Chapter 154: When the Dead Kneel
The worm's single antenna quivered like it had caught a signal only it could hear.
Every goblin, wolf, orc, and malformed beast on the battlefield froze mid-strike, their eyes snapping toward Ariel and Nash. Then, as if pulled by invisible strings, they broke from their fights and charged—not at random, but straight for the two of them.
The worm itself didn't so much as glance their way. It turned, undulating toward the dense treeline, its slick black segments rippling with every movement.
"You aren't going anywhere," Nash growled.
In a blur, he broke into a sprint, spear tucked close. The wind whipped at his face as the ground blurred beneath his boots.
Ariel didn't move. His breath came slow and measured as he raised one gloved hand.
Above him, the air crackled with cold as dense ice elemental energies gathered. Hundreds of razor-edged ice arrows formed in perfect rows in two seconds, their tips catching the pale light.
A flick of his wrist.
The sky became a storm of frozen death. The first volley tore through the rushing horde like they were paper dolls. Goblins exploded into blood mist, wolves crumpled mid-leap, and orcs staggered before crashing into the dirt.
But the spell didn't discriminate.
Servants and even some Radiant Walkers screamed as the arrows punched through armor, skewering limbs or lodging deep in their chests. Some dropped instantly. Others twitched on the ground, bleeding out on the frost-covered earth.
Nash didn't turn to look and continued to move towards the worm.
The worm's bulbous head loomed just meters from the cover of the trees when Nash leapt, body twisting in midair. Simultaneously, his spear was coated in a reddish advanced aura.
His spear found the soft gap above its antenna, plunging deep with a wet crunch.
The creature let out a high, piercing shriek that rattled his teeth. Its body convulsed once, then stilled.
Nash ripped the spear free, flicking blood from the blade. "Without its minions, this worm is nothing more than a—"
The rest of the sentence never left his lips.
A pressure—alien, suffocating—slammed into his mind like a hammer. His vision inverted, colors bleeding out until there was nothing but black.
In that void, something moved.
The silhouette resolved into a worm so massive it blotted out the horizon, each segment pulsating like it had a heartbeat. Its antenna swayed lazily… then its mouth opened.
The pull was immediate. It was like his very soul was being dragged forward, sucked toward those rows of jagged, grinding teeth.
'W-What is this? A Divine Beast? No, a Demonic worm?'
Nash roared, tried to swing his spear, but the darkness ate his strength.
On the battlefield, his body floated upward—limbs limp, eyes glassy. Invisible waves pulsed from him, crawling under the skin of anyone nearby.
The gigantic worm with a thousand staring eyes shimmered into existence before his hovering body.
Then—
A wet snap.
Something tore the tether between soul and flesh. Nash's heart stopped before he even hit the ground.
His spear clattered beside him.
Ariel's jaw tightened in horror.
'A Rank-3 Worm!'
His gut told him one thing—he couldn't win this fight alone. He turned to leave.
But the mindworm was faster.
A soundless pulse rippled out, bending the air. The earth seemed to breathe, exhaling swarms of black worms. They rained from the sky, burst from the soil, and even floated—thin as hair—in the air.
The infection was instant.
Men staggered as their eyes glazed over. Muscles jerked like puppets on strings. In seconds, the battlefield was a nightmare of the walking dead.
"I'm f*cked," Ariel hissed under his breath, face drained of color.
He slammed his staff down, casting a spiraling barrier of wind. The air shimmered around him, pushing back the tiny, writhing parasites.
Tens of ice lances bloomed overhead. They streaked toward the parent worm, slicing through the fog and frost—
And stopped.
Each lance hung midair like time had frozen, then fell uselessly into the dirt.
Ariel's eyes narrowed. He sent blades of compressed wind, followed by volleys of ice needles. None made it within five paces of the worm.
Then the whispers began.
It was more like whispers of a devil!
Faint at first—Delilah's voice, Ryder's, then the laughter of his children. Faces appeared around him, warm and smiling, inviting him closer.
He knew that this hallucination was a trap. But his thoughts slowed, eyelids heavy.
The 'Wind Shield' spell also cracked. Hairline fractures spread like lightning across glass.
The first worm slipped through, followed by the rest.
Suddenly, the black-hooded grim reaper manifested behind Ariel, scythe raised.
It swung.
The world tilted sideways as Ariel's head hit the dirt, blood freezing into scarlet ice.
Jovie's voice echoed then.
"I don't want to lose such a precious body to a worm."
Magic circles appeared all over the battlefield. From the earth rose skeletal knights in rusted armor, weapons drawn.
Then came the real monsters.
Four massive circles flared, and from them clawed wyvern skeletons, wings like bleached sails, eye sockets burning with cold blue flame.
The worms surged to infect, but the undead felt sensation, no fear, no sickness.
The parent worm's antenna twitched—its psychic assault rolling out in invisible waves. One wyvern slowed, wings straining against the telekinetic bind.
But the others didn't hesitate. They slammed into the mindworm, talons raking, jaws snapping. Blue fire poured from their maws.
A skeletal knight captain charged, sword glowing with killing intent, and carved a perfect arc through the worm's antenna.
The beast shrieked—a sharp sound made the ground tremble—then collapsed with a heavy, final thud.
Silence fell.
The infected froze where they stood and dropped like cut strings.
The worms—airborne, crawling, wriggling—writhed once, then stilled, lifeless.
The battlefield was still.
Four undead wyverns stood in perfect formation, their skeletal frames creaking faintly in the wind. Behind them, ranks of skeletal knights waited motionless, the leader at the front clad in pitted, blackened armor. The empty sockets of his helm stared straight ahead, unblinking.
The air before them began to twist. At first it was subtle, a ripple in the light, but within seconds the distortion deepened until it tore open—revealing a black-haired young woman.
At once, the skeletal knights dropped to one knee, heads bowed in complete submission. Even the wyverns lowered their massive skulls, the ghostly flames in their eyes dimming in reverence.
Jovie gave the slightest nod of acknowledgment, then lifted her hand in a smooth wave.
The ground shuddered. A black portal bloomed open at the center of the field, a perfect ring of darkness. From its depths, three figures stepped into the gray daylight.
The first was a black-haired young man in his twenties, sharp-eyed and watchful.
The second—a middle-aged man. He had short grey hair, brown eyes, fair skin, and stood about 165 cm tall.
It was Count Alden.
Though the wound in his chest had closed, healed by a high-grade potion, his legs trembled under his weight.
The third man, tall and broad-shouldered with silver hair and eyes like polished steel, held him upright. His emerald-coated armor gleamed faintly, and his pale skin marked him as a son of the empire's northern provinces.
"We're finally out of the Dead Land, my lord. Please… stay awake," the silver-haired man urged, his voice steady.
Kael.
Jovie's voice came calm, matter-of-fact. "Nether Energy is poisonous to humans, but it will fade once you breathe normal air again."
Her gaze shifted toward Raven. Like the Count, he had been exposed to the nether's taint but recovered quicker. After a few deep breaths, he turned, taking in the battlefield—and froze.
"What… the hell happened here?"
Kael followed his eyes. His steps faltered. Dozens of bodies—Radiant Knights, servants, comrades—lay scattered and still. The smell of burnt flesh lingered under the iron tang of blood. Beyond the dead, the skeletal host and four massive wyverns silently loomed.
"Who are you?" Kael demanded, his voice low, suspicion and awe mingling. He remembered clearly: this man and woman had pulled them from the jaws of death.
"We'll introduce ourselves once the Count is stable," Raven replied evenly.
Minutes passed before Count Alden's breathing steadied. His eyes fluttered open, confusion quickly giving way to horror as they locked on the corpses.
"M-My men…" His voice broke.
Silence stretched between them. Then, with visible effort, the Count reached for Raven's hand and clasped it tightly.
"I don't know who you are, young man… but you saved my life. I'll repay this debt. Ask anything, and I will grant it."
Jovie's lips curved in a faint, amused smile. "His name is Raven Sillalus Jorvot. And when someone saves your life, Count, you bow your head."
The Count froze mid-breath. "…R-Rebel Prince?"
Kael's eyes widened.
Raven sighed. "Now that you know who I am, you understand why I saved you."
Count Alden nodded slowly. "You want my support, Your Highness."
"Correct. But I don't want half-hearted loyalty. I want it all. In return, once I take the throne, your family will rise to the rank of Duke."
Hesitation flickered in the Count's eyes. His mind weighed risk and reward—he knew little about Raven's allies, reach, or true strength.
"I cannot answer now, Your Highness. I am grateful beyond words, but this is not a decision I can make alone. I will, however, do my best to sway my family's elders."
"I understand," Raven said, his tone steady. "Until then, grow your forces quietly. Stay neutral. When the time comes, decide whether I'm worthy of your loyalty."
"…Thank you for your understanding, Your Highness," Alden said, bowing his head.
Raven's eyes drifted toward the pair of fallen mind worms. "I want those two corpses."
"Take them," Jovie said with a casual wave. "They're useless to me."
Kael looked to his lord. "What should we do now?"
The Count turned to Raven, a faint crease in his brow.
"For now, we burn the corpses and stay the night," Raven said. "In the morning, we decide whether to press deeper… or turn back."
"You still want to go deeper?" Jovie asked, surprise in her voice.
Raven answered only by pulling a compass from his coat and glancing toward the east.
"…The fragment," Jovie murmured, understanding dawning. She began collecting spoils—expert knights, wizards, with the Count's permission. He even handed over Wizard Ryder's corpse.
Alden stripped Nash's body of a spatial ring, storing the bodies of his men. Raven retrieved the mind worms, storing them within his ring.
Together, they set blue fire to the monsters, leaving nothing but ash and empty ground.
As night fell, they took shelter inside a half-collapsed building. The undead stood silent watch outside, Kael joining them at the entrance.
Count Alden spoke to Raven between rests, quietly suggesting a retreat. But the more he learned of Jovie's power, the less certain he became of his own caution.
Raven rested, but lightly. His eyes opened at every shift in the wind.
By dawn, their decision was made.
They went deeper.