As Nikki's words fell, the enormous magic circle behind her erupted.
Waves of deathly energy surged outward like a storm, spreading across the battlefield in every direction.
Within moments, the entire upper stretch of the wall was shrouded in thick, churning miasma.
Then, the death energy began to invade every living body it touched.
In the next instant, whispers echoed inside everyone's minds—voices low, distorted, and maddeningly repetitive:
Kill. Kill them all.
Only slaughter can bring you joy.
If you don't kill the ones beside you... they will kill you.
Because... this is war.
The whispers grew louder, faster—blending into an unending chorus of bloodlust.
Horrific images of killing and carnage flashed before their eyes, eating away at reason and sanity.
Until finally, someone snapped.
One soldier turned on the comrade beside him.
That single act was all it took—like the last snowflake that triggers an avalanche.
In the blink of an eye, the entire battlefield fell into chaos.
Human, beastman, transcendent—it didn't matter.
Every mind was drowned in madness.
Every blade turned on friend and foe alike.
They fought, not because they wanted to, but because something inside screamed that if they didn't kill, they would die.
Floating high above the carnage, Nikki smiled—cruelly, beautifully.
"Magnificent, isn't it?"
She tilted her head slightly upward, eyes locking on the fiery figure diving toward her from the sky.
"Don't you think so too... Mr. Trash?"
"You damned wretch!"
A furious voice roared back as a blazing knight descended from the heavens, his body wreathed in searing flames.
He swung his massive greatsword down in both hands, and from its edge burst a blinding wave of fire—a single slash so immense it split the air.
The fiery sword beam tore through Nikki's body, cleaving her cleanly in two.
Then, still surging with power, it crashed into the wall behind her, exploding outward in a sweeping tide of molten flame that engulfed everything below.
"Did... I get her?"
The knight's expression was grim.
He watched as Nikki's bisected form drifted in the air.
To deliver that blow, he'd taken a strike from his own opponent and pulled away, racing here through injury and pain to unleash a full-powered attack.
It had drained nearly everything he had left.
But—
"It seems Mr. Trash's attacks are as soft as ever."
The mocking voice came from behind him.
The knight's eyes went wide—he spun, slashing with all his might.
Nothing.
"Ah, I forgot to mention..."
Her voice came again, this time from his left. He swung once more—another empty slash.
"[Supreme War Magic: Immortal Army Soul].
Wherever my army stands, my shadows may also stand.
Tell me, from what moment did you assume I'd simply stand still and let you strike me?"
"You... damn... monster!"
The knight roared, hacking at every direction the voice came from until it finally went silent.
Breathing heavily, he landed on the wall's surface, exhausted.
He turned his attention back to the enemy soldiers—those beastmen who'd managed to reach the top.
He raised his sword to cut them down—
"Mr. Trash... are you giving up already?"
The voice whispered right into his ear.
His blood froze.
He almost reacted—almost swung toward the sound—but then he remembered what she'd said.
If he attacked the wrong direction, he'd waste what little fighting energy he had left.
His battle aura was nearly depleted.
If he burned the rest of it chasing her illusions, he'd have nothing left to protect the wall.
If the front fell now, the rear line would be exposed—and the Great Wall of Watchers would be lost forever.
No—he had to finish this one last strike.
He had to buy time for reinforcements.
His thoughts cleared in an instant.
He steadied his breath, gripped his sword tightly, and poured everything he had into one final swing.
The blade shone with fierce, fiery light, a crescent arc of pure destruction tearing through the air.
When it struck the edge of the wall, an explosion of flame erupted—
A roaring tide of fire cascaded downward like a molten waterfall, consuming everything it touched.
The beastmen who had just climbed up, the towering mound of corpses below—
All of it vaporized in seconds, leaving only crystallized skeletons behind.
"That... should do it."
The knight muttered weakly before coughing up a mouthful of blood.
His vision blurred, and his knees buckled.
He barely managed to drive his sword into the ground, using it to prop himself up.
"That strike... wasn't bad,"
came a voice, smooth and amused.
He looked toward the sound—Nikki again.
He'd forgotten she still had an illusion on the field.
He lifted his sword to strike—
But Nikki only smiled, showing her sharp little fang.
"Looks like our dear Mr. Trash isn't just weak in the arms...
He's a little slow in the head too."
"What—"
A wet sound.
The knight looked down, eyes wide.
A spear of pure death energy had pierced straight through his chest.
He tried to turn, to see who it was—
But the familiar, taunting voice whispered behind him once more:
"My, my... Mr. Trash, did you train all your muscles into your brain?
What made you think an illusion could cast magic?"
Her tone turned almost playful.
"Did it ever cross your mind... that maybe I never left?"
Nikki strolled up beside the kneeling knight, now pale and trembling from blood loss.
She leaned close to his ear and whispered softly:
"You see... the spell 'Immortal Army Soul' doesn't just create illusions.
It also lets me hide my true body anywhere within my army's reach."
Then she smiled, cruel and sweet.
"So really... you never stood a chance."