—Paradis Maneschouk was one of the princes who contended against Vincent Volachia, the seventy-seventh Emperor of the Volachia Empire, in the Imperial Selection Ceremony.
In the Imperial Selection Ceremony of the seventy-seventh Emperor—one of the fiercest in history—Paradis had allied with
Ultimately, Paradis was forced to withdraw from the Imperial Selection Ceremony after his abilities were deemed too dangerous and he was blocked by the collusion of Vincent and Priscilla. But there was no fault of Paradis's own in his narrow defeat.
The cause was that Lamia, with whom he had formed an alliance, was eliminated early, and the winds of the Imperial Selection Ceremony had been shifted in a fatal direction at a point beyond Paradis's knowledge.
"She was truly nothing but a sharp-tongued fool of a sister beyond saving."
Lamia, whose very existence had already been erased and who had met a laughably insignificant end.
When Lamia had attacked the dragon carriages fleeing miserably from the Imperial Capital, Paradis had lent her his eye at her request. But Lamia had tragically been killed in battle. In life and in death alike, she had failed to produce a single result commensurate with her big talk—nothing could be said of her except that she was a foolish sister.
Sneering at Lamia's disgrace, Paradis narrowed his golden pupils—the mark of a corpse, including the third eye on his forehead, all three eyes—and fixed his gaze upon the battlefield.
Before him, vast numbers of corpses were marching in formation, launching daring and grotesque assault after assault on the target city with undying lives and obsessions as their weapons, determined to bring it down.
Commanding those corpses that filled the land from horizon to horizon, it was Paradis's role to bring down the fortress city—Ga'klah—and destroy the errant Volachia Empire once and for all.
That was the mission of Paradis, one chosen by heaven.
—Paradis was a being of the Demon-Eyed Clan, a race blessed by the world.
In ancient times, the Demon-Eyed Clan—said to have guided the mundane human race with their extraordinary powers—were a race graced by heaven, blessed as a whole with a divine protection that only a rare few chosen ones would typically receive.
However, the Demon-Eyed Clan was also a race of tragic fortune, driven from the stage of history because their outstanding powers were feared by the people. Paradis bore the mission of saving his fallen brethren from their suffering.
He had to prove it. That the Demon-Eyed Clan was truly the most superior race in existence.
And for that— "An empire built by cowards like you—I shall tear it down and rebuild it myself."
Running his fingers through his undulating green hair, Paradis—his corpse-like features twisted—pictured Vincent and Priscilla in his mind with undisguised loathing.
They had violated the unwritten rule that only one survivor should remain in the Imperial Selection Ceremony by allying and surviving together, and the baseness of such conduct earned nothing but contempt from Paradis as a fellow Volachian royal. At this rate, it was no surprise if, during the Selection itself, despicable schemes had been carried out that trampled upon the long history and heavy legacy of the Volachia Empire. —No, rather, it would be more natural to assume that such schemes had existed.
"How else could I have fallen behind the likes of you?"
Descended from the blood of the heaven-chosen Demon-Eyed Clan and wielding his extraordinary talents, Paradis had swept aside every opponent and established his position as a prince of Volachia.
He who had upheld the Empire's iron-blooded creed above all else could never be inferior to weaklings who did nothing but play nice and scheme.
That was why— "—Vincent and Priscilla. I shall execute you both."
And so, the Volachia Empire—restored to its proper form—would be ruled by Paradis, who possessed the bloodline and regal bearing worthy of the throne.
His method of governance would follow that of Eugard Volachia—the "Thorn Emperor"—whom Paradis had long rated as the greatest emperor in Volachian history, the one who had ruled through pain and terror.
Eugard's rule, in which he had bound the hearts of his own subjects with thorns so as to make the Emperor's majesty known far and wide, was precisely what Paradis considered ideal.
In later fiction, foolish rumors were spread that the Thorn Emperor had lived for nothing more than his love for some village girl, but once Paradis ascended the throne, he would have all such tales burned and buried.
The basis of Paradis's confidence in this plan was, of course, the talent that formed the core of his specialness as a member of the Demon-Eyed Clan, and his extraordinary, beyond-standard abilities.
"———"
Closing both eyes, Paradis concentrated his consciousness upon the third magical eye in his forehead.
In an instant, Paradis's field of vision was no longer the narrow view of the battlefield before him—it became the eye of the heavens, encompassing the entire surrounding area in one sweeping glance.
It was the perspective of the sun—Paradis's third eye fused his vision with the sun itself, granting him the commanding viewpoint of one who looked down upon the world from on high.
Using this, Paradis fulfilled his role as commander of the corpse army with absolute authority.
Any commoner might claim that victory was assured by simply overwhelming the enemy with the corpses' inexhaustible numbers, but brute-forcing it with such crude tactics was no way for an emperor to fight.
Only by bringing an opponent to their knees through both power and strategy could one claim to be the true embodiment of Volachia's iron-blooded creed.
"You've prepared quite the capable hands and ample reserves, I see. It seems you've been blessed with capable subordinates, for once... but in the end, that must be your limit, Vincent."
The coordinated attack between the soldiers posted on the walls and the elite troops that sallied forth was masterful—the corpses, despite their numerical advantage, could not even breach the first layer of the fortress city's walls. However, the fact that they had committed their highest-quality assets so early was nothing less than a sign of anxiety about their fighting strength.
After all, Paradis's Demon-Eyed gaze saw through the city's inner workings—nearly all of its inhabitants were refugees who had fled from the Imperial Capital and various towns and villages, completely lacking the ability to fight and nothing but dead weight.
Holding the thickest and largest wall at all costs was their only lifeline.
"Let me teach you witless fools who cannot see that this is nothing but a fragile, fleeting illusion. —The world your two eyes perceive is so painfully narrow it's almost pitiable."
Mocking their foolish resistance, Paradis raised his hand and sent his voice flying to a distant location.
This, too, was an innate power of Paradis as a member of the Demon-Eyed Clan—a psychic transmission that allowed him to send his voice to anyone, no matter how far away, as long as he had obtained a strand of their hair, a nail, or some other part of their body.
With it, Paradis unleashed the decisive blow to end the fortress city.
That was— "—Release the corpse wyverns. I shall teach these cowards who focus only on the walls what an emperor's war truly looks like."
△▼△▼△▼△ "—Enemy wyvern squadron has crossed the great mountain behind the main fortress and is entering the airspace above the fortress! They're dropping enemy soldiers—corpses are flooding into the city!"
The messenger who burst into the command room reported the change in the situation, panting heavily.
The siege at the walls had been nothing but the agony of being ground down by sheer numbers, and now the enemy had launched an aerial assault on what was arguably Ga'klah's greatest vulnerability.
The city's grandest fortress, carved into the mountainside, boasted a sturdiness that would not easily fall even if the surrounding walls were breached—but the one place it was defenseless was the sky.
"So they've finally made their move while we're preoccupied. This deployment—most likely, as expected, it's being commanded by Prince Paradis Maneschouk."
"The prince of Volachia who contended against His Majesty in the Imperial Selection Ceremony?"
Selena furrowed her brow at the report and traced the white scar on her face with a finger, while Otto murmured beside her.
He was an opponent whose name had been flagged beforehand as a priority threat among those allied with the corpse side—a rare possessor of supernatural abilities, descended from the Demon-Eyed Clan, whose nature was both sadistic and ruthless.
Against an enemy who concentrated their forces in one place, a strike from a defenseless blind spot was devastating on the receiving end, but it was a standard military tactic.
In siege warfare especially, a small gap could bring about catastrophic collapse.
When the scale was this large, creating such a gap would be fatal.
Therefore— "It's just following the standard playbook, isn't it?"
"—Standard playbook?"
"Oh, never mind. More importantly..."
Otto waved dismissively at Selena, who tilted her head at the unfamiliar phrase, and then delegated the task of issuing orders to the messenger to Berstetz, who sat in the center of the room, with a nod.
Accepting this, Berstetz opened his thread-thin eyes ever so slightly and said: "Instruct them. —Tell them it's the Special Force's turn."
And so, he demonstrated his ability to use even unfamiliar words with appropriate ease.
△▼△▼△▼△ —This was the arrow that had been loosed to deliver the decisive blow in the siege of the fortress city Ga'klah.
The usefulness of wyvern riders went without saying for citizens of the Empire, but applying that to the conditions of the undead meant that both the rider and the wyvern had to have been resurrected.
The absolute number of those who met this condition and fought on the corpse side as corpse wyvern riders was small. That was why their deployment had to be precise—they could only be used at the critical moment.
'—Release the corpse wyverns. I shall teach these cowards who focus only on the walls what an emperor's war truly looks like.' A psychic transmission from the corpse army's commander rang directly in their heads.
Obeying that strange voice that resonated as though inside their skulls, the small number of corpse "wyvern riders" took flight aboard corpse wyverns, beating the wings of their beloved dragons and seizing the airspace above the fortress city.
Crossing the great mountain that loomed behind the fortress city—serving also as the border with other nations—was a matter of life and death even for a veteran wyvern rider. The corpse wyvern riders ignored the most lethal aspect of that challenge entirely and completed their mission.
"———"
Under the corpses' golden gaze, the great fortress was visible—protected by sturdy walls and stacked stone.
What would be deployed into it were dragon ships carried by nearly a hundred corpse wyverns, loaded with savage corpse warriors.
If the carriers were corpses, and those deployed were also corpses—a strategy that disregarded the boundary between life and death, a truly blasphemous approach.
"Go."
At that single short command, the corpse wyverns dropped the dragon ships right where they were.
A barbaric act that utterly disregarded descent speed and landing—the fitting term was simply "dumping them"—and so, spinning and spinning, the dragon ships hurtled into the city to deliver the killing blow to the Volachia Empire.
And then— "We are—!!"
"「"The strongest! The strongest! The strongest—!!"」"
A band of warriors that burst from the mountainside like a storm crashed into the sides of the falling dragon ships, utterly pulverizing the Empire's potential killing blow from the inside.
△▼△▼△▼△ —Appointed to the "Special Force" and burdened with heavy responsibilities, they had passed their time in frustrating anticipation.
But "frustrating" was as far as it went—there was no anxiety about whiffing entirely.
That was because Natsuki Schwartz had already won the trust of Gustavo Morello.
Whatever Gustavo decided to do, Schwartz would unconditionally help. Whatever event Gustavo was certain would occur, Schwartz believed without question. Whatever enemy Gustavo declared he would resist, Schwartz had resolved to resist with everything he had.
And so, since the battle for the fortress city had begun, they had patiently waited for their turn—while sensing the other members of the Pleiades Battalion locked in fierce combat around them.
Of course, "being able to wait" and "not minding the wait" were two different things.
"Ooooooh—!"
With a powerful roar, Gustavo swung all four of his arms about and rampaged across the deck of the falling dragon ship without restraint.
The corpse warriors on the dragon ship had stabbed their weapons into the deck to anchor themselves and avoid being shaken loose. That very fact delayed their response to Gustavo's ambush.
Joining Gustavo in the "Special Force" were not Hiaen, Weitz, and Idra—Schwartz's personal bodyguards—but rather the veteran old hands who had spent years as sword slaves on "Sword Slave Island"—in other words, faces Gustavo knew well.
As the governor of
He hadn't expected his duties as governor to prove useful in this way, though.
"Sending rabbits to hunt a wolf, are they?"
"We are the wind! No one can enclose the wind!"
"Ku ha ha ha ha! A fight, a fight! A life-or-death scrap—now that gets the blood pumping!!"
A lone wolf like Jozero, and brawny, hot-blooded fighters like Fenmel and Milzack, wielded their weapons alongside Gustavo aboard the dragon ship, felling corpse after corpse.
The mysterious battle-enhancing phenomenon that enveloped the Pleiades Battalion had forged these battle-hardened sword slaves into formidable veterans, allowing them to display their full prowess even in the dire situation of a plummeting dragon ship. —No, if anything, the life-or-death stakes only drew out abilities that exceeded even their true strength.
"Now this is what makes it worth choosing you for the death squad... no, the 'Special Force.'"
In this battlefield, their role was at least as perilous as that of those on the front lines holding back the corpse horde—if not more so.
Entrusted with such an enormous role, Gustavo and his men absolutely could not die.
The boss of the Pleiades Battalion had given them a strict order: not a single one of you is to die.
"I do not serve two masters. That is why I will not call you my liege... but when a dear friend makes such an earnest request, it does make one want to oblige as much as possible."
With those words, Gustavo finally pulled his weapon from the floor and went on the offensive—seizing the heads of the corpses rushing to intercept them, smashing four of them together above his own skull simultaneously, crushing them to bits.
He tossed aside the crumbling earthen remains as they scattered with a clatter and immediately seized the next target.
Gustavo had always despised the wild, barbaric temperament of the multi-armed race.
He had lived his life rigorously disciplining himself, swearing never to indulge in anger or the lust for battle.
Even here in the Volachia Empire, serving as governor of "Sword Slave Island," he had maintained his principles.
"Oo—OOOOOH—!!"
And yet, at this moment, Gustavo forgot those very principles.
Rampaging as the savage temperament of his multi-armed race dictated—the very thing he had always loathed.
And for that— "We are—!!"
"「"Invincible! Invincible! Invincible—!!"」"
Gustavo and the "Special Force" carried out their special mission.
That surge of blazing heat was the very proof of how hard Schwartz and the others were fighting for the Empire's victory.
△▼△▼△▼△ Drawing attention through sheer numbers or outstanding combat power, then deploying one's trump card against a weakened critical point.
The strategy Paradis Maneschouk had adopted could, if executed perfectly, have shattered the defenders' plans and determined the outcome of this siege as the decisive blow.
But that was only "if executed perfectly."
"When using corpses in battle, the first thing to consider is tactics that leverage the characteristics of the dead. Attempting to cross the Gildray Mountain in a way that disregards death entirely is inevitable."
"Once that idea was set, and it became clear that raw numbers alone couldn't break through the wall, it's only natural they'd want to play their trump card once the skies happened to open up."
"That said, I didn't expect it to unfold exactly as predicted."
The "Special Force" had sortied, intercepted the corpse aerial assault from above the city—the enemy's sure-win strategy—and preemptively shut it down before it could land. The command group nodded in mutual acknowledgment.
As mentioned, this had been an appropriate strategy for corpse warfare. But in terms of leveraging the inherently asymmetric situation, it was too conventional, too orthodox a plan.
Standard playbooks and established strategies were strong when they worked, but they were correspondingly easier to counter.
"From what I've heard, the reason you fell in the Imperial Selection Ceremony was also because you were too attached to orthodox tactics. For better or worse, it seems time has stood still for you since you became a corpse."
Selena, who had ordered her own wyvern squadron to intercept the corpse "wyvern riders" that had appeared in the sky, assessed the enemy commander who had read her strategy in such terms.
The one identified as the enemy commander—Paradis Maneschouk—had indeed been flagged as a priority threat. However, that was because of his effectiveness when leveraging the Demon-Eyed Clan's traits in a support role.
In truth, Lamia Godwin's attack on the chained dragon carriages had nearly destroyed the Empire, with Paradis providing support.
But fortunately for them, the opponent still did not know how to properly leverage his own abilities.
"Prince Paradis acts as though he would never lose a gamble so long as he could see the other hand's cards."
"Normally, being able to see the other hand's cards would make things considerably more favorable, though."
"Oh? I wouldn't mind betting against you under the same conditions. Though if you bet against me, your family would suffer consequences too."
"That's why I hate Volachian ways!"
"Greed for victory is a virtue. —You're the same sort as I am, aren't you?"
Otto pulled a bitter face at Selena's gaze, which seemed to regard him as someone of poor character.
In any case, they could say they had surpassed the enemy in the quality of their command. Having had their sure-win strategy thoroughly shut down, the enemy had no choice but to resort to their next move.
And that move was— "They've played their hidden trump card. —Feeding in forces piecemeal is the hallmark of a losing battle."
△▼△▼△▼△ "「"————!!"」"
Splitting the sky with a roar like thunder, a three-headed dragon clad in black scales took flight.
Spreading its wings to beat away the wind, it soared over the corpse army, taking countless arrows to its entire body without flinching—the maddened pitch-black evil dragon had once again manifested in the Empire's skies.
The majesty of Balguren, the "Three-Headed," who had once been slain by the "Admirer," was a threat beyond comparison to any other corpse—and was unmistakably the trump card of the corpse army.
Since the surprise attack across the Gildray Mountain had failed, the commander's judgment to immediately regroup was correct—otherwise, they would be overrun in an instant.
—But even that did not go beyond orthodox play.
"Haahhh—!!"
Charging at the evil dragon with wings spread wide, roaring with valor, was the massive thorns that had erupted from the city walls into the sky—Kahfma Irrlux's attack.
The overwhelming suppression power of Kahfma, who single-handedly held a corpse-infested front, ensnared Balguren—whose eyes were not in their normal state—and bound his wings before they could be torn free.
Of course, given the dragon's raw physical strength, it would be only a matter of time before the thorns were ripped apart.
"But my role is this one second!"
Kahfma, veins bulging across his body like mottled patterns and blood streaming from his nose, bellowed at Balguren above with a ferocious expression.
The evil dragon seemed to feel rage at the declaration from such a diminutive being, writhing all three of its heads and roaring.
The dragon's roar that made all life tremble—but there were no cowards on this battlefield who would shrink from the evil dragon's bellow.
"—Al Clauzeria!"
Balguren, entangled in thorns and frozen in midair—one of the writhing heads was targeted by the rainbow aurora that streaked diagonally through the sky.
It seized Balguren's right head cleanly, blasting it away from the base.
A gorgeous, magnificent, dazzling strike of the "Supreme" magic.
"Aim, please!"
Next, one of the two remaining heads of the evil dragon was pierced by an arrow traveling at divine speed.
The target was tiny compared to the evil dragon's massive body, but the chieftain of the "Shudrak People" who had perfectly shot through it turned around and called sharply to the two beside him.
The two so addressed—one was eyeing the target by estimation, while the other was drawing a bow so massive it would normally require ten ordinary people to pull, using his entire body.
"Gotta... do this—!!"
"Smash it—!!"
The two combined their strength in a mighty bow, and with a thunderous roar that seemed to pierce the stars, the shot struck the evil dragon's blinded head directly, blowing everything above its jaw away and reducing the Three-Headed to a one-headed dragon.
"———!!"
With both left and right heads gone, Balguren reared back toward the sky, generating tremendous heat within its black massive body.
The dragon's signature—its breath of destruction—was aimed at the fortress city below. —In that instant, the maddened dragon's gaze met that of someone within the very fortress it was about to destroy.
And that someone standing at the window turned toward the evil dragon tearing through the thorns in the sky above— "—El Fula."
If the goal could be achieved with minimal effort, neither flashy magic nor superhuman strength was needed.
With the precision that served as the textbook example of all things, a blade of wind sheared off the evil dragon's last remaining head with merciless sharpness.
"———"
All three heads severed one by one, the evil dragon fell.
That was the anticlimactic defeat of Balguren, the "Three-Headed"—the corpse side's trump card.
△▼△▼△▼△ "Absurd! Absurd, absurd, absurd, absurd, absurd, absurd, absurd—!!"
Trembling violently, clawing at his own hair, Paradis could not accept the defeat of Balguren that he had just witnessed with his own Demon-Eyed gaze.
Impossible things were happening in rapid succession.
Because of this, Paradis had fallen from a position of overwhelming advantage, his imperial dignity as the executor of the emperor's war—meant to proceed at leisure—wounded, enduring humiliation.
"Why?! Why could they read my strategy?!"
Having corpse wyvern riders carry dragon ships, the surprise attack across the mountain had been flawless.
Whether they had anticipated it, or whether they had mobilized reserves they had been holding in waiting, the surprise attack had been thwarted. But that was unpleasant, not fatal. —It was supposed to be.
"What kind of 'evil dragon'—the 'Three-Headed'...!?"
The "Three-Headed" Balguren, sent out immediately after as a harbinger of despair—the resurrected evil dragon who had once terrorized the neighboring Lugnican Kingdom.
If this maddened dragon had unleashed its true power, the rule through power and terror would have been complete.
And for Balguren to have its three heads severed in such a manner and be slain—unthinkable.
"Why are you all so witless?! Why can you not fulfill the duties of my hands and feet?!"
The fallen evil dragon, the failed assault squad, the corpse hordes still struggling to breach the first wall—none of them were of any use to Paradis, nothing but fools who continued to drag him down.
Come to think of it, Vincent, Priscilla, and Lamia had all had capable subordinates.
In the end, the difference between Paradis and the likes of Vincent was whether or not they were blessed with capable subordinates. That was not a reflection of personal ability—it was nothing but an external accessory.
And they had the gall to flaunt that before Paradis and expect to win—an insult unworthy of royalty.
"The solitary way of being of the 'Thorn Emperor'—that is the true essence of the Emperor of Volachia. I will not yield my methods to the likes of you despicable wretches...!"
Even in the past Imperial Selection Ceremony, Vincent and the others had dodged Paradis's strategies or snatched victory through means that defied his expectations.
The same thing was happening now. —He could not continue to overlook this outrage.
"Someone, offer counsel! I shall elevate you on the spot!"
Burning with humiliation, Paradis raised his voice among the corpse formation.
Normally, Paradis would have preferred to remain the solitary emperor who sought no one's opinions. But the enemy was exploiting that very nobility, wielding their malicious intent against him.
If that was the case, then Paradis would demonstrate the Emperor's authority through sheer ferocity.
"Is there no one?! Speak up! Otherwise..."
"—Then, if you'll pardon my presumption."
As Paradis looked around at the pale-faced crowd, one figure spoke up.
A slender silhouette slowly emerged from among the corpses—and at the air about this figure that set them apart from the other corpses, Paradis narrowed his three golden eyes.
Their bearing set them apart from the ordinary. What remained was whether their abilities matched that impression.
"What can you do?"
"Well... First, allow me to show you."
With those words, the white-haired woman who had stepped before Paradis smiled and raised her hand toward the sky.
And then— △▼△▼△▼△ "—Ana!!"
When the anticipated "Three-Headed" evil dragon fell from the sky above the city—its three heads severed, its black massive body crumbling to dust—Anastasia felt a wave of relief.
Even though it had been anticipated, the enemy was still a monster of enormous power.
No matter how thoroughly they had prepared, there was always the possibility that the enemy would exceed their expectations or find some way around them. The relief of having evaded that and crushed a powerful foe was hers too.
It was
"———"
The spirit who normally posed as Anastasia's fur stole, staying motionless—Echidna had been her companion for ten years—and she sprang up from Anastasia's shoulder, her dark eyes fixed on the sky above the great fortress.
Following Echidna's gaze, Anastasia opened her light-blue eyes wide.
"Is that... a star?"
Even her uncertain murmur was a sign of her lack of confidence in what she was seeing.
At the very least, it was a sight she had never witnessed in her entire life—a spectacle she had never even imagined.
Falling from even higher than the corpse wyvern swarm that had crossed the Gildray Mountain—higher even than the "Three-Headed" evil dragon—a light was raining down upon the city. Stars were falling.
As Anastasia gaped at this extraordinary spectacle, Otto and Berstetz struck speechless, while Selena—who was watching the same scene—twisted the scar on her face into a smile and said: "The air is shifting. —Whether we win or lose, the end is near."
△▼△▼△▼△ "Haha, hahahaha! Excellent! Yes—this is it! This is the sight I desired!"
Seeing the spectacle unfold in the sky above the battlefield, Paradis fell into rapturous ecstasy.
Once the falling light reached the earth, what would the fortress city's renowned defenses amount to? The petty resistance of these wretched commoners would be nothing but dust before the light of the stars.
"Well done, coming to me! I shall make you one of my retainers! What is your name?!"
Joy flooding his three golden eyes, Paradis turned to the white-haired woman who had created the spectacle. As she turned to face him and Paradis caught a proper frontal view of her, he caught his breath.
Beautiful white hair, features so perfectly sculpted they sent shivers down one's spine—and above all, her face and eyes bore none of the telltale features of a corpse. —She appeared to be alive.
But then, why was she fighting on his side?
As Paradis harbored this question, the woman bowed deeply and curtsied.
And she returned his answer—announcing who she was.
"My name is a bit difficult to offer, given my current position. So for now... please call me the '