Beeeeep. Beeeeep.
A sea of communication spheres pulsed and blared in a never-ending symphony of red. Bassen Henituse, Deruth’s second son, stared out the window of the communications center.
While this room in the estate’s tallest tower should have been the busiest place around, everyone stood rooted to the spot with blank expressions. Bassen in particular was standing with his mouth agape, clutching a communication sphere in his hand.
Another person’s voice could be heard through the device. “Ha ha ha, my goodness.”
It was Albert Crossman. While observing the events in Weston through the device, he had seen Cale’s shield, as well as the higher-than-expected number of wyverns. He’d also witnessed the hundreds of monster skeletons, to say nothing of the dragon corpse.
That crazy bastard.
Even as he reflected that Cale truly was a lunatic, Albert felt the tips of his fingers tingling as he watched that madman through the screen.
“Your Highness, everyone in this kingdom will become a hero.”
It was possible. That “crazy bastard” had never promised anything he couldn’t deliver, so Albert had chosen to believe him—and this surpassed his expectations.
“From this moment on, Henituse territory will ignore any and all communications from spiritual leaders.” So Cale had said as he called forth the necromancer.
The crown prince had immediately replied, “I’ll take full responsibility.”
Watching the flying skeleton brigade advance on the wyverns, he muttered to himself, “Looks like I have no choice but to step up.” A smile rose to his face.
Someone else had virtually no reason to smile, however: Clope Seca, the Guardian Knight who dreamed of bringing the legend of the Sky Conqueror to life. His lips twisted in a grimace.
Skeletons? He’d never encountered such a sight in his life.
One of the wyvern knights shot toward Clope. “Captain!” He peered at Clope through his helmet, but Clope only had eyes for the man’s mount. The wyvern screeched, shaking its head from side to side. It seemed afraid.
Fear.
The concept prompted Clope to look past the approaching skeletons at the giant, black-boned beast. That dead dragon was the source of the wyverns’ distress.
“Grrrrr.”
Clope lowered his head to check on his mutant wyvern mount. This one bared its fangs at the bone dragon, behaving as if it had prey in its sights. Clope gripped the reins around the wyvern’s neck.
“Captain!”
When the knight called out to him again, Clope finally spoke. “They have a necromancer.”
Only the long-lost necromancers could accomplish such a feat.
“A necromancer? Those accursed beings?!”
The knight was aghast, but Clope was already turning around. With one last look at Clope, the knight drew back.
Clope’s eyes found the smiling red-haired man. That smirk of his made Clope seethe with rage. That bastard is no hero. A hero would never employ a necromancer who used dead mana.
The Guardian Knight drew his sword from its scabbard. Shiiing. Aura flowed out of the blade. Flaring his swordmaster aura, Clope shouted, “Snap out of it!”
His aura hummed in the air, his voice audible between the flaps of the skeletons’ wings. Faern’s other mounted knights squeezed their reins, and Clope blew his flute once more. In a flash, the look in the wyverns’ eyes changed. All their fear ebbed away.
Glancing down, Clope muttered under his breath, “The bears will find the necromancer for us.” He spoke louder, his aura-amplified voice echoing even inside Henituse Castle. “Our undead foes are merely puppets on strings!”
The enemy forces did seem like nothing more than a collection of flimsy bones. The bone dragon, too, was just another puppet. To Clope, it appeared that Cale had prepared the necromancer as a secret weapon, but the wyvern knight brigade was beyond his calculations.
In that case, what an incredible opportunity this is. It’s a chance for me to become a holy hero! I can be a legendary figure—a god among men.
A necromancer, a wielder of dead mana, was the perfect prey.
Clope spoke even louder. “They have no will of their own! Henituse territory has dared to call forth a filthy, nefarious necromancer!”
The soldiers on the wall gasped; the knights were especially appalled. As educated individuals, they knew the fear and loathing historical necromancers had inspired in the populace. They turned to Cale in spite of themselves, then wrenched their gazes away when the Guardian Knight’s pure-white aura soared into the sky.
Whoosh!
As the Henituse knights were forcibly reminded of this swordmaster’s presence, their expressions turned grave.
“Our Indomitable Alliance will show you the meaning of justice!”
Clope snapped the reins. With a great roar, his white wyvern charged the flying skeleton brigade. Clope swung his sword, and his snowy aura sliced through the sky.
Fwoom.
The skeletons that couldn’t dodge vanished without a trace. Their swift obliteration all but conveyed that resistance was futile. Though the skeletons numbered in the hundreds, Clope had culled dozens of them in a single strike.
Faern’s other knights jerked their reins as well, and their wyverns roared anew. Without a doubt, they looked as if they deserved to be called conquerors of the sky. Believing they’d seized the momentum, Clope glanced back at Cale. When he saw Cale’s indifferent expression, his lips twitched in anticipation of a smile.
At the same time, the bears stomped the ground. Thud! Thud! Thud!
A bear with reddish-brown fur bellowed, “Half of you go find the necromancer! Sniff them out and rip them to shreds!” Laughing, the brawny bear stomped again. Boom! Boom! “The other half will destroy the walls!”
Clope’s grin took shape at last.
While the Guardian Knight was pleased, the people of Henituse territory looked hopeless. The contrast was even more apparent after the bear’s bellowed orders. That is, until another curious sound rose up from afar, catching the attention of the troops on the walls.
“Huh?”
It was the sound of roaring.
Henituse territory was surrounded by hills and stone mounds. Even Weston, the county’s central city, rested within a cradle of mountains. The cries came from those mountains. They were animal roars.
The trees shuddered, and gusts rustled their leaves. One of the soldiers with a white-knuckled grip on his spear heard someone comment on the beastly snarls.
“They’re late.”
Late? Who’s late? The soldier made to turn to Cale, then froze. Large animals were barreling toward them—no, beings who were both human and animal. The Tiger Tribe had arrived.
All the tigers were coming down from their mountains, blocking off the bears’ assault. The soldiers heard the knights exclaiming behind them, many of whom were saying the same thing: “It’s the Tiger Tribe that moved into Harris this winter! They’re our neighbors!”
The knights drew their swords. “The enemy shall not breach this wall! We won’t let them get past us!”
Brandishing their blades, the knights looked to Deruth. The count turned to Violan, who had emerged in her own suit of armor. Deruth’s eyes then fell upon the man the countess held by the collar.
“We can get started, right?” Deruth asked.
Müller, sole descendant of the bloodline that had developed the Magic Tower, bobbed his head. “O-of course, sir. I-I’ve got everything ready! Hee hee!”
The knights lowered their swords, and the count gave them the signal. “Commence defensive formation!”
With a chorus of shouts, the knights and the few soldiers who had been training since last year surged into motion. Soldiers armed with spears and bows followed them, jumping to their respective positions.