Three days later, Nephthys pushed ahead with the ’special class’. Rushing such a program right after the Dark Festival was unusual, and a few professors who had been eager to advance their lessons voiced their dissatisfaction, but Nephthys’s decision was firm.
Simon, for his part, kept a low profile. The reporter, Wedian Benchino, was particularly persistent. Whenever Simon was talking to someone, she would pop out of nowhere and start snapping pictures with her magic camera.
"Found you! Simon Polentia! You must have been having a secret meeting with your Ancient Undead, right?" she had shouted. Most recently, she had even sprung out of a roadside trash can.
Onlookers had simply muttered, "What’s with that idiot?" but the encounters left Simon’s nerves frayed. More than once, he’d been in the middle of a mental conversation with Pier’s clone or receiving a report from Erzebet via corpse spider. Sometimes, her timing was frighteningly sharp.
Of course, Simon hadn’t just been taking it. As the Student Council President, he contacted the contest organizers and requested that they prevent reporters from harassing students about matters unrelated to the contest or invading their privacy. The organizers agreed. However, Wedian was relentless, as if driven by a sacred mission. Even when her superiors imposed sanctions, she refused to give up, at one point even breaking out of her quarters while under detention. Faced with such persistence, Simon eagerly counted down the days until his departure for the North.
And today was that day.
From early dawn, Simon had been at Pier’s ruins.
"Is everyone inside now?" he asked.
[Yes. It is done!]
It had been a long time since the legion had moved on such a large scale. Pier, Erzebet, Prince, Akemus, and Herseva, along with their main forces, had entered a massive subspace. They would all depart for the North together. While the troops moved, Pier completely sealed the entrance to the ruins with a powerful barrier.
"That reporter won’t be able to open the ruins, right?" Simon asked, a hint of worry in his voice.
Pier laughed heartily. [She is nothing more than a civilian, not even a necromancer. No need to worry, boy!]
After enduring so much stalking, Simon felt he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He now jumped at the sound of a passing bird.
[I have a report, Legion Commander.]
With a rustle of leaves, Erzebet descended from a tree, hanging upside down from a spider thread.
[That reporter entered the Forbidden Forest and was caught in a web trap set by my children.]
Just then, her voice could be heard echoing from a distance.
"Let go of me! I said, let go! As if I’d give up just because of this!"
[Should I kill her?] Erzebet asked, her tone chillingly casual. [I can erase the body from the world without a trace.]
Erzebet’s eyes flashed with a dangerous light, but Simon simply shook his head.
"If a reporter investigating me suddenly vanishes, it will only deepen their suspicion. Everything will be fine once I return from the North. There won’t be any outsiders to worry about then."
[If that is your will, Commander, then this humble servant shall obey.]
Of course, Simon was anxious as well. Leaving an Ancient Undead behind to guard the ruins would have been a comfort, but the entire purpose of this trip was for his ’Legion Commander lessons.’ The absence of even one member would render the training meaningless. His objective was to enhance the capabilities of all his Ancient Undead.
With a final gesture, Simon opened a massive subspace, allowing Erzebet and Pier to enter before he finally set off.
’To the North!’
Up North.
Within the Dark Alliance, the Shahed Kingdom was infamous for its biting cold, but since a vast portion of its territory lay in the frigid northern regions, the simple moniker of ’the North’ was somewhat ambiguous. When people in the Alliance spoke of ’the North,’ the first place that came to mind was Kalos North.
It was home to the legendary hero of humanity, the Grand Duke, who stood guard over Vilkenos Castle and the treacherous Frost Field. The monsters and undead of the Frost Field were exceptionally vicious. Some were powerful enough to single-handedly burn an entire territory to the ground, and they frequently invaded human lands to feast on their primary prey.
This was humanity’s front line, a bulwark against those man-eating horrors—a land that no army in history had ever managed to conquer. It was also a barren wasteland, its climate so brutally cold that proper farming was impossible.
It was to that very place...
’So this is it!’
...that Simon had arrived.
After passing through several teleportation circles, he opened his eyes to the clatter of wagon wheels on a rough road. This was not the picturesque, snow-covered city he had imagined. The ground was a mire of damp earth and slush, with only sparse patches of snow. The snorting of horses filled an air thick with the smell of manure.
Burly, bearded men with grim faces trudged past, each shouldering an axe or a halberd. The atmosphere could be described in a single word: battlefield. It felt like stepping into the barracks of an encamped army, where everyone moved with a sense of urgent purpose.
’It’s larger than I thought.’
This was Vilkenos, the very heart of Kalos North and its most developed city. In the distance, he could see the towering outer walls that encircled the entire city. Beyond them lay the northern vista he had pictured: jagged, snow-white mountains piercing the sky. It was a beautiful, wild landscape, but the thought of the countless monsters and undead swarming within those peaks sent a chill down his spine.
’Time to go.’
His destination was clear. The largest building, which loomed over the city from its very center: the inner castle. The Grand Duke’s residence.
As he walked, Simon pulled a letter from his coat with a soft rustle. It bore the seal of Kizen, personally written by Nephthys herself. ’He recalled their conversation.’
"Oh, by the way, I didn’t get the Grand Duke’s permission to send you!"
’When he first heard those words, Simon’s heart had plummeted.’
"So I’m not a welcome guest, but an intruder?"
’This special class was an official part of Kizen’s curriculum, complete with its own set of conditions and missions. Simply idling his time away would earn him a penalty tantamount to expulsion. Seeing the undisguised panic on his face, Nephthys had grinned.’
"Hey, no need to worry. You just have to earn the Grand Duke’s acknowledgment!"
’She had pulled out the letter then.’
"It might seem daunting at first, but once you have the respect of the North and its Grand Duke, everything will fall into place. Here! Just get the Grand Duke to read this letter, and it will all work out!"
The memory faded, and Simon carefully tucked the letter back into his coat. The die was cast. For better or worse, his only option was to meet the Grand Duke.
Truthfully, he was intensely curious. He had met several Saintesses from the Holy Federation, but of the seven Legion Commanders who stood against them, he had only ever encountered Magnus.
’And a hero of humanity, at that.’
A living legend who had defended the North for decades, holding back the expansion of the Frost Field, one of the most brutal battlegrounds on the continent. He yearned to understand such a person’s power and experience. He wanted to know what they were like, what kind of Ancient Undead they commanded.
There was a slim chance the Grand Duke might covet his own Ancient Undead, which could lead to a fight. But for once, both Nephthys and Pier were in complete agreement, insisting the Grand Duke wasn’t that kind of person. If those two were so certain, he felt he could trust the Grand Duke.
Lost in thought, he was walking when someone slammed into his shoulder with a heavy thump.
"Hey, you should watch where you’re going!" a burly man growled. He arched an eyebrow and let out a hoarse laugh, hefting a battle-axe larger than his own torso as his companions smirked and passed by.
’What was their problem?’
Before Simon could respond, a troop of undead soldiers scrambled past, cutting between him and the men.
The clatter of bones echoed on the road as over twenty skeletons in full military gear hurried along their path. Simon’s gaze was instantly captivated.
’Wait, who’s controlling them?’
They weren’t naturally occurring undead. They were clearly under a necromancer’s command, but no matter where he looked, he couldn’t see one. The undead moved along the road as if following a predetermined route.
’How strange.’
He wanted to uncover the secret of these northern undead, but finding the Grand Duke was his priority. Simon suppressed his curiosity and continued on his way.
"Hey, Rekker! Are you trying to tear down someone’s house?!"
"Sorry about that!"
"Hahaha! What a grand mess to make in broad daylight!"
The people of the North were all powerfully built and muscular, their faces covered in hair, as if they were all descended from dwarves. Other, non-human races that faced discrimination across the continent were also a common sight here. Cat-like beastmen leaped from rooftop to rooftop, and a hulking, bull-like beastman covered in fur chuckled as he looked Simon over.
Everyone was moving with purpose, yet they still shot glances his way, recognizing him as an outsider.
"Excuse me," Simon asked politely, "but which way is it to the Grand Duke’s castle?"
The beastmen he addressed scattered instantly. Lost, he continued down the muddy road until...
’Ah.’
He had finally reached the inner castle. For the residence of a figure whose power was said to be second only to the King of Kalos, it was surprisingly plain. It was all rough gray walls and tall pillars rising like a mountain range, with rooster-shaped ornaments hanging from the rooftops. Simon paused before the castle, hesitating for a moment.
’Whatever happens, I’ll just have to face it head-on.’
It wasn’t as if the Grand Duke would be waiting for him with open arms. He decided to take the direct approach. Just as he started toward the castle gate...
A deep horn blast echoed through the air. The sound spread rapidly across the city, answered by other horns from the residential districts. Simon covered his ears.
’What’s happening?’
The ground began to tremble with a rhythmic thudding that grew into the distinct thunder of hooves. A pitch-black tide was pouring down the castle’s slope.
It was an army of undead on horseback.
’Don’t tell me those are all Dullahans.’
Atop spectral steeds that trailed Jet-Black like smoke rode knights in black armor. Like Dullahans, their necks were empty voids, but where their heads should have been, ethereal flames blazed. Within those flames flickered eyes, a nose, and a mouth reminiscent of a jack-o’-lantern. They carried massive lances, and the banners of the North fluttered proudly among them.
With a clank of armor and a thud of hooves, hundreds of undead cavalry formed up in perfect, unwavering ranks. The sight was enough to send a shiver down his spine.
[Those are not Dullahans, but a special type of undead called ’Phantom Dullahans’!] Pier explained. [They do not exist in nature; they are born solely from an Ancient Undead. That must be the elite force led by the Grand Duke—the undefeated legion of undead knights!]
They certainly looked different from the ordinary Dullahans created from guardians.
Just then, an overwhelmingly massive knight on a spectral steed trotted past him. Simon felt it instantly.
’An Ancient Undead!’
A cold sweat broke out on his brow from the sheer pressure. This had to be the leader of the Phantom Dullahans. Its empty neck was a void, but its steed’s face was disturbingly human—the knight’s head appeared to be fused to the horse. It was a bizarre sight.
The Ancient Undead didn’t even spare Simon a glance as it joined the ranks. Soon, the undead cavalry parted like the Red Sea, raising their lances in unison.
With a unified clank and thud, they raised their lances. Jet-Black erupted from the tips as they pointed toward the sky. Every movement was precise and disciplined, like a writhing black wave. From the path they had cleared, a figure emerged.
’Clip-clop... Clip-clop...’
It was a person clad in seamless, full-plate armor. The moment Simon saw them, the Phantom Dullahans and the Ancient Undead faded from his thoughts.
An aura of unbelievable power radiated from the figure. He wondered if a mere human could truly emit such a presence. Just being near them made his blood feel as if it were boiling in his veins. This person was undoubtedly the famed Grand Duke of the North, Jin Arscalt.
[The situation.]
A cold voice emanated from within the helmet.
"Enemy undead forces are attempting to enter Dondra."
[We will reach Dondra within the hour.]
Simon hesitated for a moment, then decided to take the plunge. He might not get another chance.
"Excuse me!" he called out, boldly approaching the Grand Duke.
The Grand Duke turned their gaze upon him.
[Who are you?]
A grim light flared from within the helmet.

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