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The disheveled, faded hair and beard that hung down to his shoulders, along with the unmistakable signs of age etched into his face, hinted at the elderliness of the man.

But no one could dismiss him as merely an old man waiting for his time to die.

After all, he was a giant in every sense, towering even over the well-known Sir Churchill.

The old man’s name was Richard Felwinter.

A man who had reigned as the strongest in Iceland for decades.

The former Duke of Iceland and the current Duke’s deputy, commanding all knights under him as the Grand Knight.

Though his prime had long passed, he still ruled at the peak and had no intention of stepping down for his juniors.

At least not while he was alive.

Even this living weapon, Richard Felwinter, had his fears.

Naturally, anyone with emotions would.

Suddenly, a shout pierced through the chaos!

“Baston! Baston! Where is that blundering, fat old barbarian!?”

With the might of a battle hammer that resembled the head of a dragon, Richard crashed down, smashing the head of a mammoth, then wasted no time in grabbing and stomping the neck of a shriveled drake that lunged at him.

The sudden rise of the undead army surprised him.

Upon recognizing the scene of what appeared to be a giant resembling a colossal golem alongside several Grizzly Beaver monsters and their ilk, Richard immediately ordered a hasty retreat for the expeditionary force.

The expedition scrambled to dismantle their camp as if a crab had disappeared from sight.

Without hesitation, they abandoned all loot and fell back in perfect order.

The sudden withdrawal appeared to be going smoothly.

Until the undead horde struck their flank.

Even the best forces of Iceland couldn’t avoid ambushes.

Especially when it was completely unexpected and without a sound.

But they were guardians of civilization.

Elite warriors who had weathered countless trials for years, if not decades.

The turmoil was brief.

Without the commander’s orders, they quickly assessed the situation on their own.

They took advantage of the disrupted formation to counterattack.

“By the power of Tutatis!”

“Left! Left! Turn left, you crazy boulder!”

“Go! Now’s the time! Lower the wall! Knights! Deploy!”

“Brothers! Fight to keep our skirts from blowing!”

They charged into the fray.

They began to encircle and annihilate the undead horde.

“Baston! Why the hell is that fatass—”

Boom! An Ice Troll with its lower half smashed leaped towards Richard, propelled solely by its arms.

The attack from the undead, devoid of any intellect or instinct, lacked any killing intent.

The noise it made due to its size was lost amidst the surrounding commotion.

“Gah!”

But it mattered little to Richard.

From the moment the undead Ice Troll drew in its strength, Richard’s hammer was already swinging toward it.

“Where do you think you’re going!”

In a split second, it was struck by the edge of Richard’s hammer.

Stiff in the posture of swinging, Richard found himself coated in stinking fragments of the Ice Troll. His beard quivered in anger.

“You stupid, fat old fool! You’re ruining my beard!”

“Sounds like your lord is too loud, calling for his mother like a lost bear cub.”

“It’s your fault!!!”

Richard wielded his hammer upside down and smashed the ground. The rotting skull of an ogre that had been knocked down tumbled apart against the frozen ground.

“What do you mean the commander of the guards should calm down? The mammoth’s head? Want me to smash yours too!?”

A burly, muscular, bald man with a protruding belly, Baston, chieftain of the Vanguard tribe and commander of a local lord’s elite guard, approached, his checkered skirt blowing in the wind.

“Oh, the knuckleheads are managing just fine without me, so what’s the fuss? Fat little brat.”

“What? Brat? You arrogant, overweight orc…!”

Every time Baston grumbled, his stark white milky eye gleamed ominously.

“Ugh! Damn it, whoa.”

Fuming, Richard rubbed his face. He pressed on the veins popping on his forehead and repeatedly squinted at the empty air in front of him as if pulling it back.

Calm down. Calm down. I’m a good grandpa. I’m a good grandpa.

“We promised not to lose our temper over our adorable little bear cub.”

“Ha, I thought you’d give up on that in half a year.”

“Phew, peace of mind. Peace of mind.”

Naturally.

What grandpa wouldn’t want to be disliked by their grandchildren?

Especially when his daughter-in-law, who turned out like a miracle among the rugged men he raised, had brought a cute granddaughter.

Even the strongest man in Iceland, Richard, was just an ordinary neighborhood grandpa who adored his adorable granddaughter.

‘Though he’s high and mighty’ it still remains.

“Shut up. What’s the situation?”

“Can’t you see? The damage is minor. The veterans are all fine.”

“With all this whining, you’d have thought they died of famine.”

“Oh, a few of them are scratched up.”

“Apply some spit and holy water. Spirit isn’t something you can just bear!”

Richard waved his hands dismissively, scolding the unnecessary machismo of his men.

“By the way, by now, there should be some response from the fortress…”

The fighters at Afterglow Fortress were all elite individuals.

And among them, the best of the best had crossed the mountains as an expedition.

Therefore, they could not let their guard down.

They were beyond the mountain range.

As evidence, the expedition had suffered even a few damages.

An ambush that should have been avoided without any losses.

“Hm? Now that I think about it, how long has it been since we retreated?”

“We’ve been cruising in a straight line for three days, all night.”

“And still no signs of support from the fortress?”

“Could something have gone wrong?”

“Surely there’s a reserve force on standby at the fortress?”

Richard felt uneasy. No matter how many absurd and tragic incidents they had faced, worrying about potential chaos at home was unavoidable.

“…Ah, right.”

Baston, scratching under his mustache, snapped his fingers and reached into his skirt. He pulled out a small orb.

“Tada!”

A translucent orb with twinkling sparks floating within.

It was a modified flower orb specially made to send signals.

“…Have I been hit by some kind of hallucination magic without realizing it?”

“Would that work on someone fully armed like you?”

“…So why is it still intact now?”

“Well, I must’ve just forgotten.”

As previously stated, they absolutely couldn’t let their guards down.

Yet Richard felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.

Without thinking, he slapped Baston on the back of his smooth head.

Splat!

“Wha…! Are you out of your mind!? You forget to send the signal of all things!?”

“Ah, come on! Just blow it up now!”

“No, with a snowstorm coming in? You think it will be visible!? You should’ve blown it up sooner!!!”

“Fine, fine! I messed up!”

The exchange between the lord and the chieftain, the commander and the tribal chief, became increasingly informal and rude. However, the expeditionaries, familiar with the chaos, continued to wipe out the remaining undead while checking on their comrades.

Stalwart men—don’t care if their higher-ups are bickering.

However, a warrior with a skirt like Baston approached.

“Chief! Sir! Just stop fighting for a moment. The situation is all settled.”

By now, the two muscled, senile old men, who were tugging each other’s beards, let go of each other without waiting for someone to declare a truce.

“Oh dear, my son. This is how I live. I should die when I’m old. Oh dear.”

“Then just stay holed up in Coldon.”

“Now that’s absolutely not going to happen.”

Richard frowned.

“Why would I abandon the title of duke and run away?”

“…How on earth is this guy acting as a duke and playing the noble?”

“Because I’m just doing what my wife tells me to!”

In that moment, Richard, uncharacteristic of his size, shrank down, sighing in a voice of lament.

“Cough! Ah, Rosetta. My single rose blooming in the snowfield. Why did you go first, leaving this old man behind! My love!”

“Stop mumbling about that nonsense romance… for crying out loud.”

In the meantime, Baston had ordered his expedition to leave behind the battle scene and loot for recovery.

It was an order that would typically elicit objections from the expedition.

But not a single soul opposed it.

Those who had previously questioned the disposal of loot now understood.

Though the exact circumstances were unclear, it was an emergency situation.

Instead, they treated the injured and recovered the intact weapons.

The expedition dealt with a small number of casualties appropriately and quickly regrouped for their retreat.

“Phew, Richard. Could you stop crying before your sister-in-law jumps out of the coffin to see this sight?”

“Sniff. No way. Rosetta deserves to rest easy.”

While Richard was applying moisture from his eyes to his face to calm down, a relatively lightly armored Snow Elf archer approached, kneeling on one knee before him, but he waved his hand to stop him.

“Duke Your Grace, I report our return.”

“Hm, well done. And how is the situation at the rear?”

“Same as ever. No, they are actually increasing their forces leisurely.”

At those words, Richard frowned.

“Are they coming closer while not tracking us?”

“Indeed. Thus, the distance to the expedition is gradually widening.”

“A mere feint. Good work. Join back with your unit.”

As Richard lightly congratulated the Snow Elf and observed the scene around him, Baston scowled intently.

“Even if there are thousands of undead, with some being advanced, most are low-level. No matter how many they gather, they can’t breach…”

And as he turned his head, he locked eyes with Richard.

In Richard’s eyes, there was a glimmer of certainty.

“…How many priests remain in the fortress and city?”

Most of the priests from Afterglow Fortress had been with them.

The priests conscripted and hired from the city were with the expedition to Highland.

Baston instinctively slapped his smooth bald head.

“Whatever trick is being played, there must be insiders!”

“Whether it’s a traitor or an intruder, I don’t know.”

With the blizzard approaching, Richard commanded.

The speed of the retreating expedition increased.

*

*

*

“…Holy Water, you say?”

“Correct.”

Karem understood what holy water was.

Salt water created through a priest’s consecration ritual or by dripping a potent sacred artifact into it.

While its effectiveness varies by grade, it serves to purify and dispel various pollutants and curses, recognized universally as the best remedy against vampires, undead, demon tribes, and other monsters.

But why is there, of all things, this sacred transparent liquid appearing now? No one consecrated it, so who…?

‘Wait a second.’

What’s the method for creating holy water?

Pouring saltwater through a priest’s consecration or dropping in a powerful sacred artifact or relic.

The common denominator? Divine Power.

And Karem had constantly prayed until his successful production of meju and carried Skadi’s relic with him everywhere.

…Was the divine help (laugh) really divine help (真)?

Seeing Karem’s multifaceted expressions, Catherine seemed to reach a similar conclusion, feeling a sense of indescribable emotion and wearing a peculiar expression.

“You, just what kind of prayer did you make—no, let’s put that aside for now. There’s a more pressing fact.”

Catherine put aside the matter for now and turned her head to gaze at what was remnants of Rowan on the ground.

“Ridiculous as it sounds, this stew… holy water? And the fact that it dissolved in holy water means—”

“Vampires, undead, demon tribes, and other monsters.”

Wallace, picking up on Catherine’s lead, looked sharp and seasoned, just like an old eagle that had its territory invaded, upon hearing Gordon’s words.

“…Don’t tell me Rowan…”

“Seems he was an insider?”

“I have no face to meet our lord when he returns.”

“Well, at this rate, knowing who did this and how, as well as why, is more important than assigning blame.”

Gordon gathered Rowan’s priest robes and belongings and got up from his place.

Catherine immediately snapped her fingers to gather attention.

“Then let’s guide you to this Rowan fellow’s workplace.”

“Of course. His workplace also serves as the lodge. But before that—”

After establishing a heightened alert posture, Wallace then led a few soldiers and knights to guide the group to Rowan’s workplace and herb room.

 

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