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The transformation of the undead shrouded in malice was dramatic.

In truth, the undead that had been attacking until now, despite their grotesque and repulsive appearances, were fundamentally not much different from humans. The only issues were the eerie sense of otherness as the dead and the ominous killing intent they exuded. Their physical capabilities were never truly threatening.

In fact, those who had trained in the Reverse Muscle Technique or Reverse Brain Method during their lives often became weaker as undead, as their ethereal bodies were not reflected at all after death.

Moreover, those who had reached a profound level of ethereal muscles and ethereal brains, with their sublime ethereal bodies, rarely became undead unless something extraordinary happened. Thus, the standard for ordinary undead was not much different from that of regular mortals.

However, the undead, surrounded by an ominous aura accompanied by a sinister whistle, underwent a transformation so intense it was impossible to ignore.

Crack, crack.

Their hunched backs and shoulders, previously suppressed by the energy of obsidian and yew trees, straightened, and their skeletons began to visibly bulk up. The rotting, tattered flesh fell away, replaced by powerful muscles that, despite reeking of decay, gleamed with a noticeable luster.

Upon closer inspection, the materials used for their bulking up were obvious—the bones and flesh of undead that had been neutralized by soldiers and knights, those who could no longer be expected to fight.

The bone fragments, shattered by malice, turned into glowing powder and were used to reconstruct the skeletons of the still-intact undead. The shredded flesh transformed into worm-like creatures with bared teeth, intertwining and attaching themselves to the reconstructed skeletons, forming tendons and muscles.

Soon, the dramatically bulked-up undead began to rampage again.

“Ahhh! Damn these monsters!”

“Surraz, help us! What is happening?!”

“Veratir, the god with the staff!”

“Everyone, ru—ugh!”

Mass itself is power. The undead, now significantly larger, moved with a swiftness and ferocity unlike their previous clumsy movements. The formation, barely holding on, collapsed in an instant.

The soldiers blocking the undead were sent flying like bowling pins. Those who were thrown convulsed, vomiting blood, their bones shattered and organs ruptured.

While the soldiers sprawled in various gruesome states—open fractures, crushed bones, torn organs—some faced even more horrifying fates.

“What are you doing to me…? No, stop! Stop! Aaaah!”

“Ugh, grr—※″℃∴≥∈√☆◎×—aaaah!”

The soldiers caught by the enlarged undead were torn apart limb by limb, like children plucking the wings and legs off insects.

The only saving grace was that even these upgraded, enlarged undead couldn’t overpower knights trained in the Reverse Muscle Technique.

“These insolent corpses, stop at once!”

“Do not let them near the wagon!”

The difference in strength was clear. With each flash of the sword, limbs were severed, and the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground echoed.

‘But that’s as far as it goes.’

The spellcaster, gauging the remaining duration of the runes of victory and yew trees, swallowed a sigh. His palms were drenched in sweat, and the obsidian wooden sword in his left hand bore dark fingerprints from the moisture.

In his view, the knights were strong, but their numbers were insufficient. With only six, it was impossible to protect the wagon from the horde of undead filling the road. To make matters worse, the coachman of the rear wagon had already died, leaving no one to calm the panicking horses.

The spellcaster, rushing to the coachman’s seat, tried to grab the reins and calm the horses but failed. Gritting his teeth, he raised the obsidian wooden sword and severed the straps connecting the wagon to the horses. It seemed the wagon would overturn otherwise.

With a thud, the straps were cut, and the freed horses bolted, trampling smaller undead before being caught by the enlarged undead, their necks snapped without a sound.

‘Sorry, guys. We have to save the people first.’

After a brief moment of mourning, the spellcaster surveyed the situation, which had grown even more dire. Soldiers resisting in scattered positions were being sacrificed, and the undead’s reach was nearing the wagon.

There was no other way.

“Ugh, {Teiwaz, Eihwaz}!”

The runes of victory and yew trees, their duration nearly expired, were forcibly reactivated by the spellcaster’s incantation. He poured all his remaining strength into the rune stones, which glowed faintly before the red energy of the yew tree surged, pushing back the ominous aura.

‘But it’s not enough.’

While the red energy of the yew tree did push back the malice, its intensity and range were limited. Completely dispelling the malice filling the world was an impossible feat for the spellcaster’s current methods. The gap was stark.

As the spellcaster trembled with frustration, a mocking laugh echoed in his ears. He shouted in anger.

“Who are you?! Where are you hiding?! If you’re not a coward, show yourself! Come out now—ah!”

But there was no response. Only a more unpleasant sneer, carried by telepathy, brushed past his ears.

Just as everything seemed to be heading for the worst, the knights desperately fought off the undead approaching the wagon. But their numbers were limited, and the stamina of their warhorses was rapidly depleting.

Even if they tried to flee with the wagon now, the rear wagon had already lost its coachman and horses, leaving no means of escape. Moreover, with the road occupied by undead, there was no clear path to flee.

Feeling there was no other option, the spellcaster bowed his head and spoke to the person in the wagon.

“Your Highness, there’s no other way. It seems we must make a final decision. Please forgive this powerless servant.”

Swallowing his frustration and guilt, the spellcaster raised his head and spoke resolutely.

“But rest assured. Even if Your Highness were to die here, I will ensure you do not become undead.”

If the ‘Your Highness’ hiding in the wagon had heard, or if the knights desperately fighting to keep the undead at bay had heard, they would have surely shouted, “Stop talking nonsense!” The spellcaster, holding the obsidian wooden sword at an angle, raised it high.

He then split the skulls of a few undead charging toward the wagon with the obsidian sword, taking step after step toward the wagon door. From the coachman’s seat to the door was only five steps. Just as the undead’s approach to the wagon momentarily subsided, and only one step remained to open the door.

Suddenly, the spellcaster stopped, his hand reaching for the door frozen in place. After a moment, he slowly turned around, his gaze vacant, staring into the distance.

In that moment, an undead that had broken through the knights’ defense charged at him, jaws wide open.

Just then.

[――――!!!!]

The world shook. A blinding light filled the vision, and a thunderous roar shook the earth.

The spellcaster, the knights, the noble hiding in the wagon, the scattered soldiers resisting the undead—everyone still alive at that moment saw it. A being of supreme authority, annihilating all that was false, wrong, and evil, shattering them like pottery.

Despite the humans standing dumbfounded as if waking from a dream, none were attacked by the undead. Because the undead had already been completely neutralized.

The threat of the undead that had filled the road and its surroundings was gone the moment the light burst forth and the roar echoed. All that remained were those melting in the light, screaming in sharp pain, or those shattered by the roar’s shockwave, crawling away in pieces.

{……!?}

The spellcaster realized the mocking voice that had been laughing earlier had gone silent. Through the unfinished telepathy, he felt the other’s panic, confusion, fear, and pain. The spellcaster felt an indescribable pleasure at the thought of the petty evil fainting before such radiant light.

No, perhaps it was slightly different. Those who wielded sorcery and dark arts inevitably corrupted and twisted the minds of those they dealt with. Through his ethereal brain, the spellcaster realized that his own self had been tainted by filth without his knowledge.

Just moments ago, he had been about to harm the person he had cared for since childhood. Was that really him?

It seemed he had been influenced by the sorcerer to the point of acting against his own nature. But the moment the light and roar touched him, it was all washed away. What had been twisted was straightened, what had been tainted was cleansed. Perhaps even the inherent delusions accumulated unknowingly throughout life.

So, it was only natural to feel pleasure.

‘Does such a great art exist in this world? What kind of technique is this?’

The spellcaster, not affiliated with the church, had yet to hear the latest news about Sophia de Chazel, a nun knight among the church’s paladins, who was generously sharing knowledge of the Immovable King Wisdom Technique from her past life.

As the spellcaster and everyone else present were lost in their thoughts, a figure on horseback emerged from the light. But something was off. The horse’s strides seemed to skip distances, as if the perspective was broken, covering vast distances in just a few steps.

The figure that appeared in this disjointed manner was a nun knight in unique plate armor, riding a pale gray horse, her face veiled.

When the people could finally make out her form, the nun knight’s hand brushed the hilt of the longsword at her waist. And in the next moment.

Shukakakakak!

Despite the distance, countless sword lights flashed around the road.

The undead, already weakened by the mixed blue and golden light, were helplessly torn apart by the bizarre sword trails that pierced their cores.

“Gulp.”

Among those who witnessed this, the knights were the most shocked.

The functionality of sensory organs is not unrelated to muscles and bones. Those who trained in the Reverse Muscle Technique with the aid of ethereal muscles naturally possessed sensory systems different from ordinary people. Their eyes and ears were screaming at the extraordinary nature of the sword lights that had just swept through.

Each sword light traced the optimal path. When seen up close, they were merely exquisite, but when viewed from a broader perspective, they became an absurd marvel.

Each individual sword light, merely tracing the optimal path, when combined, revealed a bizarre, almost incomprehensible aspect of swordsmanship, a vein of the sword path itself.

What was even more terrifying was that not a single hint of killing intent emanated from those sword lights.

It was only natural for a blade to exude killing intent when swung. The more refined the swordsmanship, the sharper and more precise the killing intent. Yet, from such a magnificent sword technique, not a single trace of killing intent could be felt, which was highly unusual.

But the knights had heard tales of a certain realm of swordsmanship. Until now, they had thought it existed only in the fantasies of boastful enthusiasts. But witnessing such a strange phenomenon before their eyes, they couldn’t help but recall it.

‘Could it be… the sword’s killing intent…?’

‘Did they completely contain it, not letting a single trace escape?!’

Could it be, no, really…? The knights, reacting in disbelief, unconsciously followed the trails of the sword lights they had just witnessed.

Meanwhile, the horse and nun knight, with the same disjointed movement as before, crossed the remaining distance in an instant, appearing before the people.

 

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