At the city gate, the massive doors were being battered relentlessly by the Undead, each impact resounding like thunder. Under the constant assault of the horde, the gates began to tremble, as if they could splinter apart at any moment.
Along the walls, every Magic Caster in the city stood with staff raised. The magic in the air was drawn together, forming dazzling, multicolored magic circles that launched wave after wave of attacks toward the approaching Undead.
Those unable to use magic swung their weapons with desperate force. Whenever an Undead managed to climb up the wall, they stabbed it through, yanked their weapons free, stabbed again, and shoved the corpse back down.
Soldiers, adventurers, even ordinary civilians stood side by side. Faced with a catastrophe that threatened to wipe out the city, even common folk had taken up arms.
Everyone fought numbly against the Undead. Their hearts were gripped by terror, yet their bodies moved on their own, stabbing, pushing, resisting.
The air was thick with rot. The stench of decay filled every breath. Prolonged exposure would damage the body, but at this point, no one cared.
From time to time, a scream rang out as someone was dragged off the wall by the Undead. Yet it barely caused a ripple.
People would glance over, then look away, silently tightening their grip on their weapons.
The next one could be them.
...
So death had been this close all along.
Yago stared blankly at the comrade beside him who had just been dragged down from the wall. They had been chatting moments ago. And now, just like that, he was dead.
Yago let go of his spear and dropped to his knees, eyes empty as he stared at the Undead below. He no longer wanted to resist. Sooner or later, he would die anyway.
As he drifted in a haze, giving up completely, an Undead climbed onto the wall.
It looked like a human brain, with thick folds and countless tentacles writhing out from between the crevices.
A High-Tier Undead, a Brain!
The moment it climbed up, it locked onto Yago. In an instant, numerous pink tentacles shot out from the gaps in its brain and wrapped around his neck like ropes.
Yago didn't react at all at first. He simply stared at the creature in front of him.
Only when the tentacles tightened did his body respond.
"Is this it? Maybe dying like this isn't so bad…"
"It hurts… Why can't it just finish me quickly… Forget it… It doesn't matter anymore…"
His hand rose instinctively to grab the tentacles. Even if his mind had already given up on living, his body still struggled to survive.
Yago: I don't want to live anymore.
Body: Oh, so noble, are you? If you want to die, go ahead, but don't drag me with you!
Driven by raw survival instinct, his body thrashed desperately. But the strength of a High-Tier Undead was overwhelming. The suffocating pressure turned Yago's face a deep red, almost comically so.
[Holy Light]
Just as his consciousness began to fade, a figure descended from above.
Accompanied by a burst of blinding radiance, a massive blade cleaved straight down onto the Brain, splitting it cleanly in two.
"Cough, cough!"
Air rushed back into Yago's lungs, and he greedily sucked it in. Through blurred vision, he stared at the radiant figure standing before him.
The man wore light armor and a silver helmet. Brilliant Holy Light shone from his left hand, while his right gripped a massive blade. Beneath the helmet was a head of white hair.
"Guildmaster Ainzach… why did you save me?"
Yago knew him well. He was the Adventurers' Guildmaster, famed for both his swordsmanship and his mastery of Holy Light magic.
There had always been rumors that he had once stepped into the Realm of Heroes. Age had weakened him, so they said, and he had come to E-Rantel to retire. Yago had treated it as tavern gossip.
Now, it no longer sounded like a joke.
"Kid, were you trying to throw your life away just now?"
Ainzach released waves of Holy Light to restrain the Undead while swinging his greatsword again and again, cleaving them apart. The strain made him breathe heavily. At Yago's question, he shot him a sideways glance.
"Fighting is pointless. Someone like me was bound to die sooner or later…"
"That's true. You will die."
Under Yago's stunned gaze, Ainzach gave a faint smile and said it without hesitation.
Only after seeing the flicker of shock on Yago's face did he continue.
"But that's not a reason to give up."
"Since you're going to die either way, why not choose to die fighting?"
Ainzach placed a hand on Yago's shoulder. Behind his aged features, his eyes were sharp, fixed firmly on him. His tone hardened.
"Instead of running away like a coward, you might as well give it everything you've got."
"If you're going to die, at least die with honor!"
His voice carried far across the battlefield. He wasn't speaking only to Yago, but to everyone. At a time like this, morale had to be lifted, or there would be more who lost the will to fight.
When he finished, Ainzach raised his sword again and charged back into the fray. Amid the howls of the Undead, the clash resumed.
As the Guildmaster of the Adventurers' Guild, he had to lead from the front.
Just as he had said, rather than retreat in fear, he would fight until his last breath.
Yago remained where he was, his expression conflicted.
"Choose how I die?"
"Die with honor?"
He muttered the words over and over, staring at the people fighting around him. They were no stronger than he was. So why were they still standing firm, while he had already given up?
He clenched his teeth. The lifeless look in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by a faint spark.
He didn't want to die like a coward.
He didn't want to die for nothing.
He drew in a deep breath. The stench of decay flooded his senses. Looking at the Undead climbing up the wall, he lifted his spear once more and thrust it forward without hesitation, piercing straight through.
"God… at least let me take two more with me…"
He kicked the corpse aside and continued fighting.
...
Not far away, within the city, five figures stood atop the rooftops, silently observing the battle below.
"Yago… who would've thought that drunk actually had this kind of backbone."
Naohara lowered his arm, canceling the spell he had been about to cast, and sighed softly.
He was quite familiar with Yago. At the Spinning Bird Inn, the man had often tried to drink him under the table, only to fail every time.
As the owner Ajjie liked to say, he was a pretty hopeless case.
"Naohara-sama, is he your friend?"
Clem, clad in a black robe, turned her head and asked curiously.
"Just a drinking buddy."
"Alright, Clem. It's about time we made our entrance."
Naohara scanned the battlefield and spotted quite a few familiar faces. Ajjie. The red-haired adventurer. Even the receptionist from the Adventurers' Guild, the same one who had argued with the three of them for ages over that Goblin quest.
Seeing that the timing was right, Naohara flipped himself onto Hamsuke's back in one smooth motion.
"Hamsuke, let's go."
"Yes, my lord!"
...
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