The Lonely Warrior

The pale, withered bone bird soared high into the sky.

Under Xu Xi's control,

it flew upward at a steady, unhurried pace.

Dark clouds churned, lifeless and heavy, merging with the pitch-black sun until no distinction could be made.

Only the faintest outline of an abyssal orb could be glimpsed within.

A thousand years ago, the sun and moon of the wizards' world had been normal—until the erosion of the Netherworld twisted them into the black sun and blood moon seen today.

This was a sign of the world's march toward death.

"This height should suffice," Xu Xi thought, halting the undead bone bird's ascent and maintaining a safe altitude so Servia beside him could observe the land below.

From this lofty vantage, everything lay beneath them.

The world sprawled out in its entirety.

Fierce winds howled past their ears.

The sensation of swaying, weightlessness, disorientation, and unsteady footing—

all these unfamiliar feelings assaulted her.

It was an experience far more novel than anything she had ever known in her life.

The girl shrank back at first, but gripping the gaps between the bone bird's skeletal frame, she soon steadied herself and gazed down with calm clarity.

"This is…"

"Clawphire now…?"

The wind roared,

buffeting Servia's flickering soulfire.

What met her eyes was a scene of horror—twisted, jagged earth, grotesque forms jutting from the ground, reanimated corpses wandering aimlessly, and the living cowering in fear.

Death, terror, plague, darkness…

These were things Servia already knew.

Yet, the view from the sky was an entirely different experience.

With Xu Xi's aid, the girl glimpsed the land from above for the first time, gaining a stark and sobering understanding of the undead calamity.

That…

That was hell.

"How could it be like this…?" Servia murmured, her spirit crushed, unable to reconcile the hellscape before her with the cherished home in her memories.

The world had become this.

Clawphire had become this.

It seemed there was no returning to the past.

"Great Wizard, is the entire world like this now?"

The girl's voice was soft.

"Most regions are as you see—half-consumed by the Netherworld's corruption," Xu Xi replied.

The world was vast, and a few pockets of life might still linger, but such places were rare. Death and silence were this world's dominant melody.

Beneath the bone bird, the land was strewn with corpses, the undead roaming freely. The living either hid in remote corners or banded together behind fortified defenses, struggling against the tide of death.

"Servia."

Xu Xi's gaze followed hers, settling on two distant tombstones atop a small hill.

He asked, "Even so, do you still wish to stay?"

"Yes, Great Wizard."

The answer came as expected—firm and resolute.

Her face, now ghastly pale, her body reduced to bone, yet her actions spoke louder than words.

"I will take my parents' place and protect every last person in Clawphire."

Her voice was lost to the wind,

but Xu Xi heard it clearly—the unwavering conviction in her words.

…

[To protect others, to cling to the past—for Servia, such things were undoubtedly heavy burdens.]

[Especially in a world doomed to ruin.]

[Her efforts seemed little more than a beautiful dream destined to shatter.]

[There were countless arguments he could use to dissuade her, to make her abandon this futile struggle. But then he remembered his third simulation self.]

[He smiled, realizing Servia needed no lectures from him.]

[She was a seasoned hero.]

[Her faith was unshakable, her will unbreakable. All he could do was bless her.]

[After completing their flight, Xu Xi guided the bone bird back to the ground, returning Servia to the ruined mansion.]

[At their parting, moved by the hero's plight, he imparted to her a method to grow stronger—a versatile soul cultivation technique.]

[He believed it suited her well.]

[Servia expressed her gratitude with a courteous knightly bow.]

["May fortune favor you, Great Wizard."]

[Amid the undead girl's farewell, Xu Xi departed alone atop the bone bird, soaring toward the northern Aeoca Kingdom.]

[The Four-Ring Wizard Tower—the White Crow Tower.]

[That was his final destination.]

…

Xu Xi was gone.

A wizard's speed was beyond mortal comprehension.

In the span of a single breath,

the bone bird's wings stirred the air, conjuring a whirlwind that carried it beyond Servia's perception in an instant.

Only the lingering traces of disturbed wind remained.

"Rustle, rustle…"

The withered branches swayed, scraping against one another. Only after a long, long while did Servia finally snap out of her daze, tearing her gaze from the sky.

"The Great Wizard has left…"

Her voice was calm, tinged with faint loneliness.

She turned.

Pushed open the door.

Clad in heavy armor, the undead girl stepped forward, the rotted hinges screeching sharply as the door swung inward, the sound echoing through the desolate halls.

Isolated.

Cold.

"Will I be alone again from now on…?"

She did not enter immediately.

Staring into the dark entrance, at the murky gloom within, she suddenly found herself reluctant to step inside.

Before,

the lone hero had endured every hardship without complaint—marching through storms, curling up in the dark, silently purging the relentless undead.

Yet now, strangely,

after just a single month of companionship,

she could no longer bear the solitude she had once accepted.

"Wake up, Servia."

"You are the last hope of the Clawphire family. For Father, for Mother—you must stay strong!"

The undead girl steeled herself and stepped into the decrepit mansion.

It was nothing.

Just a return to the life she had always known.

If she could endure it before, she could endure it now.

"The Great Wizard was right. I'm still too weak—too weak to protect myself, too weak to protect others."

"I must become stronger."

Retrieving the cultivation technique Xu Xi had given her, Servia began studying it earnestly, delving into its methods.

Cultivation. Swordplay. Hunting the undead.

After Xu Xi's departure, the girl's life fell into a rigid routine.

Only occasionally, when thunderstorms rolled in, did she add a temporary activity—curling up, arms wrapped around her head.

"It's the hero! The hero is here!"

"Thank goodness, we're saved!"

"Monster! You're the one who brought these undead upon us! Get out, get out!"

"Drive this abomination away from our village!"

Within Clawphire's borders,

things remained as they always had.

Some regarded the "hero" with kindness, believing her a selfless savior.

Others harbored the vilest suspicions, blaming her for the death that plagued the land.

The undead girl did not respond.

She simply donned her armor, concealing her face completely, and silently cleared away the encroaching undead.

This was how she had always lived.

From the past, until now.

"Father…"

"Mother…"

"I met a good wizard."

Atop the hill, the hero crouched once more, curled against the two tombstones, motionless in the thick of night.

The heavy armor made her silhouette seem imposing.

And yet, somehow,

it also looked small.

Lonely.