Ayime was engaged in a magical duel against three mages from the Glory Fortress. A transparent water curtain surrounded her, seemingly fragile yet completely impervious to the fireballs and lightning bolts hurled by the three mages. Their attacks failed to penetrate the protective barrier, while Ayime simply flicked her wrist, launching an ice arrow that shattered one of the mages' heads into icy fragments scattered across the ground.
The elemental magic of the Tooth Tower remained as pure and sharp as ever. As the personal disciple of a water magic grandmaster, her spells were far beyond what ordinary mages could contend with. The remaining two mages had already lost all will to fight; under the protection of the surrounding swordsmen, they fled with the panicked crowd.
Within the shimmering water barrier, Ayime moved her hands in intricate gestures, murmuring incomprehensible incantations. Then, with a simple wave of her hand toward the escaping mages, a surge of overwhelming elemental energy, characteristic of high-level magic, erupted forth.
A shrill scream echoed around the mages as the water vapor in the air instantly condensed around them into a massive ice spike, forming a huge circular ring. The creation of the ring was not deterred by their physical bodies; in fact, because of the greater amount of water within them, it condensed faster and larger. Once the ice ring formed, it immediately shattered. The dozen or so swordsmen around the mages were torn apart as the shattered ice sent blood and flesh flying. The two mages in the center remained unharmed, but they were still in a state of shock when a wave of cold air gathered above their heads, forming another massive ice spike that crushed their skulls into pieces.
Ayime, who had continuously cast spells without pause, instinctively sensed the strongest and most vibrant life force nearby—Asa. Without hesitation, she turned and locked her gaze on him.
Her previously fair and delicate skin now appeared even more translucent, so pale that the muscles and bone contours beneath could be seen. Although all of her blood and life force had been drained away by the Soul Devouring spell, her body didn't wither or deform. Instead, something even more powerful sustained her flesh. As she turned to look at Asa, her once large, watery eyes were no longer innocent and lively, but now two burning balls of necrotic fire.
This intelligent and delicate girl, once gentle on the outside but strong inside, had now become a deathly undead. Surrounded by dozens of ugly and terrifying zombies and skeletons, she stood at the center, looking like a flower of death blooming amidst a pile of rotting corpses.
She was just a girl in her teens, a child, really. To save Asa, she made a deal with two necromancers just by herself, carrying the resolve to die, running here and there, maneuvering through impossible situations. Even the most seasoned warrior or the strongest adventurer might not be able to achieve what she did, but she succeeded. To some extent, the great battle at the Glory Fortress started because of her efforts. And in the end, amidst the chaotic turbulence, no one even noticed how she was drawn into death by Inham's magic, dying silently and unknowingly, like a speck of dust falling to the ground.
Asa felt pain—a deep, intense heartache, followed by a numbing dizziness. He didn't even notice the ice and water vapor gathering above him. It wasn't until the cold spread to his face, turning the liquids in his body into spikes that tore through his flesh, that he instinctively reacted, releasing his fight spirit.
With a sharp metallic sound, his fight spirit shattered the ice and cold around his face, sending pieces of his skin flying. At least the cold didn't reach his eyes, and his eyeballs didn't fly out with the debris.
Ayime's gestures continued, the ice spikes formed by the cold air appeared one after another, stabbing toward Asa. The body of the death knight was indeed more suited to the flow and concentration of magic than that of a human, and the aura of the Black Star filled the space, granting all undead beings boundless power.
The fleeing crowd around them didn't stop, and no one noticed what was happening here. The battle here was merely an insignificant ripple in the entire battlefield, already pushed to the farthest end by the retreating people. Both the orcs and humans were desperately running for their lives, and more and more undead monsters kept devouring and tearing them apart. The endless dark aura turned them into undead as well. Screams, explosions, and flying blood and flesh filled the air, with bones and rotten flesh flying even more wildly.
After dodging two or three times, Asa stopped avoiding. He knew it was pointless. With the numb pain still coursing through him, he raised his hand, and a massive, searing fireball began to form. It roared as it rushed toward Ayime.
The ice arrow that Ayime had just released was silently consumed in front of the fireball. With a thunderous explosion, flames shot into the sky. The water shield, which had easily blocked other spells, was no match for this fireball, shattering and being engulfed by the flames along with the zombies and skeletons guarding Ayime. Though crude, Asa's spell, in terms of pure magical destructive power, was not something an ordinary mage could rival.
When the explosion cleared, only Ayime remained, staggering but still standing. Although she was preparing another spell, Asa had already reached her and placed his hand in front of her. Despite the fact that she would turn to dust in the next moment, her delicate, transparent face remained devoid of emotion. The deathly flames in her eyes burned unshaken.
A sharp pain gripped Asa's heart as the magical power in his hand surged, ready to unleash. Suddenly, a fierce shout, accompanied by the sound of rushing wind, came from the side. "Stop!"
Asa dodged the incoming sword strike and turned his head to look—surprisingly, it was Talice. Not far away, a group of swordsmen and priests were rushing toward them. It seemed she was leading this group in covering the retreat.
"What are you doing?!" Talice shouted angrily at Asa. But before she could finish, an ice arrow struck her chest. Though it couldn't pierce through the Glory Armor, it still froze her over, causing her to stumble and fall. As she turned and saw the deathly flames burning in Ayime's eyes, she finally understood. Her face was filled with shock as she muttered in disbelief, "How… how could this happen?"
Asa didn't waste time arguing. He sprang forward toward Ayime again. Except for those ancient monsters at the pinnacle of power, any lich or mage without close-range protection was nothing more than a target to him at this distance.
"Wait! Stop!" Talice threw her sword to block Asa for a moment, then rushed forward to hold him back. Her voice and expression were completely hysterical, making Asa almost wonder if she had lost her mind. "How could this happen? How could this happen… Don't hurt her! There has to be a way! There must be a way!"
"Get out of my way." Asa suppressed the urge to smash her head into pieces and instead kicked her aside. At that moment, a massive ice blade from Ayime sliced past both their heads.
"Stop him! Save that little girl!" Talice shouted to the swordsmen and priests who had followed her.
But the swordsmen could all see the flames burning in the girl's eyes. At least half of their fallen comrades had died at the hands of liches like her—mages turned into undead horrors. In a situation like this, even the most loyal subordinates would hesitate to carry out an order to save a creature that was no longer human. Besides, they all knew they were no match for that man.
"Lord Talice, please calm down. That girl is already dead. What stands there now is just a monster created from her corpse. There's no way to save her." The swordsmen weren't fools—they could see why the knight had lost her composure. "We need to run. This is as much as we can do to hold the rear in this direction."
The ground trembled.
A massive skeletal beast thundered toward them, trampling over the last remaining squad of swordsmen in the rear. It resembled a crocodile but was several times larger than a dragon. With every stomp of its enormous bony feet, swordsmen were crushed, their screams swallowed by the sickening sound of shattering flesh and bone, as powerless against it as ants beneath a boot.
Ayime suddenly turned her head toward the massive skeletal beast, the necrotic flames in her eye sockets flaring violently. The creature froze for an instant, its own undead fire flashing in response, and then, ignoring the remaining swordsmen and priests beneath its feet, it stepped toward her. Though it made no sound, a connection had already formed between it and Ayime.
Asa ignored everything else and charged toward her.
"Ayime came here for you! She became this to save you—it's all because of you… Please, I beg you, save her!" Talice's voice trembled, almost breaking into sobs. Yet, for some reason, she herself didn't dare step forward.
"You think I don't know? You think I'm not in pain?" Asa suddenly turned and roared at her. His voice cracked halfway through, his vocal cords tearing under the strain. Though he couldn't see his own eyes, he knew they must be bloodshot, burning as if they were about to ignite from the boiling rage and grief within him.
Turning back, he faced the freezing air rushing toward him from Ayime. He didn't dodge but raised a hand to block it, while his other hand pressed against her forehead. The delicate yet deathly cold skin beneath his fingers was indistinguishable from the searing pain as massive ice spikes formed inside his arm, bursting through flesh and bone. Agony and sensation blurred into one, but his fire magic surged forth like a flood.
Ayime's small figure was consumed in the flames, reduced to ashes.
Neither Asa nor Talice moved. Neither spoke. They only stared at the dust that remained. Yet their gazes held different emotions—one was a deep, heavy sorrow that would settle in his soul forever, impossible to dissolve or fade. The other was raw despair, grief teetering on the brink of madness.
No matter how deep the sorrow, no matter how excruciating the pain, what is irreversible remains irreversible. The world will not change for anyone's grief, nor will it undo what has already happened. The only thing one can do is what must be done.
True strength is not about trying to undo sorrow or drowning in it, but about facing it and bearing it.
Neither Asa nor Talice moved, but Talice's subordinates would not remain idle. A few swordsmen rushed forward, hoisted Talice up, and turned to flee. Meanwhile, the priests desperately chanted their incantations, casting holy magic at the massive skeletal beast that had now arrived before them.
Only at this proximity could they fully grasp the creature's enormity—even in its low-crawling stance, it was taller than the greatest behemoth. It completely ignored the priests' light arrows striking its body; within this darkness-infested domain, holy magic was pitifully weak. The very spell meant to dispel the undead had been reduced to little more than a flickering light.
Raising its bloodstained, flesh-clad skeletal foot, the beast stomped down toward Asa.
The ground shook as if struck by a falling meteor, sending priests and swordsmen sprawling. But Asa had already leaped into the air, and in his hands, a fireball—several times larger than himself—shot straight into the monster's gaping maw.
With a deafening explosion, bone shards and fire scattered in all directions. Half of the beast's skull was obliterated, while the rest was riddled with cracks.
A ghastly, agonized howl echoed across the chaotic battlefield, reaching far and wide.
The undead do not scream. The roar that tore through the battlefield belonged to Asa.
As he plummeted toward the remaining half of the skeletal beast's skull, his entire body radiated blinding fight spirit. He paid no mind to the blood spilling from his torn vocal cords—this wasn't about the fight anymore. It was a pure outpouring of fury, sorrow, and devastation, concentrated into a single, explosive strike aimed at the crack in the monster's skull.
From a sheer size perspective, it was akin to a fly smashing against a crocodile's head. Yet, the colossal undead beast shattered like fragile porcelain, its massive bones crumbling into countless fragments.
Amidst the cascading debris—each chunk larger than a man—Asa landed. His strike had not merely destroyed the physical form of the monster but had obliterated the core of its necrotic flame. Without so much as a glance at the mountain of remains, he turned and wordlessly sprinted toward the outskirts of the Glory Fortress.
The swordsmen and priests scrambled to their feet, dragging a dazed Talice along as they fled in desperate pursuit.
Beyond the Fortress, across the Celeste Plain, thousands of survivors—both humans and beastmen—were scattering in all directions under the command of their respective leaders, none daring to look back. Only a handful of individuals still paused, casting wary glances toward the scene behind them.
The once-glorious stronghold of faith, the very heart of the Church's power, was now engulfed in a thick, black necrotic fog. The air was filled with the eerie cacophony of undead movements—dry, brittle, and grating—mingling with the sounds of collapsing structures. The occasional silhouette of a massive skeletal monstrosity loomed within the dark haze.
"Send word to intercept all incoming reinforcements from every nation. Tell them to turn back—none of them should come here."
The Pope's voice was hoarse, his once-bright, youthful eyes now carrying the weight of centuries. Beside him, Lancelote stood in silence, both watching as the Glory Fortress slowly crumbled.
Neither showed much reaction—not because they didn't care, but because they understood all too well.
This was merely the prologue of destruction.