The Labyrinth City, where the flow of people never ceased day or night, was now overflowing with death. Few humans live each day prepared for death to descend without warning.

Walm swept his halberd from behind, cutting down an undead that devoured the living, and returned it to the underworld. He fixed his gaze upon the horde of the dead.

The corpses of citizens were mixed among ghouls that had turned into monsters, but the troublesome individuals wore old, mold-covered weapons and armor.

A ghoul that spotted Walm abruptly shifted from its sluggish movements and charged forward, holding its sword at mid-stance.

The blade swung toward his head. Walm slipped past it by a hair’s breadth, pivoted his body, and smashed the axe-head into the side of its skull. The brittle skull was easily torn open by iron.

Uneven blades thrust in from the undead that followed, but they sliced through empty air, never catching Walm.

He drove the spear tip up beneath the chin of a ghoul bent forward. Reaching the brain of the dead, Walm twisted the shaft with his wrist, churning its contents. He yanked it free and shook off the clinging filth.

Like moths swarming a bonfire, the undead that hungered for the living were drawn to Walm, craving his flesh. Each careless swing of his halberd scattered heads and limbs across the street.

Walm continued to vent the hatred swirling in his heart upon the undead. It was nowhere near enough to quiet him.

The undead that had brazenly blocked the road were piled to the roadside as corpses. Though Walm had purified one street, the sounds of battle did not cease. It was as if the city itself were being violated, crying out in agony.

“Are you… human?”

In this city turned into the capital of the dead, one of the living called out to Walm. In the midst of such chaos, anyone wearing a grotesque mask might well be mistaken for something inhuman. Judging from the dirtied armor, the man had once been a guard tasked with maintaining order in the city.

“I am.”

Taking the soldier’s words as a cue, armed adventurers and citizens cautiously revealed themselves before Walm.

This mismatched band of the armed had crammed the defenseless civilians into a large tavern and were attempting to hold out inside. Near the entrance, the scars of fierce fighting remained vivid. The shattered remnants of the door had been replaced by piled tables and chairs, forming a makeshift barricade fused with corpses. Through broken windows, the inside could be seen elderly and infants alike huddled together.

“They poured out from all over the city without warning. No matter how many we killed, even the dead citizens turned into undead. There was nothing we could do.”

The soldier spoke as if ashamed. Perhaps he regretted that, as one meant to protect the people and their property and repel enemies, he had instead barricaded himself inside with only a fraction of the citizens.

Walm himself had just failed to save a benefactor. He had no right to blame the soldier.

The soldier’s face was pale from fatigue and tension. Walm spoke to him.

“With numbers like these, you fought well enough. A consolidated force has gathered at the guild branch of the labyrinth. It should be safer there than here.”

“I can’t thank you enough, but what about you?”

“I have something to do. Do you know the exact route to the slums?”

“That much is easy.”

Having received detailed directions, Walm began running once more. The monsters that blocked his path were buried beneath his halberd.

To reach the slums outside the walls, he would need to pass through the city gate, which also served as a checkpoint. As he followed the instructed path, Walm’s nostrils caught a stench of death thicker than ever before.

His mask trembled, stirred and excited by the smell of rot.

“Close.”

The gate visible at the end of the street was wrapped in death. Fierce signs of battle remained everywhere but it was not humanity that had prevailed.

Undead wandered about, blocking the entrance. Their numbers were significant, yet something felt off.

Undead retaining fragments of their former skills were certainly a threat, but the defensive installations near a city gate were not so fragile. A checkpoint that controlled entry and exit would have a garrison of considerable size.

And yet, it had been annihilated in a short time.

Looking closely, Walm saw not only the marks of human bombs having detonated but also traces of deliberate slaughter that did not seem the work of undead.

A dark smile rose on his lips.

The messenger who had rushed into the Great Hall had reported of an unidentified armed force.

The role of the undead was likely their advantage in numbers, expanding their fighting force by feeding on civilians and sowing chaos. The small armed faction would be the main force of irregular warfare. The checkpoint controlling the city’s gate would naturally be a vital objective for the attackers as well.

Several approaches came to mind for Walm, but the method he chose was exceedingly simple.

A frontal assault straight down the street.

He crushed the undead head-on as they surged toward him. After the count surpassed several dozen, Walm stopped counting.

He burned ghouls reeking of decay with blue flames and brought his halberd down to splatter brains. From the past year, his physical condition was at its best now. When he had put the Deep Crimson Bloom in his mouth, he must have swallowed a trace amount. Far from fully healed, but enough for him to unleash his full strength for a time.

He gouged out the skull of an undead that lunged at him with the butt spike, then drew his halberd back in a wide arc, as though wrapping it behind his body.

The mana-infused axe-head cleaved through three undead at once. Even those reduced to torsos still craved flesh, but Walm crushed them beneath his boots.

A battle axe swung toward him from the front. It was a sharp strike unimaginable from a rotting body.

Walm tightened his elbows, drove the butt spike into the ground, and caught the shaft with the hook-blade of his halberd. As the ghoul tried to wrench it free, Walm plunged into its guard, seized its throat, and incinerated it.

Blue flames traveled down its throat and spilled from its mouth. Though the undead should have felt no pain, it writhed before being swiftly sent back to the underworld by the blue fire.

He cut, smashed, tore, and crushed without pause. Before long, only a handful of undead remained standing in his way.

As his spear tip sank into the eye socket of a lunging undead, Walm did not miss the sound of a bowstring snapping.

He instantly tilted his forward-leaning body sideways and leapt away. An arrow struck the cobblestones.

Impossible to forget. The fletching and shaft were the same as those he had faced in the labyrinth.

Walm roared.

“Faust! Was it you bastards?!”

Fixing his eyes on the shooting point, Walm propelled himself with wind-attribute magic and leapt onto the roof of a house where the archer lay in wait.

As he kicked up roof tiles and closed the distance, a second arrow flew. The aim was precise.

The arrow that seemed drawn toward his throat was met by lowering his head and deflecting it with Saverlia. With a sharp metallic ring, the arrow veered off in an unintended direction.

Walm thrust his halberd. The spear tip failed to catch the archer’s body, instead smashing the bow the man threw aside. The archer leapt back and drew a short sword.

Walm immediately pressed the attack but sensing a faint presence, he planted the soles of his boots flat on the roof, killing his speed. A spear was thrusting in from the side.

Even Walm’s clouded eyes saw clearly today. He caught the spearhead with his butt spike and knocked it upward.

He retaliated with a thrust, but the ambusher, having failed the surprise attack, withdrew to create distance. A tense standoff formed.

In the deadlock, a shield-bearing assailant climbed onto the roof to join them.

There was no need to confirm it. The very same Faust and his comrades, with whom Walm had fought a deadly battle in the labyrinth, now stood before him again.

“We can’t have you reducing the number of ghouls any further.”

Faust dismissed him in a flat tone. Walm’s emotions exploded.

“Faust! You did this, didn’t you?!”

“What’s with the strange mask, Walm? Did the Three Magic Attack die at the ceremony?”

“Shut up! What are you trying to accomplish?!”

“It’s all for revenge. A rematch for us who lost everything in the Unification War.”

The absurd justification only fanned Walm’s fury. It was likely a calculated conversation. Even as they spoke, Faust’s followers sought opportunities to attack, spreading out to the flanks.

“You call this war? Dragging in people who have nothing to do with it?!”

“In war, there are no such people. This was our homeland. In the Unification War, tens of thousands of soldiers and citizens grieved for their nation, lamented, suffered, and died in despair. And now it’s as if none of that ever happened. People, land, even grave markers are trampled without a second thought. Who could endure that?!”

Faust bared his fangs, his expression changing for the first time.

Walm too had lost his country. On the front lines, he had lost comrades with his unit, committed slaughter that could be called meaningless. Even so, dragging in those uninvolved a hundred years later was something he could not accept.

“You might have your reasons, but they’re worth less than shit. You’re a hundred years too late!”

“Yeah, we’re late. Even so, the peace-addled Archipelago Countries and the opportunistic Aleynard Forest Alliance will tremble. We’ll make them swallow bitter foam. Our ally hasn’t forgotten the ancient pact from a century ago.”

“The Republic?”

From Roggo, a guild employee, Walm had heard the blood-soaked history tied to this city. If one spoke of a former ally of the nation that once ruled this Labyrinth City, there was only the Meiris Republic, one of the three great powers.

“Who knows. But once Bergana falls, the era will move again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you really think you can take it with these numbers?”

Even if they seized control temporarily, their numbers were too few. Border forces, surrounding regions, and reorganized garrisons would inevitably suppress them. Walm could easily imagine it.

“You’re hardly in a position to laugh. A Highserk man who lost his country. Show me your true feelings, Walm! Don’t you harbor any hatred for the enemy nation that burned your land and buried your people?!”

As a fellow defeated soldier, Faust hurled the words at him.

Had they never met in the labyrinth, had there been no slaughter, perhaps there might have been some sympathy. But Faust had wounded and killed comrades from the labyrinth and Lizzy, his benefactor. They were already irreconcilable.

“Don’t be stupid. A hundred years passing doesn’t make it right to drag innocent people into this.”

“A hundred years may have passed, but we’re still alive. Still alive. The war isn’t over. It won’t end until one side is wiped out!”

“You’re ghosts trapped by war. With no nation or people left to protect, what kind of soldiers are you? You’re nothing but mad butchers.”

“Yeah. Wait a century for vengeance and you’d go mad too. Walm, have you never wanted to burn the enemy who killed your comrades or family? If your foe were in a city and you could slaughter them all, would you quietly surrender?”

“Spare me your imaginary lectures.”

Walm snarled, enraged.

“For someone with such words, you seem awfully tense. We’re the same, we are defeated soldiers who survived. What’s the difference?”

“I don’t have lofty ideals. But at least I’m not stuck looking backward like you. I’ve done what I could. Don’t expect an easy death.”

“Just what I want. Come and try to kill me!”

The clash of words ended.

Now began the true battle of iron and blood.

Translator – Lyxxna