Sixteen hundred hours. Thirty kilometres from Rever Point. Inquisitor Iudico and his retinue, me included, are currently holed up in a makeshift war room. Maximillian receives a magical transmission from the emblem on his breastplate, and after a few moments, one of his scouts suddenly arrive. He takes the scroll from the scout’s hand and begins reading it aloud.

“The settlement near Rever Point has been abandoned. Every cultist has retreated to the foot of the mountain and setup defences around the mouth of a large cave. They are a thousand-strong and arranged into three combat lines: light infantry, heavy infantry, and magical and ranged support. The target is absent and there are no signs of enemy cavalry. The area around the cave has been cleared into a relatively flat and open plain. The weather is expected to be favourable.”

“They were aware of our advance?”

“They always have been, Brother Michael. The important question: is the core still there? Enbos the Black?”

“… I’m still detecting the relic in that direction. Tascus hasn’t moved from that spot.”

“I will take your word for it.”

“Excuse me, brother,” speaks up one of Iudico’s men, “but why haven’t they escaped with the core if they are aware of our expedition? The enemy has thus far demonstrated excellent mobility with the use of teleportation magic.”

“Indeed, Brother Evans. Moreover, since yesterday, the number of suspicious convoys leading to Rever Point have only increased, not withdrawn. They are bolstering their defences and preparing enough supplies for a siege. There is something in that cave that they refuse to forego, and if it involves the core, it can only mean one thing.”

“The “Ascension” ritual. They are probably holding out until Tascus is ready.”

“I fear so, Sister Agnes, and it could occur as soon as tonight. We need to move out immediately. Tell our advance team to set up Labyrinth Shrouds around the life fall.”

“Yes, prior!”

“Labyrinth Shrouds?” I mindlessly ask.

“Oh, do you not know?” mocks Maximillian. “Then again, I suppose even a mage of your pedigree would not be well-versed in siege warfare.”

He points to a metre-long spike encrusted with magic cores laying in the back of the tent.

“A Labyrinth Shroud is a magical artifact that muddies a mana stream, preventing anybody from using teleportation or communication magic via the connection. We only have enough to isolate them for a single day, but that is not a concern. The New Dawn cult will be purged before dawn.”

“Yes, prior.”

“Brother Michael, please guide Enbos back to his-”

“I can go back myself,” I say while tugging the collar at my neck.

I leave the knights to themselves, and naturally, a guard is waiting outside to shadow my every move. Although he is part of the city garrison, I have little doubt that he also reports to Maximillian. However, unbeknownst to my escort, I secretly receive a message on my way back.

(Enbos, have you departed?)

(Yeah, I’ve just left the war room.)

In a near-inaudible volume, Hachirou’s voice projects from a magic emblem clenched in the back of my jaw. Although I was worried at first about using Maximillian’s equipment after Lili stole a pair from his reserves, it seems he hasn’t noticed. However, I’m not taking any chances, which is why I’m conversing in Japanese. Agnes may have , but according to Hachirou, his father Takashi who also has the skill needs the speaker to be in close proximity for the ability to work.

(Are you well? Did Maximillian impose any more restrictions?)

(Nothing of the sort. However, it seems Tascus and his forces have barricaded themselves in a cave at the foot of the mountain. The attack will commence before the day ends.)

(I see.)

(… How are you holding up? We relied on Lili’s healing quite a lot, but you pushed yourself to breakpoint.)

(I-I’m fine. In fact, I’m now more prepared than ever. However, the battle…)

(Yeah, it’s going to be an ugly war. I know we both steeled ourselves, but if possible, I don’t want you to stain your hands. You don’t need to be an undead to lose yourself.)

(I-I am resolute. They are fighting for their god while I have chosen to fight for you. While I wish we could avoid bloodshed, that way is no longer open to us. At the very least, I feel showing hesitation now will only disrespect their resolve.)

(…)

(Enbos? D-did I say something wrong?)

(No, you are absolutely right. Enbos over and out.)

Yes, if it’s you with your innate morality and strong heart, you’ll be fine.

As I return to my tent, I slow my pace and observe the people around me. Although Maximillian has yet to make the announcement, everybody seems to be preparing their best equipment. In the distance, I briefly spy Sen, Minna and Norf training together in new gear. They seem to be decked in rawhide armour, probably made from the Mellivorath we hunted together. It should be fairly tough given personal experience and the thought gives me some small comfort.

“Seriously, you guys, don’t you dare die on me.”

“Sorry, Master Novuseus?”

“It’s nothing. Let’s hurry. There is a battle to be won.”

Twenty-one-hundred hours. Conditions: clear with ambient lighting from the ominous full moon. The 700-strong strike force is approaching Rever Point at walking speed.

The small army is marching in formation, with two lines of militia, two companies in the wings and dozens of adventurer squads in the vanguard. The holy knights are in the rear, but despite their armoured steeds, they’ll be functioning as mobile artillery with their powerful magical abilities. As for us fodder in the front, each squad is a mishmash of different parties or independent adventurers with at least one mage capable of casting defensive magic attached, like me.

“By the spirits, I’m getting excited. Do you feel the same, Enbos the Black?”

“Not at all,” I say as I conjure a barrier with my experimental staff. To my delight, I manage to move around what is otherwise a static construct.

“No? Man, I guess that’s to be expected of a famous mage like you. I can’t wait to see what amazing magic you’ll throw at those cultists.”

“Get back in formation, sell sword. Your banter is a distraction to Master Novuseus.”

“Sorry, sorry. I thought it would be good to break the silence. Besides, it’s me and my pals’ first expedition. I can’t wait to tell my friends back home what’s it’s like to fight alongside Novuseus mages and Holy Knights! Speaking of which, can you all sign my letter after this?”

Ignoring the grizzled man-at-arms, the young adventurer continues yapping away by my side. Much to my disappointment, my current companions do not include Sen’s party, the incognito Lili and Hachirou, or even Senseless Sig. Instead, I’m accompanied by the talkative Fred and his equally optimistic group of five, a band of ten dressed in identical green attire led by a woman named Mist, and a reliable-looking senior named Rob and his city guards. Rob is our de facto leader, and by some twist of fate, I’ve actually met him before. He was the head inspector who stopped me when I first entered Catorrem… and intimidated before sending him my sightseeing bill. It doesn’t look like he’s holding it against me. I think.

“I told you to quit it, sell sword. You may think you’re brave, but once the arrows land, don’t go snivelling behind our shields. The rest of you adventurers better listen as well. I don’t know your histories as warriors, but this is different from ganging up on a guild-curated monster like a pack of wolves. There will be many, they will be fierce, and worse, they will be human. After all, only a human can come up with the most heinous of ways to kill their own.”

“…”

“Ah, you’re worrying too much, you old guard. What do you reckon, Mist?”

“We’ve survived worse. After all, it’s not like any of us has never been on the back foot. Doesn’t matter who or what we’re up against so long as the pay is good.”

“Very professional, but so true. Fifteen fablars. Fif-teen. Once I get my hand on that money, I’m going to buy that bottle of Graland wine I’ve been dying to get since forever.”

“Haha, that’s such a waste, Fred,” speaks one of his companions. “Why not buy something like an iron mask to spare us all your snoring?”

“Gosh, I don’t know mate. My dad might not appreciate that as a birthday gift.”

“Hahahaha!”

“… Damn it, those fools are still joking around, even when we’re right at the enemy’s doorstep. This is why I hate working with adventurers,” grumbles Rob.

“I suppose, but you have to admit it’s impressive they can keep their cheer after spending the past four days doing a forced march. Even healing magic can’t rid someone of mental fatigue,” I reply.

“If you say so, Master Novuseus.”

“Also, what of Mist and her crew?”

“Pah-! Ah, please forgive my inappropriate outburst. To be frank, I have even less respect for them. She’s not even the leader of her party, just the lackey of a bigger group. Her company may imitate our discipline and coordination, but they possess none of our honour or resolve.”

“And where has that got you?” says Mist with a thin smile. “You’ve worked on the walls for decades, and yet the only thing to your name is the privilege of looking over a small outfit of “loathsome sell swords”. Oh, but you can’t take any pride in that either, I suppose. After all, it’s because you city-dwellers keep resting on your laurels that Catorrem is in such a mess and that we were called in.”

Oh great, it’s a dysfunctional fellowship.

“And you? Do you think you’re up for this mission, o Black-cloaked Berserker?”

“Surely a man of the Novuseus house would share our noble cause, yes?”

Don’t drag me into this argument!

“You don’t want to see me drawing my sword,” I say while brandishing my handcrafted staff. “I’ll earn my keep by protecting everyone from the arrows and fireballs, like the walls of Catorrem.”

“Well said, Master Novuseus.”

“I guess I can appreciate a man who knows his job. We’ll be in your care, Enbos,” says Mist.

“Hey, don’t forget us too!” chimes in Fred. “Don’t worry, Mr Novuseus. We’ll more than make up for you missing out on the-”

“That’s enough now. Attention, Squad 9!” interrupts Rob, the amulet around his neck suddenly glowing blue. “Maintain walking speed! Arms at the ready!”

The mood suddenly shifts as we look ahead and march towards the cave. In the shadow of the mountain, the darkness obscures their defences, but from my point of view, I can clearly see their wooden ramparts, magical defences, and legions of undead bolstering their number. Others in our midst are beginning to see their mishappen silhouettes as we draw closer. Even without their stockpile of undead, our forces would still be outnumbered, which is bad considering we’re supposed to be the aggressors in this battle.

“Erm, Enbos, Rob, where are Iudico’s knights? After all their talk of purging the cultist from the face of the continent, why are they not leading the charge?”

“I don’t know. They must be dedicating their efforts to magical support due to our lack of it,” I boldly tell Fred, although I can’t help but concur with his sentiment.

What the hell is he planning? Just one holy knight would be a huge asset in the first charge. I have a sneaking suspicion Maximillian and his ilk are conserving their strength for their confrontation with Tascus, leaving it up to us to take down their defences. However, that also means we may take more casualties than required, and Maximillian is totally fine with it.

“All forces, halt! Await Sir Iudico’s command!”

We are still over half a kilometre from the enemy’s spears. Although there is every chance they could start bombarding us with magic, I can detect a massive spell barrier erected over the enemy lines. It’s ridiculously large to the point both armies could fight beneath it, and I suspect whatever is generating it has been appropriated from some fortified settlement. Although it is obstructing their own long-range magical attacks, it makes for a comprehensive defence given their barricades and our lack of siege engines. Moreover, it’s a pure magic-deflection ward, which means they can return fire with physical projectiles. In contrast, our side will be casting corporeal barriers to protect against their arrows while Maximillian’s men attempt to shatter their shields.

Speaking of the silver-clad devil, I can sense a great deal of magic coming from his direction, and unable to help myself, I glance up and over my shoulder to find he’s levitating a hundred metres up in the air. He has changed up his armour and donned a winged helmet over his head, with translucent wings made of golden light coming out of his back. Several of his knights have also taken to the air, carrying stacks of spears in their hands. However, I’m more interested in what’s in Maximillian’s hands as he appears to be holding an ancient, bronze glaive. More mysteriously, he’s pouring an obscene amount of holy magic into the thing and slowly the blade begins to light up.

He points the polearm at the battlefield and, for lack of better words, well… he fires a massive laser directly between the two sides. The blinding light startles friend and foe alike, and although it's passing overhead, I can feel my mana recoil before his radiant might.

Damn, he might really be up to the task of killing Tascus. This is more than power to cut the enemy lines in two, and even half a kilometre away, the distress on their frontline is palpable. Menacingly, he begins moving the ray of death towards-

“Eh!?”

… no particular destination at all. In fact, all he’s doing is waving that laser over the empty field like a kid with a flashlight. What the hell is he-

“*GROAN*!”

“H-huh?”

“By the spirits…”

All of a sudden, a hundred writhing undead crawl out the scorched earth. They wordlessly scream in one last bout of pain before crumbling away into ash and smouldering flesh. I can feel a chill run through our forces at the collective thought of walking into that cultist trap. Having sanctified the entire field, the searing pillar becomes a faint ray as the luminescent spear returns to a dull sheen. Then, in an almighty tone, he bellows from above.

“Vanguards… Advance!”

Horns blow across the frontline. Countless small spread across the battlefield like runway lights into a meat grinder. As my feet burn on the blessed earth, we close in at brisk pace. Rob yells into my ear cavity and I look up to find a hundred thin shadows against the night sky.

“Enbos!”

“!”

Making my way to the front, I conjure the largest possible barrier to cover our advance. Likewise, every other mage does the same creating something alike a stretch of massive overlapping placards as everybody else huddle behind us. The volley of arrows land, bounce off our wards, then crunch beneath our feet. Although my spell is vulnerable to piercing attacks, it’s more than enough to block a few arrows at this distance, for now.

“Steady! Maintain formation!”

The closer we get, the more ferocious their attacks become. Their bone-tipped arrows are now catching into my . Their bulky monstrosities are hurling large stones, and although my magic is better suited to blocking them, the same can’t be said of the other teams. Before the lethal projectiles, the falling rubble, the adjacent screams, and the shadowy creatures slowly coming into focus, the urge to fight or flight keeps on mounting. Step too far back and you’ll be exposed to their ranged attacks. Step too far front and you’ll be the first to be surrounded in the melee. Although my desperation is dulled, I feel for the untrained adventurers and young militiamen as they force themselves to maintain their current pace in the face of the enemy’s relentless attacks. However, as we approach the edge of their giant spell barrier, our steady approach finally breaks.

“All units, CHARGE!”

Fuelled by a misguided sense of euphoria, we break into a manic rush. Our war cries conjure a metaphysical tailwind that pushes us headlong into the enemy ward. Although there is some resistance, I push through with my enchanted bones and recast my barrier before another barrage can land. Having stepped off the sanctified earth, their necromancers send a wave of undead beasts.

Steel and rotting flesh clash as our fighters hack away at the fiends of the night. First come the hounds, then skeletons, then finally cadavers with blades protruding from their flesh. Without fear of injuring their living, the cultists continue their volley of arrows while I hang back and continue to deflect them. Although we are many, we are a far cry from a true battalion and it would take only a few deaths to tear a hole through our thinly-spread ranks. Thankfully, some semblance of a formation is restored as we whittle down their numbers with all my teammates accounted for. However, that first charge was never intended to finish us off. On the other end of the battlefield, I can see the cultist’s preparing a wave of masked fighters.

“Just break that zombie’s limbs and look up! They’re coming!”

“*Huff, huff* By the spirits, I’m not sure we can take that many as we are.”

“Don’t worry, you lot. The second line is already at the edge of the barrier. The cavalry will be here any moment now.”

Or so I say, but to my own frustration, I find Maximillian and his knights are still loitering in the backline, not firing a single spell. Actually, scratch that. They’re not even inside the damn barrier! All they're doing is providing aerial moral support and I find it hard to believe they’re so worried about getting sniped by a magic missile if they get too close. Are they waiting to charge up another laser beam? Can Maximillian really afford to? Nevertheless, the main force is coming so I will have to put my faith in them instead.

“Just keep in line and hold out… until…

… Huh?”

What the hell happened? A spiritual signature in our group… just faded away. Moreover…

“R-rob?”

Slowly, I turn my head while the rest of the team are preparing to receive the enemy charge. The veteran’s dilated eyes meet my gaze, and it takes me a moment to realise there is somebody behind his upright body, holding a bloodied knife impaled straight through the man’s throat: Fred.

“!”

Before he can lunge at me, I fire a blast of electricity that passes through Rob’s armoured corpse and paralyses his killer. However, the rest of the team completely misreads the situation as several guards suddenly hold me back.

“What on Aren are you doing, Enbos!?”

“B-by the spirits, Old Man Rob is dead… Damn you! I’m going to-”

“Fred is still breathing! Quickly, somebody-”

“NO, GET BACK! THAT’S NOT-!”

Too late. I can see “Fred” mouthing an incantation followed by the words “for Maleosis”. A second later his body erupts into a dirty explosion that knocks everybody off their feet. It’s a powerful blast, and much to my grief, those that rushed to his side are now dead. After a second’s pause, I shrug it off and immediately get back on my feet.

“! Hey guys, can any of you-”

“W-what happened? Why am I covered in blood? W-whose blood is…”

“Wake up, wake up Mist! Curses, she hit her head too hard.”

“H-help… help me… I-it hurts so…”

“… Damn it. DAMN IT ALL!”

One imposter. One imposter and half the people under my care… gone. Wait, what is happening to the rest of-

“Paul, what are you doing!? W-why are you…”

“… Damn it! He got our mage. Shield bearers to the fron- Gahhh!”

“Stay back, sell sword!”

“Don’t listen to her! She’s the real cultist!”

This is bad. Tascus’ infiltrators are outdoing themselves. At this rate, the incoming cultist charge is going to wipe us out!

“Come on, get up! Get up, soldier!” I shout as I drag one of my dazed companions back onto their feet. “We have to regroup and-”

“DELIVERANCE!”

“Oh f-”

Before I can knock out the imposter, a long fast-moving object falls from the sky and passes through his heart. He immediately dies and I soon realise the mysterious item… is a javelin. A javelin with an insignia of two circles bisected by a straight line. Dumbfounded, I look behind me to find the airborne knights, still outside the anti-magic barrier, are performing a ranged surgical strike… on our own forces.

“W-what are the holy knights doing!?”

“Quick, cast your on this side!”

“I-Iudico has gone mad!”

No, that’s not right. Maximillian and his men are picking off the cultists among our midst. It’s almost as if… Oh my god, they knew. They knew this would happen all along. They waited, watched and let Tascus make the first move, all so they can weed out-

No, now’s not the time. Even with the infiltrators gone, some groups are too disordered to hold a unified front. All my teammates are virtually incapacitated, and I… can’t protect them.

“W-what do we do, Enbos? What do we do!?”

“Take up that shield and make yourself scarce,” I say as I cast over the maimed and prone. I then strap my staff to my back… and draw Bloodletter to its fullest.

“Huff… , !”

With an unearthly roar, I catapult myself at the incoming enemy and instantly crush one of their armoured undead. Even with their masks, I can tell my fear-inducing abilities are taking effect.

“A-ah-”

“!”

One down.

“.”

“!”

Crunch!

Two down.

“Remember our training! S-surround him and don’t let him-”

Slash!

Three down. Four down. Five. Six…

Don’t think. Don’t stop. Just keep slashing anything that moves. When you’re this far in, you can focus on doing the only thing you’re good at. They are nothing but a bunch of mindless drones… just don’t indulge in the satisfaction of killing them ever again.

“B ranker confirmed!”

“Fall back! Fall back to the second-”

“!”

Turning their supposed-captain into a screaming pyre, I give chase to the fleeing cultists and leap between targets, culling them one-by-one. However, as I bury my sword into the neck of my latest victim, I find myself flanked by two mages.

“!”

“!”

I conjure a pitch-black miasma, and immediately after, a flurry of invisible blades shreds my prior position. The two mages soon realise they’ve hit nothing but air, but not before I grab one of them by the ankle and pull them into an instant grave. Their partner casts ice magic to solidify the earth, but I burst out of the ground and throw a frozen shelf of dirt with lethal force.

As I scour the area for my next prey, I turn just in time to see a wall of shields and spears coming at me with great speed. I can’t react. Multiple towering shields slam into me with bovine-like force, however I equip the Winter Troll’s soul and begin to push back. The wall of armoured bodies then wraps around in an attempt to attack from all sides.

“!”

Their determined growls suddenly turn to agonising screams as a thousand volts pass through their pressed bodies. Then, like the talons of a harpy, I begin wrenching their steel from their forms before repeatedly stabbing their vulnerable flesh.

I don’t know how many times I have been stabbed in turn. I don’t know how many enemies have since joined the fray. All I know is that, by the time I’m done, there is only one life signature left before me.

A less zealous fellow, possibly sensible, who hung back and watched their companions throw themselves at me. Just realising the short spear sticking from my shoulder, I pull it out and throw it at them. With a yelp, they manage to react as it grazes their head and knocks off their mask. A second later, I’m upon them with my blade raised.

“…

… What?”

What… the hell!? This “cultist”, he’s… he’s just a teenager. Why on Garea is he fighting in the van-

Oh god. Don’t tell me that most of their first line is composed of-

“F-for Maleo-!”

Ting!

“A-ah!”

Stop it. Just drop your weapon. You can barely stand upright from all your shaking. Your eyes are so soggy that your previous attack would have only grazed my sleeve. You’re clearly not as senseless as the others, so why are you still fighting? Do you think Maleosis will protect you? Have you got a curse on you or something? Argh, to hell with it!

“!”

Striking him in the chin, I instantly knock him out and leave him face-down in the dirt. If he’s lucky, he’ll sleep through this entire mess and slip away.

“Who’s next? Who’s-”

There’s nobody. They went around me to face the rest of our forces. I almost rush back, but from the looks of things, our frontline is holding up with the help of the B rankers. Although inappropriate, I take a moment to brace against Bloodletter, caked in blood and feeling much heavier because of it.

“… I can do this. I’m still Enbos the-”

My stupidity is promptly punished as a spear of dark magic explodes several metres away and I realise just where I am. I’m literally stuck myself between enemy lines. A lone, sitiing duck before rows of hunters. I desperately cast and as they bombard my position. Their ranged attacks beat against by defences like heavy hail on a car.

MP: 80/162

MP: 71/162

MP: 56/162

“Damn it! !”

Even with the improved mana efficiency offered by my staff, I’m burning through my MP protecting myself and the unconscious youth behind me. Their focus fire eventually ends and I find myself in the middle of an eviscerated field, with fletching protruding like dandelions. However, it’s not over yet. The bulk of the cultists’ forces along with their higher-ranked undead are coming fast, while our own main force has been delayed by the infiltrators’ surprise attack. With a hollow roar, I flick the blood from my sword and prepare to greet the next wave.

“Come on… Come on, you dogs! I’ll put down every last one of-!”

Boom!

I’m almost blown forward by the force of the impact, and I turn around to find a silhouette rising from a cloud of dirt. In shock horror, I watch as a silver knight emerges from a small crater. However, I’m not fixated on his imposing form as he brushes pass me to confront the enemy. Instead, I’m looking at his bloody footprints… and the recently deceased soul floating above the dustless crater.

Listless, I look about the battlefield once more to find the holy knights are swooping from their high perch to deliver their righteous fury. They are cleaning up the first attack and decimating the second enemy line, cleaving dozens of lives at a time. With the tide turned, soldier and adventurer alike are ganging up on the stragglers like a pack of wolves before regrouping with the arriving main force. As they rush past me, I look at Maximillian in the distance, his gaze firmly fixed on the enemy below.

“…”

No… There’s nothing wrong. If those knights had dropped in a few minutes earlier, I would have even welcomed them. I would be joining in our allied war cry instead of being deaf to it. It’s this very hesitation that is ruining me, and yet when I look at Maximillian…

After facing Tascus, I now have a locus to rebuild my sense of morality…

“No, it’s just intolerance,” I breathe as I turn my back on his monochrome gaze and trudge back to the frontline.