Chapter 679
It was a hot summer night.
The final day of the Royal Officer Cadet Academy.
For the cadets, it was the first time in two years of harsh training that they could finally drink alcohol.
Outside the tent, Cadet Ganiro and Romario sat across from each other, clinking their cups.
—I heard about it, Ganiro.
Romario, a cadet with dark skin and a muscular build, leaned his back and spoke.
—You volunteered for the North?
—Yeah.
—Why would you willingly apply for such a dangerous, dead-end place?
Ganiro drained his cup in one gulp, wiped his mouth, and replied.
—Whether I like it or not, it’s my birthplace. I swore long ago to protect the North.
—I see.
—What about you, Romario, top of the class?
—I applied to the Royal Capital Defense Corps, recommended by the instructor.
Ganiro chuckled.
—The classic elite route for the high Milords. As expected of the top cadet.
—If you go to the North…
Romario rubbed between his brows before continuing.
—You’ll need support from the kingdom and the South. The nobles in the capital don’t look favorably upon the North, so you’ll need at least one person working from the inside.
—…You…
—I’ll back you from the inside, Ganiro.
When Ganiro looked at him with tearful gratitude, Romario scratched the back of his head with an awkward smile.
—Don’t give me any of that sappy manly sentiment.
—Shut up, you bastard!
—Hahahahaha!
The two young cadets locked arms and dreamed about the future.
What kind of men would they become?
It wouldn’t take long to find the answer.
Five years later.
—The Northern Army at the Frost Field has been annihilated! The Duke is critically wounded!
—The 2nd Legion has scattered as well!
The North of Carlos faced its greatest crisis.
Having remained behind to defend Bilkenos instead of joining the expedition, Ganiro rushed desperately into the castle.
—Your Grace!
On a stretcher lay a middle-aged man with black hair, gasping for breath. His side was soaked with blood beneath his bandages.
It was undoubtedly a mortal wound.
—Father!
Beside him, the Duke’s young daughter, Jin, clung to his robe, weeping. The Duke turned his weary eyes.
—Ganiro…
Thud.
Ganiro collapsed to his knees. His hero, the man he respected most, was dying before his eyes.
—Listen well, Ganiro. The undead forces of the North Star are descending upon Bilkenos.
—…
—You are the only general left who can give orders. Lead the people south to safety.
Tears welled up, but Ganiro held them back, staring with bloodshot eyes.
—Please, take back those words.
—Ganiro.
—I’ll go South! I’ll persuade the central nobles and bring reinforcements!
—The nobles see the North as a thorn in their side. They won’t—
—I have a friend in the capital!
Ganiro struck his chest with his fist, shouting hoarsely.
—If he uses his influence, it’s possible! Please, just hold out a little longer, Your Grace!
Without delay, Ganiro mounted a horse and rode from Bilkenos.
His lord was dying, his homeland on the verge of being trampled by the enemy’s armies.
Day and night without rest, Ganiro rode until he reached the Southern Front Command of Carlos.
—Send reinforcements!
His haggard face cried out.
—The North is in peril! The undead of the North Star will descend any moment! If the North falls, the South is next—how can you not see this?!
—Calm yourself.
A mustached officer tugged at his whiskers.
—Do you think moving the army is so simple? Everything has its procedures. I will report your request to the higher command. In a month, the review should be complete.
—A month?! In a month, Bilkenos will have fallen to the North Star!
Ganiro’s veins bulged as he shouted.
—There are soldiers aplenty outside, why more procedure? Muster them now and march to Bilkenos!
—You—
—Enough! I won’t argue with you stone-headed fools! Romario! Bring Romario!
—How dare you utter the Chief of Staff’s name—!
Clatter!
The door of the staff room opened.
A man in uniform, dark-skinned, stepped out.
—What is this commotion?
—Romario!
After five long years, Romario looked exactly the same as in their cadet days.
Tears welled in Ganiro’s eyes as he cried out.
—Romario! Tell these stubborn blockheads! If the North isn’t saved in time—!
—You lack manners.
His icy, emotionless voice struck Ganiro like a slap.
—This is the army. Show respect befitting your rank.
—Ro… Romario?
—And though the North’s plight is regrettable, approval from the upper command is still required. Wait for the procedure.
At that moment, a portly officer and a blonde woman with a sword at her hip came out of the same room.
—What’s going on, Chief of Staff?
—Senior, do you know this man?
Romario turned his head coolly and walked back inside.
—No. I don’t know him.
Thud.
Ganiro’s heart sank as he collapsed to the floor.
His body shuddered with betrayal.
—Romario!!
Even decades later, Ganiro could recall it vividly.
That despair.
That betrayal.
And…
—If you go North, I’ll support you from within.
Their cadet days, when they locked arms and dreamed of the future.
What kind of men would we become?
“Romarioooooo!!”
A sword imbued with black lightning crashed down through the snowstorm.
BOOOOOOM!
The ground quaked as Ganiro’s blade clashed with Romario’s. The earth beneath Romario’s horse caved in.
“What the hell have you become!”
Landing on the ground, Ganiro glared with bloodshot eyes.
“Did you claw your way to success just to end up like that?!”
Before him stood his old friend, now the “Second”, enslaved by the North Star.
Grinding his teeth, Ganiro swung his sword in denial.
CRAAAASH!
BOOOOM!
Dark sparks scattered as Romario thrust his blade into the ground.
From below, black thorns erupted upward, but Ganiro charged like a man possessed. He twisted and dodged, stepped on the rising spikes, vaulted high, and brought his thunder-struck sword down on Romario.
“Say something! Romario!”
KRRRRAAACK!
The watching warriors were stunned.
“A-Amazing! General Ganiro!”
“He’s holding his own against one of the Three Brothers!”
Gahk!
But blood ran from his lips. The toll of maintaining Internal Darkness Divergence weighed heavy, yet Ganiro did not stop.
[Kill me… Kill me… Kill me…]
From Romario’s body sprouted arms, each clutching a black sword. Thirty blades surged at once toward Ganiro.
Ganiro’s eyes burned red.
“If that’s your last request—!”
Below, the spikes lunged. Above, thirty blades descended.
And in Ganiro’s hands, only one sword.
“As your friend, I’ll sever your neck with my own hand!”
<Ganiro’s Original – White Fracture>
A secret art that transformed his sword into pure lightning.
The blade, enchanted to its limit, scattered into a storm of thunderbolts. The incoming thorns and swords shattered under countless bolts, and through that opening, Ganiro lunged, drawing the dagger at his waist.
“Now close your eyes! Romari—!”
Squelch!
Ganiro froze. His legs dangled in the air.
Cough!
Blood gushed from his lips.
A spike had burst from the ground, piercing deep into his side. Poison coursed through him, paralyzing his body.
Romario stared at him with dull eyes, then seized his face, lifting him up.
Unable to resist, Ganiro dangled as Romario raised two arms to the sky.
Wooooooong—!
A colossal black thorn-sword rose high.
The overwhelming difference in strength.
The thorn-sword came crashing down to cleave Ganiro in two.
At the brink of death, despair swallowed him.
And then—
[Who gave you permission to rest already, General?]
With that sweet voice, Ganiro’s eyes shot wide open.
The massive thorn-sword descending from above was shattered by an arrow streaking in like a comet. And in the blink of an eye, a black knight clad head-to-toe in armor appeared beside him.
[I have not yet granted you permission to rest.]
Tears welled in Ganiro’s eyes.
“D-Duke!”
Meanwhile, Romario moved to swing more swords—
Thwack!
Suddenly, an arrow slammed into his face.
[?]
The Duke hadn’t even seemed to draw her bow. Her limp hand flicked the bowstring.
Thwack!
Before the string even finished quivering, an arrow sank into the horse Romario was riding.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Each time her hand twitched with the bow, Romario was struck again and again, left reeling.
Ganiro, freed from Romario’s grip, dropped to the ground. The Duke drew her hand back.
Shhhhhh—!
In her grasp appeared an arrow wrought of Darkness. Slinging the Bow of Tempest over her shoulder, she snapped the arrow once.
Chrrring—!
With a melodious sound, the arrow elongated into the form of a spear. She dashed forward instantly, and Romario drew countless black swords from his many arms to counter.
Shhk!
With a single quiver of the spear’s tip, ten wrists were severed.
Shhk! Shhk! Shhk!
Each tremor of the spearhead sheared through twenty, thirty wrists at once. In an instant, Romario’s offense was dismantled. The Duke soared like a butterfly.
Puuuk!
The spearhead pierced Romario’s chest. Though it looked simple when she did it, the strike was sharp, flawless, and precise, leaving no room for counterattack.
She let go of the spear, spun once in midair, and drew her bow in a single fluid motion.
Thwack!
The arrow loosed instantly, flying into the lodged spear’s tip.
KABOOOOOM!
At the exact moment arrow and spear connected, the spear exploded within Romario’s body.
A nearly perfect combination.
Romario’s tattered body burst apart and fell in fragments to the ground.
“Uwooooooh!”
The Northern warriors watching the battle roared in triumph. The Duke landed gracefully, murmuring at the blast.
[Persistent, aren’t you… undead.]
Grab!
Through the haze of smoke, Romario’s hand shot out and seized the Duke’s helmet.
Grab! Grab!
His ruined body’s other hands clamped onto her arms and shoulders.
“Ah!”
“The Duke has been caught!”
The warriors gasped and rushed forward. Romario staggered, groaning in a ghastly voice:
[Kill… me.]
The Duke closed her eyes quietly behind her helm.
“I am not the one to kill you.”
Sensing something, the Undead Romario turned.
Out of the explosion’s smoke, Ganiro appeared, floating upside-down, directly behind him.
“Romarioooooo!!”
KRAAAA-BOOOOM!
His left arm, transformed into lightning, cleaved clean through Romario’s neck. At last, robbed of both Core and head, Romario’s body slumped lifelessly.
Crash!
Ganiro’s own body, unable to withstand the force of his strike, tumbled to the ground and rolled into a tree before coming to a stop.
“Haaah! Haaah!”
He heaved, chest rising and falling. His left arm, turned to lightning in place of a missing sword, was now shriveled black.
Thud—thunk—
Romario’s severed head rolled to a stop beside him.
Ganiro looked down.
[Gani…]
The head spoke.
[…never… meant…]
Clench.
Ganiro gnashed his teeth.
“Damn it! Now you say that…?!”
In truth, he had suspected it.
That Romario had wanted to help the North back then.
—Though your situation is pitiable, approval from higher command is required.
But the central nobles—and the orders from above—had bound him.
That was the army. What else could he have done? What more could Ganiro have expected of him?
And yet… he couldn’t forgive it.
“Damn it! Damn it all!”
Cursing, Ganiro soon sagged like a man resigned.
With his charred, useless arm, he slowly closed Romario’s eyes.
“Yeah. That’s how it is.”
The one who clawed upward chasing rank, abandoning his friend.
The one who rolled in the mud, twisted and broken by hardship.
In the end, the same. All returned to dust.
“You worthless bastard… still, rest in peace.”
At least he would grant that much, at the end.
Step. Step.
The Duke approached, her armor clanking.
[Have you settled your heart?]
“…Duke.”
Ganiro forced a bitter smile.
“How could you come to my aid? What about Chronos?”
[Broken. He fled with his tail between his legs, but I shattered all his moons.]
Ganiro looked up.
The crimson moons that had empowered the undead were gone, not one remained. Such was her overwhelming might.
[Now I command you: rest.]
Ganiro let his arms fall limp and closed his eyes.
“Thank you.”
Orderlies carrying stretchers rushed toward him.
* * *
While Ganiro and Romario clashed fiercely, another front was in crisis.
The gravest danger was where the “Third” fought.
“Haaah… haaah…”
Simon panted, sword drooping in his grasp.
His opponent was the Third, Grayson. As she raised her arms, countless undead birds streamed endlessly from the holes in her back.
“Grayson…!”
Astonishingly, she had once served in the Royal Army.
But even more baffling—
‘Why did the North Star choose Grayson as the Third? She’s no warrior, just an ordinary woman…’
Perhaps she hid some secret power. Commanding so many dead birds hinted at it.
At that moment, Feer’s voice rang out:
[Abandon the idea of recruiting the Third into the Legion!]
“Feer!”
[The Three Brothers are entities the North Star personally contracted and imbued with his own power! No other necromancer can interfere!]
“….”
Simon lifted his gaze back to Grayson.
Was he truly to give up here?
[Simon… I’m sorry.]
She swept her arms wide.
[I… I cannot defy the North Star.]
The torrent of birds now surged straight toward Simon. He raised his sword, bracing himself.
‘I have to get close…’
Simon and the Royal Guard streaked forward, leaving trails of green-blue light, slashing through the swarms.
Shaaak!
Slash!
They carved a path madly, narrowing the distance to Grayson.
‘There are too many!’
The beaks of the black birds were like daggers. Guards fell one after another, and Simon himself was struck.
[I’m sorry.]
Grayson pressed her palms together. The flock compressed into a massive spear and shot at Simon.
BOOOOM!
Just barely, Simon spread a Darkness Shield before him, but was hurled back, gouging the ground before stopping.
Even then, more birds spilled from her back.
“Tell me just one thing, Grayson! Why were you in the Royal Army?”
She lowered her head, answering meekly.
[Count Voldemont blackmailed me… I’m sorry. I had no choice.]
So she had been allied with Count Voldemont. The leak of the Abyss’ location must have been her doing.
Suddenly, she clutched her head, crying out.
[Run away, Simon! I—]
Blood-tears streamed down her face.
[I can’t control myself anymore!]
Her condition was clearly deteriorating.
Simon’s mind raced.
‘It’s different from Chronos. Chronos willingly aided the North Star even after becoming undead. But Grayson… she’s resisting him.’
His thoughts turned.
And Romario—the Second. He only repeated ‘kill me’. Perhaps the North Star’s power manifests differently depending on the person.
He wanted to ponder further, but there was no time. Another wave of birds descended on him.
Feer’s voice rang again:
[I’m on my way, boy! Don’t overextend yourself, the enemy is the Third!]
‘Yes.’
Simon exhaled solemnly, sharpening every sense.
‘I’ll do what I can… to the very end.’
Retreat was never in his mind.
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