The Black Magician's Last Struggle
Bairif Crotinu—once a man who dreamed of becoming a free black magician, now a servant enslaved by the Demon King—rubbed at the patches of skin that twitched and rose.
Goosebumps crawled over him.
The battlefield projected through his undead was pure terror.
A colossal aura cleaved through the world, and magnificent spells burst like fireworks.
The undead were quickly reverting to their original, broken forms.
"Strong."
He couldn't help but admire it.
As expected of the Empire.
He knew that blade would ultimately turn toward him, and that terrified him. Yet it thrilled him as well.
If he could turn them—those elite warriors of the Empire, that horrifying Hero—
into his undead…
If he could kill them with his own hands…
If he could make them undead…
Then the Demon King had been right.
This was the perfect chance to prove the worth of the undead he had crafted for more than a decade—to prove his worth.
"He said the royals are here too."
He didn't know which royal exactly, but the Demon King had no reason to lie.
"If I kill even the royals…"
The Empire would flip on its head, and his own fame—and the fame of the undead—would soar. Even if the enraged Empire formed a purge squad to hunt him, by then he'd escape the canyon with the Demon King's help.
Just imagining it made him shiver in excitement. His mouth watered.
"I'll give you a proper fight."
He closed his eyes and focused. The will of thousands of undead rushed into him in an instant. His head throbbed sharply.
But that only stoked Bairif's fighting spirit.
If the enemy wasn't at least this strong, there was no joy in crushing them.
For the Empire, this level of strength was only natural.
Bairif quickly grasped the enemy's strategy.
They placed the Hero at the front, smashing through the undead like a spearhead. That charge was the core of their advance.
"That one's a real monster…"
Undead linked to him were shattering in real time. Even seeing it through their vision gave him goosebumps.
The Hero's dimensional interference power shook the demonic energy beating within Bairif's heart.
Bairif manipulated the undead.
A frontal clash was pointless. He needed to chew away the supports coming from the flanks.
The skeleton archers positioned above the canyon fired. Their crude bone arrows, infused with demonic power and gravity, transformed into lethal projectiles.
"There are undead above too!"
"Block them!"
Magic circles intercepted the arrows, though not perfectly—some soldiers fell.
"Climb up and deal with them!"
Some knights climbed the canyon with the magicians' help—but what awaited them were headless corpses and the ones commanding them:
Death Knights.
"…Death Knight?"
"Dullahan!"
Riding skeletal warhorses, their charge flung the knights off the cliffs before they could even form a defensive line.
The death knight legion did not slow. They galloped along the sheer canyon wall.
As if about to fall—or not—these two columns of undead knights slammed into the humans' flank.
"Kuaaaah—!"
"Hiiiiiing—!"
"Watch the sides!"
One flank crumbled. Soldiers' screams turned into their final dying breaths.
Bodies tempered like steel, packed with countless souls, swung blades of vengeful spirit.
Armor shattered. Flesh tore. Hot blood spilled, unable to warm the soul-chilling cold of the undead aura.
"Groooooar—!"
The death knight howled.
The headless knights answered their commander's thirst.
Demonic energy surged. It gnawed on mana and bared its fangs toward the intruders.
"Move."
Thudthudthud—!
Hooves pounded the earth.
Two elite groups of knights disengaged from the front and swung to the sides, colliding head-on with the ravenous death knights.
KWAAAAANG—!
The Death Knight's body reeled. The skeletal horse screamed as Dullahan bodies were hurled through the air.
"Filthy corpse trash."
The Black Lion Knight Order—the black lions of House Osrian—roared.
Black Lions, cleaved in half yet unstoppable, smashed through everything. The captains and vice-captains of the death knights and Black Lions clashed.
KWAAANG—!
In the first collision, the Black Lions had the advantage.
A near–2-meter pillar of black aura split demonic energy and murderous intent, striking for the Death Knight's core.
—How dare you.
The death knight emitted a warped voice. Controlling the skeletal horse with near-divine skill, it deflected the shock and widened the distance. It vomited demonic energy toward the aura aimed at its heart.
Dozens of sword strikes flashed in an instant.
Death Knights, Dullahans, and Black Lions—
entangled like snakes, all driving their blades toward one another.
And so, the Black Lion Order was forced out of the central line.
This clearly slowed the Empire's advance. Their supporting formation faltered.
"Just as planned…!"
Through the eyes of the undead, Bairif trembled with ecstasy.
Even if he had to lose the two death knights he painstakingly crafted, and a hundred Dullahans, he had already resolved to pour everything into the canyon. And they were performing their roles perfectly.
"That one… he must be the real thing."
The continent's strongest Hero—undisputed. Even before Bairif had entered the canyon and sunk into the land of corpses, the Hero's name had spread widely.
"So the royals did move."
He had expected at least a high-ranking one.
Bairif mobilized the undead he had spent the longest time creating.
Rrrrrumble—
From among countless piles of white bones, an enormous head rose. In its hollow eye sockets, red demonic light flickered.
A neck, a body, short arms and legs, and wings made of bone emerged. Its massive 15-meter frame resembled a dragon.
"…A Bone Dragon?"
The Imperial soldiers panicked.
"Khehehe."
Bairif let out a laugh.
A Lesser Dragon.
It had "dragon" in its name but wasn't a true dragon. Rather, it was the strongest of the drake-type monsters—formerly the ruler of central Hapstline.
After long battles and brutal effort, it had become undead, yet retained most of its former power—twisted into an even stronger form.
It was Bairif's greatest source of confidence.
The Lesser Bone Dragon opened its jaws. Wind gathered between its black bony fangs.
Demonic energy rippled through the canyon. The bone dragon's core swelled like a balloon.
"Die—!"
Somewhere deep underground, as Bairif shouted—
A breath that devoured everything erupted forth.
***
The massive body could easily be mistaken for a real dragon.
"Your Highness, you must take cover!"
The guard knights shouted.
But he leapt off his terrified horse and ran forward.
"Your Highness!"
The knights chased after him.
"Where do you think you're running?"
He stabbed a fleeing soldier straight through the heart.
"G-gh—!"
Blood splattered across his armor.
"I gave the order. Advance and bring me the Black Magician's head."
Then—
"You follow it to the end. Who gave you permission to run?"
His mana-laden roar shook the entire canyon.
Everyone trembled beneath his fury.
Then—
"We obey Your Highness's command!"
A single voice swallowed the fear of the troops.
Only one man.
The Great Hero stepped forward. He too leapt from his terrified horse and struck the ground with his own feet.
At the same time, the dragon's jaws unleashed everything.
A black flash burst forth.
The sky turned dark.
White bones caught in the blast were pulverized into dust.
Even So, the Black Trail Did Not Falter
Even so, the black trajectory did not lose momentum and struck the humans head-on.
Some collapsed on the spot.
Some hid behind rocks.
Some wrapped their bodies in aura.
Some tried to shield the royal family with their own flesh.
And some expected to see the Hero's miserable end.
However—
There was no impact. No explosion.
Flash—!
From within the darkness, a blue radiance blossomed.
It pierced the darkness and advanced toward the storm.
A gigantic blade of light cleaved the storm in two.
─────!
It was like witnessing a great hero from legend.
As though he were vanquishing evil and proving righteousness.
As though he were protecting the kingdom and proclaiming a new age for mankind.
A lone torch in an ocean of pitch-blackness, illuminating the void.
Darkness split apart.
Every ounce of pressure meant to snuff out the flame was torn open.
At the end of that rift—
stood the dragon.
Spewing darkness.
Destroying the world.
The Demon Dragon revealed its presence.
Sensing the Hero, the raging storm grew even more violent.
And proportionally, the Hero's blade shone even more brilliantly.
He thrust toward the storm's center.
Drove deeper, and deeper still.
Past the gaping jaws.
Down the dragon's throat.
Kwa-kwa-kwa—!
The breath weakened.
The Demon Dragon screamed.
Its massive body convulsed, resisting.
"Return to where you belong."
For that was His Highness's command.
Crunch—!
No more screams followed.
The massive body collapsed.
***
Bairif's Despair
Guh-huk…!
Bairif coughed blood.
The link with the Lesser Bone Dragon he had poured his life into was severed, and demonic energy surged back into him.
A crushing pain squeezed his heart as if it were being wrung out.
"Impossible…!"
But the pain in his body was nothing compared to the pain in his spirit.
It had been the masterpiece he worked on for 15 years.
He feared no one.
Not even the Empire.
Not even the Hero.
He believed he could win.
He had even been strengthened after receiving a mana-corrupting elixir from the Demon King.
And yet—
"...This easily?"
The process certainly hadn't looked easy.
But the result was.
The Lesser Bone Dragon was dead.
It could not defeat a single Hero, and its core had shattered.
The 15-meter giant fell, and the Hero stomped atop the corpse and roared, declaring victory.
"You… bastard."
The black magician who lost 15 years of his life trembled with rage.
Blood oozed from his mangled lips.
"No matter what… I'll kill you…!"
But how?
His last and greatest trump card had been destroyed. He had nothing left.
—Or did he?
"..."
His eyes grew wild.
How wasteful.
Even if the Lesser Bone Dragon was destroyed, its remains still had value.
And the scattered bones of the fallen undead could be gathered again.
Was it right to throw all that away?
"Of course not!"
Even if he lost everything he had gathered in 15 years, it was better than failing to avenge the dragon.
Bairif bit all ten fingers until they bled.
He drew a ritual, closed his eyes, and focused.
"Disappear together with the dragon you destroyed."
Unrestrained demonic energy surged violently, making Bairif vomit blood.
At the same time, the bones filling the canyon reacted to the magic all at once.
***
The Canyon Erupts
KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA—!
An explosion so massive it shook the entire canyon.
"What in the—"
Questions lasted only a moment before a second shockwave of concentrated demonic energy swept through the canyon.
"Lord Hillen!"
"That direction—it's the canyon center! Something catastrophic must have happened!"
"From here on, full speed toward the center!"
"Brother, shouldn't we confirm what—"
"What confirming? My brother must be fighting the undead. If we stay here, the black magician's head will be taken first! If you're scared, come slowly. I'm going ahead."
The Second Prince spurred his entire force into a charge.
The Third Prince had no choice but to follow.
"Lord Pale."
"Don't ask me. I don't know either."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm the one who wants to know the most."
It was true.
What in the world happened?
Berze bit his lip.
Ever since he sensed the explosion, he had been signaling Bairif—
but there was no response.
He understood instinctively.
Something had gone wrong.
And his feeling was not mistaken.
When they reached the canyon center, what they found was a vast crater.
"...I'll kill him! How dare—HOW DARE HE!"
Inside the crater, the First Prince was rampaging, clutching the black magician's throat.
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