The dead shambled forward, crashing against the Imperial Army’s lines. Frontline soldiers struck them down with swords and spears. The fallen corpses dissolved into black mist, but more crawled endlessly from fissures in the earth, joining the assault on the living.

*Why are you still alive!*

*Fresh flesh!*

*I hate you! I hate you all!*

The dead murmured their desires, hatred and envy fueling their slow, relentless advance. Yet they could not breach the Imperial lines. Under Marshal Moura’s command, the Puppet War King erased the soldiers’ fear, turning them into resolute death-defiers who held their formation firm.

“Second wave, replace the first!” Lucius commanded from the front lines. “Third wave, prepare!”

Exhausted soldiers retreated behind the shield wall. Fresh troops surged forward, blades drawn and spearheads glinting coldly. The Imperial Army formed a bulwark before the Imperial Capital’s garrison gates, repelling attacks from three directions. Behind them, Ghostface Special Forces stood silent in black combat armor, guarding the edges of the black mire.

Fanna stepped out from the gates. She had left her floating, luxurious chair. Golden hair, controlled by magic, artfully covered her intimate areas—but it couldn’t hide the fact she was completely bare. Though unclothed, the Arch Sage wore simple sandals, their straps winding up to her knees.

As she neared the mire, Ghostface rifles snapped toward her in unison.

“An automatic defense mechanism, it seems,” Fanna purred with a dazzling smile. “But worry not, gentlemen. This one is a friend of your master. I mean her no harm.”

“Fall back. This is a combat zone,” a Special Forces soldier growled. “Unauthorized entry prohibited.”

Fanna retreated obediently. She’d just seen Iduchi torn apart like a rag doll by the fire-spitting tubes in their hands. Such firepower would shred a human body.

“Arch Sage,” Moura snapped impatiently. “Can you actually do this?”

“If even I cannot, you certainly cannot,” Fanna shot back. “Or does the Marshal plan to abandon his command for a little girl’s sake?”

Moura’s jaw tightened. Fanna was right—he couldn’t forsake his duty.

Just then, a child no older than five darted out from behind the shield wall. A cat-eared beastkin girl chased after her.

“Amber!” she cried. “Danger! You can’t go there!”

The Special Forces ignored the child but blocked Talasha. Pointed Gauss Rifles made Talasha’s tail fluff up in terror, her whole body trembling. Amber knelt by the mire’s edge, tiny hands brushing the black sludge. Pale green light enveloped her—Green Goddess’s blessing activated. A barrier unfurled, shielding the small child.

The mire churned. Something rose slowly from its center. As the black sludge slid away, Mio knelt there, hollow-eyed, cradling Aimee’s severed head.

“Mio!” Fanna and Moura shouted in unison.

At the sound of her name, Mio turned her head. Only then did they see half her silver hair had turned pitch-black. Even her right eye was swallowed by darkness. Was she even human anymore? Amber, her power spent, collapsed beside the mire. She didn’t see Aimee’s head—a small mercy. Talasha crept past the soldiers, scooped up Amber, and fled back to the Imperial lines, hiding to watch from afar.

“Aimee…” Mio lowered her gaze to the head in her arms. Tears streamed down her cheeks—but from her blackened right eye flowed blood.

*(Crave it!)* A whisper slithered into her ear. *(Crave my power.)*

Mio stared at the black mire. Slowly, she placed Aimee’s head into the sludge. Fanna’s face twisted in horror.

“Stop, Mio!” she screamed. “Do you know what you’re doing? You’ll regret this! Wake up—don’t be seduced by the Fragment of Creation!”

*(Silence!)*

A chill shot through Fanna. She crumpled to her knees, her magically controlled hair spilling loose. Her bare body lay fully exposed. She tried to cry out, but her throat produced only silence.

*(Good. You’ve done well.)*

*(Crave it. Crave power.)*

*(With my strength, drag your beloved back from death’s abyss.)*

The whisper’s enchantment seized Mio’s will. She knew it was wrong. She knew the consequences would be irreversible. Yet she let go. Aimee’s head sank into the black mire.

The sludge erupted. Terrifying magic geysered upward, scattering even the attacking dead. Only Moura’s Puppet War King held the Imperial ranks from collapsing. Darkness coalesced above the mire. A towering knight in ominous black armor rose, skull-adorned Demonic Sword in her right hand, her own severed head cradled in her left.

“The Headless Knight.”

One of the Death King’s royal guards. An apex Undead, summoned to the mortal realm.

“Ahhh…” Mio reached out, a broken wail tearing from her throat. Seeing Aimee transformed by her own hands, she finally understood her folly. She’d ripped a soul from its rightful cycle, twisting it into an Undead abomination. Aimee could never reincarnate now.

“What have I done?!” Mio clutched her hair. “Aimee… I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. All my fault…”

The Headless Knight fixed her with an icy gaze. Then, holding her own head, she knelt before Mio in solemn fealty. Mio shattered. She collapsed before her creation, sobbing into the knight’s armored chest.

“Hahahaha! Magnificent!”

A chilling laugh echoed. A necromancer in a black cloak materialized on the street, hordes of groaning dead trailing him. Fanna tried to chant a spell, but her voice remained trapped. She glared at the hooded figure, eyes burning with fury.

“Fanna. Long time no see,” Samilian crooned. “Ah, I still savor your master’s dying screams. What will yours sound like? I’m eager to hear!”

Fanna slammed her fists against the ground, blood smearing her knuckles. Her silent rage could have incinerated him.

“All units, fall back!” Moura ordered calmly. “Hold the gates!”

The Imperial Army retreated swiftly. He spared one agonized glance at Mio, left outside. But staying meant his soldiers would be slaughtered by Samilian’s power.

“Heh heh heh. Wise choice,” Samilian sneered. “Oh? The Headless Knight? That girl’s familiar? Hahahaha! I never thought anyone but me could master necromancy to this degree. Impressive! But there’s only room for one ‘Death King.’ Die already.”

He raised his skull-topped staff, unleashing a wave of black death miasma toward Mio. Grief-stricken, she couldn’t move. But the Headless Knight moved faster than the Ghostface troops. She swung her Demonic Sword, cleaving the miasma apart, then slashed Samilian—and the horde behind him—in half with one stroke.

“Splendid! Absolutely splendid!” Samilian’s severed upper body floated in the air. “The Death King’s royal guard? Marvelous! I want you! Give me your True Name!”

His eyes glowed with crimson allure. The Headless Knight knelt, resisting but slowly yielding. Samilian crept closer, licking his lips as he traced the knight’s black armor with his gaze.

“Become mine, Undead! You cannot defy your King!”

Just then—*crack!* A Holy Silver Bullet pierced Samilian’s forehead.

“Get away from Aimee!” Mio stood, gripping the Punisher. Her right eye was black, streaks of darkness staining her silver hair. Ghostface rifles barked as one. A hail of bullets riddled Samilian’s body.

“Mere humans!” Samilian spat. “Die! Huh? Why—”

A flash of steel split him apart. The Headless Knight stood frozen mid-swing, Demonic Sword dripping. Samilian’s body dissolved into miasma, his voice fading: “I won’t give up… That Undead is mine!”

Mio’s strength vanished. The heavy pistol slipped from her fingers. As she crumpled, the Headless Knight lunged, catching her. One armored hand cradled the girl’s body with impossible tenderness.

“Aimee…” Mio reached out, tears streaming down her cheeks.