"Wahhh! What the hell is this!" The moment I snapped awake, I was staring straight at a horrifying corpse face. Terrified, I rolled back to Lott's side. The face flinched too, vanishing into the thick fog with a swirl of mist.
"W-w-what is this thing!" I curled up tight. Being deathly afraid of ghosts, I’d have nightmares for days. This was real-life… Fog Horror!
"Undead creature. Not sure what kind… It pops in and out like a ghost. That’s why I woke you. It counts as a monster. Do you know it?" Lott spilled words like beans from a bamboo tube.
"You’re scared too…" I felt even more hopeless. His rushed speech screamed tension. "Classifying undead is messy. Zombies? Vague labels. Basically, animated corpses… Wahh… Ghosts!"
"Ghosts? I’m the Hero! How could I fear such ghouls and specters?"
"You’re totally scared."
"Am not!"
"You must be…"
"Fine, I’m scared. But as the Dark Lord, do you even know what this is?" Lott threw his hands up.
"How should I know!" I whined. "I only know strong ones grow Corpse Pellets—precious alchemy stuff for Soul-Calming Bells… But who studies this crap! I’d never hunt Corpse Pellets in my life…"
Lott sighed, shifting tactics. "This fog feels off. Even mental energy can’t pierce it."
"Ghostly aura…" I calmed slightly, scanning the area. The miasma was unnaturally thick, laced with necromantic energy. This place was filthy beyond belief. "A necromantic veil. Necromancers use it for cover. It can also form naturally where many died. Mixed with this fog, it’s a perfect barrier… What’s wrong?" He was staring at me, unblinking. My skin crawled. Was he possessed?!
"Behind you… a face…" he stammered.
I spotted another hollow face emerging from the fog behind his shoulder. I nearly sobbed. "There’s one on your shoulder too!"
"This thing… there might be more… And we’re being hunted…" Lott whispered.
"No kidding…" I muttered, slowly gathering magic. "Fire Arrow!" A fireball arrow shot from my palm, piercing the fog to strike the retreating face. A screech ripped through the mist—shrill and ear-splitting, like a dying woman’s scream mixed with a thousand crows wailing. The fog churned violently, hinting at a massive shape lurking within.
"Corpse Fiend…" I recognized it, heart sinking. Corpse Fiends are animated corpses turned demonic. Never weak. Often poisonous. Most wield basic necromancy. And they’re nearly unkillable… Humanoid ones are manageable, but this shapeless horror… was far worse.
"What now?" Lott, clueless, hung on my judgment.
"We must fight… Our position’s blown." I eyed the shifting giant in the fog, then the Hero. Suddenly, I asked: "Lott, for me, would you defy the Church?"
"Haven’t we already?" Lott shrugged, hand gripping his sword’s dragon hilt. "The Church sacrificed a Dark Lord for a blood ritual. That’s monstrous. And sacrificing a Dark Lord? They might summon a Greater Dark Lord. If a regular one’s hard to control, how can they handle that?"
"Whatever they summoned isn’t good news." I grinned. This fight was—worth it. Even at 60-70% power, I had a full-strength Hero beside me. Magic surged from my palm, stretching and solidifying into a three-meter black scythe. The Dark Lord’s weapon—Death Scythe. This one felt rock-solid, no energy leaking. My power was weaker, but my control had sharpened.
"I’ll clear the fog, then we strike together. One hit, then retreat—we don’t know its tricks!" I shifted the scythe to my left hand.
"Understood!"
"Lamp of the Departed!" I drew a circle in the air. A blue light sparked at its center. Wind scattered the ground patterns as ghostly figures swarmed toward it like moths. The light blazed brighter, burning with eerie blue flames—a soul lamp fueled by the dead, guiding spirits and clearing paths.
The ghostly aura fled the fog like snakes from fire. I twirled my scythe, wind blades slicing the mist apart completely.
The Corpse Fiend revealed itself: a colossal flesh-mound of rotting tentacles and skinned faces. Each face wailed, features carved deep, eyes hollow and blank.
What a monster!
"Let’s go!" Known threats lost their terror. Power restored my Dark Lord’s confidence against specters.
"Corrupted Cross Slash!" I swung the scythe, carving a cross-shaped energy slash. Magic wings lifted me skyward. I hooked the slash, spun, and hurled it! It tore through fog, slamming into the Corpse Fiend. It shrieked as the solid magic gashed a horrific wound.
The cut was shallow, breaching only surface magic. But the true strike followed. Lott spread his Battle Aura wings. Golden feathers boosted his speed instantly. He leveled his broadsword, Battle Aura concentrating at the tip. The blade hummed like a dragon, golden light flooding the area.
"Holy, Piercing Sword!" Battle Aura erupted, forming a giant sword that plunged into the wound. The Corpse Fiend’s shriek nearly burst eardrums. It thrashed its face-tentacles, the wound contracting inward, spewing thick ghostly aura as it healed rapidly.
Lott dodged left and right, escaping the tentacles, landing beside me on a treetop.
"This thing’s probably millennia old," he said.
"Or just ate too many people. Those faces are real skins."
"Disgusting!" He gagged. Honestly, I suspected someone bred it here. "Cage of Purgatory!" I wove chains of orderly fire, pinning the rising Corpse Fiend to the ground. Killing it would take time… And it hadn’t even shown its attacks yet.
I glanced into the distance. As expected, four large fireballs approached—the Four Knight Orders.
"Hey, Lott, I’ve got a brilliant plan!"
