From the hill west of the city, the wall was little more than an uneven line against the horizon.
The group had stopped there to observe before advancing. It was not an improvised force; though not numerous, it consisted of regular soldiers and several armed members of the church, all equipped for a swift confrontation.
One of the commanders broke the silence.
"Are you certain about this?"
The general did not take his eyes off the city.
"Yes."
There was no doubt in his voice, but neither was there enthusiasm.
"The hero's defeat was among the possibilities," he added calmly. "It is not an unexpected outcome."
The commander frowned.
"Even so… facing something that has already defeated a hero…"
"That is precisely why we are here," the general interrupted. "If there is a moment when it can be contained, it is now."
He turned slightly toward his men.
"In Seiryuu, it was gravely injured after its battle. That was confirmed by multiple witnesses. There is no reason to assume this time is different."
One of the priests present nodded.
"The scale of destruction was also smaller," he observed. "There are no signs of large-scale devastation."
Another commander spoke up.
"Hayato is not a wide-range combatant. He focuses on direct engagement and survival. I have seen him fight before. He does not possess techniques of mass destruction."
The general nodded.
"Exactly. If the damage did not extend beyond the immediate area, it is consistent with his style."
He fell silent for a moment before continuing.
"As for Satoru… the reports describe him using magic, yes, but always at close range. In his confrontation with the high-ranking demon, he remained in physical exchange while casting spells. That is not characteristic of a pure spellcaster."
The priest looked at him carefully.
"Then you consider him a warrior with supplementary magic."
"That is the most likely assessment," the general replied. "If he were a dedicated caster, he would have maintained distance against the hero. He did not."
The first commander remained silent for several seconds before insisting.
"And if we are wrong?"
The general did not hesitate.
"Do you believe a mage could defeat Hero Hayato using a sword?"
There was a faint note of mockery in his tone. He continued without waiting for a reaction.
"We cannot allow him to recover completely. This is the only advantage we will have."
The conversations faded after that. There was nothing more to add.
The group resumed its march toward the city, advancing with restrained discipline. No one spoke now. Each man held his weapon firmly, convinced they were acting at the correct moment.
***
The space before Liza, Hans, and the girls distorted slightly before Satoru appeared.
Liza was the first to reach him.
"Master," she called as she closed the distance. "Are you well?"
She did not wait for an immediate answer. Her eyes moved over his body carefully, searching for any sign to the contrary.
Tama and Pochi moved around him almost at the same time, examining him from different angles with evident concern.
"I don't see blood," Tama murmured.
"Nor wounds," Pochi added, leaning in slightly to be certain.
Satoru did not step away or stop them. He allowed the inspection without intervening, aware that they would not calm down until they confirmed it themselves.
When they finished, he answered.
"I am fine."
Liza held his gaze for a moment longer before nodding.
Hans approached then with measured steps.
"Welcome back," he said in his usual formal tone. "Congratulations on your victory."
Satoru responded with a slight nod.
"It ended as expected."
For a moment, they remained silent. The tension that had been present since the beginning of the duel dissipated slowly, replaced by a more practical calm.
It was Pochi who spoke again.
"So… what happens now?"
"The plan does not change," Satoru replied without delay. "We proceed to Muno."
He paused briefly before adding:
"But first, I must handle a matter."
Liza's brow furrowed slightly. Tama and Pochi followed his line of sight.
In the distance, an armed formation advanced toward them.
The demi-humans took a few seconds to fully process it.
"An army…?" Pochi murmured.
Hans inclined his head slightly; he had already surveyed the area beforehand. The previous night, his clones had scouted the outskirts of the city and located the army waiting at a distance. Their appearance surprised neither him nor Satoru.
"My lord, shall I take care of it?"
Satoru considered the option. He held no particular interest in the approaching men. If Hans acted, the matter would end before they even understood what they were facing.
But he recalled the reason Hayato had chosen to fight. He remembered the purpose behind that confrontation—and the usefulness of others reaching their own conclusions.
If the intention was for the world to measure the danger correctly, eliminating this group without a trace would be counterproductive.
"No," he replied at last. "I will handle it."
He looked at the demi-humans.
"Stay behind me. Prepare to depart."
He offered no further explanation. None was requested.
In the distance, the army advanced with discipline. Orders were heard. The creak of armor. The rhythmic knock of spears against shields. It was not a disorganized mob; they marched with clear determination.
Satoru stepped forward.
In the next instant, the air changed.
There was no explosion. No visible pressure. No shockwave that shook the ground.
It was subtler than that.
The cold spread first.
A sudden, deep cold that did not come from wind nor from the clouds now moving faster overhead. It was an internal sensation, as if warmth were leaving the body from within.
The horses reacted before the men.
Some reared violently, throwing their riders to the ground. Others refused to advance, hooves digging into the earth as they trembled uncontrollably.
The soldiers attempted to maintain formation, but their hands no longer responded with the same firmness. Spears lowered a few inches. Breathing grew irregular.
It was not pressure.
It was fear.
[Despair Aura I]
In YGGDRASIL, the status "Fear" reduced the affected target's statistics and penalized their actions if they failed to resist it. This ability imposed that effect passively within its radius.
Satoru observed in silence.
None resisted.
There were no heroic shouts. No attempts to push forward despite trembling limbs. The line broke quickly. Some tried to retreat. Others looked around, searching for an enemy they could not clearly perceive.
Satoru's sigh was almost imperceptible.
Then the ground beneath his feet fractured.
The earth gave way in a wide circle, and a silhouette emerged from the depths with a prolonged crack.
Enormous wings. Torn membranes. Dark bones covered in remnants of negative energy.
A dragon.
Not flesh and living scales, but a colossal structure of blackened bone, empty eye sockets burning with a faint light.
The body rose fully, lifting Satoru above the field.
"A dragon!" someone screamed from the broken formation.
Panic spread faster than the cold that had come before.
In that world, dragons were not common creatures. They were absolute references of power. Even heroes measured their worth against them.
And one now stood there, answering to a single individual.
Satoru did not look down when the dragon spread its wings. The beating raised a gust of wind that further scattered what remained of the formation.
Without adding a single word, the creature ascended.
Shadows stretched over the soldiers as the dragon climbed, carrying with it the figure who had frozen their will without drawing a blade.
Some fell to their knees.
Others simply stood motionless, unable to process what had occurred.
Within seconds, the silhouette grew smaller in the sky.
The field fell silent.
There was no battle, no blood, only a conclusion none of those present could ignore.
***
The dragon moved steadily, cutting through low clouds while the land slid beneath them at a constant pace. From that height, roads and rivers appeared as simple lines drawn across a map.
Satoru watched the horizon.
Now that he possessed the witch's alchemical knowledge, he could begin the real analysis of his seal. There was no reason to prolong travel by land. Every hour gained was valuable.
He was about to indicate the next step when he felt a weight against his back.
Liza was holding him tightly.
Satoru froze for a moment, processing the gesture.
"S-Sorry…" she murmured, her voice barely steady. "I-It's just…"
She did not finish the sentence, but she did not need to. Satoru remembered that Liza feared heights.
He remained silent for several seconds.
"You will not fall," he said at last.
The dragon reduced its speed slightly.
Hans noticed but did not comment. He remained steady, with Tama and Pochi secured on either side, observing the landscape with clear curiosity.
Unlike them, Liza did not lift her face from Satoru's back.
The dragon crossed the wall marking the boundary of the barony without slowing. From above, the structure looked more like a gray scar than a true defense. Beyond it, the landscape changed gradually: less maintained fields, irregular roads, sparse smoke from scattered villages.
Satoru studied the territory in silence.
Barony Muno had been in decline for years. The curse Zen had left behind had not only increased the appearance of undead—it had weakened trade and eroded regional stability. Added to that were recent increases in bandits and monsters, visible symptoms of an order beginning to decompose.
He remembered the true cause behind that deterioration. A mid-ranking demon had been pulling strings from the shadows, exacerbating tensions, diverting resources, and provoking controlled chaos. None of that surprised him.
The wall was not there to stop massive invasions. Its function was simpler: to contain what came out of Muno and distrust whatever entered. In other times, travelers would have been warned not to trust even the local militia.
Unlike Satou, Satoru had no intention of involving himself in others' problems out of goodwill. He did not seek to save villagers or distribute provisions. His interest in Muno was practical.
He glanced back, where Liza, Tama, and Pochi remained secured as the dragon maintained steady flight.
It was time for them to begin strengthening in a more structured manner.
He said nothing of it.
Some time later, the dragon descended upon an abandoned city west of the main settlements. The walls still stood, though wear was evident. There were no signs of recent surface activity; the central well had partially collapsed, and the castle gates remained closed.
However, it was not empty.
From the air, Satoru had sensed a presence. An undead stronger than average remained hidden within the castle. It was not exceptional—but neither was it trivial.
Hans conducted a preliminary inspection without being detected. He confirmed the existence of the undead and the presence of several valuable items stored in sealed chambers. Nothing extraordinary, but sufficient.
Securing the location required little effort. The undead was subdued and bound under his control, along with the lesser creatures inhabiting the underground structures. The gates were secured, and the functional remnants of the castle reorganized for immediate use.
The reason was simple.
Study.
Satoru required an isolated environment, basic resources, and a steady source of materials. Muno, with its irregular flow of smuggling, bandits, and accumulated negative energy, provided exactly that.
While he focused on analyzing the knowledge obtained from the witch, Hans assumed supervision of Liza, Tama, and Pochi's training.
The approach was divided into two parts: levels and control.
Attracting undead was simple. The concentration of negative energy in the region made them responsive to Satoru's necromancy. Under controlled conditions, Liza and the girls faced them as sources of experience, always under Hans's supervision.
Afterward, they practiced real combat among themselves and against him, adjusting stance, speed, and decision-making.
The process was not perfect. In that world, consecutive level increases generated a sensation of physical and mental strain difficult to ignore. The body needed to adapt to newfound strength before assimilating further improvement.
Even so, the routine continued for a week.
By the end of that period, the progress was evident.
Tama reached level 24 and Pochi level 22. The difference was not accidental. Tama adapted more quickly to the physical burden of consecutive growth, and her natural talent aligned with disciplines close to the Rogue class, facilitating her training under Hans.
Pochi, by contrast, showed greater inclination toward frontal combat. Her progress was steady, but her style required more time to refine technique and endurance.
Liza was the one who stood out the most.
In addition to regular sessions, she accompanied Hans—and occasionally Satoru—on nighttime incursions against regional bandits. The constant pressure accelerated her growth until she reached level 32.
By local standards, that placed her within the category of a regional champion. In Seiryuu City, few surpassed that range.
Even so, the gap with exceptional beings remained wide. Zen, a legendary monster, had been level 41. The hero's companions hovered around level 50, and Hayato exceeded level 70.
For most of the world, however, that level was respectable.
During that time, the abandoned city ceased to be an improvised refuge and began to acquire structure. Lesser undead performed basic tasks under simple commands. The perimeter remained clean. Nearby routes were monitored.
Inside the castle, Satoru advanced his research.
Passive regeneration could be accelerated through alchemical preparations derived from the principles the witch had used. However, in his case, the effect was not permanent. His body's structure did not respond in the same manner, and the seal constantly interfered, limiting his performance to approximately three-quarters of his original capacity.
Under normal conditions, his mana would fully recover within an hour. With the seal active, that was impossible. But thanks to the potions, the time required was reduced to a fraction of what he had previously experienced. It was not his ideal state—though it was sufficient.
For the moment, he did not need to worry about mana expenditure in the short term.
With that stabilized, he shifted his attention to the next objective: the creation of a sacred weapon.
To his surprise, the process was not complex. Not after absorbing over a century of alchemical research accumulated by the witch. The artificial generation of sacred energy through controlled reactions did not demand exceptional materials. What was truly delicate was its containment and subsequent infusion into a stable physical medium.
Creating a "sacred weapon," however, did not equate to replicating the relics granted to heroes.
The difference lay in the quality of the vessel. Satoru could intensify the sacred attribute within certain limits, but finding a blade capable of withstanding it without fracturing was another matter. Most available weapons simply could not endure the load.
For his current purposes, he did not require perfection.
Only functionality.
At present, he observed one of the resulting swords upon the stone table in the castle. The blade still emitted a faint bluish glow—but it was beginning to fade. Gradually, the color shifted toward a darker greenish tone, unstable yet sustained.
The transition completed without fracture.
The theory had been correct.
If he could generate artificial sacred energy, he could also alter it. Corrupt it. Destabilize its structure until it became compatible with negative energy without triggering immediate reaction.
Even so, he released a faint sigh.
That was only the first step. The seal affecting him was not composed of ordinary sacred energy, but of a superior, divine nature. What he had achieved was proof that manipulation was possible—not that the problem was solved.
To advance, he needed more materials. Better catalysts. Higher-purity metals. Alchemical components not found in that abandoned fortress.
The available resources had already been exhausted in preliminary tests.
The conclusion was simple.
The next move had to take place in the main city of Muno.
There, he could trade, acquire materials under controlled identity, and, if necessary, use his influence to secure a steady supply. The barony's current state facilitated such transactions.
After all, the Black Demon had already located and subdued the mid-ranking demon responsible for the city's internal deterioration. With that piece under control, manipulating the flow of information and resources would not be difficult.
Preparation had concluded.
Now it was time to act.
*******
Author's Note:
We've finally arrived in Muno! It's been mentioned since the early chapters, and now we're finally here.
I decided to speed up the arrival because I didn't feel it would add anything new to the story. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and as always, thank you for continuing to read.