Scourge of the Undead 015

When the news reached the royal city, the crown prince finally felt a surge of panic. He gathered his attendants, looted the palace treasury, and fled on his own. Vivian, who had been imprisoned, was once again dragged into the streets by the enraged and fearful populace—they intended to execute the dark witch who had brought ruin upon the kingdom.

At that very moment, hundreds of necrotic fiends performed the ritual of the Undead Scourge.

Screams echoed through the city as skeletal horrors mercilessly hunted down fleeing residents. The kingdom’s remaining soldiers could not hold back the advancing tide of zombies. The fallen soon rose again, joining the relentless pursuit of the living. The royal city ran red with blood.

After a day and a night, the streets fell into eerie silence.

Vivian was still alive—though perhaps worse off than death itself. Countless vengeful wraiths prowled around her, circling as if waiting to tear her flesh apart and devour her.

A figure emerged from the horde of undead, cutting Vivian free with a bone dagger.

"Now begins your hell," came a familiar voice. Vivian looked up and saw the face she knew all too well.

Fang Zhiyi departed, leaving behind a city of the dead and a single living soul.

Vivian could not escape. Her magic had failed her, and the city gates were sealed from the outside. She was left to the company of these malevolent spirits, their whispers and venomous curses haunting her every moment of sleep. When she saw Rhein—now a shambling zombie—in the ruined palace, she let out a broken laugh before dissolving into sobs.

The undead soon spread their terror to other parts of the kingdom, leaving the area around the royal city strangely safe. The slums were rebuilt, and survivors gradually settled there, forming a new town. Its leader was a young woman named Lily.

For Fang Zhiyi, raising a successor was no challenge—he had far too much experience.

Rumors spread that Queen Lily had negotiated a peace treaty with the necromancer. The people praised her courage, for while the undead offered them protection, she provided them with food in return. Every time she ventured into that grim, decaying land, the survivors watched with deep admiration.

Though the undead tasked with maintaining order and distributing supplies were terrifying in appearance, the people found them fair—at least they didn’t demand bribes like the nobles of old. To the oppressed, the undead were far better rulers.

As the undead claimed the empire’s lands, neighboring kingdoms began scheming in secret. They would not tolerate a necromancer’s unchecked dominance.

In the 239th year of the empire, small settlements grew into large cities. That same year, Lily, now queen, proposed a vision of equality and shared governance. She issued a declaration of independence and launched the first rebellion against the undead, led by her newly appointed Captain Ross. The undead were pushed back, and the lands around the royal city were reclaimed—though the cursed ruins of the old capital remained sealed.

The neighboring kingdoms, sensing opportunity, grew restless. With the empire fallen, they saw the undead-occupied territories as ripe for conquest. Yet every incursion was met with brutal retaliation, some even losing their own lands in the process. They couldn’t understand—how could a fledgling kingdom outmatch them?

Human forces pressed forward, reclaiming more territory. The undead retreated, but in doing so, they overran several opportunistic nations, obliterating three kingdoms in their wake.

Lily’s army eventually liberated these fallen lands, and the undead were finally annihilated at the northern fortress. The bloodstained necromancer himself vanished without a trace.

A new nation was born—the Lily Republic. The old nobility was abolished, replaced by elected governance. Schools were rebuilt, offering education to all children of age. Those with magical aptitude attended the Academy of Magic, while others studied agriculture, commerce, and industry. The magic taught was practical above all else.

On Republic Day, Queen Lily, now in her thirties, stood atop a platform, gazing at the cheering crowd. After a long silence, she murmured, "He’s not coming back, is he?"

The now-portly Ross replied, "Most likely not. Brother Fang was exhausted."

"After all he did for this nation, we can’t even record his name in history," lamented another man. They were all orphans, their parents crushed by noble oppression, taken in by Fang Zhiyi—now the backbone of the republic.

"Maybe that’s what he wanted," Ross said, the image of that pale face flashing before his eyes once more.

The republic established a specialized branch of necromancy, though its spells were all modified by Fang Zhiyi. New necromancers were closely monitored, and summoned skeletons were put to work in construction and land reclamation. Some cities even retained undead peacekeepers.

The new republic spanned a third of the continent. With the undead’s weapons, blueprints, and mines, even lightly trained civilians could defend their homeland.

When foreign powers tested the republic’s might, they were met with overwhelming force. Magic-driven iron chariots, shielded by powerful wards, boasted twin cannons firing both conventional explosives and arcane projectiles. Even airborne vehicles, propelled by magic, dominated the skies. The republic’s military barely needed to lift a finger before aggressors surrendered.

The Lily Republic became a dominant power. Even the beastfolk ceased their raids, especially after the republic opened its borders for trade. Learning agricultural techniques from humans, the beastfolk extended an olive branch.

Over time, elves, dwarves, and other races flocked to the republic.

At last, the sealed gates of the old royal city were opened. To everyone’s shock, inside was a deranged old woman—gaunt, nearly bald, trembling at the sight of people.

The aging Ross studied the vaguely familiar face and sighed. Fang Zhiyi was a man impossible to judge.

He committed the most horrifying acts, yet propelled humanity toward progress and hope.

"General Ross," a soldier reported, "the northern division’s magic radar has detected an anomaly."

"Hm?" Ross took the offered schematic. The blurred image resembled... a skeletal dragon?

"Where?" He stood abruptly. "Take me there at once."

Years later, a girl with curly hair stepped off the magic flying carriage and pulled out her communicator. "I'm here. Oh, stop nagging—I'll report to the academy soon enough." She glanced up at the unfamiliar statue of a man standing before her.

"Yeah, yeah, I see it. That’s the statue Queen Lily ordered to be built on her deathbed, right? You guys always claim he was her lover, but that’s fake. Look, there’s an inscription here—uh, ‘Pioneer of Magitech.’"

"What does that mean? Probably that he was the first to apply magic to technology, I guess? Cut down on those sketchy tabloids—they just want to sell you health potions."

The girl walked away, her voice fading into the distance.