With a loud *boom*, a massive, multicolored mana sphere swelled in the distance before bursting apart. Torrents of raw mana ripped trees from the earth and flung soil and rocks skyward. The explosion sounded like a popping bubble, yet its power was terrifyingly immense.
Releasing such a pure mana sphere would drain even a grand mage completely. A forbidden spell could achieve similar destruction with far less cost.
Still, the spectacle was extravagantly showy—like the Dark Lord’s boastful display.
The blast hadn’t reached this spot, but chaotic mana currents surged outward, scrambling the magical flows across the area. From above, the barren patch resembled a gaping hole punched through the forest.
“Why use such a crude mana explosion? You nearly hit us!” A familiar male voice rang out from the dense woods—it was the Hero. Everyone tensed, gripping their weapons tightly.
The Hero and the Dark Lord? What rotten luck.
Yet it was indeed them. A high-pitched, girlish voice followed, closer now, laced with a hint of complaint: “If I could use my full power, I would! That seal weakened me. Do you think I’d be this pathetic otherwise? I can’t even beat a demon beast.”
“You don’t need that much mana just to fight a demon beast. It’s inefficient. With that much power, even basic spells stacked repeatedly would pack a serious punch.”
“Shut up, shut up! Must you nag? I’m the Dark Lord—I don’t answer to you!”
Two figures emerged side by side from the forest: one tall in red and black, the other short in white and gold. They bickered fiercely but stayed close.
“Surround them!” came the command. The four knightly orders encircled the pair.
“You’re surrounded! Surrender now, Dark Lord!” The Scepter Knight leveled his golden scepter at them.
“Eep!” The Dark Lord darted behind the Hero in a flash, clutching his cloak with a fearful gaze. “Hero, Hero… so many creepy uncles~”
The Scepter Knight’s eye twitched before he regained composure. “Hero, I respect your title. Hand over the Dark Lord behind you. The Pope may pardon your crimes and even grant you credit for capturing him.”
“Ahem.” The Hero cleared his throat. “Dare I ask what crimes I’ve committed?”
“Aiding the Dark Lord’s escape, endangering the world.”
“So surrendering him saves the world?” The Hero smirked, making the knights uneasy. “Noble, righteous knights—saving the world isn’t about catching the Dark Lord. It’s about stopping the army behind me, the one not of the living realm. Good luck!”
A magic circle flared beneath their feet. The Dark Lord, hiding behind the Hero, suddenly grinned and flashed three fingers, then two.
“Stop them!” Blades and swords slashed toward them just as the Dark Lord curled his last finger. The two figures dissolved into light orbs that shattered. Simultaneously, a thunderous crack split the sky—a golden streak shot overhead like a falling star.
“Enjoy the feast, everyone!” The Dark Lord’s giggles echoed from above.
All that chatter had been a puppet illusion, undetectable amid the chaotic mana. While the knights’ attacks were still unretracted, the real pair had broken their speed limit and flown overhead.
“After them!” The Scepter Knight roared, furious at being toyed with.
“Hold.” The Sword Knight blocked him. “Look behind you first.”
The explosion had scattered the forest’s miasma. Only faint, smoke-like ghostly energy rose slowly from the ground. Ghostly silhouettes—specters, skeletons, and rotting corpses—shuffled together. Disturbed, they instinctively drifted toward the strongest source of life force: the Royal Capital.
How many had died here? Unknown. But in this yin-heavy place, none had found peaceful rest. Their souls became specters; their bodies, rotting flesh, could even gain sentience. Armies of the dead began to march.
Worse, at the crater’s bottom, a massive, tentacled mass writhed—a giant fleshy blob. It floated upward, covered in dead faces—just skin stretched over writhing, pallid tendrils oozing ghostly energy.
Each face was hollow and horrifying, screaming with the shrill wails of countless vengeful spirits.
Ghostly energy was chaotic, corrosive necromantic power—unlike orderly mana. Every gaping maw shrieked in agony.
“Is this the ‘demon beast’ they mentioned?”
“Likely a Corpse Fiend,” the Sword Knight said. “And no ordinary one.”
“I see now why the Church ordered full knightly regiments,” the Holy Grail Knight declared, his azure sea-dragon steed flicking its fish-like tail. He sat like a sea god, majestic. “Not for searching. To intercept these.”
“Ever heard the legend?” The Coin Knight tightened his grip on his shield. “In the Ghost Marsh beyond the Royal Capital, a Corpse Fiend as fearsome as a divine beast lurks. It only emerges under the new moon.”
“Because ghostly energy peaks then,” the Scepter Knight added, “while yang energy wanes. Moonlight can’t suppress such entities. Brother, give the order.”
“Now!” The Sword Knight spurred his winged steed skyward, facing the ground forces. “Brave knights! These specters threaten the living world. In justice’s name, raise your weapons! Form ranks! Annihilate this ghost tide here—leave none alive!” He raised his sword—a symbol of authority and slaughter—as lightning split the clouds, illuminating the battlefield.
His blade glowed violet. The white steed beat its wings. Like an arrow loosed, the Sword Knight became a streak of light charging the Corpse Fiend. Terrifying lightning crackled from his sword—a power to command thunder, like a storm god.
The light struck the fiend. It shrieked, every face contorting. Its massive body, elastic as a ball, deformed on impact and crashed earthward. The sword slash left a gaping wound. Flesh writhed, healing instantly, as tentacles lashed toward the Sword Knight.
