The Scourge of Undeath 010

At the forefront stood a row of red-eyed "humans," each gripping an unusually long staff.

The plump lord quickly spotted a familiar face among them—though much thinner, the familiar features were unmistakably those of his son.

"Armstrong Evan Liberty Dan! What are you doing?!"

Nearby, Fang Zhiyi nearly choked on the apple in his mouth. So the kid hadn’t lied—that stone of a name really was that long!

The ghoul merely stared at him with empty eyes.

The lord sensed something amiss. "You—you’re an evil army! Guards! Guards!"

His castle still housed many guards, but at that moment, they were all frozen in fear.

"My lord, look at the sky," one guard stammered.

The lord raised his head. A massive figure circled above, resembling a dragon. A dragon? The lord was stunned. Weren’t such creatures supposed to dwell in the north? And that thing in the sky… was it just a skeleton?

The skeletal dragon let out a hoarse, grating roar, and the undead army below began advancing.

That day, news of the Neke family’s fall reached the royal capital. Rumor had it that their territory was now overrun with undead. The royal family was thrown into chaos, scrambling to convene the Church of Light and the Mage Association for emergency talks—only for more dire news to arrive.

The noble tasked with resisting the orcs had fled the battlefield, allowing the orcs to march unopposed, now dangerously close to the capital.

The gray-haired old king was frantic. "What do we do? A necromancer has appeared, and the orcs are at our gates! What do we do?"

Vivian watched her panicked father with quiet contemplation. So this was what Fang Zhiyi would have done if he hadn’t been imprisoned? Even now, she didn’t see him as a threat—just a pitiful fool who’d do anything for her. She offered her suggestion.

"Recruit the necromancer?" The old king hesitated. "No, no! Necromancers are the most vile of mages—they bring only disaster and ruin!"

Vivian fell silent. Staring at her father, she decided he was unfit for the throne—and her foolish older brother was no better. She resolved to write Fang Zhiyi a letter.

While the necromancer remained inactive, the orcs arrived at the city walls.

The Mage Association, the Royal Knights, and the Church of Light all deployed their forces to hold the line. For now, the high walls kept the orcs at bay.

Fang Zhiyi, meanwhile, watched the battle unfold through his familiar, Little Black.

"So many corpses… what a waste. Oh, now that’s a nice one."

"So they could’ve defended themselves all along, yet they still dragged the original host into helping them. Bunch of scoundrels."

Lily’s father, however, had a stroke of luck. His severe injuries kept him from joining the city’s defense, sparing his life. But an orc raiding party was now charging toward the slums.

The slum-dwellers fled in terror, none daring to resist. Yet the wolf-riders suddenly halted, sensing something amiss.

From the far end of the street came the sound of disciplined marching. The orc leader barked an order, then gaped in shock.

An endless tide of skeletons advanced in perfect formation, wielding broken blades and shields. Behind them shambled mindless zombies. At the center sat a man atop a chair woven from bones, carried aloft by skeletal bearers.

The stench of death—something orcs despised.

"You… what do you want?" the orc leader managed in broken human speech.

Fang Zhiyi waved a hand. "Don’t mind me. Just passing through. But…" He gestured behind him. "You can’t go that way." Not far beyond lay Lily’s home.

Those who hadn’t escaped despaired. One recognized Fang Zhiyi. "You’re Fang Zhiyi! You’re powerful—save us!"

Fang Zhiyi regarded him coldly. "Not interested."

Confused but emboldened, the orcs tested the waters by killing one human. When Fang Zhiyi didn’t react, they began their slaughter.

Yet every corpse was promptly hauled away by his skeletal minions.

The orc leader didn’t protest. He’d spotted the skeletal dragon lurking nearby—his instincts screamed that thing was beyond their ability to fight.

So the orc warband left as swiftly as they’d come, even leaving survivors in their wake.

"We’re saved!" Some wept with joy.

"Bastard! Fang Zhiyi, rot in hell!" A woman screamed, lunging for her husband’s corpse.

"Think you’ve misunderstood something," Fang Zhiyi said flatly. With a flick of his wrist, his bone-chair bearers turned away, while the remaining skeletons marched forward, blades raised.

As screams erupted behind him, Fang Zhiyi felt nothing. They all deserved it.

Passing Lily’s home, he saw her waving through the window—until her mother yanked her inside and slammed the shutters.

Fang Zhiyi sighed.

The orc main force learned of the necromancer’s presence. Though he hadn’t hindered them, their advance stalled out of caution, giving the defenders brief respite. But scouts soon reported the undead army had vanished.

So the war between orcs and humans reignited.

Without the necromancer’s aid, the capital’s defense teetered on collapse—until three archmages sacrificed their lives to unleash a forbidden spell, tipping the scales.

Corpses were buried where they fell; shattered walls were repaired. But this time, neither Vivian nor Rhein claimed glory. Without Fang Zhiyi’s contrast, Vivian was just another princess tending wounded, Rhein merely a foot soldier.

Fang Zhiyi replied to Vivian’s letter, claiming injuries prevented him from helping now—but he’d always be there when needed. Satisfied, Vivian wrote back. Fang Zhiyi’s prompt response reiterated his loyalty. Reading it, she smirked. Fragile necromancer. In her past life, she’d found his notebook detailing every necromantic spell and its toll. All necromancers were frail. And to unleash an undead apocalypse? That cost one’s life.

As the fires of war dimmed, refugees returned home.

Yet in the Mage Association, debates raged about that vile necromancer. Scouts reported his territory now radiated such death that even sunlight refused to touch it.