Roman pulled himself back from the darkness.
His eyes snapped open.
The world swam in and out of focus crimson sky above, black blood below, the screams of dying men filling the air. He tried to push himself up.
His arms trembled. His legs buckled beneath him.
The pain in his core flared white hot, and he collapsed back onto the blood-soaked ground.
A hand appeared before him.
It was slick with the black ichor of monsters, streaked with crimson, fingers trembling from exhaustion.
He looked up.
Selena stood over him, her face streaked with grime and blood, her eyes blazing with a mixture of relief and fury.
"I don't want to touch those bloody hands," Roman muttered. "Yuck."
She smacked him across the head. Hard.
"The moment you come back to your senses, you make jokes?!" she snarled.
From the battlefield, Jacob's voice cut through the chaos. "Hey, brats! This isn't the time for your childish fighting! Get back up!"
"Yeah, yeah, Father," Roman grumbled.
He grabbed Selena's hand. She hauled him to his feet with a grunt, and he steadied himself against her shoulder.
The world spun for a moment then settled.
He saw the knights pushed back to the brink, their formations broken.
He saw the paladins struggling, their divine power flickering. He saw the bodies so many bodies lying broken in the mud.
The Shadow System's voice sliced through his thoughts.
The dark mana in the air has reached its peak. You must use the Fallen God's Blessing now.
Roman ignored it.
He didn't have time to debate.
He didn't have time to fear the consequences. He flared his aura divine gold and abyssal black erupting around him in a violent storm of light and shadow.
His Archon Sword blazed in his grip, its blade humming with barely contained power.
"Let's finish this fast," he said, his voice cold. "Let's use something different."
He raised the sword before the monster horde and charged it with magic.
The circles multiplied one, two, three spinning faster and faster until eleven shimmering rings hovered before the blade.
He combined the sword slash with the Spear of Separ and unleashed them back to back.
The result was devastating.
Monsters died by the thousands their bodies torn apart, their flesh reduced to ash.
The golden wave and the raining spears swept across the battlefield, wiping out everything in their path.
But it wasn't enough.
They kept coming.
A swarm without end pouring from the gates like a tide of darkness that refused to break.
Roman's eyes narrowed.
He shifted his Yin-Yang core the golden aura faded, replaced by pure abyssal black.
The air around him grew heavy. Ancient.
Every knight and paladin nearby felt it something powerful, something dangerous, something that had no place on a battlefield of mortals.
His Archon Sword grew.
The magic circles darkened, their power multiplying.
The blade extended, its edge drinking in the shadows around it.
Some paladins stared in disbelief.
How can the Warherald use dark aura with such perfection?
None of them knew the truth.
This power belonged to him from his previous life as Ronald, a fearless tyrant who decided things based on his sword.
A man who had ruled through strength and fear.
A man whose swordsmanship had been forged in the fires of countless battles.
Roman smiled coldly.
"Let's combine my old swordsmanship with this world's magic."
He moved.
Heaven-Piercing Cut.
A vertical golden slash split the void above but this time, black lightning arced through it, and the magic circles amplified the strike into a pillar of annihilation.
The beam of light and shadow descended upon the monster horde, incinerating everything within a hundred meters. Bodies didn't fall they simply ceased to exist.
Abyss Rend.
A horizontal black strike tore through the shadows magic circles spinning around the blade, extending its reach across the battlefield.
The cut carved through the horde like a scythe through wheat.
Monsters were bisected mid-stride, their torsos sliding off their legs before they even realized they were dead.
The attacks were larger than anything Roman had unleashed before.
The dungeon gates themselves cracked under the direct hits jagged fissures spreading across their black surfaces.
But the gates repaired themselves almost instantly, the cracks sealing shut as if they had never been.
In the Eastern Territories, Gabriel watched the distant explosions of black and gold.
"The Warherald never showed this power while sparring with us," he murmured. "It's too powerful."
Chen Wuji stood beside him, his fists clenched. "What is that? It's like he's a completely different person."
Gabriel didn't answer.
He didn't have an answer.
But every swing cost Roman everything.
Blood dripped from his mouth.
His veins bulged.
His body trembled but he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Not now.
Not when the world was dying.
Then
Movement.
A body that should have been lying in silence began to rise.
It had no head. Its arms twitched. Its legs kicked.
Its hands searched the ground, fingers clawing through blood and mud, until they found what they were looking for a severed head.
The hands lifted the head and placed it on the neck. The head twisted. Cracked. Settled into place.
The body stood.
The head spoke.
"Because of you, Warherald Roman Crowell... I died."
The voice was broken. Twisted. Filled with hatred.
"I'll kill you!"
The creature started running toward him tears streaming down its rotting face, its mouth stretched into a scream of rage.
Roman's mind raced. What is happening?
The Shadow System's voice returned.
The dark mana in the air has reached its peak. Be careful of your surroundings.
Roman's unease deepened. He looked around
And saw them.
The dead were rising.
Knights. Paladins. Civilians.
Their bodies twitched.
Their limbs jerked.
Their eyes empty, hollow opened with a sickening wet sound.
They pushed themselves up from the blood-soaked ground, their movements jerky and unnatural.
A chorus of voices rose from the dead.
"Because of you, we died, Warherald!"
"You couldn't save us!"
"You let us die!"
The bodies started walking toward him. Hundreds.
Thousands.
The fallen friend and foe alike now united in one purpose.
Roman's grip tightened on his Archon Sword. The black aura around him flared.
This isn't just a battle anymore, he thought.
This is a nightmare.
And the nightmare was just beginning.