Chapter 343

======[ Northern Wall ]======

Ryu-rik and the final strike force were in the midst of battle.

A beastman warrior, who had headed to the Northern Wall to call for reinforcements as per the king’s orders, couldn’t hide his shock.

There was no one at the Northern Wall.

Only piles of snow had accumulated on the debris of the collapsed wall, and there was no sign of the reinforcements from Baraykruz that should have arrived long ago.

“What the hell…!”

The warrior, unable to comprehend the situation before him, let out a groan.

Why were they not here? Were they delayed due to unforeseen circumstances, or had they never even set out in the first place? As a mere warrior, he had no way of knowing the truth.

One thing was certain: without reinforcements, his king and the other warriors fighting in the distance had no way to escape death.

‘I must inform His Majesty…!’

They couldn’t wait for reinforcements and continue to resist. Even if they had to sacrifice the slower ones, they had to make it to the Sky Mountain Range.

Once they entered the mountain range, it would be impossible for the humans to pursue them.

Having reached this conclusion, the warrior hastily changed direction.

And then, his world turned upside down.

“……!”

A severed head couldn’t even let out a scream of shock.

In his fading vision, all he saw was his own body, spurting blood from the missing upper half, and a single human sheathing a silver-blue longsword.

‘A human… a girl?!’

A girl with long gray hair, dressed in winter clothing.

She looked no older than fifteen, but the expression on her petite face was as cold as ice, far beyond her years.

‘…How…!’

In his fading consciousness, the warrior held onto his final question.

How had he not noticed someone right beside him? He hadn’t sensed any presence, footsteps, or even a smell.

It was bizarre.

Even though she was right in front of him, he couldn’t feel her presence at all.

Like a ghost.

‘……’

With an unanswered question, the warrior’s consciousness sank into darkness.

The severed head rolled across the snowy ground.

—

The girl, emotionlessly staring down at the beastman’s severed head, soon turned her gaze to her right arm.

Her right hand trembled as if convulsing. Even the tips of her fingers had turned to dust, slowly crumbling away.

‘…Pathetic.’

The girl frowned and clenched her fist tightly.

She was deeply dissatisfied with this fragile body, which was falling apart after just one technique, and with her own fate, having been tricked into this state by a fraudulent contract.

“Hmm. Truly living up to the reputation.”

A young man’s voice addressed the girl.

A man in a robe emerged from the debris of the Northern Wall.

He was the magician who had been feeding Ryu-rik information about the Empire, deliberately manipulating him.

He was the Fourth Apostle from Peirus’s organization.

“The ghostly assassination sword, undetectable even in existence. Seeing it in person is quite astonishing. I didn’t expect you could use it even with a resurrected body. I’m curious about the principle.”

“Resurrection? Don’t make me laugh.”

The girl glared at him, not bothering to hide her irritation.

“It’s just the soul of a dead person forced into a dead body. And a fragile vessel at that, one that breaks after a few swings of the sword.”

The girl was deeply dissatisfied with her body.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t even her body.

Since she was forcibly moving the corpse of a young girl, her strength and stamina were pitifully weak. If she forced herself to move by drawing on the power of the “Up,” her extremities would necrotize and crumble.

Compared to her original body, which had begun to age, this one was far inferior.

“Well, there’s nothing to be done about that. Even Peirus finds it tricky to create an artificial body capable of utilizing the ‘Up.’ Until the most suitable vessel is completed, you’ll have to keep switching temporary bodies. You’ll get used to it eventually, Werner Valenstein.”

The Fourth Apostle shrugged and uttered the astonishing name.

Werner Valenstein.

The former Imperial First Sword, who had lost his life to Princess Ha-shal-leur Ai-shan Gi-or on the Zeren Plains.

After his death, his soul, bound by a contract, was captured by the necromancer Peirus. His soul was then placed into a suitable corpse, with restrictions to prevent him from defying orders.

That was the true identity of the girl glaring coldly at the Fourth Apostle.

“…Of all things, the body of a young girl. Is this Peirus’s way of mocking me? If he wanted to use me at full strength, he should have prepared the body of a knight, not this.”

Valenstein muttered in a cold voice.

The shock of waking up for the first time still hadn’t faded.

He had screamed in shock twice, after all.

Once when he realized he had come back to life despite being certain he had died.

And again when he saw his reflection in the mirror, now the body of a young girl who barely reached his former waist.

A man nearing seventy had become a young girl.

“Huh? Oh, I don’t think it’s mockery. I’m not an expert in necromancy, but… combining a soul and a body that are fundamentally opposed is no easy task. So, perhaps… he chose the body of a young girl to stabilize the union of opposing forces.”

The Fourth Apostle shook his head, defending Peirus.

Even Valenstein, who wasn’t well-versed in magic, could understand the simplified explanation.

“Opposing forces?”

“Yes. Normally, opposing forces clash, but if you suppress and properly fuse them, they can transform into an incredibly powerful and stable force. If it fails, there’s a massive explosion… Anyway, I think Peirus chose the body of a young girl for that reason. If you’re looking for something opposed to the soul of an old man, what better than the body of a young girl?”

Valenstein wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about magic, but even she had to admit the explanation made some sense.

Though it wasn’t exactly comforting.

…In short, it meant that the “suitable vessel” to be completed someday would also be the body of a young girl.

—

After that, the two sat on the debris of the Northern Wall for a while, letting time pass.

There might still be beastmen who had survived the battle with Pailoon’s pursuit force and were fleeing toward the Northern Wall.

Their task was to ensure that no beastman, except for Abigail and Ryudmila, returned to the Sky Mountain Range.

That was the condition Oleg, the Snow Tiger, had set for cooperating with the Fourth Apostle.

Valenstein, now a girl, was the reinforcement Peirus had sent at the Fourth Apostle’s request, as she would struggle to face Ryu-rik alone.

The two had been waiting at the entrance of the Northern Wall, fully prepared, but in the end, they didn’t need to act.

Ryu-rik, Vasiliy, Victor, and the other beastman warriors had been completely annihilated by the Northern Army.

After confirming the beastmen’s annihilation through the eyes of animals, the Fourth Apostle, yawning as if bored, left the Northern Wall with Valenstein and headed back to their base.

Oleg’s reinforcements, delayed by the civil war at the front-line base, arrived at the Northern Wall almost a day later.

Maxim wept as he held Ryu-rik’s flayed corpse, and Oleg stomped his feet and let out a long roar, unable to contain his frustration.

Though it was nothing more than a show of anger, there was no way someone like Maxim could see through Oleg’s true intentions, which even Ryu-rik and Nazar hadn’t grasped.

And so, the reinforcements from Baraykruz, having arrived too late, had no choice but to return dejectedly, carrying the cold, flayed corpses.

The warriors wanted to charge south and tear the humans apart, but… Maxim and Oleg stopped them. There was no chance of winning a siege against enemies who had even defeated Ryu-rik.

They returned beyond the Sky Mountain Range, promising to fight another day.

—

The victory in the north was encouraging, but the Empire’s power was weaker than ever.

The fundamental force that had compelled other races to follow the human-led order—the tens of thousands of Imperial soldiers—had melted away like snow in the great invasion.

The lords’ private armies, already depleted by the civil war, had not yet been replenished when the Imperial main force was completely wiped out.

Though the 3rd and 4th legions remained, they were already struggling to deal with the increasingly frequent monster uprisings.

It was a shocking turn of events.

For both the people of the Empire and those outside it.

Over the past few centuries, the Empire had built an unshakable myth of invincibility, so the sudden loss of two legions was something no one had anticipated.

All races realized one thing:

The Empire no longer had the strength to restrain them.

Of course, few races were bold enough to consider directly attacking the Empire.

The fate of the Winter Wolf, who had been so bold, was evident in the taxidermied decoration proudly displayed by Princess Pailoon.

The hero of humanity, who had appeared after hundreds of years.

Median, the Paladin of Radiance, descendant of the Twelve Knights.

Her presence alone was enough to make other nations hesitate to attack the Empire.

Moreover, even though the Imperial Army had been halved, the casualties were limited to professional soldiers.

There were still countless men across the Empire who were not soldiers, and if other races invaded, they could be conscripted to form an army of tens of thousands.

Thus, instead of directly targeting the Empire, they focused on strengthening their own national power, taking advantage of the Empire’s weakened state.

Secret letters began to circulate between the southern kingdoms of Panam and Dane, while in the west, Alvheim marched toward the Republic of Himmell, their long-time enemies among the beastmen.

This was a blatant violation of the Empire’s policy of prohibiting conflicts between allied nations.

But the elves, who had regained half of the World Tree’s blessing, no longer feared anything.

Compared to them, who had regained their former strength as soon as the World Tree’s blessing grew stronger, the other races’ gradual increase in power was as slow as a turtle’s crawl.

On the day the two Holy Grails were destroyed, granting humanity the realm of heroes, the ten guardians, who had fallen to the level of human masters, regained power comparable to heroes.

Though half of them had fallen into a deep slumber due to mental health issues.

Even the patrolmen, who had been at the level of ordinary knights, regained their former strength, which had once rivaled that of masters.

The younger patrolmen who hadn’t reached the level of masters were reorganized under their command and were now called patrol members.

This was effectively a demotion, but in the authoritarian and conservative elven society, it was impossible for the youth to voice dissent against the decisions of their superiors.

Five active hero-level guardians, thirty master-level patrolmen, and two hundred patrol members.

This was the moment when the elven kingdom of Alvheim reestablished itself as a major power in the west.

It is the nature of living beings to want to use their strength when they have it, and nations are no different.

Alvheim began to move to reclaim its former glory.

They aimed to exterminate the beastmen to eliminate future threats, then turn their bows toward the Empire, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Leopold sent envoys to strongly criticize Alvheim’s actions, which were stirring up war on the continent, but the elves expelled the Imperial envoys, declaring that they no longer needed the Empire’s protection or interference.

Upon hearing that the elves were marching, Himmell also began to concentrate all its weapons and forces at the border.

The international situation was rapidly becoming chaotic.

The wounded giant, the Kalros Empire, could only watch helplessly.

—

Peace was over.

The era of war had arrived.