The command to advance was given. They were to march into the lightning-struck, fire-scorched, earth-rending, air-boiling tempest, a realm where only death awaited. Anyone who valued their life couldn’t help but recoil.

"We’re to charge there?" 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

"This is insane!"

"We’ll all be killed!"

The soldiers trembled in terror. The knights, forcing composure, did their best to rally them.

"Trust in the archmage!"

"She will protect us!"

"Would she have given such an order otherwise?"

Of course, the knights were afraid too. But they had their own convictions. It was an order that defied all logic. And precisely because it did, it had to mean there was some unthinkable, miraculous twist waiting.

After all, the one who gave the command was none other than the very person who had summoned this apocalypse!

"Have faith!"

"Lady Elezar will not let us fall!"

The knights took the lead, and the soldiers followed behind.

"Ye-yeah! No way the Archmage would march us straight to our deaths!"

Surely there had to be a reason—a purpose—for ordering them into what could only be death. Thus, the army marched toward hell. And soon, the front lines set foot into that inferno, only to be betrayed.

The archmage did not protect them.

With every breath, their lungs seared. With every step, their skin split open. It was an environment no living being could survive. Screams echoed from every direction.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Those at the front turned back, but there was no retreat. The entire army was already advancing as one. The pressure from the rear left those in the front with no choice but to move forward.

Why were they still pushing from behind despite the screams up ahead? Because people couldn’t see what lay ahead when they were trapped in a crowd.

Even as those at the front collapsed and died, even as the fire consumed them again and again, the backs of the people in front blocked it all from view.

Blinded, the soldiers continued to follow orders to push forward. Until, inevitably, they too reached the front, and died.

Thus, the imperial army marched on. They treaded through flame, choked on poison, and headed straight for death.

***

Diogres calmly continued casting spells. "Sink, bless, descend and scatter."

His staff, Dawnshroud, continuously poured forth mana. He unleashed all manner of spells, doing his utmost to save the imperial soldiers trapped in hell. But it was no easy task.

The magic of two archmages had already twisted and saturated the battlefield. The inferno surrounding the tower was the direct result of their duel, and untangling it would take even more mana than creating it.

Even someone like Diogres, an archmage, could not save them all. And worse still, the one who should have been protecting them, Elezar, was simply watching. But why?

Is she using them as hostages? Trying to drain my mana?

That didn’t seem right. Even if she sacrificed the entire army, it wouldn’t leave him so depleted that he’d become unable to fight. It would simply cause him to expend a bit more mana than she would.

No matter how you look at it, this is just a massacre...

Then it happened. Amid the screams that echoed across the battlefield, a magically amplified voice rang out. "What kind of atrocity is this!?"

It wasn’t Diogres.

It was Elezar. "No matter how far you've fallen into heresy, you were once an archmage of the empire!"

The very architect of this hell was now accusing him. "How could you commit such a heinous crime?"

The mages of the Tower of Dawn blinked at one another in confusion.

Sin? What sin?

What did Master Diogres do?

The imperial army wasn’t dying because of Diogres’s magic. This catastrophe was the result of both archmages' powers combined, and the one who had driven the imperial troops into the heart of it was undoubtedly Elezar. It was so absurd, they couldn’t even muster a proper reaction.

What in the world is she talking about?

Their confusion was resolved almost instantaneously. With a monstrous roar, burning corpses began to rise from the scorched earth. The fallen imperial soldiers were becoming resurrected as undead.

In an instant, hundreds of undead stood blocking the path before the army. The imperial knights recoiled in horror and shouted in horror.

"The Master of the Tower of Dawn has resorted to necromancy!"

"Everyone, protect yourselves with the talismans!"

No one doubted that Diogres was the one responsible for creating them. Of course they didn’t. After all, wasn’t he accused of being the secret leader of a dark cult? For a heretic to use necromancy wasn’t exactly shocking. Even the mages of the Tower of Dawn were briefly thrown into confusion.

No way...

Could it really be Master Diogres?

But Diogres himself, more than anyone, knew the undead weren’t his doing. And strangely, he was even smiling in relief.

So that’s what this is. There was only one conclusion. Elezar is the real leader of the cult.

And with that, everything made sense. It explained why he’d been framed, and why people had believed the accusation so readily.

Of course. That explains their entire approach.

Only one question remained: Why was Elezar claiming that he had raised the undead?

If the undead imperial soldiers continue to attack the Tower of Dawn, it’s going to become awkward.

The only thing Elezar would gain from this is stronger evidence that Diogres was a heretic. Everything else would only deepen the empire’s losses.

Did she really do all this just to kill the army? That didn’t seem likely. Elezar stood as the commander of the imperial forces. She couldn’t entirely disassociate herself from their casualties.

Or... is there something more?

Diogres’s suspicion was spot-on.

"Fear not, brave soldiers of the empire!" Landing once again atop the Replica Tower, Elezar’s magically amplified voice echoed across the sky. "Darkness always kneels before the true light! And fortunately, I possess a spell to subdue that darkness!"

With that ringing declaration, she began an incantation. "By the power of righteous law, I shall judge heresy and take it into my hand..."

Diogres’s expression stiffened. "That spell..."

There had been a strange rumor circulating recently among the Seven Kingdoms Alliance. It was regarding a peculiar spell supposedly created by a court mage in the Eustil Kingdom 150 years ago, a spell that only worked against necromancy.

Diogres had skimmed through it once, intrigued by its novelty. Though the spell itself was simple, he’d found its practical use confusing and had never actually tried it. Now, that very spell was manifesting in Elezar’s hands.

"I shall become the redeemer of necromantic sin. Redeemer of Necromancy!"

Blinding light flooded the battlefield. The undead were ensnared in chains of holy light and froze in place.

The imperial troops stirred in awe.

"Th-this is..."

"That spell! The one from the rumors?"

The spell Redeemer of Necromancy had gained considerable notoriety among the general public. With the proliferation of necromancers and the rise of the Shadow of Doom, fear of necromancy had become widespread. In such an era, a newly developed counter-necromancy spell was bound to attract attention.

"As expected! Lady Elezar can use it too!"

"Of course she can! If even some rookie in his twenties can cast it, how could an archmage not?"

The undead blocking their path turned around and began marching forward, cutting through the flames. Indeed! The archmage had not betrayed them after all!

A fired-up imperial knight drew his sword and roared with conviction. "All troops, advance!"

The living and undead imperial troops advanced together across the battlefield, cutting through the cataclysm. They clashed with the steel puppets guarding the Tower of Dawn.

While the two archmages kept each other in check through their duel in the sky, the battle on the ground played out according to each side’s tactical command. The advantage clearly belonged to the empire.

Unlike Diogres’s steel puppets, which moved in simple, mechanical patterns, Elezar’s undead soldiers maneuvered with the precision of a real army, responding deftly to the battlefield’s needs.

"As expected, Tesranach was right," Elezar murmured with a soft smile.

This tactic had originally been favored by the Monarch of Death Tesranach. Elezar had merely borrowed it, and it was proving to be highly effective.

"If I recall correctly, he used to say that most of the world’s problems could be solved once the people involved were dead."

***

Watching the footage, Varos spoke with curiosity. "Huh, that’s one of your catchphrases, young master."

Karnak replied. "Isn’t it? But apparently, over there, it's Tesranach’s."

Varos frowned. "But that wasn’t something you came up with yourself, was it? Technically, it’s plagiarism..."

Karnak interjected. "Shut up."

"Yes, sir."

Karnak returned his attention to the projection after silencing Varos. The battle was descending even further into chaos. On the ground, the imperial army was charging toward the Tower of Dawn. In the sky, Elezar was binding Diogres’s magic.

And beyond them, a knight cloaked in dazzling golden aura surged toward Diogres in a straight line. "Hmph! These pathetic puppets are nothing!"

It was none other than the martial king of Kretas. To him, the steel puppets were less threatening than toys made of straw.

Sensing the approach, Diogres furrowed his brow. "Sir Dreltein, is it?"

He was already bound by Elezar’s restraints, and now, Diogres faced a second absolute force. If he were to face the Martial King of Kretas on top of everything else, the outcome was certain.

"In that case..." Resolving himself, Diogres drove his staff, Dawnshroud, into the ground. "I hereby release the Tower’s secret techniques!"

The staff shattered, and crystal shards scattered in all directions. A brilliant explosion of light filled the screen.

Karnak stroked his chin with anticipation. So he's finally going all out.

The magic Diogres and Elezar had displayed thus far had indeed been overwhelming. It was more than enough to make ordinary people feel as if the world were ending. But they had been conserving their power, by the standards of archmages. They were gauging each other carefully.

"But now that Dreltein has entered the fray, Diogres can’t afford to hold back anymore."

Suddenly, the projection cut off with a Pop! The dead soldier’s eyeballs flickered shut, and the light vanished.

"What?"

"Huh?"

Karnak turned to the raven-haired woman with a baffled expression. "What’s going on, Maloka? Did it break?"

She simply shrugged. "That’s all there is."

"What do you mean?" Karnak asked her.

"I mean that’s as far as the information goes," responded Maloka.

Karnak stared blankly for a second... and then exploded. "Hey! You can’t just end it there! Don’t you have any shame?"

"I don’t," she replied coolly. She was an archlich, which meant she didn’t have any shame to begin with.

Still, she did have her reasons. The projection wasn’t some fictional dramatization Maloka had fabricated herself. It was reconstructed entirely from residual thoughts and the memories of spirits left behind on the battlefield.

"If I start adding in flashy fake content just to make it more exciting, it becomes pure delusion," said Maloka.