After eliminating a small group of enemy soldiers, Walm headed straight for the Sixth Rampart. Scaling the slope with the aid of wind magic, he leapt over the walls, killing and injuring enemy soldiers in passing. His body, despite being covered in wounds, was surprisingly agile. Either due to numbness from surpassing a certain threshold of pain, or simply due to his current state, Walm no longer paid any mind to his broken fingers or ribs.

A guarding soldier, noticing the turmoil, warned his comrades and fired arrows at Walm, who was disappearing into the darkness. However, the arrows missed their mark and stuck into the ground elsewhere. The Sixth Rampart, while absurdly vast for a rampart, had limited space to deploy soldiers, and Walm was well aware of where the troops were densely packed, thanks to the materials and excess soil being transported out of the rampart.

It was not necessary to engage all the soldiers. By blowing up a nearby garrison, Walm had managed to distract most of them. A Crest Kingdom soldier unfortunate enough to block Walm’s path was bisected, his upper body separated from his lower. Finally, Walm found his target.

The campsite was densely packed with soldiers. In the pitched tents, supplies and generals rested, while the normal soldiers slept on the ground, covered only by their cloaks. Some fires were still burning, and Walm even spotted soldiers who were likely drinking before the attack. Some lower officers and veteran soldiers quickly reacted to the commotion, hastily donning their equipment, but more than half were caught off-guard, not wearing their armor – exactly the scene Walm had hoped for.

“What’s happening? What’s all this commotion?”

“Undead, no, enemy sabotage?”

“Get up, prepare for battle!!”

If it were a regular battle, most soldiers would have reacted quickly. However, the continuous fierce battles had worn them down, physically and mentally. The safety of their beds within the rampart had slowed their response. Walm, stepping into the campsite, overflowed with magical energy. The cold night air quickly warmed up, becoming unbearably hot.

“Stop him!!”

The pained cries of the Crest soldiers echoed, but Walm, with a wail of anguish, overrode them. Soldiers armed only with swords, spears, and daggers approached Walm in slow motion, but they were quickly obliterated.

“Aaahhhhh!!”

The swelling azure flames spread, carried by the hot wind. A general consumed by the fire rolled on the ground in his tent, and soldiers who inhaled the blue flames had their tracheas and lungs burned, gasping for air on the ground. Walm was fully aware of what he was doing, yet he couldn’t stop. His suppressed emotions were overflowing like a breached dam.

A naked man and woman, likely caught in the midst of intimacy, ran out of one of the tents, engulfed in flames. Walm didn’t see it as a lapse in discipline. In a world where tomorrow’s survival was not guaranteed, it was natural for people, regardless of ranks, to seek such comforts.

However, their timing was unfortunate. The battlefield is always irrational. One moment you’re alive, the next, it’s your turn to die. Walm had also experienced this.

“It’s an attack, an attack!”

“This isn’t normal fire, it’s the Hellfire Beacon!”

Continuing to spew demon fire, Walm kept burning the campsite. The Crest soldiers, unable to pinpoint their enemy, died without a fight, trying to escape to areas untouched by the fire. The skills honed in battle, their reliance on weapons, and the supposed command hierarchy were all absent, and everyone was equally terrified of the primal fear of fire.

“Damn it, it won’t go out, it’s clinging to me! Idiot, don’t grab me, stop!!”

“Don’t roll on the ground, the fire will still cling to you! Just run, keep your distance!!”

Even amidst a scene that would normally have softened Walm’s resolve, he continued to release the demon fire. He had only burned one of his intended targets.

◆

Yuuto was caught between sleep and wakefulness in his bed in the tent, tasked with providing magical support the next day. Having buried a vast number of people with his “Skill” over the past week, Yuuto was under tremendous mental strain.

During the day, he managed to cope somehow. But at night, when alone, the battlefield scenes inevitably replayed in his mind, seared into his eyelids.

Limbs flying off, blood spattering with screams, dense murderous intent and hatred directed at him. When he unleashed his magic that left nothing of his opponents, not even their extremities, he had made eye contact, albeit through a mask. Those black eyes seemed to vow never to forget him. Yuuto didn’t think it was the wrong decision. If he hadn’t killed him, many of his comrades and the Rehazen Knight Order, who had taken care of him, would have suffered.

“Pull yourself together. What kind of man are you if you’re like this?”

For his new home and his comrades, Yuuto couldn’t run away. He tossed and turned in bed, not knowing how many times, and eventually covered his head with the thin bedding. Just as his consciousness was about to fade, Yuuto’s ears caught the commotion.

“Have the undead broken out?”

Corpses could turn into undead. Yuuto, an exceptional wielder of light attributes, had fought against the undead several times. They were demons as varied as humans themselves, their strength greatly fluctuated based on their physical forms before death. The resistance of the soldiers of the Highserk Empire after Yuuto had twisted open the defensive circle’s breakthrough point was intense.

“Kill the three heroes!” Even as their entrails spilled out and their limbs were severed, the approaching enemy soldiers truly chilled Yuuto to the core. Even a week later, it still echoed in his ears.

When he heard that those soldiers had turned into undead, Yuuto was reminded of the terrifying nature of human will. Yuuto sat up from his bed. If things were tough, he might need to help. Without any prior notice, the entrance to the tent was flung open.

“Yuuto!”

The one who burst in was Makoto. His childhood friend, who never lost her composure even in battle, now looked panic-stricken, an expression that could only be described as abnormal. Yuuto gasped.

“What happened? What’s going on?”

“Our camp and command area are under attack!”

“Are Ayane and Lady Johanna safe?”

The first thoughts that came to his mind were of another childhood friend and the female knight who had raised him in this world.

“I don’t know. The fire has spread from the third to the sixth ramparts, and information we got is confusing.”

He couldn’t believe that they had allowed the enemy to infiltrate so far. At the same time, the mention of fire brought a bad premonition to Yuuto, and he flung open the entrance. It was as if the ramparts themselves were on fire. The pungent smell of burning flesh and the screams of agony filled the air. Most of all, the flames were an unnatural blue.

“Could it be the demon fire user?”

“I don’t want to believe it, but this azure flame, it must be the Hellfire Beacon.”

Yuuto spoke the truth. It was undoubtedly someone he had killed. The blue flame that clung to and burned whatever it touched was unmistakable. At the same time, he wondered why. The person he killed, the burning of the third rampart… the words connected, and Yuuto understood. The enemy had spent a week turning into an undead and resurrected.

“Makoto, let’s go. Ayane and Lady Johanna are in danger.”

With the minimum equipment, Yuuto rushed out.