It was a long while before he could see clearly again. As the mushroom cloud from the explosion began to dissipate, Simon stared ahead, his expression one of pure shock.
A low rumbling echoed as the body of the Third, which had taken the full force of the Corpse Explosion, came into view. First, he saw its long legs, still standing. But from the hips up, its entire torso was still shrouded in thick, black smoke.
’No way.’ Simon’s lips trembled. ’Don’t tell me even that wasn’t enough to take it down?’
If Prince’s Corpse Explosion could not defeat it, then this was an opponent far beyond his current abilities. Just as Simon was about to order a retreat...
"Kuhuhu! Look closely, boy," Pier’s voice rumbled in his mind.
"Huh?"
Simon’s eyes widened. A gust of wind swept through the canyon, pushing away the smoke and revealing the truth. The Third’s entire upper body was gone, completely obliterated. All that remained were two legs, planted in the ravaged earth.
The legs teetered for a moment before collapsing. The explosion had been so powerful that not a single trace of the massive torso remained.
The Third was destroyed.
The effect was immediate. With their hive-mind entity gone, the surrounding undead fell into utter chaos.
’Giriririri!’
’Krrrk!’
Some froze in place as if they had malfunctioned. Others acted on primal instinct, some fled into the mountains, and some turned on each other, tearing into their former comrades. The enemy’s command structure had completely collapsed.
"With the Third gone, now is our chance, boy!" Pier shouted. "We must subdue them before the Northern God can regain control!"
"Right!" Simon commanded the legion to charge.
He staggered, his own head spinning. His body trembled, completely drained of energy. He was empty of Jet-Black.
’Ah, this.’ It was an exhaustion even greater than when he had used the Chaos Dullahan. His consciousness began to fade. ’This isn’t a technique to be used lightly.’
He collapsed with a dull thud.
"Boy! Are you alright? Boy!"
Simon did not regain consciousness for a full five hours. The enemy’s numbers had been so vast that the battle had raged on even after the Third’s destruction. Though their command structure was paralyzed, the Northern God’s undead still fought back when attacked. While Simon was unconscious, Pier had taken command. Erzebet, deep within the enemy lines, had used her webs to slaughter countless undead at once, while Akemus and Herseva had ruled the skies, neutralizing the remaining named undead.
By the time strength returned to Simon’s limbs and he could stand...
"I was so worried, Legion Commander!" Erzebet cried.
"Congratulations on your victory, Young Master," Akemus added.
...the battle was over. The Third, one of the three pillars of the Northern God, and its entire army had been annihilated. Pier had already gone through the battlefield, incorporating any useful named undead into the 7th Legion.
"Somehow, there are a lot of new faces since I woke up," Simon remarked, looking at the twenty new named undead now bowing their heads to him. The Gourmet, the first he had acquired, was still in one piece.
"Hey, kiddo, where’s Prince?" Herseva asked, settling on Simon’s shoulder.
"Looks like he’s completely wiped out, just like me," Simon said with a wry smile, tapping the ring on his finger to no response.
"In any case, an excellent achievement! This has greatly increased the 7th Legion’s strength!" Pier declared.
"Pier," Simon said, looking up at him with a knowing smile. "Father used Prince’s Corpse Explosion before, didn’t he?"
"Kuhuhu! You figured it out. In fact, as a condition for rejoining the legion, Prince made me promise never to tell you about his Corpse Explosion. So I kept my mouth shut."
To think Prince had gone that far. But after being continuously pushed back by the Third, he must have decided that victory was worth any price. Simon still did not understand all the conditions, but it was clear that Prince’s desperate will was the final key.
Pier chuckled. "From what I saw, the potential firepower is far greater than when Richard used it."
"Really?"
"Yes. It’s on a completely different level. I can see the potential for an even stronger explosion!" Pier placed a hand on his own skull. ’It’s just a guess for now, but perhaps the Corpse Explosion has manifested in the form of a ’Geheim’.’
The war was over. Having been the first to defeat one of the Three Brothers, Simon gathered his troops and returned to the Northern capital, Vilkenos. Akemus remained behind to manage the newly captured undead and oversee the cleanup.
’Did the Grand Duke and the generals win?’ Simon had defeated the Third, but if either the First or Second survived, it would be a major setback. He waited patiently in the inner castle with the butler, Godric.
"A report!" a messenger cried, bursting into the hall.
Simon and Godric shot to their feet. The castle staff poked their heads out from doorways.
"A great victory! A great victory! After a bloody battle, the Grand Duke’s arrow pierced the First’s brow, and the undead knights of the 2nd Legion have beheaded the Second!"
"WHOAAAAAAA!"
A roar of celebration erupted. Godric collapsed to his knees, hot tears streaming down his face. "My lord! Are you watching? Our young lady has done it! My loooooord!"
Simon clenched his fists in joy. Unable to contain his excitement, one of the staff members rushed out, climbing to the highest turret of the inner castle and blowing a horn.
The triumphant blast of a horn echoed from the turret. From all across Vilkenos, other horns answered in kind.
A boisterous cheer erupted from the city below. The people of the North threw open their doors and poured into the streets, embracing one another.
"The Three Brothers are dead!"
"The Grand Duke is victorious!"
The news of victory set the Kalos North ablaze.
More time passed before the armies of the Grand Duke and the Great General returned. Dense crowds gathered to welcome them, showering them with flower petals that fluttered in the wind. At the head of the column, the Grand Duke, clad in black armor and riding a necromantic steed, waved to her people.
Soon, they arrived at the castle. She leaped nimbly from her horse.
"Your Excellency, the Grand Duke! Congratulations on your great victory!"
"Congratulations!"
Barely acknowledging the greetings, she ascended the stairs with quick, determined steps, the joints of her armor clanking with each stride. She threw open the doors to her office.
A gust of wind swirled through the numerous open windows. There, sitting on a sofa and calmly sipping a cold iced tea, was a blue-haired boy.
"Ah." The boy set down his teacup and rose to his feet. "You have returned."
’Swoosh.’
The Grand Duke removed her helmet. Her voluminous black hair cascaded down like a waterfall, revealing her pale, sweat-streaked face. The corners of her mouth lifted into a faint smile.
"...Insolent one."
"I only smiled."
"It is too early to celebrate."
"Yes," Simon agreed, a handsome smile spreading across his face as he extended a hand. "There’s still one step left. Before I return to school, I promise I will deliver the liberation of the North as a gift."
She approached with a short laugh. "That is why I call you insolent. Insolent one." She grasped his hand, her grip firm and strong. As the two Legion Commanders looked at each other, their eyes shone with an unshakeable trust.
As the bitter cold worsened, the Grand Duke and the humans returned to Vilkenos, while the Ancient Undead, Hate, and the Phantom Dullahans remained in the Frost Field. The undead needed no food or supplies. They would now scout the empty field to find the path to the ’Abyss’ where the Northern God resided. As soon as the way was found, all forces would advance.
But first...
"Let’s drink! Just for today, let’s drink until we drop!"
"Woooooah!"
A victory party raged in the Grand Duke’s castle. The North’s most distinguished generals, veteran riders, and all the influential figures who supported the region gathered to celebrate. It was a chaotic, raucous affair, utterly devoid of dignity, just as it should be in the North. Tables groaned under mountains of food. Men poured mugs of beer over their own heads, walked around gnawing on chicken legs, and would break into song and dance at a moment’s notice. Warriors, their faces flushed with drink, rolled on the floor, and no one batted an eye when someone walked by with their pants down in a bizarre pose. Tomatoes flew through the air, and even when their faces were splattered with food, they just threw their heads back and laughed.
"We have to settle this today!"
"Ahaha! Isn’t it a perfect seven wins and seven losses?"
Outside, a duel was in full swing.
Dueling after drinking was forbidden, but for one day only, the Grand Duke had permitted brawls fought without weapons. The victors returned to the castle amidst a chorus of triumphant roars, while the losers, blood streaming from their noses and a tooth missing, cackled as if they’d never had more fun.
’I have no desire to join the fray,’ Simon mused, standing a little ways off, sipping his beer.
He wanted to be left alone, but as a person of interest, he was approached by all sorts of people. He was, after all, the sole disciple of the Grand Duke of the North, a woman who maintained no personal relationships whatsoever. On top of that, he was the boy who had thrashed a standard-bearer candidate on his first day, fought the standard-bearer himself on the second—earning a blow from the flag for his trouble—and even survived an arrow from the Grand Duke’s own bow.
Of course, he also held the unlauded record for taking down the Third Brother, but it would be a problem if anyone knew about that.
"A smooth, handsome face without a beard isn’t half bad," one warrior woman commented.
"You’re cute," another chimed in, leaning closer. "Wanna go to an inn with me?"
Female warriors would occasionally make passes at him. The Northerners were incredibly direct, and Simon, his face flushing crimson, struggled to adapt to the unfamiliar culture.
"By the way, why hasn’t the guest of honor made her appearance?" a warrior wondered aloud.
"I wish she’d come decked out in a dress instead of that stuffy old armor."
"Hahahaha! You know she’ll show up in her armor!" another laughed.
The warriors snickered, their eyes fixed on the office. Just then...
The office door flew open with a resounding bang, and the Grand Duke appeared.
"Ooh!"
Though it was not a dress, she descended in a crisp, black uniform. Every eye in the hall was instantly riveted on her.
She descended the stairs with measured, precise steps, her movements utterly devoid of wasted motion. Reaching the bottom, she surveyed her subordinates and raised a hand.
As if on cue, the butler Godric stepped forward and presented her with a wine glass.
"O proud people of the North!" she declared, raising her glass.
As if the alcohol had evaporated from their veins, the warriors straightened, their faces stern, and raised their glasses with military precision.
"O honorable allies!" she continued, her gaze falling upon Simon.
He smiled and raised his glass in return.
"This is a victory worth celebrating! We are but one step away from the Northern God’s annihilation. We will, without fail, liberate our home—the North!"
"Ooooh!" the crowd roared.
"We will shed more blood in the next battle, but we will advance!"
"WHOOHOO!"
"In our generation, we will break this chain of hatred and gift a peaceful North to our children! That is the long-cherished wish of the countless ancestors who have lived and died on this land!"
She raised her glass high.
"A toast."
"A toast!"
Everyone drained their glasses, the Grand Duke included.
"G-Grand Duke!" Godric stammered, his arms trembling as he watched her down the wine in a single gulp. Simon shot him a questioning look, wondering what the fuss was about.
A moment later...
"Heh heh... hehehe."
Simon had an arm around the Grand Duke’s shoulders, guiding her back to the office as her face glowed red from the alcohol.
’To think the famous Grand Duke of the North is such a lightweight,’ he thought with a sigh.
"Let go of me! Insolent whelp! I can still drink more!" she slurred.
She had become like this after just one glass of wine. Dragging the hiccuping Grand Duke into the office, Simon gently laid her down on the sofa.
"Phew.’ Just get some rest for now."
That was exhausting. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Simon finally noticed the desk.
"Hm?"
Nephthys’s letter was still sitting on the shelf.
"What? You still haven’t read this?" he asked, surprised.
"Foolish boy. The contents are obvious, are they not?" Her face flushed, she waved a hand dismissively. "Besides, do you think this is the first or second time I’ve fallen for that witch’s silver tongue?"
"N-No, but still! It’s from Lady Nephthys. You have to at least read it!"
"Fine, fine," she mumbled.
Godric had once told him that the Grand Duke performed her duties out of a rigid sense of obligation but was, at her core, a fundamentally lazy person. He had not believed it at first, but the more he got to know her, the more he realized it was true.
Simon draped a blanket over her as her eyes began to flutter shut, then placed the letter on top of it.
"Make sure you read it!" he urged, peeking his head back in before closing the door and leaving.
She rolled over, her eyes vacant.
With a soft thump, the letter from Nephthys slid off and fell to the floor as she moved. She was about to pass out, a look of utter annoyance on her face, when Simon’s voice echoed in her mind.
’—Still, it’s from Lady Nephthys. You have to at least read it!’
With no other choice, she let out a deep sigh and picked up the letter. She roughly broke the seal and unfolded it.
As her sleepy eyes scanned the words, she suddenly shot upright. Her expression grew increasingly stiff, then grave. By the time she finished, she was staring at the door Simon had left through, a dazed look on her face.
Her arm began to tremble.
"It can’t be..."
She strained her eyes until they were bloodshot and read the letter one more time.
"Insolent boy... That whelp is...!"
The letter from Nephthys contained only a single line.
「Simon is Yona’s son.」

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