, let out a sly chuckle.
Truthfully, it was too early to increase the number of undead. The orthodox view was that such training belonged in the first semester of third year. But Neftis must have judged that they didn’t have the leisure of time.
She likely expected Simon to grow greatly as a Legion Commander during this period.
“Evaluating your abilities ends here.”
She declared.
“Now, the final stage: a practical test. I want to see your skill firsthand.”
“Leave it to me!”
Simon grinned broadly and clenched his fists.
Combat.
It was the field he was most confident in.
“Tell your master to assemble the troops.”
As she raised her arm, far in the distance her warhorse and Phantom Dullahans surged forth like a crashing wave.
“The dual deployment of two legions begins!”
Superb.
When are we getting more free chapters?
Thanks for the new chapters