The symbol of the North’s victory. A black arrow flew from beyond the distant mountain range, crossing the peaks in an instant—

—and struck the Fourth precisely in the center of its chest with a thunderous impact. The force of the arrow sent its body crashing through the city’s buildings, pushing it back endlessly. It tried to stop with its one remaining foot, but the brakes wouldn’t catch.

[Keup!]

The Fourth frantically looked behind it. The Grand Duke’s castle was right there.

[Noooooo!]

A terrible crunching sound shook the air. The Grand Duke’s castle wall, built of alloy, buckled as the black arrow pierced through the Fourth’s core. The black storm it had been maintaining subsided, and the nearby undead lost their master, returning to ordinary corpses.

"The... the Fourth is!"

"Dead!"

A massive cheer erupted from the people of Vilkenos.

"Hail the Grand Duke!"

"Hail Ursula!"

Everyone celebrated. The warriors of the North ran to the fallen Kamibarez with worried expressions.

"...Thank goodness," she whispered, looking up at the sky with fading eyes. "Hang in there, Simon."

---

A gust of wind swirled the dust. Her long hair flying, the Grand Duke lowered the hand holding the Bow of Gale.

"Did it hit?" she murmured. Exhausted and drained, she tilted her head back and endured the strain. The fierce blizzard was subsiding, replaced by a whitish sleet. "There are no other variables. It’s all in your hands now, Simon."

---

Simon and Pier were descending deep into the new Abyss. But here, attacks were rare.

"There are almost no undead," Simon said, tilting his head. "Is this one a dud too?"

[Kuhuhu! On the contrary, I think the chances of it being the real one have just gone up.]

It wasn’t as if someone had cleared the way; the few undead they saw were frozen in place as if they had broken down. It was as if the Northern God was inviting them down. Simon willingly descended.

His feet touched the ground with a soft tap. Holding the Greatsword of Ruin aloft, he walked along the veins running through the Abyss.

’Found it.’

He saw a red membrane, just like in the first Abyss. And beyond it, he felt a sinister Jet-Black, more chilling than anything he had ever encountered. Simon’s throat bobbed nervously. He pushed aside the membrane and moved forward.

He froze.

Before him was a sight that made his blood run cold.

The air thrummed with a rhythmic pulse. ’Thump-thump. Thump-thump.’

Countless biological tissues pulsed like hearts. A network of blood vessels transported blood, Jet-Black, and nutrients to the organs, which then spread throughout the Abyss. It was a perfect restoration of the broken old Abyss he had first visited with the Grand Duke. But if that had been a defunct factory, this one was fully operational.

And in the center of this biological facility was a throne covered in gruesome, pulsating veins. Something was sitting on it.

’Could that be...!’

At first, he thought it was human, but it wasn’t. It had a thin, tall frame, and a white exoskeleton enveloped its body like armor. In the center of its chest was a monstrous eye, connected to a complex web of veins. Its head was also protected by the exoskeleton, and the face visible inside had peculiar, curved wrinkles. Its jaw was long, its snout protruded. It looked alien.

’That’s the Northern God?’

He could feel a Jet-Black that was the source of everything he had sensed from the other Abysses and the undead. But no matter how he looked at it, it was different from the descriptions provided by the past Grand Dukes.

[You have come,] a voice echoed. At that moment, the being’s eyes flashed as it spotted Simon. [The son of Lord Yona.]

The thing on the throne of veins stood up, and an overwhelming tide of Jet-Black flooded the space.

Simon’s eyes narrowed. ’What did he just say? The son of Lord Yona?’

[It’s hard to believe, even seeing it,] Pier’s lamenting voice echoed in his mind. [I had my suspicions, but this... How are you here?!]

Simon felt immense confusion and shock from Pier’s thoughts. It was the first time he had ever seen the ever-composed Pier so shaken.

[Zairos, captain of the Snow Demon Squad!]

At those words, a chill ran down Simon’s spine. Captain of a squad? The ’Northern God’ that had plagued the North for over a thousand years was actually an Ancient Undead from the 7th Legion?

[It’s been a while, Pier.] Zairos’s eyes flashed. The two undead clearly knew each other.

Simon felt his head spin.

"Wait, Pier! Zairos is—!"

[Yes.] Pier’s voice lowered to a grim whisper. [He is the very Ancient Undead that Richard ordered to protect the North.]

More than twenty years ago, on the day Richard met the young Grand Duke...

’—I’m going to annihilate the Northern God’s forces now. I’ll even leave my Ancient Undead behind to ensure they can’t make a move for the next five years. But I’ll only protect you for exactly five years.’

Richard had met the young Jin Arscalt, who had just lost her father, and promised to protect the North for five years. The Ancient Undead who took on that role was Zairos himself.

[Why are you here?!] Pier demanded. [You were supposed to have died fighting the Northern God...!]

[Died fighting. That is what the humans believe, I suppose.] Jet-Black flickered from Zairos’s hand, and the biological organs of the Abyss throbbed violently in response. [But it was the opposite. I went beyond Lord Yona’s command to protect the North. I eliminated the Northern God on my own... and transplanted its power into myself!]

He slowly turned around. A throbbing biological organ from the Northern God was attached to his back. A hideous eyeball squelched as it moved, staring right at them.

[I am the new Northern God now.]

The living organs pulsing throughout the Abyss burst with wet thumps and sickening thwacks, spilling out freshly mutated undead drenched in fluid. Their cries echoed through the cavernous space.

[Have you betrayed the Legion Commander, Zairos!] Pier bellowed.

[Betrayed?]

For a moment, Zairos’s eyes flashed with a savage light. A bitter cold erupted from his arm, instantly transforming into a greatsword over twenty-three feet long.

[It was Lord Yona who betrayed me first!]

Zairos moved in a blur.

’He’s fast!’

Simon reacted on instinct, swinging his greatsword. Their blades met with a deafening roar that sent Simon staggering back. A jarring shock shot up his arms, and his pupils constricted. He understood after exchanging just one blow.

’This bastard! He’s monstrously strong!’

The claim that the Northern God had no combat ability was utter nonsense. The clash of steel echoed through the Abyss as Zairos pressed his attack, his strength incomparably greater than that of the Three Brothers, who were supposedly the entirety of the Northern God’s combat power.

Simon grunted, stumbling under the force of the blow. A layer of frost was already creeping across the Greatsword of Ruin.

[Be careful, boy! It’s dangerous to be directly touched by the cold Zairos emits!]

Pier was right. Not only was the greatsword growing impossibly heavy, but the flow of his Jet-Black had slowed to a trickle. Simon gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the hilt.

’I’m counting on you, Kal!’

A low hiss escaped the blade as it turned a dark, murky green, droplets of venom coating its surface. At the same time, it lengthened, matching Zairos’s own colossal weapon.

"Haaah!"

Simon and Zairos swung their greatswords simultaneously. Their green and blue arcs of power collided, rocking the Abyss with a series of deafening explosions. Venom and frost clashed, hissing as they simultaneously froze and melted in a shower of green and blue sparks.

[You fall far short of my expectations.]

Zairos casually batted Simon’s greatsword aside and closed the distance, striking him with his free hand. The impact sent a concussive shockwave through the air, launching Simon backward. He slammed into the wall of the Abyss with a tremendous crash, crying out as he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

[Boy!]

[I’m starting to wonder if you truly are his son. As I thought, you cannot replace Lord Yona.]

Zairos let the sword of frigid cold dissipate into the air and made a motion as if to sit. With a wet, gurgling sound, blood vessels rose from the floor, weaving themselves into the shape of a throne. The moment he settled onto it, the Northern God’s power surged, and hundreds of tentacles, each tipped with a single eye, slithered up from the walls, ceiling, and floor.

[If I kill the son—] Seated on his throne, he raised an arm. [—Lord Yona will have no choice but to come here. Am I wrong?]

The Abyss rumbled and gurgled in response. The tentacles shot forward, and the waiting undead charged.

"What is all this nonsense you’ve been spouting?!"

Simon stomped hard on the ground and twisted at his waist. He swung the greatsword with all his might, unleashing a silver slash that tore through the air, cutting down tentacles and undead alike. Zairos, still seated, simply raised an arm, and the floor rose like a wall to block the attack.

"Explain yourself!" Simon demanded, readjusting his grip and pointing the greatsword at Zairos. "Why is my father a traitor? What do you mean you’ll kill me to lure him to the North? Is this all for revenge?"

Zairos rested an elbow on his throne, interlaced his fingers, and propped up his chin.

[Is there any need for me to answer?]

"There is," Simon said, his voice as cold as ice. "I am Simon Polentia, son of Richard Polentia. I am also the current 7th Legion Commander. If you belonged to my father..." Simon’s eyes flashed. "Then you belong to me."

[Hahahahahahaha!]

Zairos shook with laughter.

[How arrogant for one whose only merit is inheriting his blood! And a bastard mixed with such tainted blood at that!]

"I’m not just saying it," Simon growled. "If it’s my father’s legacy, I will take it. And by that same token, I will bear the burden of his sins."

[A mere son like you? You cannot replace even a speck of Lord Yona!] Zairos raised his arm again, and the power of the Northern God began to stir. [The only one I want is Lord Yona!]

Countless tentacles rose with a series of swooshes, and undead appeared from all directions.

[If an Ancient Undead’s mind is distorted, conversation is fundamentally meaningless, boy!] Pier’s voice rang out.

’But it’s a Legion Commander’s job to handle Ancient Undead like this. I have to make it work.’

[Khahaha! From the looks of it, Zairos may be claiming he’s the Northern God, but I think he’s almost completely controlled by it.]

’I agree.’

Simon pulled back the Greatsword of Ruin, his resolve hardening. He had two goals.

’I will take Zairos and liberate the North.’

Though he declared it confidently, Simon was reaching his limit. He had expended too much Jet-Black and stamina just getting here. He hadn’t slept properly, and the fatigue from camping in the bitter cold had accumulated. And Zairos, having acquired the power of the Northern God, was an opponent far too powerful for Simon to handle alone.

Acknowledging that fact...

’Vwoom!’

Simon opened a subspace. It was time for the weapon he had saved until the very end.

A golden flag fluttered into existence.

Zairos’s expression twisted viciously. Simon lowered his stance, holding the Greatsword of Ruin in his right hand and the golden flag in his left.

"There’s no time. Let’s settle this here, Zairos."