The sound of the bell was dismal.
From the strange bell tower that rose into the sky, a bell echoed.
Ding-dong-Dong-don-
A ruined church that instilled fear just by looking at it, and anxiety just by hearing it.
In the hearts of the soldiers watching it, a vague sense of unease spread, like black ink diffusing into water.
"...What."
Was it because I'm so close to God's embrace?
Inside the church, now shaking with tremors, Pope Conrad, his face pale, staggered.
While all the high-ranking priests who were with him had collapsed from exhaustion, he was the only one standing, looking at the church in Achiuk that had come to life.
"It's terrible."
From his perspective, the interior of the church was truly miserable.
It was a scene so grim that even the Pope, who had followed God's will all his life, was left speechless.
"..."
In front of the completely charred chapel stood the symbol of the one he served.
It was constructed properly, but badly burned.
However, Pope Conrad's eyes didn't rest on the emblem of the church.
"My God."
Numerous white handprints just below.
The handprints, painful to look at, screamed beneath the church emblem as if they had waited for God's salvation until their final, burning moments.
"What in God's name is happening...?"
Pope Conrad slowly walked toward the pattern and carefully extended his palm to a handprint there.
"..."
The handprint that met his own was extremely small.
Dozens of tiny handprints, which his old hand could have encompassed.
As he followed the handprints with his gaze, Conrad looked up, observing the symbol of God that the children must have desperately called out to in their final moments.
"God, have mercy."
With Conrad's lament, a ray of sunlight filtered through a broken window.
However, the sunlight that entered stopped only in front of the symbol of God and couldn't reach the traces of the children beneath it.
Drip- Drip-
A cold, dark space that no one in the world had ever visited.
The children, unable to enter God's embrace or the warm sunlight, remained seated in the darkness for so long.
"Pope, pope."
Now that the Pope had finally found those poor children, he was crying.
As the symbol of the church began to turn upside down.
"Pope!"
Crack-Crack-!
Black tears began to flow from various points in the church, accompanied by the shouts of an unknown priest.
The tears that ran across the ground, mixed with black ash, were the tears shed by the lone woman who held her children in her arms.
"Get the Pope out of here, now!"
Her tears, stagnant with nowhere to go, had become corrupted.
Her anger, which had slowly bloomed because no one cared, might have been justified.
Kwaaaaaaaaa!
A massive door began to emerge from the symbol of God, exploding with a loud noise as if someone had shattered it.
Behind that door, which rose like a bubble with an ugly creaking sound, it was still full of the screams of fierce, malevolent beings.
Grrr!
Roar!
Above the head of Pope Conrad, who continued sobbing, a cascade of black water began to flow.
The waves were so strong that even the noble Pope could not contain them with his hands.
The army of the dead poured out as if they had finally found a place to escape, trampling over the exhausted priests and rushing out of the church like a flood.
***
Grrr!
Stop them! Push them back!
Damn it! There are too many!
The sound of spears and shields clashing, the shouts of soldiers, and the chilling sound of something being pierced.
There was noise at the foot of the hill that sounded like something straight out of a battlefield.
The group riding down the hill halted at the sound that shook the earth and turned their heads.
"...!"
"What the hell is that?"
Along with Radu's astonishment was the sight of Achiuk below.
A ruined village with only a black, wolf-like bell tower piercing the sky.
However, what the group was witnessing at this moment was an incredibly strange sight in the field.
"…What bastard."
What they saw were soldiers of the Northern Alliance army, fighting against a tide of reanimated corpses.
No, to be more exact, it was soldiers stabbing the reanimated corpses.
The army of the dead was so dense that it was impossible to pull back the spears they had thrust, given the sheer number of corpses they were facing.
[The situation is bad. They're being pushed back.]
Just as Kiihano had said, the Iron Duke's army was slowly being forced backward.
As if they couldn't withstand the waves bursting from the dam.
Although the Iron Duke's army had formed their maximum force to face the advancing army of the Blood Dragon Duke, the efforts of the largest gathering of dark sorcerers in the Empire's history were just as formidable.
"Let's go down!"
The flags of the North were swaying precariously in the black, wolf-like waves that surged forward.
Vlad saw this and tried to charge down the hill, but stopped when he heard Marcus' voice behind him.
"…Not that way!"
Marcus urgently blocked Noir's path as if to prevent him from falling.
His eyes gleamed as he looked at Vlad.
"Those soldiers don't need your sword. They can handle it."
"..."
"Your sword must reach another place. I'll guide you."
In the middle of the ruined village, there was a dark, wolf-like church that continued to spew corpses.
The Iron Duke's army was fighting on the front line to destroy it, but if they continued to face it head-on, they would give the hidden sorcerers inside too much time.
"Understood."
As if understanding Marcus' words, Vlad silently sheathed the sword he had drawn.
The group ran quietly up the hill, leaving behind the fighting soldiers, and finally found the men hidden behind a shallow bush.
"Pleasure to see you again. Vlad Aureo."
The Holy Knights were secretly hiding behind the church, waiting for the right moment.
Among them, one of the men wearing the brightest armor recognized Vlad, who had just arrived, and smiled warmly.
"Sir Gunther."
"I'm glad it's not too late."
The second-in-command of the Templar Knights, pride of the Northern Orthodox Church. Gunther.
The man who had fought alongside Vlad against the Black Woman in the city of Moshiam had been waiting for him all along.
"I insisted on waiting for you. I knew facing this would be easier with someone who's already done it."
Behind Gunther, who shrugged, were exorcists whispering prayers softly.
They were searching for the right path while cloaked in the darkness, looking for another way to secretly enter without being detected by the sorcerers, instead of using the visible entrance ahead.
"Are you tired?"
"No."
"Are you hurt anywhere?"
"No."
The voices of the exorcists grew louder as they realized that Vlad had arrived.
The air around them began to stir slowly with it.
Finally, having found another passage to the world inside the bubble, the paladins with Gunther slowly stood up.
"Then I, Gunther, would like to formally request your help on behalf of the Northern Orthodox Church."
Crack-crack-
With a sharp sound like paper tearing, a black hole was forming behind Gunther's back.
The hole, like a dark well, was too small for an adult man to pass through, making it doubtful whether anyone could get back out again.
"Please, join us this time as well."
And now, Gunther was asking him to step into that darkness where nothing was certain.
Towards Vlad Aureo, the Pope's knight who had banished the darkness of Moshiam.
"..."
After hearing Gunther's words, Vlad quietly looked back.
To see the three men who were watching him.
A wizard pursuing mysteries.
A heretic inquisitor who practices the word of God.
And a dragon bound by a vow.
All nodded their heads silently.
"Let's go."
Though one gaze was challenging, Vlad knew that his group was ready.
"I'll finally be able to fulfill what the Pope entrusted to me."
With those words, Vlad, his left eye closed, carefully touched his left chest.
Feeling those words with his fingertips, Vlad raised his own world like a torch toward the darkest place in the world.
"I was hoping you'd say that, Vlad."
A knight who saved the lives of children.
Vlad recalled the children he couldn't save from the darkness of Moshiam, where he had entered through a dream to rescue Jean.
At that time, he had no choice but to leave them behind because his skills weren't enough, but this time, Vlad planned to shine a bit of light for those children.
***
"Cough! Ugh!"
The world inside the bubble created by Ramashthu.
The sound of someone vomiting echoed through the dark hallway.
"Ugh, ugh…"
It was a violent cough, but the way he tried to suppress it was pitiful.
Fearing that someone might hear him, Joseph, leaning against the hallway wall, smiled faintly as he sat down.
"It's finally spreading."
The tips of Joseph's fingers were slowly turning black.
Just like the countless corpses running rampant out there.
Realizing that his time was running out, Joseph picked up the bag that had fallen at his feet with trembling fingers.
"Is this even the limit of dwarven craftsmanship?"
From the bag Joseph had picked up, a gentle warmth radiated.
It was a bag containing tea items from the dwarves, said to have been baked with a breath that would never fade away.
It was a sacred item of the dwarves, known to purify everything in the world because their breath was warm and pure, but even that seemed insufficient to block the poisonous tea of death.
"…I suppose I can't return it either."
Though he had promised to return that precious dwarven treasure, it seemed he no longer had the chance to do so.
Even if it ended up as a betrayal of trust, Joseph was determined to do whatever he could to fulfill his cause.
"Where are you going?"
"…!!"
A golden opportunity to expose the evil groups that had long taken root.
Joseph was trying to burn everything he had for that chance that would never come again, but suddenly shivered at the cold energy he felt behind him.
"…You always appear behind me, Lord Frausen."
The tip of a sword pressing against his back slowly rose to his shoulder.
When the blade of the sword, now resting on his shoulder, grazed the side of his neck, Joseph felt as though he couldn't breathe.
"That army outside, did you bring them?"
However, for Joseph, Frausen's voice from behind was even more chilling than the silver sword pressed against his neck.
"Yes."
"You don't even deny it."
As Joseph swallowed hard, dark veins began to form around his neck.
Frausen, who knew exactly what those veins meant, looked at Joseph in front of him with interest.
"Death is just around the corner."
"That's why I have things to do."
Although the person standing before him wasn't a dragon, Frausen slowly began to see his colors return.
Joseph's voice, calm and truthful, neither deceptive nor false, gradually started to fill something that had long been broken inside Frausen.
"Do you seek honor, even in your final moments?"
"…"
Joseph slowly began to turn around in response to Frausen's question.
The blade of the sword grazed the back of his neck, cold as it was, but Joseph seemed unbothered by it.
"Honor is what knights seek. Unfortunately, I have not sworn my loyalty to you."
Though his life was on the line, Joseph's voice did not falter in the slightest.
Instead, his voice, tinged with subtle anger, was gradually drawing Frausen's full attention.
"Then why do you do it? For your family?"
"…To drink."
"Drink? What?"
The blue blood of nobility had to be cold.
That was because it existed solely for the glory and survival of the family.
Frausen knew this well, but the young man with dark eyes standing before him was not driven by such things.
"To drink the poison you left behind."
Joseph Bayezid had been freed from his duties as a noble after losing the competition to become head of the family.
Thus, the world he was free to explore was already a place filled with poison.
"I understand that the previous generation focused on prosperity and glory, just as Your Majesty did. But what you ignored left a legacy of poison for generations."
There had once been a shining empire.
An empire that someone had built, someone had protected, and someone had made flourish.
However, the current empire was torn and groaning, and it was likely the fault of those who had neglected the darkness that needed to be swept away in pursuit of mere brilliance.
"Look out there. In the end, these evil poisons that you left behind have become the responsibility of our generation."
As such, the deep-rooted evil was spilling out along with the black tears shed by the woman.
The flower of darkness, which had grown silently while everyone sought only prosperity, could pass through Achiuk and spread across the entire continent.
"…That's why we have to drink the poison. It's that kind of generation."
Even now, there were those who laughed amid their mirth.
Among the nobles of the center who ignored the north.
Among the servants of God who disregarded the non-believers.
Among the countless desires of the beastfolk who had lost their home, the elves hiding in the forest, and the dwarves who controlled fire.
Among the countless worlds that were so different from each other, evil people spat venom and stuck out their wolf-like black tongues.
"…So, do you want to eliminate these poisons?"
In the midst of a dark and venom-filled hallway, the emperor who had ushered in the era of glory looked at the now ragged young man of the age.
"For the next generation?"
This was a generation born to drink poison, even though they hadn't asked for it.
Unlike those who had pursued bright things, the children of today were a generation forced to gather the scraps of fallen stars.
"That's a funny story."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Frausen's sword tapped Joseph's shoulder as if the tale amused him.
Once, twice, and three times.
Each tap reminded Joseph of the obligations he had yet to fulfill.
"Then go ahead."
"…What?"
With a sarcastic laugh, the silver sword turned and returned to its sheath.
Though its gleam had faded, the sword that still belonged to Frausen left Joseph's shoulder and returned to its scabbard.
"Do what you can, until your death arrives."
Frausen, standing in front of him, had a faint smile on his face.
But Joseph, standing in the dark hallway, couldn't tell whether Frausen's smile was mocking him or held some other meaning.
"…Thank you."
It wasn't clear why he was letting him go, but Joseph turned around to seize the last opportunity given to him.
Running through the dark hallway with a small bag.
Frausen, whose colors were slowly fading again, watched his back.
"For the next generation."
So that the young may have the potential to build their own world.
"He's the last one left."
If you're where you need to be, do what you have to do.
"…I probably won't have a good death."
A person who only receives and pays the fair price.
Now he ran alone through the dark hallway.
Trying to ignore the taste of death rising in his throat.
"I have no choice but to let you go, since you have the right qualifications."
There was a young man who wanted to become a knight.
A boy with dark eyes who longed to be a knight and dreamed of becoming the knight from the fairy tales his mother used to tell him.
However, the honor of knighthood, which he had considered an unattainable dream, now rested on Joseph's shoulders.
A faded silver sword tapped his shoulder.
Joseph Bayezid. The last knight named by the first emperor of the revived empire.
Now, he was running through total darkness to drink the poison he had been given.