Having finished cleansing the wraiths that infested the slums, Walm bound the puncture wound in his palm to stop the bleeding and headed toward the inside of the city walls, where turmoil still raged on.

Dealing with the scattered undead he encountered along the way, Walm emerged from the alleyways onto a main street. There, he came across a unit advancing in formation toward the city’s central avenue.

Their equipment bore no signs of pain or grime, meaning they were likely reinforcements that had arrived either from the outer districts or from outside the city altogether. The undead who had strutted brazenly through the streets were now piles of corpses along the roadside. The suppression of the districts beyond the city walls was progressing rapidly. Walm followed behind the unit toward the inner walls.

Soldiers of the Archipelago Countries who had seized the gate had climbed the gate tower and the wall walkways, keeping watch both inside and out from their elevated positions.

The blood splattered across his armor and the bizarre demon mask he wore made Walm brace himself for the possibility of being stopped at the gate. Yet contrary to his expectations, no one called out to him, and he was not halted.

Feeling oddly let down, Walm shifted his attention to the officers and soldiers gathered before the gate.

“Zegun Squad will sweep the remaining undead in the city. Habbat Squad, head to the Old Royal Castle of Gundor. Our forces are engaged with the remnants barricaded inside. They may be few, but do not let your guard down.”

Standing there was a 1000-man commander called Edoardo, who had been conducting temporary command at the labyrinth facility. With the chain of command restored and a superior commander having appeared, he must have relocated closer to the front lines. Gesturing energetically, he busily assigned the newly arrived units to their posts.

Once assigned by the 1000-man commander, each unit hurried toward its destination.

“…What should I do?”

Walm hesitated. Should he assist with restoring order in the city or head to subdue the Old Royal Castle?

Something he had tried not to dwell upon, the massacre at the ceremony, rose in his mind. His grip tightened naturally around his halberd. He had avenged what was within reach. Yet wraiths still lingered in the Old Royal Castle of Gundor.

Walm swept his gaze over the assembled troops. Soldiers of both quality and quantity had gathered, mixed even with adventurers summoned under emergency call. Combined with the forces already deployed across the city, suppression was only a matter of time.

He exhaled slowly, calming himself. Having indulged in revenge, it was time to face the reality he had tried to escape.

Though her condition had stabilized, Merrill had been exposed to deadly poison. And Lizzy, who had passed away, still needed to be laid to rest.

Torn with conflict, Walm acknowledged that he needed to return to his companions first. Following that conclusion, he turned his steps toward the labyrinth facility.

The demon mask trembled as if protesting, as though it had not yet had its fill of carnage.

“Don’t whine.”

Even this disaster was not enough for it… it truly had no sympathy.

Walm sighed in exasperation, but the moment he felt the ground begin to tremble, any indulgence toward the mask vanished.

This was no imagination brought on by strain. The earth was clearly shaking.

“It’s shaking?!”

“Get away from the half-collapsed houses! You’ll get buried!”

Those nearby also sensed the rumbling and began shouting warnings.

The demon mask began to shake violently, almost madly.

Walm muttered incoherent words. A mask whose twisted sensibilities made it tremble in joy could only herald something ominous.

He suddenly felt a sense of wrongness in the landscape and glared into the distance. Amid the rising dust, a black tower he had never seen before had appeared.

More precisely, it was not a building at all.

Walm’s eyes, which saw the world too clearly, grasped its true nature. After all, he had once fought it to the death. There was no mistaking it.

“…Undead Dragon.”

The words slipped from his mouth.

Others gradually noticed it as well. Common soldiers froze, mouths open. Adventurers dropped their weapons in shock.

The 1000-man commander, barely maintaining his composure, frantically called into a communication magic device.

The Undead Dragon moved in a familiar way. It was an action Walm had experienced at the bottom of the labyrinth. But unlike when only half of its body had existed, the total amount of swirling mana now far surpassed that time.

“It’s the Breath! The Dragon Breath is coming!!”

Walm’s warning meant little. There was almost nothing humans could do, other than press themselves against buildings as makeshift barriers and flatten themselves against the ground.

From the Undead Dragon’s maw, a black flash erupted, distorting the air as it streaked through the city like a dark line.

The supreme strike incinerated homes and residents alike, extending all the way to the horizon.

When Walm had witnessed the Breath attack of the Flame Emperor Dragon at Dandurg Castle, he had stood atop the wall walkway, overlooking the surroundings. Even among dragonkind, the Flame Emperor Dragon bore the title of emperor, its strike capable of shaving down mountains.

Compared to that, this Breath might be one or two ranks inferior but to frail human bodies there was little difference.

The Breath tore through the tightly packed houses and pierced the city wall itself. The scorched path left behind was painted black, making it easy to imagine the fate of those who had stood in its trajectory.

Civilians hiding in homes panicked and flooded into the streets. They might evade undead but in front of a natural disaster, they were no more than sand.

The 1000-man commander yelled sharply, cutting through the flood of information, panic, and fear.

“Silence!! Orders from the main command post. The northwestern sector of the city, where the Undead Dragon has manifested, will be designated the primary battlefield. Civilians are to evacuate through the east and south gates to the outskirts. All magic users and archers, regardless of unit, commence attacks on the Undead Dragon. Damage to the city and civilians is authorized. That is all… Don’t lower your faces! What are your eyes for?! Glare at the enemy!! Do not falter! If we do not slay the dragon, there will be no tomorrow for us!!”

Rallied by their commander, the shaken soldiers regained discipline, though fear still clung to them. The wave of fleeing civilians was given direction under military guidance.

It was not only the forces outside the gate that recovered from chaos. Attacks began raining down upon the Undead Dragon that had crawled onto the surface.

A barrage of mixed magic attacks shaved away at its immense mana barrier. Arrows struck its scales with pitiful sounds. Each time the dragon swung its limbs, sparks of life were extinguished, yet new attacks sprang forth as if boiling up from nowhere.

At each of those points, death was delivered to the people.

“You knew how this would end!”

It was reckless. And yet it could not be called foolish. Walm understood the intent painfully well.

The soldiers of the Archipelago Countries were not idiots. They knew that a single blow would invite a counterattack leading to instant death. Even so, they served as decoys, drawing its attacks to buy time for civilians to evacuate, and for scattered units to deploy.

A soldier scooped up along with a building by the dragon’s tail spewed his entrails from his mouth as he was hurled high into the sky. The chain of tragedy did not end there. The remains of buildings struck down in alleyways rained upon the people.

Like a massive catapult strike, a single blow crushed tightly packed civilians in an instant. To the Undead Dragon, they were low priority, killed as collateral in its attacks.

Their deaths held no meaning, yet Walm could not afford to mourn them.

Pebbles the size of fists rained down from above. Walm calmly judged the impact points and avoided them but not everyone could.

Those who took defensive postures were fortunate. Shields and gauntlets raised to protect vital points deflected fragments with dull thuds. The problem was those struck without even perceiving the danger.

The soldier running beside Walm had his head burst open like a ripe pomegranate. Another collapsed soundlessly. They left no final cries behind.

“Spread out as you advance!! Don’t cluster in one street, you’ll be swept away!”

Before his forces could be worn down further, the 1000-man commander issued a crucial order.

Ordinarily, dispersing troops prevented concentrated attacks and made relaying commands difficult. However, this opponent was a moving catastrophe, breathing magic equivalent to battalion- or even regiment-level spells, and possessed a colossal body that shattered defenses with ease.

The commander’s decision was rational.

“The second shot is coming!!”

Those who sensed the Breath’s early stages concentrated attacks on its head but could not stop it.

The second shot wiped through one of the main streets. It was the third street over that drew the short straw. Though distance and obstacles reduced its power, the fully armored bodies of soldiers were lifted by the shockwave and blast. Bricks and splintered timber rolled past Walm’s feet as he braced against a building.

No one died but many suffered burns and bruising. Even so, the unit advanced.

While the dragon targeted soldiers, civilian casualties were reduced. Someone had to do it, someone had to serve as the distraction.

Walm felt the same as he realized the next shot might be aimed at the labyrinth facility, where the Three Magic Attack party rested.

“Don’t let it head toward the evacuation points!!”

“Strike its flank!!”

After firing its second Breath, the Undead Dragon began moving. Its steps were far from light. The dense buildings hindered it, and it was met with desperate counterattacks from surviving soldiers.

Walm realized instinctively that if it reached open ground outside the city, its massive body and Breath would make it unstoppable.

Distracted by nearby attackers, the dragon altered its course.

The unit had succeeded in guiding it but at terrible cost. A massive claw descended, pulverizing both building and soldiers alike. Sticky fluid dripped from its black talons.

Now it was the turn of the unit under Edoardo to take over, where also Walm was situated. It was no coincidence that they had reached attacking range. It was the result of the self-sacrifice of those before them.

As the 1000-man commander prepared to issue the attack order, Walm stopped him.

“Wait. I’ll burn the Undead Dragon and buy us some time.”

“Don’t be ridiculou—”

Edoardo glared at him like he was crazy. The accompanying soldiers pitched in, saying not to interfere in command.

“My Demon Fire spreads blue flames and scorching winds over a wide area. At the bottom of the labyrinth, I half-burned that thing before.”

“The bottom of the labyrinth… You’re the mercenary hired by Three Magic Attack, huh? Go on.”

Recognizing him, Edoardo urged him to continue.

“The one down there was only half a body, and even then, I couldn’t finish it. Against the complete Undead Dragon… one minute. No, one and half minutes. I can hold it for that long.”

“Commander, he’s not even a certified adventurer. How can we trust him?”

A soldier cast a suspicious look at Walm.

A fair question. Trusting an unknown man with so much was madness, but no sane method could hold back a dragon.

“You saw the enemies and undead cleared outside the gate. I burned and killed them.”

To gain trust, Walm revealed what he had done with Demon Fire.

Before he could add more, a voice from among the adventurers spoke up.

“I believe him. I saw Walm use blue fireballs in the labyrinth. The blue flames at the gate were the same.”

It was Paleuze, an adventurer active in the lower and middle floors.

“Aye, that one walks the deep floors alone. Wouldn’t be strange if he’s got a trick or two hidden.”

A heavily worn dwarf added his support.

The dwarves fame and reputation in the deep floors carried weight, even among other nations.

With that backing, Edoardo made his decision.

“I’ll wager on you. The city is in your hands.”

Walm nodded firmly.

“Hold this for me.”

“Y-yes.”

Handing his halberd to Paleuze to lighten himself even slightly, Walm ran toward the Undead Dragon.

“When Demon Fire ends, all remaining units will commence attack. We will hold it at all costs until reinforcements arrive!”

Edoardo incorporated Walm into the operation. If the plan failed, it meant countless lives would be lost. Failure was not permitted.

Hiding among ruined buildings, the closer Walm approached, the more overwhelming the dragon’s enormity became. It dwarfed ordinary dragons, and its body blocked out the sun when standing close by.

As attacks slackened, the Undead Dragon advanced eagerly.

Despite the tension, the demon mask trembled with innocent delight.

From behind, Walm unleashed the mana within him. The air heated instantly. Blue flames and scorching winds overflowed.

A blazing inferno.

The greatest output of Demon Fire since his days as a Highserk soldier erupted forth.

No pain clouded his thoughts. No murk dimmed his vision.

The growing flames tore roofs and walls free, setting the city ablaze and even reaching the dragon’s height.

For an undead being, Hellfire Beacon was a detestable flame. The dragon roared in agony, its limbs thrashing as the air quaked.

Its eyes locked onto Walm. With hostility focused on him, it roared. The sound echoed through its stomach, and a massive arm swung down.

Had they been on open ground, Walm would not have escaped. Fortunately, there were abundant footholds. The house he had stood upon was pulverized but Walm, propelled upward by heated wind, dashed across rooftops.

The dragon that brought death to the city became fixated on a single target.

Walm jumped over a tail that scraped across the earth as it swept toward him, then narrowly evaded the claws that followed in quick succession. Enormous jaws pursued his back, chewing through homes in their path. Debris kicked up by its legs shot toward him like bullets. One fragment grazed the back of his head, and others he could not fully avoid hammered against his armor.

“Guh!”

A dull pain forced a breath from his lips. Yet the armor forged from Magic Silver mixed with the ash of the Undead Dragon proved its resilience. The impact coursed through his body, but it did not bring his movements to a halt.

While he fled from the relentless assault in acrobatic fashion, the Undead Dragon was steadily consumed by azure flames. Its Magic Barrier rapidly diminished, the once-protected rotting flesh now scorched and exposed.

Though barely a minute and a half had passed, clinging to the dragon’s colossal form amid searing winds made it feel like an entire hour.

Without even considering retreat, Walm continued to pour out mana into the fading Demon Fire. The dragon’s Magic Barrier had been largely stripped away and burns now marred its entire body.

The price, however, was steep.

A crushing fatigue descended upon him as his mana ran dry. It felt similar to suffocation, dizziness and nausea clawing at his senses. Then it happened suddenly.

The seemingly boundless Demon Fire that had surged forth like an endless ocean withered rapidly.

Walm slipped into a corner of an alley, collapsing into it.

Though its vision was obscured by azure flames and heat haze, the Undead Dragon would never forgive the human who had clung to it like a gnat and lashed it with hell-bound fire.

With tail and fangs, it methodically reduced the entire area where Walm hid into bare earth.

Once the Demon Fire ceased, Edoardo began his assault. Yet the Undead Dragon did not divert its attention. It persistently hunted Walm.

Collapsed houses rained down from above. Broken beams and shattered pillars surged toward Walm. Razor-sharp fragments tore at his skin.

His body felt as though it would be ripped apart.

Would he suffocate beneath the rubble first? Or be crushed by tail or arm?

Mana depleted, Walm writhed desperately when suddenly, the rubble above him was blown away.

A series of impacts detonated overhead in rapid succession. The massive body of the Undead Dragon, which had leaned over to root him out, tilted.

The cause was a magical barrage unlike anything before. It was an absurd, overwhelming projection of spells, anything from mass-laden magic such as Ice Spears and Earth Bullets and formless magic like Fireballs and Wind Blades. All manner of offensive spells poured down in a relentless storm.

Ironically, the dragon’s immense body shielded Walm from the magical onslaught. Abandoning the man it had so obsessively pursued, the Undead Dragon started moving away from Walm.

“Ugh… haah… damn it… is it trying to get outside?”

Grasping a fallen pillar, Walm dragged himself from the sea of rubble and glared at the dragon’s retreating back.

Despite a volume of magic capable of pulverizing even carefully constructed defensive positions of embankments and bunkers, they had failed to deal a fatal blow.

On the contrary, the Undead Dragon had begun moving toward the outer walls to escape the disadvantageous terrain of the city. Beyond the walls lay open plains free of obstacles. In a field battle there, humanity would stand no chance.

“Walm’s here! Leek, Mattio, Dona! Over here!! Thank gods… luckily this is not a keepsake.”

Paleuze called out to him as Walm staggered forward with the gait of an old man, pursuing the dragon. Paleuze’s companions followed behind.

Walm was handed a halberd to use as a cane and leaned his weight upon it.

“The heavy magic unit from the border made it in time thanks to the delay you bought, but the Undead Dragon is heading beyond the walls…”

Paleuze trailed off. It was only natural. Even after enduring Demon Fire and a concentrated barrage, that monster had not stopped moving.

“Eigev and the others were eaten along with the building!!”

“Don’t stop! Keep moving and keep firing!!”

“Target the joints to stop its legs!!”

Amid countless sounds of destruction, the hoarse cries of soldiers reached Walm’s ears. They were fighting with everything they had.

Yet even so, they could not halt the calamity with a will of its own. Each careless step of the Undead Dragon crushed lives beneath it.

“Ahh… it’s climbing the wall! There are civilians packed on the other side!”

“Don’t let it through! Don’t let it through!!”

Mercilessly, its claws hooked into the city wall. The barrier dividing the city could not bear the dragon’s weight and began to crumble.

Walm’s lungs refused to draw in air properly. He could only stare at the sight before him, gasping.

Again. Was it all for nothing again?

The memory of Dandurg Castle resurfaced against his will, overlapping with the present scene.

Struggle as he might, nothing changed. Nothing could be changed. Tomorrow, hope… mere illusions never meant to be granted.

Would it all repeat once more?

Walm could do nothing but stare at the despair unfolding before his eyes.

Then his clouded gaze caught the light.

A vivid flash shattered the dragon’s blackened scales. A brilliant strike interwoven with three attributes of magic.

“Merrill!!”

The Three Magic Attack that had never lost its radiance even at the depths of the labyrinth stood upon the half-destroyed wall passage, supported by the party members.

The colossal body that had known no pause trembled violently and reeled backward.

The pursuing unit unleashed a fierce assault upon the Undead Dragon, now stripped of much of its Magic Barrier. For those who lived within the labyrinth city, this was a turning point.

Even while battered by magic and projectiles, the Undead Dragon swung its arm down at the wall passage. Before its razor claws could reach Merrill, a second Three Magic Attack pierced precisely through the chest that had already been shattered.

Pitch-black flesh and scales burst into the air, scattering in chaotic reflection under the flash of the Three Magic Attack.

A rain of fresh blood poured down upon the city.

Unable to endure further, the colossal body collapsed into the city. The earth quaked as the dragon fell, as though praising its descent. The loudest roar of the day erupted.

Humans swarmed the fallen Undead Dragon.

“Don’t falter! Kill it!! Kill the dragoooon!!”

“Strike now! If we miss this chance, there won’t be another!!”

From across the entire city, people converged upon the collapsed dragon. Paleuze at Walm’s side, the dwarves of the Aleynard Forest Alliance, even Edoardo, the frontline commander… none were exceptions.

Like a serpent circled by ants, the dragon writhing upon the ground crushed and attacked the surging humans. Yet in the end, it could not repel the frenzy that had possessed them.

Countless weapons pierced the once invincible body. Among them were even farming tools and sharpened construction materials.

Blood flowed from the Undead Dragon like a river, staining the city red and black.

Left alone beyond the ring of people and corpses, Walm sank down to the rubble. When he looked up, the sky was the color of blood at dusk.

“…Is it finally over?”

There were piles of rubble and mountains of corpses as far as the eye could see. At their center, the Undead Dragon lay exposed as a carcass.

Bergana, which had served its role as a cage of the Undead Dragon, had lost much of its function as a city. Countless victims, soldiers and civilians alike, had been sacrificed but the victory against the Undead Dragon had been achieved.

The century-long upheaval meticulously orchestrated by Gundor had at last come to an end.

Translator – Lyxxna