[It seems something has happened at the mansion,] Manus observed, watching the zombies descend into chaos. Beside him, Javier stroked his beard in satisfaction.
"Haha, isn’t this an easy victory?" he gloated. "All that time and effort they spent preparing has come to nothing."
After a long, silent stare, Manus turned his head away. Javier, meanwhile, connected his consciousness to the meat golems and issued a command.
"Now’s our chance! Push them back for good!"
Dragging their massive bodies forward, the meat golems began to plow through the zombies like colossal tanks. The once-tight formation of the undead crumbled as if it were soft clay, and Manus’s skeletons surged in behind them, finishing off the fallen. ‘Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!’
"Keep going! Keep...! Huh?" Javier, who had been frantically shouting orders, suddenly turned his gaze toward the mansion.
Someone was stepping out onto the balcony. He wore a skull with flames blazing from its eye sockets, and a shadowless cloak concealed half his body. In his right hand, he held a great white sword; in his left, Prince’s crown.
[I see... So he’s the reason the zombies were neutralized,] Manus muttered, having spotted him as well.
But Javier’s eyes were trembling with visceral fear.
"Why... Why is that bastard here...?!"
[Do you know him?]
Just then, the man on the balcony removed Pier’s skull, slinging it over his neck. His hair swayed, revealing the face of a boy who still carried a hint of youth.
’He’s that young?’ Javier thought, a bitter jealousy rising in his chest that surpassed even his astonishment. The man who had cut him down in a single blow was just a boy. What in the world was he?
As Javier frantically studied him, his pupils widened once more. The boy was setting down the greatsword, preparing to place the crown on his head.
’Don’t tell me he’s going to wear that?’
A wide grin stretched across Javier’s face. Prince’s crown held the power to become the king of zombies. If a human wore it recklessly, their mind would be torn to shreds, leaving them a vegetable. Even Prince, the crown’s owner and an Ancient Undead, couldn’t withstand the psychic pressure and had to operate his main body and clones separately. A human who wore that crown was doomed.
It was a golden opportunity to get what he wanted without lifting a finger. Javier’s nostrils flared as he watched the boy with hungry, expectant eyes.
’Wear it. Wear it. Wear it. Hurry up and wear it!’
The boy lifted the crown high. Then, without a hint of hesitation, he placed it on his head.
A furious torrent of Jet-Black erupted from his body.
[You crazy bastard!] Prince scrambled onto the terrace on his hands and knees. Simon’s Absolute Command to kneel was still in effect, so crawling was the best he could do. [What in the world are you thinking?! We’re a Legion now! If you die, I die too!]
Prince’s gaze shot to Pier’s skull hanging from Simon’s neck. [You’re insane too, Pier! He’s your contractor! Why aren’t you stopping him?!]
[Heheheh! If you know nothing, then shut up and watch,] Pier’s upside-down skull chuckled. [He’s the kind of man who succeeded in wearing me on his very first try.]
[What?]
The Jet-Black that had been overflowing, threatening to explode, suddenly stabilized. Simon staggered forward, leaning against the wall as he pressed a hand to his forehead.
"Phew..."
His eyes were now a brilliant, luminous gold—the same color as the crown—and a strange pattern swirled within his pupils. He took a deep, shuddering breath.
And then.
"AAARGHHHGGRRRAAAWWRR!!!!!"
A monstrous, unidentifiable roar tore from his throat, a sound no human should have been able to produce. The entire battlefield froze. A perfect, chilling silence fell over the tens of thousands entangled in combat. Every zombie, previously standing like a puppet with its strings cut, lifted its head to stare at Simon.
Beneath his drooping bangs, his eyes glistened with a feverish madness, and the corners of his mouth were twisted into a crazed smile.
’That look...!’ Pier felt a shudder from the depths of his soul. The vicious tyrant who wore a mask, concealed his name, and shook the continent before vanishing. Richard’s face began to overlap with Simon’s.
[All of you,] Simon commanded, his voice echoing as he looked down upon the zombies. [Follow me.]
Manus and Javier flinched, stumbling backward. The zombies began to transform. Their unfocused eyes ignited with a golden light, while their teeth and claws darkened to a bluish-black. A dark blue smoke began to bleed from their bodies.
The dead roared. From the sky, it looked as though a great blue wildfire had erupted across the land.
Without a single exception.
Every zombie present began to manifest Simon’s Jet-Black. All of them had fallen under the dominion of the boy who wore the crown.
[Ha,] Prince breathed, leaning against the wall, dumbfounded. [...Ha, haha!]
An empty laugh was all he could manage. A mere human had so easily accomplished what he, an Ancient Undead, could not.
Simon stepped onto the balcony railing and leaped. The zombies swarmed beneath him, climbing over one another, forming hills and then mountains of bodies to catch him. It was as if they were ensuring their noble sovereign would not have to touch the filthy ground.
[Advance.]
The black wave bearing Simon began to move. Like a living tide, it drew back before surging forward, the entire mass bending from the peak where Simon stood. The surrounding zombies shrieked and joined the current, and the river of bodies grew larger and larger until it swelled to the size of the mansion itself.
The zombies charged, carrying their king.
A furious tide was unleashed.
’Impossible!’ Javier shuddered, his mind reeling at a sight he had never before witnessed. ‘This is beyond undead control!’
Within the black wave carrying Simon, countless pairs of blue eyes were wide open, all of them fixed on Javier. A dreadful, suffocating fear he had never known washed over him, and he realized his entire body was drenched in a cold sweat.
Aboard the wave, Simon exhaled a long breath.
"Pier."
[Right here!]
He raised the Greatsword of Ruin. The first targets were the meat golems. The black wave of zombies crashed into the nearest one.
The golem and the wave collided. Zombie bodies were sent flying like seafoam. The golem’s massive frame was swallowed by the tide, leaving only its head exposed. As he passed, Simon swung his greatsword and severed it.
[Next.]
The zombie wave veered, crashing toward a meat golem on the flank. The skeletons swung their weapons in a futile attempt to resist but were instantly swallowed by the overwhelming current. The black wave engulfed everything in darkness, leaving only the golem’s face above the tide. Simon reaped it like well-ripened grain.
Two. Three. Four. Five.
The heads of the powerful meat golems, only one of which had been lost until now, were severed one after another. With every surge of the wave, the skeleton formation crumbled and the golems fell.
"Th-This is impossible!" Javier shrieked, tearing at his hair in a frenzy.
Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.
There were no exceptions. In less than a minute, Simon had led the wave forward and obliterated every last meat golem. Javier’s legs gave out, and he collapsed.
The zombies let out a triumphant roar. At the peak of the wave, Simon casually rested the greatsword on his shoulder.
"...Kill him."
Javier, sprawled on the ground, trembled and turned to his side. "What are you doing, Manus?! Kill that bastard—!"
[I knew from the beginning,] Manus said, sheathing his sword. [That you were using me.]
Javier’s head rolled across the dirt and came to a stop. Manus began to walk slowly toward Simon. The surrounding skeletons parted before him like the Red Sea.
[Young king, what is your name?]
Simon lifted his chin.
"Simon Polentia."
[I am Manus, a knight of the Talhern Empire,] he declared, holding his sword vertically. [My purpose and my destiny are to exact revenge upon Kizen. I ask that you hand over the crown.]
"Revenge?" Simon’s golden eyes flashed as he smirked. "Sorry, but I don’t give a damn."
Manus was dumbfounded.
"Former Sword Master of the Empire, I’ve heard enough of your story. You intend to lead the undead of Deathland to take revenge on Kizen? Do you really think you have any chance of succeeding?"
At the word ‘chance,’ Manus’s lips tightened into a firm line.
"Ultimately, you cannot defeat Nephthys. What you’re trying to do is nothing more than a tantrum. While your army marches on Kizen, how many innocent people across the continent do you think will die?"
The empire was long gone. If Manus’s rebellion had even a sliver of a chance, Simon wouldn’t have mocked him. It could have been a revolution. But with only the forces of Deathland and Manus himself, they could never defeat Kizen. The outcome was already decided. In the end, Manus would only threaten the lives of the empire’s descendants, people who were struggling to survive without even knowing the name of the empire he fought for.
"You are a relic of history," Simon stated coldly. "For such a being to dredge up the past and destroy the lives of descendants who are living well is a contradiction. You have no cause, no justice, no benefit, no pretext. As I said, it’s just..." The corners of Simon’s mouth lifted into a cruel smile. "A pathetic tantrum."
[In that case!] Manus swung his sword. A line was drawn across the wave of zombies Simon stood upon, and it split in two. Simon’s body was thrown into the air, but another part of the black wave bulged out like a tumor and caught his feet.
[Then how am I to console the souls of the Imperial citizens who were unjustly sacrificed by Kizen?!]
"And who will console the souls of the countless people who will be sacrificed by your tantrum? Loyalty, souls... it all just sounds like your own selfish obsession. So I’ll say this." Simon raised his greatsword. "I will fight to ensure we don’t have to mourn the souls of those who would be sacrificed to your old and meaningless rampage."
[...It seems further conversation is pointless.] Manus spread his legs shoulder-width apart and lowered his sword diagonally. Simon raised his free left hand.
The zombies of Deathland roared and wailed. Facing them, Manus felt a bone-deep chill. How could he forget? The ten necromancers who had brought down Talhern’s elite grand army. Among them, the three most overwhelming were the beings known as the ‘Legion Commanders.’
’My comrades,’ he thought, ‘did you feel this way, too?’
Ten thousand pairs of eyes, forming a single black wave, glared down at him.

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