"Karazat, huh..." The man in a dark blue hooded robe gazed at the Kalarazat Great Forest nearby. He sat on a public bench in the square, staring intently at the primeval woods.

"Time to go," he muttered to himself.

The crowd flowed ceaselessly across the square, a bustling mix of voices and merchants' cries. No one noticed his words. Even if they saw him, he was just another passerby—utterly ordinary, at most earning a silent grumble about the muttering stranger.

He pulled up his hood, melted into the crowd, and vanished in a blink.

...

Too many...

Lilith looked at the bones before her, smiling wryly. Demon Castle was piled with tens of thousands of skeletons. Beneath the flower fields, these bones made the blooms thrive beautifully. But under Lilith’s blood sacrifice, they crawled out—rising like flowers blooming from the earth.

Most were bare skeletons; older ones were incomplete. Still, they were a force. Enough to withstand one charge from the Demonic Race.

Lilith arranged them into neat formations. They obeyed like extensions of her own body, understanding her every thought and detail.

She inspected the skeletal troops playfully. Some bones were battle-damaged, but their fine armor hung intact and loose. Those buried shallowest, missing helmets, had tiny flowers from Demon Castle’s fields perched on their skulls—utterly comical.

"Pfftahaha!" Lilith burst into laughter.

This army was amusing.

They had no bows, no mages, no flesh, no thoughts—only one shared mind: Lilith. A perfect unity, an absolute forbidden art.

This was why humans rejected such magic: corpses meant to rest were bound by the living to fight. Unforgivable in human morality, clashing with the Church’s teachings.

Time to meet them...

Lilith walked slowly out of Demon Castle, past the inner and outer walls. Skeleton soldiers crowded outside, forming dense squares.

In some squares, skeletal cavalry sat on rotting mounts. Their bones had decayed, but their extraordinary armor still gleamed—black iron barding shining brightly. Troops sacrificed by humans over centuries, reborn. Faint echoes of their past glory lingered...

Long ago, heroes led them far for fame and honor. They wrapped themselves in horsehide, martyrs dying before their time.

"For Emperor Louis!!" "Long live Prince Louis!"

"For the Pope!"

A young cavalryman swung his saber at Lilith. She caught the blade with her wrist, yanking him off his horse. Through his helmet’s slit, she saw his youthful face twisted in frenzy. His saber clattered to the ground; he drew a boot dagger and lunged. Just as it neared her, Lilith slashed sideways. Blood sprayed like a fountain, drenching her armor in a crimson lotus of gore...

He was about to stab her... one sword strike.

He was about to wound her... another strike...

"Damn Dark Lord! For the Church!"

Those chants once terrified Lilith; she trembled. But for survival, she wielded her Shadow Residual Sword, crushing these faithful humans like ants. They charged fearlessly, a relentless tide. As she slaughtered the human alliance, she grew numb to blood, to killing. Each swing took a life. The scent of blood became a numbing agent, dulling her nerves. Burdened with countless deaths, she forgot how to feel.

War ended. Demon Castle was a hell on earth. Amid mountains of corpses, only one stood atop the pile: Lilith. Blood had turned her purple armor a hideous, deep red...

...

"Advance!" Lilith commanded sharply.

Hundreds of thousands of skeletons marched forward in unison, crushing battle lines like a locust swarm...

They met...

...

"Cavalry corps! Charge!!" Lilith ordered from a distant hill. The skeletal riders charged without command—such was the terror of forbidden magic.

Arrows rained from the Demonic Race’s rear ranks but passed harmlessly through skeletal gaps, clattering to the ground.

"What! Skeletons!" Sharid exclaimed. He hadn’t noticed earlier, hidden under iron armor. Now, up close, he saw.

"Order the troops! Sweep with spears, shatter their bones! They’re skeletons!" Sharid shouted to the flag bearer. He hadn’t expected the Dark Lord to use skeletons, but he had a counter: smash them to bits...

The skeletal cavalry charged into spear formations. Demons tried to impale them, but spears passed right through. Then, skeletons slashed down with sabers, beheading foes. Quick-thinking demons switched to sweeping strikes, knocking skeletons off horses. But dismounted skeletons charged fiercer, closing in on spear-wielding demons who couldn’t retaliate. Like reapers, they harvested lives. Demons dropped spears, drew waist swords, and smashed skeletons to pieces.

"Sweep horizontally!" a centurion yelled. Useless—the spear lines were already in close combat, even if skeletons had no flesh to fight with.

Skeletons’ greatest fear was their lack of emotion. They struck to kill, unflinching as comrades shattered. Demons, though experienced, saw their spear lines crumbling.

"Report! Spear soldiers suffering heavy casualties!" a messenger gasped to the tent.

"What?!" Sharid strode out, climbing a cliff to observe.

"My order! Spear soldiers retreat full speed! Deploy shield-and-hammer troops!" he commanded, eyeing the sea of white skeletons fearfully. They outnumbered his forces fivefold...

"Flail soldiers too! Hold this hill!"

The cavalry’s remnants were exhausted after the last charge...

Demonic Race soldiers could hold five-to-one odds steadily...

Behind the tents, Demonic Race array mages chanted healing spells. They gathered magic orbs into a single point, forming a giant green ball. It arced from the rear to the front lines.

Instantly, half-dead demons revived; wounds healed visibly. But skeletons crumbled on contact with life magic, withering to ash in moments.

"Skeletons? Pathetic... Hahaha!" Sharid mocked below.

...

"Cough, cough, cough..." Allen coughed weakly.

Caliana stroked Allen’s forehead, worried sick...

This kid had gone mad yesterday, running out in the heavy rain. Came back dazed and silent. By morning, high fever and a cold gripped him.

Coincidentally, the Grand Duke also had a fever today—likely from rain too. This saved Caliana the trouble of finding a doctor; she grabbed him and got medicine for Allen as well.

"Be good, take your medicine... You’ll be better tomorrow..." Caliana coaxed gently.

"I don’t want to..." Allen replied lifelessly.

"Eat it, and I’ll buy pineapple buns from Crescent Studio!" Caliana wheedled.

"I want to be alone..." Allen whispered.

"I’ll leave after you take it..."

"I WANT TO BE ALONE!!" Allen rasped, shouting hoarsely at her.

"Oh..." Caliana, frightened, slowly set down the medicine and walked away.

Allen wanted to cry but couldn’t. Her tears were dry. Now, she felt eerily calm and clear-headed. She began to think: what was she now?

Allen was dead. So what was she? A body carrying Allen’s memories?... Not quite... Was she still Allen?... She pondered.

Like a philosophical puzzle, she found no answer.

This problem seemed unsolvable.

...

Under flail and shield-and-hammer troops, skeletons began retreating step by step. Suddenly, all turned and fled into the canyon.

"Pursue them! Don’t let them escape!" Sharid ordered.

Demons obeyed, launching a full assault.

"Dark Lord? Not so mighty after all! Hahaha!" he mocked.

Keep chasing! He laughed maniacally, watching the crumbling skeleton army. But he forgot: skeletons had no emotions...