Chapter 667
It took quite a while before Simon’s vision cleared.
When the explosion-born clouds began to thin, Simon stared straight ahead with a blank, dazed face.
Gooooooo―!
The body of the ‘Third’ came into view, struck head-on by Corpse Explosion. First, his long legs appeared, but from the waist up, his torso was still buried beneath thick, black smoke.
‘No way.’
Simon’s lips trembled.
‘Even that didn’t kill him?’
If even Prince’s Corpse Explosion couldn’t bring him down, then Simon had no chance of defeating him with his current power.
Just as Simon was about to order the Legion to retreat—
[Khhhhh! Look closely, boy.]
“Huh?”
Simon’s eyes widened. The wind blowing through the canyon swept away the smoke, revealing that the Third’s entire upper body had been blasted off.
All that remained were his two legs, stuck upright in the ground.
Thunk—
Losing their balance, the legs toppled over. The explosion had been so powerful that the massive upper body was completely annihilated, leaving no trace behind.
The Third was destroyed.
The effect was immediate. With the Hive entity that had controlled them gone, the surrounding undead plunged into chaos.
Krrrrriiiiiiik!
Grrrrrk!
Some froze in place like broken machines, some acted on primal instinct, some fled into the mountains freed from restraint, and others attacked nearby undead indiscriminately.
The command system had collapsed entirely.
[Now that the Third is gone, this is our chance, boy!]
Feer shouted.
[We must crush them before the North Star regains control of the troops!]
“Yes!”
Simon issued the command for the Legion to charge.
Stagger—
But this time, Simon’s head spun violently. His whole body trembled as though drained, and he realized that the Darkness within him had been completely emptied.
‘Ah, this…’
Even worse than the exhaustion from using Chaos Dullahan.
Simon’s consciousness blurred.
‘This isn’t a technique to be used recklessly.’
Thud!
[Boy! Are you alright? Boy!]
* * *
Simon didn’t regain consciousness until five hours later.
The enemy force had been so vast that even after destroying the Third, the battle had continued. The North Star’s undead, though stripped of their command system and unable to perform tactical maneuvers, still counterattacked when attacked.
During Simon’s collapse, Feer had taken command.
Deep inside enemy lines, Erzebet manipulated her webs to massacre hordes of undead at once, while Akemius and Herseba flew through the skies, neutralizing named undead.
By the time Simon regained his strength and sat up—
[We were worried, Commander!]
[Congratulations on the victory, Young Master.]
The battle was already over.
One of the three pillars of the North Star—the “Third”—and his entire undead force were annihilated.
Feer personally toured the battlefield, recruiting any usable named undead or creatures into the Legion.
“When I wake up, I see so many unfamiliar faces.”
As many as twenty named undead bowed their heads before Simon. Among them, the very first one he had secured—the Gourmet—still stood unscathed.
[Hey brat, what about Prince?]
Herseba perched on Simon’s shoulder and asked.
“Seems he can’t show up right now. Probably collapsed completely, like me.”
Simon gave a bitter laugh, tapping the ring on his finger, but there was no response.
[Either way, this was an excellent result! The 7th Legion’s strength has increased dramatically!]
“Feer.”
Simon looked up at him with a meaningful smile.
“My father also used Prince’s Corpse Explosion once, didn’t he?”
[Khhhhh! So you noticed. Indeed, when Prince was re-accepted into the 7th Legion, one of the conditions was that we must never tell you about his Corpse Explosion. That’s the only reason I kept quiet.]
So Prince had insisted on that condition…
But seeing how he had been repeatedly pushed back by the Third, Prince must have decided that even if Simon collapsed, they had to win.
Though Simon didn’t yet know all the conditions, it was certain that Prince’s willpower was the key to Corpse Explosion.
Feer chuckled.
[From what I’ve seen, your version of Prince’s Corpse Explosion has far greater potential than Richard’s.]
“Really?”
[Yes. It’s not even in the same league. I can still see room for even stronger explosions!]
Feer put a hand on his skull.
‘It may be a premature guess, but perhaps Corpse Explosion manifested as a form of Geheim…’
* * *
The war was over.
Having struck down one of the Three Brothers first, Simon gathered his troops and returned to the northern capital, Bilkenos.
Akemius remained behind to manage the captured named undead and wrap up the battlefield.
‘I wonder if the Grand Duke and the generals succeeded…’
Even if Simon had destroyed the Third, if either the First or Second survived, the campaign against the North Star would face a massive setback.
As Simon waited patiently in the inner keep with Butler Godrick—
—Report!
A messenger burst in. Simon and Godrick leapt to their feet at the same time, and even the castle retainers poked their heads out.
—A great victory! A great victory! After a fierce battle, the Grand Duke’s arrow pierced the First’s forehead, and the undead knights of the 2nd Legion severed the Second’s neck!
Waaaaaaaaaah!
The entire hall erupted into cheers. Godrick fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.
“My lord! Are you watching? Our Lady has done it! My loooooord!”
Simon clenched his fists tightly in joy as one retainer, unable to hold back his excitement, ran out. Sprinting to the top of the keep, he blew the war horn.
Poooooo- poooo—!
He repeated a specific rhythm, and soon across Bilkenos—
Poooooo- poooo—!
Poooooo- poooo—!
The same horn call echoed everywhere. From afar, roars of joy erupted. Northerners kicked open their doors, rushing into the streets to embrace one another.
“The Three Brothers are dead!”
“The Grand Duke has triumphed!”
The victory news ignited all of northern Carlos.
Time passed, and at last the Grand Duke and the Grand General’s forces returned.
Crowds gathered densely to welcome them back. Flower petals scattered in the wind, carpeting the ground.
At the very front of the army, the Grand Duke rode on her necro-steed, clad in black armor, raising her hand in greeting.
Soon they reached the castle. She leapt down from her horse.
“Your Grace! Congratulations on your great victory!”
“Congratulations!”
She barely acknowledged the greetings of warriors and retainers, striding swiftly up the stairs.
Clang! Clang!
With each step, the joints of her armor rattled. She reached the office door and pushed it open.
Whoooosh—!
Wind blew fiercely through the countless open windows. And there, on the sofa, a blue-haired boy calmly sipped a glass of iced tea.
“Ah.”
The boy set down the cup and rose to his feet.
“You’re here.”
Ssshhk.
The Grand Duke removed her helmet. Her long, black hair cascaded like a waterfall, and her pale face came into view, lips curling upward.
“…Insolent brat.”
“All I did was smile.”
“Still too soon to get ahead of yourself.”
“Yes, just one more step remains.”
Simon gave a charming smile and extended his hand.
“Before I return to the academy, I’ll make sure to present you with the liberation of the North as my gift.”
She burst into laughter as she strode toward him.
“If you act arrogant, I’ll call you arrogant. Arrogant brat.”
Then she gripped Simon’s hand firmly.
In the eyes of the two Legion commanders staring at each other, a strong sense of trust shone.
* * *
The cold grew harsher, and the Grand Duke and the humans returned home, while the Ancient Undead—Hate and the Phantom Dullahan—remained in the Frost Field.
Undead needed no food or supplies. Now, with the Three Brothers gone, they would explore the empty Frost Field and find the path leading into the Abyss, where the North Star resided.
As soon as the path was discovered, all forces would march straight toward the North Star.
But before that—
“Drink! Tonight we drink until we die!”
“Oooooohhh!”
A victory feast was held in the Grand Duke’s castle. Generals, veteran riders, and northern magnates from every field gathered to celebrate.
Hahahahaha!
True to the North, there was no sign of refinement or decorum.
Tables were heaped with food, beer was poured over heads, warriors gnawed roasted chicken legs while walking, and at the slightest cue, they all broke into song, shaking their hips in crude dances.
Drunken warriors rolled on the floor with flushed faces, some strutted about in bizarre poses with pants pulled down, and no one said a word against it. Tomatoes flew across the hall, food smeared faces, and everyone roared with laughter.
“Tonight we settle the score!”
“Haha! Isn’t it seven wins and seven losses right now?”
Outside, duels were in full swing. Normally forbidden after drinking, the Grand Duke allowed bare-handed brawls for this one night.
Winners returned to the hall to roaring cheers, while losers staggered back with bloody noses and missing teeth, laughing as though it were the best day of their lives.
‘…Not really my kind of fun.’
Simon quietly sipped beer on the side. He wanted to be alone, but as the man of the hour, people kept approaching.
The only disciple ever taken in by the aloof Grand Duke of the North.
The boy who, on his first day, beat down a rider candidate, on his second day thrashed a full rider, got struck by a banner, and still survived the Grand Duke’s arrow.
And though unknown to them, the one who slew the Third. If they knew that too, it would be troublesome.
“Not bad, that smooth, beardless, pretty face.”
“Cute. Want to come to an inn with me, kiddo?”
Warrior women sometimes tossed him blatant advances. Northerners expressed themselves very directly, and Simon blushed, struggling to adapt to the culture.
“But where’s tonight’s real guest of honor?”
“Wouldn’t it be great if she showed up in a dress for once instead of that dull armor?”
“Bahahahaha! Bet she’ll still be in armor!”
The warriors laughed, glancing toward the office.
Just then—
Bang!
The office doors swung open, and the Grand Duke appeared.
“Ooooh!”
Though not in a dress, she descended the stairs in a clean black uniform.
Every gaze in the hall snapped to her at once.
Step, step.
Her expression was blank, but her movements brimmed with discipline, each step sharp and economical.
At the bottom, she looked over her soldiers and raised her hand.
Clap!
Steward Godrick stepped forward with a waiting wine glass.
“Proud Northerners!”
She raised the glass. The warriors, sobering at once, straightened and raised theirs.
“Honorable allies!”
Her gaze turned to Simon. He smiled and raised his cup.
“This is a victory worth remembering! Only one step remains until the North Star is annihilated! We will liberate our homeland—the North!”
“Oooooohhh!”
“In the next battle, more blood will be spilled. But still, we will march forward!”
“Waaaaaaahhh!”
“We will break this chain of hatred in our generation, and gift our children a peaceful North! That has been the dream of our countless ancestors who lived and died on this land!”
She lifted the glass high.
“Cheers.”
“Cheers!”
Everyone downed their drinks—including the Grand Duke.
“Y-Your Grace!”
Godrick trembled, watching her down the wine in one shot. Simon gave him a puzzled look.
And a moment later—
“Khh. Fufu.”
Simon had to sling his arm around the drunken Grand Duke’s shoulders and escort her back to the office.
To think the famed Grand Duke of the North can’t handle her liquor.
“Let go of me! Arrogant brat! I can still drink more!”
But in truth, that one glass had been enough. Hiccuping, she was laid on the sofa.
“Haah. Just rest for now.”
Wiping sweat from his brow, Simon then noticed the desk.
“Hm?”
On the shelf sat a letter from Neftis, untouched. Simon’s eyes widened.
“What? You still haven’t read this?!”
“Fool. The contents are obvious.”
Her flushed face waved dismissively.
“And it’s not like I’ve only once or twice been deceived by that witch’s silver tongue.”
“No, but still! It’s from Lady Neftis, you have to read it!”
“Fine, fine.”
According to Godrick, the Grand Duke only lived by routine duties, and beyond that, was fundamentally lazy.
At first Simon hadn’t believed it, but the more he got to know her, the more it seemed true.
He tucked a blanket over her as her eyes drifted shut and placed the letter atop it.
“Make sure you read it!”
Peeking back in through the door before closing it, Simon left. She rolled over, gazing blankly into space.
Thud—
As she turned, the letter from Neftis slid to the floor. With a weary sigh, she was about to drift off when—
-It’s from Lady Neftis, you have to read it!
Reluctantly, she sighed again, picked up the letter, tore the seal lazily, and unfolded it.
“……”
Her drowsy eyes scanned the words—then she shot upright.
Her expression hardened, growing more severe by the second. By the time she finished, she was staring vacantly at the door Simon had left through.
Her arm trembled violently.
“No… way…”
She squeezed the paper so tightly her eyes reddened, then read it again.
“Arrogant brat, that boy…!”
The letter from Neftis contained only a single line.
“Simon is Yona’s son.”
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