Arc 8: Vincent Vollachia
Arc 8, Chapter 17 "Magic Approach"
The more it is needed, the more certain we become that this is an unprecedented situation.
Although a case similar to this anomaly was mentioned in a history book describing events that once took place in Lugnica, the case was not treated as a major event in the series of events.
--"The Demihuman War".
It is the only history that describes a major civil war in Lugnica in the past and, like the current situation, the only instance of the dead raging as enemies.
However, the main focus of the history book was more on the friction between the human and subhuman races, and did not detail the insane attacks that were carried out as part of the civil war.
That is what is regretful to say. If only the details of that time had been noted in more depth--,
"I'm not gonna fall behind those people!!"
With a roar, a fist is swung, and a group of pale-skinned imperial soldiers are blown away en masse.
The blow, which was more like a cleave than a punch, was released as if thrown with force, carrying with it the vitality that had been drawn up from the earth on which it stepped.
They continued to attack two or three times in rapid succession, each time knocking out the enemy's formation. --No, it was not a big formation.
The shadows of the enemy are rushing in side by side, but there is no such thing as tactical leadership or coordination. If that is the case, it is simply a mass of individuals.
As long as they are a mass of individuals, Garfiel will not be exposed to any backsliding.
However--,
"Zah! Zuh!"
With a sharp step, two slashes snatch Garfiel's neck.
When he glared at his opponent with the sensation of his hair standing on end, he kicked through the shards of the shattered corpse and out popped one of the corpses, which was clad in a different air than the other corpses.
"Tsk"
He raises his shoulder with his tongue and checks his neck, where the tip of the sword is slightly snatched.
The range of the first and second blows were as different as a fingertip. It is the technique of a master who dares to show a blow that is easy to avoid and tries to cut off the opponent's head with the second blow.
It is just a mass of individuals without formations, but occasionally, these pre-karma possessors are mixed among the individuals.
This is trickier than it seems, and the assumption is that there is one skilled person for every twenty people in the ratio. Because of this, they can't bypass it and encourage their allies to be okay if they are working together.
One discernment could collapse a formation of a hundred men into a single skilled one.
"Zyah! Zuh--!"
Garfiel wrinkles his nose, whereupon the corpse again fires the same two swords.
The range of the technique changed more boldly, just as it had been shown once before. The difference was one fingertip earlier, and this time it was one fist. A deep cut with one fist can be fatal no matter how shallow the cut is.
However, the corpse who released the technique looked wide-eyed and in stark contrast to the certainty of victory.
The reason is simple--the opponent's right arm, the one holding the sword, was shattered at the wrist.
"The grip of the sword that extends is the same, no matter how many tricks ya try ta pull. 'The three-necked Valgren has only one body', tha guy who says that......!"
He flips his left hand, which has shattered his wrist, and his fist is sucked into the face of his astonished opponent.
As soon as the blow, or its impact, exited to the back of the head, the head of the corpse blew off like a fruit exploding. As the head collapsed, the cracks went to the torso and legs, and the whole body shattered.
"I ain't likin' it."
Looking down at the wreckage of the vanquished enemy, Garfiel exhales.
What irritated Garfiel was the way the corpses were beaten, the way they perished. Since they are dead, it is probably not appropriate to call them dead, and more than anything else, the way they are shattered and destroyed deprives Garfiel of the feeling that he is fighting against something that has life.
All that remained was a chilly sense of what on earth he was fighting against.
"----"
Garfiel wipes the sweat from his chin with his arm, and if he looks around, he can see the corpseed soldiers constantly on the night plains that have become the battlefield.
To intercept them, a delaying tactical unit, including Garfiel, is struggling.
At first, Garfiel was assigned to a healing team that utilized healing magic, but the policy of not causing injuries rather than treating the wounded suited Garfiel's nature.
Petra stated, who was struggling in the same treatment team as Garfiel.
Not at its insistence, Garfiel has ventured out. In fact, she thinks he has achieved as much as he volunteered to do.
However, you can't be smug until you are working at your best.
Because--,
"Die--!!"
A sharp call echoes through the night, immediately followed by a chain of plucking sounds as the strings of the bow are plucked.
It was a hail of arrows shot at a tremendous density in accordance with the voice of Taritta, the chief of the "People of Shudrak".
There was no way to avoid the arrows, which fell not as individual dots but as a single plane, and the only way to avoid them would be to catch them or play them. In fact, the corpses who had other options than being hit by arrows tried to do so with their own weapons and shields.
However--,
"I can see you!"
"I'm doing it!"
The corpses concentrated above their heads are repelled by a strong bow released by a commanding voice.
Literally, being shot through is too lukewarm a word to describe it, and the tremendous impact, like being hit by a full-speed dragon wheel, blasts the corpses in their defensive posture and the whole group behind them.
"I'm sure I ain't a slouch either, but that'sa hell ovva thing ta see."
They would wipe out the weaker corpses with a surface suppression by a rain of arrows, and then snipe the stronger corpses that survived the attack with their strongbows. The rhythm of the hunters' breathless hunting greatly impressed Garfiel.
Even if it is Garfiel, if he is turned into a needle rat by an arrow, his movements are blocked, and then that strong bow is thrown in, he can't avoid doing a lot of damage. It is a tactic that he is glad to have on his side.
"Well, I dunno what that means over there......"
Despite Shudrak's high level of competence, a group that wins Garfiel's admiration in a different way--a group of roughnecks led by Subaru, who was supposed to have been a lone soldier in the Empire, calls itself the "Pleiades Squadron".
"I'll do it, I'll do it, I'll do it, I'll do it--!"
"Strongest! Invincible! Superior! Superior!!"
"Uoooooohh--!!"
and they are not uncommonly noisy during the night battles, and even from Garfiel's point of view, there is no one outstandingly skilled in the martial arts. Of course, many of them seem to have mastered their skills at the level of ordinary imperial soldiers, but still.
Most of them are far from sophisticated, and they are good at letting their instincts run rampant.
And yet, they are strong. The difference in physical ability is like that between an adult and a child.
It's amazing. Their strength is refreshing.
The Pleiades Squadron is fighting, and Garfiel is approached as he watches them. Before he could turn around, he was lined up next to a woman with brown skin and dyed red hair--Mizelda.
Mizelda, whose one leg is a wooden prosthesis, smiles a blood-colored smile at the rampage of the warband.
I dunno what it means, but they must be related ta the general. I wonder what they're doin', but I ain't worried that they're in trouble."
"It's General...... Subaru. I trust him a lot, as do Emilia and the others."
"Ha! Trust 'im? That's not enough. A general is a man who returns my expectation and trust a hundredfold!"
Neither hyperbole nor bluff, Garfiel can sincerely admire that with zero doubt. The quality of Mizelda's smile changed at Garfiel's answer.
From belligerent to somehow calm, inhabited by understanding.
"I know how you feel. Subaru continued to prove to us in the "Blood Life Ceremony" and in the battles that followed. The soul of a warrior. He may not have the best face, but he can be Taritta's son-in-law."
"Don't talk 'bout his face! The general is concerned about ya eyes! And......"
"And?"
"No matter how much ya fall in love with the general, there's always someone he's in love with."
"--I see. You're right."
Garfiel rubbed his nose with his finger, and Mizelda nodded deeply.
He doesn't know how much of what she said was in jest and how much was pure praise, but the fact that Subaru is also appreciated in this empire makes Garfiel proud.
Wherever he is, Subaru brings great results by involving the people around him.
However, it is Garfiel's wish and the consensus of the entire camp that they still want Subaru to stay with them wherever they may be.
That's why we all rushed across the dangerous bridge to the Empireskan area like this.
"But ya got in the way of us playing with the general......"
Garfiel is a military officer and loves to compete for strength. But he is not a battle junkie who wants to fight anyone, anytime, anywhere.
Reunion with a significant other, a situation in which enemies constantly sprung up to interrupt their time to rejoice in it, has been infused with hatred rather than joy.
"They sure dunno what they're talkin' about."
"It's unnatural that a dead thing will come back. I know what you mean......"
"Nah, that ain't what I meant."
"--?"
Mizelda raises one eyebrow at Garfiel, who mutters, his canine teeth clicking together.
To answer his suspicions, Garfiel sucked in his chin and looked at the band of corpses who were still exposed to the Shudrak's arrows,
"If ya look closely, ya can see...... that these guys ain't all beaten up in one way. Some are broken by a single arrow, while others ain't even broken by five arrows."
"Some beasts are stubborn. So do people. Isn't it the same thing?"
"I know there's a difference between strong and weak. But that ain't what this is about......"
He can't explain it well, but from Garfiel's point of view, even corpses of equal strength seem to have different limits to their reluctance.
It doesn't seem to matter much whether the arrow hit a vital spot or not. Some can be stuck in the eye and still be fine, while others can be stuck in the shoulder and shattered.
He feels that it cannot be measured by a simple, vital force alone.
"Damn it, I can't think! My head is munchin' at the thought! It's 'The One Step at a Time Guiltylowe'. If they smash them all, they'll do it anyway......"
"That's exactly the kind of thinking that makes me think of the 'One Step at a Time Guiltylowe'."
A moment later, Garfiel's shoulders jumped hard as the voice came down from above him.
Looking up at the sky in a panic, he saw a shadow slowly approaching from the night sky with thick clouds. It was slowly growing into the shape of a man that Garfiel did not like in his vision.
And then--,
"Let me interrupt you in yoooour struggle."
"You bitch, Dudley......"
"Oops. I'm sorry to say that I'm finally getting used to my alias, but after the meeting I had earlier, there is no longer any reason to hide my naaame. You can continue to call me......"
"Damn Roswaal......!"
"It's an extra title, but you can call me that if you liiiike."
Yes, the grounded Roswaal laughs and inspires Garfiel's irritation.
Since his smuggling into Vollachia, his facial makeup and eccentric costumes have remained silent, but his distinctive way of speaking, which was also supposed to have been sealed, has returned.
If we hear that the ban on pseudonyms has also been lifted, perhaps the discussions at the dragon car have been settled.
Otto, Frederica and the others had talked beforehand about the drop-off point in their relationship with the Empire--Subaru and Emilia's, without bending their feelings about it.
That in itself is a delight for Garfiel, though.
"If ya done talking, I'd love ta hear what happened...... Beatrice! A change of opinion? It's rare ta see ya with this guy, ain't it?"
"It was out of necessity, in fact. Betty would have wanted to leave Subaru's side for even a second if possible, I suppose. But I had to do what I had to do, in fact."
Saying this, Beatrice jerked away from Roswaal's arms.
Beatrice had been active in the absence of Subaru for the past month, but now that she had managed to join Subaru, Garfiel thought that Beatrice was prepared to never leave Subaru's side again.
In fact, she was saying such a thing with completely fixed eyes and mumbling just before everyone was about to jostle Subaru when he woke up in the chained dragon carriage.
The reason why she left Subaru's side and came to the battlefield with Roswaal was--,
"Garfiel, I hope you've come to find out what that strange feeling is you've been feeling too, I suppose."
"What's wrong with you?"
"If you go into battle without knowing your enemy, the results you will get will not be half of what you expect. To compensate, you must know your enemy. And this enemy is tooooo much of a mystery."
Roswaal is separated from Beatrice, who was holding her, and waves her arms in a heartbreakingly lonely manner. Their words brought Garfiel to a positive conclusion of the meeting and a heightened sense of fighting spirit.
Even if it is brought as a messenger by the hated Roswaal.
"Not Dudley, Roswaal...... that's your name, isn't it?"
"Yes, Miss Mizelda. I apologize for the false name for a reason. It's not only me, but also Emilia, aka Eeeemily."
"It's what a man with a nice face does. I forgive you."
"It's a ridiculous standard of judgment, in fact......"
Mizelda digests the issue of pseudonyms with a unique value system.
Beside him, Garfiel looked at Roswaal and Beatrice,
"I mean, the fight in the Empire continues, and ya two are here......."
"The magician who has the ability to interfere with reason is the best person to identify events that are outside the realm of reason, I suppose."
"It's a historic collaboration between Lugnica and Vollachia. The most valuable thing the kingdom can offer them is a magical approach to fiiiinding the cause."
If knowledge as a wizard can help identify the cause of the endless stream of corpses, then surely there is no one in Emilia's camp better suited for the job than Roswaal and Beatrice.
Emilia is a spiritist, Ram is a sensorialist, and Petra is still learning.
"How's it feel to actually fight for a long time? What have you learned?"
"--. I don't know the difference between easy ta beat 'n hard ta beat. I think there's a reason apart from strength 'n weakness......"
"Hm. Differences in survival and vitality among individuals."
With his long, thin fingers on his chin, Garfiel tongues inwardly at the thoughtful Roswaal.
He doesn't like Roswaal's every move, yes, but the tongue-lashing now is not because of his irritation with him, but for the fact that he expected that thought and knowledge.
Because he honestly thought that Roswaal was dependable in this situation.
"Roswaal, looking at it blankly doesn't lead to an answer, in fact."
"I agree. Now then...... Beatrice, how much mana do you have left?"
"I'm doing well now that I've met Subaru, I suppose."
"All right. Soooo--"
Roswaal smiled, his left and right eyes narrowed, and soon after, four different colored lights, or mana, appeared around him.
Roswaal snaps his fingers, and the four-colored light travels through the darkness of the night at arrow-like speed, piercing into the distant group of corpses, each with its own power.
One of the corpses is set ablaze and another is iced. One is cut off at the extremities by a blade of wind, and one is pierced in the groin by a block of rock protruding from the ground.
Both are fatal wounds, destructive forces that shatter into pieces with a cracking sound a second later. Roswaal and even Mizelda raised their eyebrows slightly in surprise at the result.
As reported, the most effective attribute is fire. Wind is not as good, and earth is handled no differently than a blow. Ice pickling doesn't seem to be as fuel efficient."
However, the executor of the attack, Roswaal, is not the fact that he beat the corpses, but the street of the attack on the beaten corpses, which is a hit of the intensity of the attack.
And Beatrice had also begun the same validation in a different way than Roswaal.
"--Vita."
Beatrice held her hand up to the night sky, and her chanting magic interfered with the rain of arrows released by "People of Shudrak" that flew through the sky, tearing through it.
Numerous arrows, which are aimed at the corpses for surface control, are rained down on the enemy with several times their weight due to the effect of Beatrice's shadow magic--that is, the magic that changes the weight of the target.
The increase in its power could be imagined from the spectacular sound that pierced the ground with each corpse.
"Garfiel is right, changing the weight of the arrows and having different powers doesn't explain why some zombies fall over and others don't, in fact"
"If ya make all the arrows heavier, won't it be hard ta tell the difference?"
"Betty isn't stupid, I suppose. I didn't make all the arrows the same weight, I tried different weights on each one, in fact."
Beatrice was angry, puffing out her cheeks like a little girl, but her reply to not being a fool was even more ridiculous.
Garfiel, as someone who can use magic, albeit specialized in healing magic, understands the precision of the magical manipulation that Beatrice is doing.
He can see that what she just did with magic is of equal difficulty to threading many needles in one shot without using her hands.
Moreover, both Beatrice and Roswaal--,
"The cause of collapse is not the loss of a limb. Some of them are still alive even though they have been gouged out at vital points. Although they are humanoid in appearance, it is beeetter not to think of them as living creatures."
"It's easy for anyone but you to treat them like they're not living creatures when they're laughing, angry, and even talking, I suppose. --I mean, it's not like you're the only one who can do it, in fact."
"That's a very disappointing assessment. I've spent a lot of time with you guys, and I think I've regained a loooot of my humanity. Some of them can be defeated with only one leg blown off. If it's an accumulation of damage, it dooooesn't add up."
"It's too much to ask for a simple individual difference in durability, I suppose."
"There will be other reasons. The flow of mana is even."
I'm waiting for an even....... in fact. Too even, I suppose."
While exchanging tea in between, Roswaal and Beatrice's consideration of their enemies proceeds.
Surprisingly, the two call on each other as they do so, using their respective areas of expertise in magic to check the nature of the corpses that are pouncing on them.
Flames, wind, and purple arrows raged, and the corpses could not get close to the two fighting back to back.
Of course, Roswaal and Mizelda are also attacking the corpses to keep them away, but even without them, the Rozwals would not be spooked.
He's not going to mention this because Beatrice will definitely not like it, but--,
"They couldn't be more in sync."
"I can't let ya hear this."
Mizelda gives exactly the same assessment as Garfiel's thought.
Beatrice, unaware that he thought so, lowered her eyebrows while showing a coordination that had to be described as such, and called out to him, "Roswaal!",
"He's going to touch me once, in fact."
"--You're crazy."
After saying this, Beatrice lightly kicked the ground with her foot and jumped forward.
The hem of her dress flutters, and Beatrice's small body soars lightly. This is also an unnatural leap, using shadow magic to eliminate her own weight.
As it is, Beatrice is headed for a single corpse that turns its back on her--it senses the presence of Beatrice's approach and turns toward her.
"Jiwald."
A moment later, the corpse's right hand holding the sword evaporated as he tried to swing it at Beatrice.
Roswaal points at the corpse, and the white light emitted from his fingertip burns the other's arm. The dead man stiffens in shock, and Beatrice's hand is placed on his forehead.
Then Beatrice's eyes, with their characteristic pattern, widened,
"I knew it, I suppose."
Beatrice's body is pulled down with an arm around her slender waist as she spills this information.
Hugging Beatrice's body and switching back and forth, Roswaal delivered a sharp fist strike with the arm opposite the one holding her, which shattered the corpse's head before the rigidity was broken.
"Good grief, I'm the one who's angry with Subaru, aren't I?"
"And it's Betty who gets the accolades from Subaru, in fact. --It's restorative magic, I suppose."
"--That's what I'm talking about."
Roswaal, who had complained bitterly about Beatrice's recklessness, closed his yellow eye at what he was told instead of an apology.
The contact with the corpse now gave Beatrice some certainty. It seems that this was conveyed to Roswaal in a few words, but unfortunately, Garfiel is not so sure.
"Hey, I don't understand at all! Explain it in a way that even Emilia can understand!"
"Emilia and Garfiel have about the same level of understanding. --They understand the structure of the zombies' bodies and how they work, I suppose."
"So what's the point?"
Garfiel questions with gnashing teeth.
Garfiel also knows of the existence of restoration magic. It is a magic to restore damaged objects, and it is said that a first-rate user can even restore a burned book from ashes.
However, they say that there are few users, and there are also noticeable disadvantages, such as the need for exquisite magical precision and the tendency for restored products to deteriorate in quality.
And above all, life cannot be restored. --It is not restoration or repair, but the realm of the forbidden arts, such as the "Sacrament of the Immortal King", which has been discussed many times.
"The teacher chose mana for his receptacle and I chose blood for mine. --But this 'enemy' chooses dirt for a container and is willing to spill the contents?"
Roswaal, who held his mouth, spilled this out in response to the revelation that Beatrice had given her.
Again, Garfiel's understanding did not extend to both of them, but he could intuit that it was a path that would lead to answers that were terribly disturbing and unpleasant even for Garfiel.
And, aside from Garfiel, Roswaal looks at Beatrice with a grim expression on her face.
"Beatrice, this is not 'The Sacrament of the Immortal King', is it?"
"......The starting point is the same, but the approach is different, in fact. In 'The Sacrament of the Immortal King', the container comes first and the soul comes after, I suppose. But these zombies..."
"The soul comes first, the receptacle comes after. --The body changes form to suit the soul."
Beatrice nodded deeply at Roswaal's comment.
As usual, he still doesn't understand the crucial part of their exchange. Garfiel, who was holding back his bitterness, couldn't believe his eyes.
"----"
There was Roswaal there, with an expression that bit more bitter than Garfiel's.
It was a face he had never imagined he would have such a contorted expression on. --He had hoped to punch him in the stomach someday and make him look like he was in agony, but regardless of Garfiel's desire, Roswaal was in agony.
With that anguish in his eyes, Roswaal opens his mouth.
"--I think I may have an idea who the 'enemy' is."
"--tsk, are you sure! If so......"
"But wait. It can't be. Because he's got this hand......"
The composure that had been there just before was gone, and Roswaal's voice was filled with hesitation and doubt.
Garfiel blinks at his avoidance of explicit statements and immediately bristles. If this were Garfiel himself, there's a good chance that the idea would come out of thin air.
However, it was not Roswaal who came up with the idea, but Roswaal.
"Ya can't be talkin' 'bout somethin' as weak as that."
"----"
"Roswaal, let me hear one, in fact."
Garfiel leans forward to grab her by the chest. However, Beatrice's voice struck the silent Roswaal before her hand could reach out wildly.
Beatrice stared at Roswaal, waiting for him to look at her,
"Is your hesitation caused by mother's involvement, I suppose?"
"......Am I that easy to understand?"
"The only time I've ever seen you so upset is when it comes to my mother, in fact. The only other time you've been that upset is recently with Ram, I suppose."
"I'm confident I'd be happy or sad if anything happened to you."
Yes, Roswaal answered with a wry smile, his eyes tightly closed and his cheeks tightened. Then he opened his eyes and nodded, pushing aside his last minute hesitation and weakness.
"Beatrice is right. The mechanism by which zombies can be revived without the original corpse is based on the application of restoration magic. The prerequisite for this is to lower the souls, and I believe the 'Sacrament of the Immortal King' is applied to this."
"Neither restoration magic nor the 'Sacrament of the Immortal King' can be used as soon as the theory is understood, in fact. In the first place, we cannot talk about a handful of geniuses who can do such a wild thing as a magic combination whose principles are so different, I suppose. It can only be done by......"
"--A genealogy of a teacher. But it can't be a teacher. What I mean..."
The "teacher" mentioned by Roswaal and the "mother" mentioned by Beatrice are the same person, and Garfiel is not a completely unrelated person.
It is complicated by the fact that there are several that bear the same name, but when Garfiel hears that the name of the "witch" is involved, he instantly becomes convinced.
Beatrice's willingness to break the anguish with a word and admit what she did not want to admit may have helped convince Garfiel.
However--,
"--Tactless eyes."
Suddenly, Mizelda mutters in such a low voice.
Mizelda, who probably kept up with the conversation between Roswaal and Beatrice even more than Garfiel because of her proximity to magic, abandoned her understanding of the cause of Roswaal's distress and concentrated solely on attacking the corpse.
She stops and looks up overhead, her dignified eyes narrowing aggressively.
Garfiel looked at the other side of the hunter's eyes, which were sharp and piercing, and his throat cleared. And it is not only Garfiel, but Beatrice and Roswaal as well.
However, the reasons for the reactions of Garfiel and the other three will be slightly different.
For Roswaal, it was because he saw a familiar figure that should not have been there.
For Beatrice and Roswaal, a more negative feeling seemed to be the reason.
--In the night sky, there is the figure of a girl in black with long peach-colored hair.
It was the same face that Garfiel had admired since he could remember, but it was looking down at him with cold eyes that he had never shown to Garfiel.
"It was not desirable, but it was successfully put into practice...... Apparently, this world has recognized me as one life."
A familiar face murmured in a familiar voice, gently tracing the cracks on his face with his hand and scowling at the Garfiel with his golden eyes.
In response, there is a gulping sound of spit, and Roswaal opens her mouth.
"You're alive...... Sphinx?"
"No, I am dead. --Observation: Required."
In a voice that sounded as if it were a tease, the girl--a "witch" who looked exactly like Garfiel's grandmother, Ryuzu, it was said by Sphinx with a corpse's face.
Arc 8, Chapter 17 "Magic Approach"
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The more it is needed, the more certain we become that this is an unprecedented situation.
Although a case similar to this anomaly was mentioned in a history book describing events that once took place in Lugnica, the case was not treated as a major event in the series of events.
--"The Demihuman War".
It is the only history that describes a major civil war in Lugnica in the past and, like the current situation, the only instance of the dead raging as enemies.
However, the main focus of the history book was more on the friction between the human and subhuman races, and did not detail the insane attacks that were carried out as part of the civil war.
That is what is regretful to say. If only the details of that time had been noted in more depth--,
"I'm not gonna fall behind those people!!"
With a roar, a fist is swung, and a group of pale-skinned imperial soldiers are blown away en masse.
The blow, which was more like a cleave than a punch, was released as if thrown with force, carrying with it the vitality that had been drawn up from the earth on which it stepped.
They continued to attack two or three times in rapid succession, each time knocking out the enemy's formation. --No, it was not a big formation.
The shadows of the enemy are rushing in side by side, but there is no such thing as tactical leadership or coordination. If that is the case, it is simply a mass of individuals.
As long as they are a mass of individuals, Garfiel will not be exposed to any backsliding.
However--,
"Zah! Zuh!"
With a sharp step, two slashes snatch Garfiel's neck.
When he glared at his opponent with the sensation of his hair standing on end, he kicked through the shards of the shattered corpse and out popped one of the corpses, which was clad in a different air than the other corpses.
"Tsk"
He raises his shoulder with his tongue and checks his neck, where the tip of the sword is slightly snatched.
The range of the first and second blows were as different as a fingertip. It is the technique of a master who dares to show a blow that is easy to avoid and tries to cut off the opponent's head with the second blow.
It is just a mass of individuals without formations, but occasionally, these pre-karma possessors are mixed among the individuals.
This is trickier than it seems, and the assumption is that there is one skilled person for every twenty people in the ratio. Because of this, they can't bypass it and encourage their allies to be okay if they are working together.
One discernment could collapse a formation of a hundred men into a single skilled one.
"Zyah! Zuh--!"
Garfiel wrinkles his nose, whereupon the corpse again fires the same two swords.
The range of the technique changed more boldly, just as it had been shown once before. The difference was one fingertip earlier, and this time it was one fist. A deep cut with one fist can be fatal no matter how shallow the cut is.
However, the corpse who released the technique looked wide-eyed and in stark contrast to the certainty of victory.
The reason is simple--the opponent's right arm, the one holding the sword, was shattered at the wrist.
"The grip of the sword that extends is the same, no matter how many tricks ya try ta pull. 'The three-necked Valgren has only one body', tha guy who says that......!"
He flips his left hand, which has shattered his wrist, and his fist is sucked into the face of his astonished opponent.
As soon as the blow, or its impact, exited to the back of the head, the head of the corpse blew off like a fruit exploding. As the head collapsed, the cracks went to the torso and legs, and the whole body shattered.
"I ain't likin' it."
Looking down at the wreckage of the vanquished enemy, Garfiel exhales.
What irritated Garfiel was the way the corpses were beaten, the way they perished. Since they are dead, it is probably not appropriate to call them dead, and more than anything else, the way they are shattered and destroyed deprives Garfiel of the feeling that he is fighting against something that has life.
All that remained was a chilly sense of what on earth he was fighting against.
"----"
Garfiel wipes the sweat from his chin with his arm, and if he looks around, he can see the corpseed soldiers constantly on the night plains that have become the battlefield.
To intercept them, a delaying tactical unit, including Garfiel, is struggling.
At first, Garfiel was assigned to a healing team that utilized healing magic, but the policy of not causing injuries rather than treating the wounded suited Garfiel's nature.
I'm worried about your fidgeting, Mr. Garf! If you are so restless, go help the people who are fighting directly.Petra stated, who was struggling in the same treatment team as Garfiel.
Not at its insistence, Garfiel has ventured out. In fact, she thinks he has achieved as much as he volunteered to do.
However, you can't be smug until you are working at your best.
Because--,
"Die--!!"
A sharp call echoes through the night, immediately followed by a chain of plucking sounds as the strings of the bow are plucked.
It was a hail of arrows shot at a tremendous density in accordance with the voice of Taritta, the chief of the "People of Shudrak".
There was no way to avoid the arrows, which fell not as individual dots but as a single plane, and the only way to avoid them would be to catch them or play them. In fact, the corpses who had other options than being hit by arrows tried to do so with their own weapons and shields.
However--,
"I can see you!"
"I'm doing it!"
The corpses concentrated above their heads are repelled by a strong bow released by a commanding voice.
Literally, being shot through is too lukewarm a word to describe it, and the tremendous impact, like being hit by a full-speed dragon wheel, blasts the corpses in their defensive posture and the whole group behind them.
"I'm sure I ain't a slouch either, but that'sa hell ovva thing ta see."
They would wipe out the weaker corpses with a surface suppression by a rain of arrows, and then snipe the stronger corpses that survived the attack with their strongbows. The rhythm of the hunters' breathless hunting greatly impressed Garfiel.
Even if it is Garfiel, if he is turned into a needle rat by an arrow, his movements are blocked, and then that strong bow is thrown in, he can't avoid doing a lot of damage. It is a tactic that he is glad to have on his side.
"Well, I dunno what that means over there......"
Despite Shudrak's high level of competence, a group that wins Garfiel's admiration in a different way--a group of roughnecks led by Subaru, who was supposed to have been a lone soldier in the Empire, calls itself the "Pleiades Squadron".
"I'll do it, I'll do it, I'll do it, I'll do it--!"
"Strongest! Invincible! Superior! Superior!!"
"Uoooooohh--!!"
and they are not uncommonly noisy during the night battles, and even from Garfiel's point of view, there is no one outstandingly skilled in the martial arts. Of course, many of them seem to have mastered their skills at the level of ordinary imperial soldiers, but still.
Most of them are far from sophisticated, and they are good at letting their instincts run rampant.
And yet, they are strong. The difference in physical ability is like that between an adult and a child.
It's amazing. Their strength is refreshing.
The Pleiades Squadron is fighting, and Garfiel is approached as he watches them. Before he could turn around, he was lined up next to a woman with brown skin and dyed red hair--Mizelda.
Mizelda, whose one leg is a wooden prosthesis, smiles a blood-colored smile at the rampage of the warband.
I dunno what it means, but they must be related ta the general. I wonder what they're doin', but I ain't worried that they're in trouble."
"It's General...... Subaru. I trust him a lot, as do Emilia and the others."
"Ha! Trust 'im? That's not enough. A general is a man who returns my expectation and trust a hundredfold!"
Neither hyperbole nor bluff, Garfiel can sincerely admire that with zero doubt. The quality of Mizelda's smile changed at Garfiel's answer.
From belligerent to somehow calm, inhabited by understanding.
"I know how you feel. Subaru continued to prove to us in the "Blood Life Ceremony" and in the battles that followed. The soul of a warrior. He may not have the best face, but he can be Taritta's son-in-law."
"Don't talk 'bout his face! The general is concerned about ya eyes! And......"
"And?"
"No matter how much ya fall in love with the general, there's always someone he's in love with."
"--I see. You're right."
Garfiel rubbed his nose with his finger, and Mizelda nodded deeply.
He doesn't know how much of what she said was in jest and how much was pure praise, but the fact that Subaru is also appreciated in this empire makes Garfiel proud.
Wherever he is, Subaru brings great results by involving the people around him.
However, it is Garfiel's wish and the consensus of the entire camp that they still want Subaru to stay with them wherever they may be.
That's why we all rushed across the dangerous bridge to the Empireskan area like this.
"But ya got in the way of us playing with the general......"
Garfiel is a military officer and loves to compete for strength. But he is not a battle junkie who wants to fight anyone, anytime, anywhere.
Reunion with a significant other, a situation in which enemies constantly sprung up to interrupt their time to rejoice in it, has been infused with hatred rather than joy.
"They sure dunno what they're talkin' about."
"It's unnatural that a dead thing will come back. I know what you mean......"
"Nah, that ain't what I meant."
"--?"
Mizelda raises one eyebrow at Garfiel, who mutters, his canine teeth clicking together.
To answer his suspicions, Garfiel sucked in his chin and looked at the band of corpses who were still exposed to the Shudrak's arrows,
"If ya look closely, ya can see...... that these guys ain't all beaten up in one way. Some are broken by a single arrow, while others ain't even broken by five arrows."
"Some beasts are stubborn. So do people. Isn't it the same thing?"
"I know there's a difference between strong and weak. But that ain't what this is about......"
He can't explain it well, but from Garfiel's point of view, even corpses of equal strength seem to have different limits to their reluctance.
It doesn't seem to matter much whether the arrow hit a vital spot or not. Some can be stuck in the eye and still be fine, while others can be stuck in the shoulder and shattered.
He feels that it cannot be measured by a simple, vital force alone.
"Damn it, I can't think! My head is munchin' at the thought! It's 'The One Step at a Time Guiltylowe'. If they smash them all, they'll do it anyway......"
"That's exactly the kind of thinking that makes me think of the 'One Step at a Time Guiltylowe'."
A moment later, Garfiel's shoulders jumped hard as the voice came down from above him.
Looking up at the sky in a panic, he saw a shadow slowly approaching from the night sky with thick clouds. It was slowly growing into the shape of a man that Garfiel did not like in his vision.
And then--,
"Let me interrupt you in yoooour struggle."
"You bitch, Dudley......"
"Oops. I'm sorry to say that I'm finally getting used to my alias, but after the meeting I had earlier, there is no longer any reason to hide my naaame. You can continue to call me......"
"Damn Roswaal......!"
"It's an extra title, but you can call me that if you liiiike."
Yes, the grounded Roswaal laughs and inspires Garfiel's irritation.
Since his smuggling into Vollachia, his facial makeup and eccentric costumes have remained silent, but his distinctive way of speaking, which was also supposed to have been sealed, has returned.
If we hear that the ban on pseudonyms has also been lifted, perhaps the discussions at the dragon car have been settled.
Otto, Frederica and the others had talked beforehand about the drop-off point in their relationship with the Empire--Subaru and Emilia's, without bending their feelings about it.
That in itself is a delight for Garfiel, though.
"If ya done talking, I'd love ta hear what happened...... Beatrice! A change of opinion? It's rare ta see ya with this guy, ain't it?"
"It was out of necessity, in fact. Betty would have wanted to leave Subaru's side for even a second if possible, I suppose. But I had to do what I had to do, in fact."
Saying this, Beatrice jerked away from Roswaal's arms.
Beatrice had been active in the absence of Subaru for the past month, but now that she had managed to join Subaru, Garfiel thought that Beatrice was prepared to never leave Subaru's side again.
In fact, she was saying such a thing with completely fixed eyes and mumbling just before everyone was about to jostle Subaru when he woke up in the chained dragon carriage.
The reason why she left Subaru's side and came to the battlefield with Roswaal was--,
"Garfiel, I hope you've come to find out what that strange feeling is you've been feeling too, I suppose."
"What's wrong with you?"
"If you go into battle without knowing your enemy, the results you will get will not be half of what you expect. To compensate, you must know your enemy. And this enemy is tooooo much of a mystery."
Roswaal is separated from Beatrice, who was holding her, and waves her arms in a heartbreakingly lonely manner. Their words brought Garfiel to a positive conclusion of the meeting and a heightened sense of fighting spirit.
Even if it is brought as a messenger by the hated Roswaal.
"Not Dudley, Roswaal...... that's your name, isn't it?"
"Yes, Miss Mizelda. I apologize for the false name for a reason. It's not only me, but also Emilia, aka Eeeemily."
"It's what a man with a nice face does. I forgive you."
"It's a ridiculous standard of judgment, in fact......"
Mizelda digests the issue of pseudonyms with a unique value system.
Beside him, Garfiel looked at Roswaal and Beatrice,
"I mean, the fight in the Empire continues, and ya two are here......."
"The magician who has the ability to interfere with reason is the best person to identify events that are outside the realm of reason, I suppose."
"It's a historic collaboration between Lugnica and Vollachia. The most valuable thing the kingdom can offer them is a magical approach to fiiiinding the cause."
If knowledge as a wizard can help identify the cause of the endless stream of corpses, then surely there is no one in Emilia's camp better suited for the job than Roswaal and Beatrice.
Emilia is a spiritist, Ram is a sensorialist, and Petra is still learning.
"How's it feel to actually fight for a long time? What have you learned?"
"--. I don't know the difference between easy ta beat 'n hard ta beat. I think there's a reason apart from strength 'n weakness......"
"Hm. Differences in survival and vitality among individuals."
With his long, thin fingers on his chin, Garfiel tongues inwardly at the thoughtful Roswaal.
He doesn't like Roswaal's every move, yes, but the tongue-lashing now is not because of his irritation with him, but for the fact that he expected that thought and knowledge.
Because he honestly thought that Roswaal was dependable in this situation.
"Roswaal, looking at it blankly doesn't lead to an answer, in fact."
"I agree. Now then...... Beatrice, how much mana do you have left?"
"I'm doing well now that I've met Subaru, I suppose."
"All right. Soooo--"
Roswaal smiled, his left and right eyes narrowed, and soon after, four different colored lights, or mana, appeared around him.
Roswaal snaps his fingers, and the four-colored light travels through the darkness of the night at arrow-like speed, piercing into the distant group of corpses, each with its own power.
One of the corpses is set ablaze and another is iced. One is cut off at the extremities by a blade of wind, and one is pierced in the groin by a block of rock protruding from the ground.
Both are fatal wounds, destructive forces that shatter into pieces with a cracking sound a second later. Roswaal and even Mizelda raised their eyebrows slightly in surprise at the result.
As reported, the most effective attribute is fire. Wind is not as good, and earth is handled no differently than a blow. Ice pickling doesn't seem to be as fuel efficient."
However, the executor of the attack, Roswaal, is not the fact that he beat the corpses, but the street of the attack on the beaten corpses, which is a hit of the intensity of the attack.
And Beatrice had also begun the same validation in a different way than Roswaal.
"--Vita."
Beatrice held her hand up to the night sky, and her chanting magic interfered with the rain of arrows released by "People of Shudrak" that flew through the sky, tearing through it.
Numerous arrows, which are aimed at the corpses for surface control, are rained down on the enemy with several times their weight due to the effect of Beatrice's shadow magic--that is, the magic that changes the weight of the target.
The increase in its power could be imagined from the spectacular sound that pierced the ground with each corpse.
"Garfiel is right, changing the weight of the arrows and having different powers doesn't explain why some zombies fall over and others don't, in fact"
"If ya make all the arrows heavier, won't it be hard ta tell the difference?"
"Betty isn't stupid, I suppose. I didn't make all the arrows the same weight, I tried different weights on each one, in fact."
Beatrice was angry, puffing out her cheeks like a little girl, but her reply to not being a fool was even more ridiculous.
Garfiel, as someone who can use magic, albeit specialized in healing magic, understands the precision of the magical manipulation that Beatrice is doing.
He can see that what she just did with magic is of equal difficulty to threading many needles in one shot without using her hands.
Moreover, both Beatrice and Roswaal--,
"The cause of collapse is not the loss of a limb. Some of them are still alive even though they have been gouged out at vital points. Although they are humanoid in appearance, it is beeetter not to think of them as living creatures."
"It's easy for anyone but you to treat them like they're not living creatures when they're laughing, angry, and even talking, I suppose. --I mean, it's not like you're the only one who can do it, in fact."
"That's a very disappointing assessment. I've spent a lot of time with you guys, and I think I've regained a loooot of my humanity. Some of them can be defeated with only one leg blown off. If it's an accumulation of damage, it dooooesn't add up."
"It's too much to ask for a simple individual difference in durability, I suppose."
"There will be other reasons. The flow of mana is even."
I'm waiting for an even....... in fact. Too even, I suppose."
While exchanging tea in between, Roswaal and Beatrice's consideration of their enemies proceeds.
Surprisingly, the two call on each other as they do so, using their respective areas of expertise in magic to check the nature of the corpses that are pouncing on them.
Flames, wind, and purple arrows raged, and the corpses could not get close to the two fighting back to back.
Of course, Roswaal and Mizelda are also attacking the corpses to keep them away, but even without them, the Rozwals would not be spooked.
He's not going to mention this because Beatrice will definitely not like it, but--,
"They couldn't be more in sync."
"I can't let ya hear this."
Mizelda gives exactly the same assessment as Garfiel's thought.
Beatrice, unaware that he thought so, lowered her eyebrows while showing a coordination that had to be described as such, and called out to him, "Roswaal!",
"He's going to touch me once, in fact."
"--You're crazy."
After saying this, Beatrice lightly kicked the ground with her foot and jumped forward.
The hem of her dress flutters, and Beatrice's small body soars lightly. This is also an unnatural leap, using shadow magic to eliminate her own weight.
As it is, Beatrice is headed for a single corpse that turns its back on her--it senses the presence of Beatrice's approach and turns toward her.
"Jiwald."
A moment later, the corpse's right hand holding the sword evaporated as he tried to swing it at Beatrice.
Roswaal points at the corpse, and the white light emitted from his fingertip burns the other's arm. The dead man stiffens in shock, and Beatrice's hand is placed on his forehead.
Then Beatrice's eyes, with their characteristic pattern, widened,
"I knew it, I suppose."
Beatrice's body is pulled down with an arm around her slender waist as she spills this information.
Hugging Beatrice's body and switching back and forth, Roswaal delivered a sharp fist strike with the arm opposite the one holding her, which shattered the corpse's head before the rigidity was broken.
"Good grief, I'm the one who's angry with Subaru, aren't I?"
"And it's Betty who gets the accolades from Subaru, in fact. --It's restorative magic, I suppose."
"--That's what I'm talking about."
Roswaal, who had complained bitterly about Beatrice's recklessness, closed his yellow eye at what he was told instead of an apology.
The contact with the corpse now gave Beatrice some certainty. It seems that this was conveyed to Roswaal in a few words, but unfortunately, Garfiel is not so sure.
"Hey, I don't understand at all! Explain it in a way that even Emilia can understand!"
"Emilia and Garfiel have about the same level of understanding. --They understand the structure of the zombies' bodies and how they work, I suppose."
"So what's the point?"
Garfiel questions with gnashing teeth.
Garfiel also knows of the existence of restoration magic. It is a magic to restore damaged objects, and it is said that a first-rate user can even restore a burned book from ashes.
However, they say that there are few users, and there are also noticeable disadvantages, such as the need for exquisite magical precision and the tendency for restored products to deteriorate in quality.
And above all, life cannot be restored. --It is not restoration or repair, but the realm of the forbidden arts, such as the "Sacrament of the Immortal King", which has been discussed many times.
"The teacher chose mana for his receptacle and I chose blood for mine. --But this 'enemy' chooses dirt for a container and is willing to spill the contents?"
Roswaal, who held his mouth, spilled this out in response to the revelation that Beatrice had given her.
Again, Garfiel's understanding did not extend to both of them, but he could intuit that it was a path that would lead to answers that were terribly disturbing and unpleasant even for Garfiel.
And, aside from Garfiel, Roswaal looks at Beatrice with a grim expression on her face.
"Beatrice, this is not 'The Sacrament of the Immortal King', is it?"
"......The starting point is the same, but the approach is different, in fact. In 'The Sacrament of the Immortal King', the container comes first and the soul comes after, I suppose. But these zombies..."
"The soul comes first, the receptacle comes after. --The body changes form to suit the soul."
Beatrice nodded deeply at Roswaal's comment.
As usual, he still doesn't understand the crucial part of their exchange. Garfiel, who was holding back his bitterness, couldn't believe his eyes.
"----"
There was Roswaal there, with an expression that bit more bitter than Garfiel's.
It was a face he had never imagined he would have such a contorted expression on. --He had hoped to punch him in the stomach someday and make him look like he was in agony, but regardless of Garfiel's desire, Roswaal was in agony.
With that anguish in his eyes, Roswaal opens his mouth.
"--I think I may have an idea who the 'enemy' is."
"--tsk, are you sure! If so......"
"But wait. It can't be. Because he's got this hand......"
The composure that had been there just before was gone, and Roswaal's voice was filled with hesitation and doubt.
Garfiel blinks at his avoidance of explicit statements and immediately bristles. If this were Garfiel himself, there's a good chance that the idea would come out of thin air.
However, it was not Roswaal who came up with the idea, but Roswaal.
"Ya can't be talkin' 'bout somethin' as weak as that."
"----"
"Roswaal, let me hear one, in fact."
Garfiel leans forward to grab her by the chest. However, Beatrice's voice struck the silent Roswaal before her hand could reach out wildly.
Beatrice stared at Roswaal, waiting for him to look at her,
"Is your hesitation caused by mother's involvement, I suppose?"
"......Am I that easy to understand?"
"The only time I've ever seen you so upset is when it comes to my mother, in fact. The only other time you've been that upset is recently with Ram, I suppose."
"I'm confident I'd be happy or sad if anything happened to you."
Yes, Roswaal answered with a wry smile, his eyes tightly closed and his cheeks tightened. Then he opened his eyes and nodded, pushing aside his last minute hesitation and weakness.
"Beatrice is right. The mechanism by which zombies can be revived without the original corpse is based on the application of restoration magic. The prerequisite for this is to lower the souls, and I believe the 'Sacrament of the Immortal King' is applied to this."
"Neither restoration magic nor the 'Sacrament of the Immortal King' can be used as soon as the theory is understood, in fact. In the first place, we cannot talk about a handful of geniuses who can do such a wild thing as a magic combination whose principles are so different, I suppose. It can only be done by......"
"--A genealogy of a teacher. But it can't be a teacher. What I mean..."
The "teacher" mentioned by Roswaal and the "mother" mentioned by Beatrice are the same person, and Garfiel is not a completely unrelated person.
It is complicated by the fact that there are several that bear the same name, but when Garfiel hears that the name of the "witch" is involved, he instantly becomes convinced.
Beatrice's willingness to break the anguish with a word and admit what she did not want to admit may have helped convince Garfiel.
However--,
"--Tactless eyes."
Suddenly, Mizelda mutters in such a low voice.
Mizelda, who probably kept up with the conversation between Roswaal and Beatrice even more than Garfiel because of her proximity to magic, abandoned her understanding of the cause of Roswaal's distress and concentrated solely on attacking the corpse.
She stops and looks up overhead, her dignified eyes narrowing aggressively.
Garfiel looked at the other side of the hunter's eyes, which were sharp and piercing, and his throat cleared. And it is not only Garfiel, but Beatrice and Roswaal as well.
However, the reasons for the reactions of Garfiel and the other three will be slightly different.
For Roswaal, it was because he saw a familiar figure that should not have been there.
For Beatrice and Roswaal, a more negative feeling seemed to be the reason.
--In the night sky, there is the figure of a girl in black with long peach-colored hair.
It was the same face that Garfiel had admired since he could remember, but it was looking down at him with cold eyes that he had never shown to Garfiel.
"It was not desirable, but it was successfully put into practice...... Apparently, this world has recognized me as one life."
A familiar face murmured in a familiar voice, gently tracing the cracks on his face with his hand and scowling at the Garfiel with his golden eyes.
In response, there is a gulping sound of spit, and Roswaal opens her mouth.
"You're alive...... Sphinx?"
"No, I am dead. --Observation: Required."
In a voice that sounded as if it were a tease, the girl--a "witch" who looked exactly like Garfiel's grandmother, Ryuzu, it was said by Sphinx with a corpse's face.