Just as despair threatened to swallow the wall whole, a clear, resonant voice cut through the darkness.
"Ninth-Tier Magic: Holy Light Illumination!"
A gentle radiance washed over everyone's eyes. Defenders looked up, blinking against the sudden brightness.
High above the blackened sky, a massive sphere of pure holy light hung like a second sun. Its brilliance pierced the unnatural gloom, flooding the surroundings of E-Rantel in blinding white.
For the first time since the mist descended, the defenders could see clearly.
Tens of millions of undead stretched across the plain—an endless tide. Most were low-tier fodder: Skeleton Soldiers, shambling zombies, crawling bone piles. But the sheer scale was overwhelming, a white ocean of death that seemed to swallow the horizon.
Before despair could fully take root, the skeletons they'd been fighting began to crumble.
The ones clinging to the wall lost cohesion, tumbling in heaps of ash and bone fragments.
"These undead… they're disappearing!"
Joy rippled along the battlements as holy light touched them. Any skeleton or zombie caught in the radiance disintegrated instantly, purified into drifting gray motes.
"Ah.. A.. Miracle! Haha!" The commander leaned over the parapet, laughter bursting from his chest. "It's really a miracle. We're saved!"
Hum~~
A dark curtain snapped into existence beneath the holy sphere, shielding the undead clustered around the Lich King. The light could not penetrate it.
The Lich King tilted its massive, flaming skull upward and sneered. "The first round is over."
As the words faded, the holy sun dimmed, its radiance folding inward until it resolved into a humanoid silhouette.
Flowing white robes, a gentle mist of light, long white hair catching the glow—Helant descended slowly, face serene yet weary, like a descending Holy Spirit.
He cast one last deep glance toward the Lich King, then flew back to the wall.
The battlefield plunged into darkness again. Silence returned, heavy and expectant.
Helant landed lightly on the stone, but his knees buckled almost immediately. Mino rushed forward, catching his arm, eyes wide with worry.
"Helant… why do you push yourself so hard?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he offered the commander, the adventurers, and every exhausted defender a tired but steady smile.
"Don't worry. I will never let the people of E-Rantel die at the hands of the Lich King."
The commander stared at the obvious fatigue etched into Helant's features and felt something stir in his chest—gratitude, awe, renewed resolve. He didn't know this man's origins, but those words alone rekindled dying hope.
Momon stepped forward, twin greatswords resting on his shoulders. His voice carried solemn weight. "I, Momon, swear the same. I will give everything to keep E-Rantel standing."
Quaiesse touched down on his griffon, face pale. "Mr. Helant, Mr. Momon… there are still at least a thousand undead around the Lich King. More than a hundred are Hero-class or higher."
He swallowed. Theocracy intelligence had never mentioned a sealed Demon God like this one—capable of Tenth-Tier Magic right out of the gate, summoning tens of millions of undead as a casual opener.
And that phantom silhouette wreathed in blue flames… "If I'm not mistaken, this isn't even his limit. He said he'd only reach his peak after devouring every living soul in E-Rantel."
Quaiesse looked at Helant with genuine concern. Ninth-Tier Magic at full power was already miraculous for a human. Facing a Demon God still holding Tenth-Tier reserves? Suicide.
Yet Helant had just made unbreakable promises to the city. He would never run.
Quaiesse drew a steadying breath. We've reached a desperate situation.
Whoosh.
The dark curtain withdrew. Countless crimson eyes reignited in the gloom, hungry and unblinking.
The Lich King's ghostly flames flared brighter, making him a beacon of malice. He grinned, voice rolling like distant thunder. "Humans! Are you ready? The second round is about to begin."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Synchronized, heavy footsteps pounded the earth in rhythm with racing hearts.
Under the renewed illumination spells, the defenders saw them: squads of massive armored zombies—towering figures carrying swords and shields—emerging from the darkness.
"D-Death Knights…"
Many adventurers recognized them instantly. Mithril-rank equivalents at minimum—some even stronger.
"How can we win against so many Death Knights…?"
Despair crept back in.
Then Helant and Momonga stepped forward together. Their auras flared outward—overwhelming, unshakable.
Helant spoke calmly but firmly. "Everyone, I, Helant, am a man of my word. I will protect E-Rantel."
"So please—show some spirit."
Having just witnessed the Holy Light Illumination, many defenders straightened, voices rising in ragged but determined response.
"Yeahh! We'll fight to the death!"
"We have to protect the people!! No retreat!"
"Very good."
Helant nodded, satisfied, then turned toward the advancing Death Knights.
"Nabe, Mino, Quaiesse.. stay on the wall. Prevent any breakthroughs."
He exchanged a glance with Momonga.
"Momonga and I will go down and wipe out this trash."
In the blink of an eye, both blurred forward, charging straight into the undead ranks.
Under the stunned gazes of the wall, Helant gathered holy light in his palm and swept it outward. A casual wave disintegrated dozens of Death Knights in a flash of purifying radiance.
Momonga, armored in black, swung his greatswords without restraint. Each arc carved through armored undead like wheat before a scythe, bodies collapsing in heaps.
The commander swallowed hard, voice hoarse. "So strong…"
He had seen Helant's earlier miracle, yet this casual dominance still shook him. Such power had been walking E-Rantel as an adventurer—and no one had known.
Quaiesse was even more stunned. Watching the two slaughter Hero-class Death Knights like vegetables—wave after wave falling without slowing them—he felt wave after wave of disbelief crash through him.
Helant had unleashed Ninth-Tier Magic at full power and still had strength to spare. The Death Knights couldn't even withstand a single exchange.
And Momon… Quaiesse had underestimated him too. Was he truly on the same level as Helant?
While the two carved through the undead below, the Lich King finally stirred again.
He pointed lazily toward them, voice playful. "Soldier against soldier, general against general. Don't break the rules now."
With that, several figures beside him—each radiating terrifying auras—flickered and roared, charging straight toward Helant and Momonga.
________
15 Advance chapters:
Patreon.com/CorruptElf