Gagiur, a city that should have been drowned in screams of agony. A steel metropolis on the verge of demonic conquest—now pacified by a handful of shadows.
“Out of my way out of my way OUT OF MY WAAAAY!!”
A figure charges forward, kicking demons aside with roars, performing feats far beyond human strength.
Demons soar through the air before crashing to the ground, dissolving back into mana.
The Guardian Dragon of the transformed woman races through Gagiur, relying on brute strength and absurd agility, sending demons flying. Its rampage through the frozen city is more demonic than the demons themselves.
Trailing behind Nidhogg, who revels in carnage, is Garm—effortlessly slaughtering stragglers after clearing her assigned sector.
“Nid! Stop wrecking everything!”
“Don’t be unreasonable, Garm! The King ordered us to secure the civilians’ safety! Lives come first—the city is secondary!”
“I know, but—hah!”
Mid-sentence, Garm tears the head off a beast-like demon, then dispatches another fleeing from Nidhogg’s path.
As they purge demons indiscriminately, their eyes land on a scene of shattered debris and crumbling rooftops.
There, surrounded by terrified civilians, stands Gurba—his face twisted in discomfort.
This devastation is undoubtedly his handiwork.
“Whoa… Gramps is wrecking the city too…”
“The old man’s still got his edge, it seems.”
Snorting in mock annoyance, Nidhogg strides toward Gurba.
“Old man, is this everyone who couldn’t evacuate?”
“Hm? Yeah, Dragon Girl. The rest are already under the guard’s protection near the outer walls.”
“Nifl finished her part first and headed back to the King, so our job’s done here!”
“What?! That cow-woman—! I’m going ahead!”
“H-hey, wait, Nid!”
“Let her go, Garm. They’ve always been like this.”
Gurba’s eyes crinkle with nostalgic warmth, startling the civilians.
Known for his stern demeanor, this gentle expression is something even Gagiur’s residents have never seen.
A young man timidly speaks up.
“L-Lord Gurba… Are these ladies your… retinue?”
The crowd stares enviously at Gurba, mesmerized by Nidhogg’s striking beauty.
But Gurba’s reaction is far from pleased.
“What? Don’t be absurd. You’d be wise not to say such things in front of them.”
“T-then…”
“…Heh. We are—”
“Ah! Wait, wait, Gramps! I wanna say it, I do!”
Garm swings Gurba’s arm like a child throwing a tantrum, making the civilians sweat nervously.
Such disrespect toward the Forge God—yet the old man merely chuckles.
“Very well. The King requested it—make it grand.”
“Yeah!”
Striking a dramatic pose, Garm flourishes his gray coat like a cape.
A chuunibyou stance so cringe it’d make the Corpse King faint for three days if he saw it.
“—We are Helheim! Alongside Irena-Will-Iron, the prodigy who drew the sword of trials… We shall purge the evil infesting this city!”
“…That’s all. We’re just Helheim—pawns acting on the King’s orders.”
[We are Helheim.]
The words freeze the civilians’ thoughts more than the self-deprecation ever could.
“Helheim…?”
“No way… Lord Gurba is part of that Helheim…?”
“But they saved us!”
“What the hell’s going on…?”
“Your confusion is natural. But lingering here is foolish. Head to the guards—the demons should be gone by now.”
Leaving the bewildered crowd behind, Gurba nudges Garm forward with only a warning.
Their orders end here. No explanations are needed.
“Whether the world brands us as evil… is for time to decide.”
“Gramps, that’s too complicated!”
“It means we live as we please.”
“Oh! Got it!”
Helheim, who saved Gagiur alongside the lord’s daughter.
Helheim, who corrodes the world in contrast.
These two truths alone will reach those who move the world.
No—strictly speaking, only those who know him will understand.
This is the first move.
The beacon announcing the Corpse King’s return has just been lit.
■
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT LOCALIZERMEERKAT.GITHUB.IO
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“GUH—AAAAAAAAAAAH!!”
The shrieking amorphous mass spews mana like a tantrum.
The endless power of the high-tier demon, Greater Demon, conjures illusions of new fiends—
only for them to crumble under the Corpse King’s blade the moment they materialize.
Desperate, it spawns demons near the immobile Irena as distractions—but even those are ensnared by chains from the Corpse King’s coffin and obliterated.
“You okay there, Count Earl? Running low on dead-comrade ammo yet?”
“Mockery—DIIIIE!!”
“Who’s mocking who? Using your allies’ corpses as shields… They’d never rest in peace with a shitty boss like you.”
“DIIIIIIIIE!!”
Bifrons’ body swells grotesquely, its form shifting with viscous sounds.
Now a towering humanoid that it could be mistaken for a giant,
it doubles its tree-trunk arms and raises them for a killing blow.
A direct hit would be catastrophic.
Irena locks eyes with the Corpse King, who glances back at her with ease.
Steadying her stance, she exhales—igniting her right eye with mana-flames.
“—Ready.”
With that, she takes a step.
Irena’s innate ability, [Iron Arm of Immobility].
In short, a “charge-type ability”—one that continuously amplifies her next strike’s power the longer she remains motionless after activation.
A “useless” ability in one-on-one combat.
But with the Corpse King as support?
That single strike evolves into a world-shattering blow—enough to slay even a Greater Demon in one hit.
(Even I think it’s troublesome to rely on setup like this… But—)
The man who believed in her grinned as if it were obvious.
“Ghk?!”
Bifrons, who had been fixated solely on the Corpse King, reflexively shifted his gaze—locking onto the crushing blow Irena had unleashed.
In her strike, he saw something irredeemably abnormal—so much so that he hallucinated himself being sent flying by it.
That attack must not reach him. She was nothing like the Corpse King, who relied on cheap tricks. The sheer presence of her power, capable of obliterating him in a single strike, forced him to anchor his swollen arm’s trajectory.
If their blows clashed, his arm would surely be annihilated.
But that was just a limb—a mere part of his body. As long as the core at the center of his liquid form remained unharmed, he could regenerate.
With that thought, Bifrons poured all his strength into his right arm—
“Too bad.”
BANG!!
It exploded with a deafening blast.
The coiled chains disintegrated the magical energy composing Bifrons’ arm, causing it to rupture.
The secret behind the chains that obliterated Bifrons’ demonic creations? Magic Disruption.
“Perfect compatibility. As expected of old partner.”
“G-G-G-G-GRAAAAAAH, CORPSE KIIIIIIIIING!!”
His near-death scream reverberated through the city, reaching even the watching citizens.
The people, who had been trembling in fear at the sight of the giant Bifrons, now held their breath as they witnessed the spectacle.
“Rena-chan, here!”
“Huh!?”
What the Corpse King casually tossed to Irena was a single swing of the Forge God Gurba’s hammer—
The proof of a mighty warrior, once embedded in the great tree Gagiur, long suppressing Bifrons’ resurrection.
“Let’s end this with that. Just swing it down with everything you’ve got!”
“W-Wait, hold on, you can’t just—!”
“—It’s fine.”
Overwhelmed by the momentum, Irena gripped the handle. A sense of revulsion and unease—feelings no ordinary sword should evoke—crept up her arm like a stinging pain.
But that was all.
Unlike the first time she held it, her body didn’t go weak, nor did her breath falter.
Her enhanced strength and magic, amplified by her unique abilities, had become armor protecting her from the weapon’s demonic nature.
“Go for it. You look cool, Rena-chan!”
“……!”
She hadn’t been seeking reward.
For the people. As the lord’s daughter, she had struggled to do what she could.
Yet, the pity and disappointment directed at her in the past had stung—an undeniable truth.
Just two words.
“Go for it.”
“You look cool.”
Such simple, ordinary encouragement and praise were enough to ignite her courage.
And then—
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