Chapter 75: The Encounter
The Sovereign of Death sprinted across the desolate wilderness.
His objective was clear: Iron Fortress. Earlier, he had sensed a massive, incredibly pure surge of necrotic energy emanating from that direction. He could feel that the core of that power eclipsed even his own. If he could only align himself with the Master of that land, perhaps they truly could transform this world into a definitive Realm of the Dead.
An era belonging to the undying was finally at hand.
He quickened his pace, his tattered rags fluttering in the wind, providing a meager veil for his skeletal frame. But a sudden thought flickered through his mind, causing his stride to falter.
Altlais.
The image of that man's golden armor surfaced in his consciousness. He could not afford a head-on confrontation with that monster—at least, not until he had linked up with the undead forces to the East.
High above, the griffins beat their wings in a steady, powerful rhythm.
Altlais and the six members of the Lionheart Guard flew in a heavy, haunted silence toward the Capital. Since departing Iron Fortress, not a single word had been exchanged. Finn had opened his mouth several times to speak, but seeing the Commander's expressionless, stone-cold face, he had swallowed his words every time.
Lina and the others maintained a silent dialogue via their private mental link.
"Careful," Lina's voice echoed in their minds. "The Commander is in a foul mood."
Grey's voice rumbled back with its usual bluntness: "No kidding."
Altlais didn't participate in their chatter. A cluster of white-hot rage was smoldering in his chest. As a Tier 6 powerhouse, he felt stifled and humiliated. Had he been alone, he wouldn't have cared if his Battle Aura ran dry—he would have fought Kaito until his bones were dust. But as the Commander of the Royal Knights, he had to prioritize the Empire's stability over his own pride.
He was a leader, but he was also a man. He needed a target. He needed a release.
Just as he was struggling to reign in his emotions, his sharp gaze caught a movement on the ground below. A figure was moving across the plains at a velocity that no normal human could achieve. Altlais caught a scent—a familiar, putrid stench.
Undead.
But this wasn't the "ordered" undead of Iron Fortress. This was chaotic, malevolent energy—a raw hatred for the living that felt like a needle in his eye.
"All units: descend," Altlais commanded. His voice was a shard of ice.
The griffins banked immediately, diving from the clouds. Seven massive beasts kicked up a gale as they landed with surgical precision, surrounding the figure and blocking his path.
The Sovereign of Death skidded to a halt. He looked at the seven knights, their sanctified mounts, and the man in the center clad in golden plate.
His worst-case scenario had just manifested.
Altlais dismounted, walking step by heavy step toward the rag-shrouded figure. "Remove the cloth," Altlais said, his voice flat. "Let me see your face."
The Sovereign of Death knew he was exposed. He slowly raised a hand, grasping the rags over his skull.
In the heartbeat the Lionheart Guard assumed he was submitting, the Sovereign ripped the rags off and hurled them toward Altlais like a distraction! Simultaneously, his other hand condensed a sphere of concentrated Abyssal Mana, launching it point-blank at Altlais's face.
His body then dissolved into a streak of black smoke, hurtling backward to create distance.
Altlais didn't even glance at the flying rags. Facing the dark projectile—an attack capable of leveling a small mountain—the Knight simply raised a hand. A golden barrier of Battle Aura manifested before his palm. The Abyssal Bolt slammed into the gold and vanished without a sound, like a drop of ink falling into a vast, sunlit ocean.
"A Tier 5 Undead Lord!" Lina cried out, sensing the energy output.
Finn and Grey reached for their weapons, prepared to lunge. A Tier 5 Undead Lord was a national-level disaster. Normally, it would require the full mobilization of the Lionheart Guard to ensure a clean extermination.
"He's mine."
Altlais raised a hand, stopping his team. His gaze locked onto the undead as it reformed its physical shape dozens of yards away.
The Sovereign of Death stared at the unharmed Altlais, letting out a dry, rattling laugh. "Quite the confidence you have, Commander Altlais. Or should I address you by your proper title... Lord Hero?"
The word "Hero" caused the six knights behind Altlais to flinch. It was a title from a bygone era—a name he hadn't used in decades.
Altlais offered no reply. He reached into the empty air.
A longsword radiating a soft, hallowed glow manifested in his grip.
It was Leon's Holy Sword.
The reason the blade had never fully acknowledged Leon wasn't that Leon was unworthy—it was because the blade's True Master was still very much alive.
The moment the light appeared, the air in the clearing turned sweet and fresh. The necrotic miasma clinging to the Sovereign began to sizzle and pop as if it had met its natural predator.
"Hero, is it...?" Altlais whispered. "It's been a long time since anyone called me that."
The next micro-second, Altlais vanished.
Every bone in the Sovereign's body screamed a warning. Without hesitation, he detonated his remaining Mana, forming dozens of cursed bone shields in front of him. Simultaneously, hundreds of skeletal hands tore out of the earth, grasping for Altlais's ankles.
It was all futile.
Altlais appeared directly in the Sovereign's face. The shields and the grasping hands were treated as if they didn't exist. The Holy Sword rose.
The Sovereign of Death let out a roar of defiance, gathering every scrap of his remaining power into a massive black scythe, swinging it toward the Hero. It was the desperate, all-or-nothing strike of a Tier 5 Sovereign.
Altlais simply swung his sword once.
There was no thunderous explosion. No blinding flash of colliding energy. The moment the Holy Sword touched the black scythe, the dark weapon turned to ash. The blade continued its arc, passing cleanly through the Sovereign's chest.
The expression on the Sovereign's skeletal face froze. He looked down at his ribs. There was no wound.
Yet, his body began to dissolve from the point of contact, crumbling into motes of light that scattered into the wind.
"I didn't think... I'd have to use... that... so soon..."
The Sovereign of Death uttered a cryptic final whisper before being completely erased from existence.
Altlais stood over the spot where the creature had vanished, his face a mask of indifference. The shockwave from his swing had not stopped at the monster; it had traveled upward, piercing the heavens. A massive rift, miles long, was carved through the clouds above. Sunlight poured through the gap, illuminating the earth like a divine spotlight.
Finn stood with his mouth agape, staring at the miracle in the sky. Not a single word would come. This was the power of a Tier 6 powerhouse. This was the Empire's strongest knight—the Hero of old, Altlais.
Altlais sheathed the Holy Sword. He closed his eyes, his vast perception sweeping through every blade of grass in the area. Once he was certain not a single fragment of the undead's Od remained, he spoke.
"Lina. Confirm it."
"Yes, Commander." Lina's eyes glowed with a silver light—her innate Divine Protection that allowed her to detect soul remnants. After a moment, she shook her head. "Target is completely annihilated. Not a single soul fragment remains."
"Good."
Altlais turned and walked back to his griffin. "We're going home."
The Lionheart Guard took to the sky once more. The fire in Altlais's chest had subsided somewhat after that strike, but his heart remained heavy. Killing a rogue Tier 5 Sovereign didn't change the fact that a far greater, more organized threat was rising in the East.
The Imperial Capital.
The Court Diviner clutched his crystal ball with trembling fingers. Across the smooth, glass surface, a jagged crack had suddenly appeared.
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