In truth, Harbert had made a perfectly rational decision. Setting aside Karnak’s true nature, he had walked a very singular path since his return.

He had vanquished countless necromancers and saved innocent lives during his days as a shadow hunter. After joining the King's Order, he always prioritized his subordinates, never hesitating to spend his own money on good food and decent lodgings. Whenever danger arose, he was the first to throw himself into harm’s way. That alone painted the picture of a model hero.

But to add fuel to the fire, he had even gone so far as to disregard his own safety to save the citizens in Harthol City. No matter how righteous a person may be, most ended up accepting that some sacrifice was inevitable.

But Karnak never compromised. He struggled relentlessly to save everyone. Faced with such a man, wasn’t it a dereliction of duty as a cultist not to attempt a hostage gambit?

He was the kind of naive fool who tried to save even strangers, let alone a comrade. He’d never be able to abandon one.

Of course, it would have been foolish to actually hold a blade to Milia’s throat and shout, "Drop your weapons!" This was the perfect middle ground. An angel of death imbued with overwhelming power was now imbued with the leverage of a living hostage.

They couldn’t abandon her, nor could they save her. It would leave them paralyzed, and eventually, forced to yield. Everything was going according to plan.

Flushed with excitement, Harbert shouted once more, "Angel of Death! Destroy our enemies!"

The angel’s divine song shook the forest.

***

Karnak clicked his tongue as he glanced between Harbert and the Angel of Radiant Wings.

This is why you don’t go around playing nice.

He had done work unbefitting him in Harthol City, and now here these bastards were, pulling this nonsense. He should’ve just killed the hostages and prisoners on sight. That would’ve discouraged the enemy from ever considering something like a hostage strategy again, and likely prevented greater future damage. Serati and Leven’s flustered voices echoed through the secret comms.

—Lord Karnak?

—What do we do now?

It was a reasonable response. Milia had become a hostage, so how could they not hesitate? Varos, however, was contemplating something else entirely.

—What should we do, young master?

In his extensive experience, the best way to handle a hostage situation like this was to just pretend the hostage didn’t exist. But doing that would likely make Lapicel snap, again.

—Should I knock her out first?

—Think you can?

Karnak’s reply made Varos grin bitterly.

—Probably not, right?

One misstep and the martial king would emerge.

—It might be easier just to kill Lapicel... though not really, come to think of it.

That would probably also bring out the martial king.

—What a headache. Intentions aside, that bastard really hit us where it hurts, young master.

—No kidding.

Maybe... it was time to ditch Lapicel. The group already had more than enough power. There was no real need to cling to her. The old Karnak would’ve made the call without a second thought.

But now... why was his heart hesitating?

Should I try to save Milia, after all?

But how? Her soul had already been completely fused with the Angel of Radiant Wings. Trying to separate her now would be like trying to unbrew a cup of milk tea. He would have to split the milk and the tea back apart.

Serati asked, voice tinged with regret.

—There’s really no way to bring Milia back?

Karnak shrugged.

—No necromancer ever came up with one. There was never any need.

—What about you, Lord Karnak?

—Hm?

—You seriously never once considered a way to restore a corrupted human soul, not even once? After corrupting so many of them yourself?

—Not even once.

The idea of restoring, instead of defiling, a soul? Karnak stroked his chin, looking genuinely intrigued.

—Huh. That’s actually kind of a fresh idea.

Even in the midst of crisis, Serati spat a curse.

—Unbelievable. What kind of a bastard human being never once thought of saving anyone?!

***

Karnak felt unjustly accused by Serati’s criticism. Surely, even he must have at least once considered saving someone, right? Even before the regression, it wasn’t like Karnak had never saved anyone.

Yeah... I saved Varos once... and... Varos again... huh? Come to think of it, maybe he didn’t have all that much to feel wronged about. Varos aside, I’ve literally never once considered saving anyone else.

The reason Karnak had found such a basic idea so refreshing was because he was, in every way, a true necromancer. To him, a human soul was nothing more than a resource, a material for necromancy.

He was like a skilled chef crafting exquisite dishes from quality ingredients. And what chef tries to reverse a finished dish back into raw ingredients? Not him. He simply strove to create meals that were tastier, more refined, more powerful. That was why this simple idea—something anyone else might have had—struck him as revolutionary.

But I’ve decided to give up necromancy now...

Serati, had she heard that, would’ve been scandalized. Give it up? You throw yourself at necromancy the moment you get the chance! But there was something she didn’t understand. From Karnak’s perspective, that wasn’t exactly wrong.

For a man who had practiced necromancy as naturally as breathing, this drop in frequency was practically the same as quitting.

Restoring a corrupted soul to its original state...

Separating a soul already fused with darkness was, by necromantic standards, impossible. But was it really? That truth was only the cumulative assumption of past necromancers. Would it truly be impossible for Karnak, the one who had reached the pinnacle of necromancy. Would it prove impossible for the very man who had once blanketed the world in death and darkness?

If his subordinates from the Necropia Empire saw him now, they’d surely scream and laugh. The Monarch of Death saving people? Impossible! Such a thing cannot be!

And yet, here I am.

A flicker of something strange passed through Karnak’s eyes. There was no such thing as impossible, only things believed to be impossible.

If even the Monarch of Death who once drowned the world in ruin could change this much, then maybe even tea and milk could be separated again.

***

A crescent-shaped flash sliced past Varos’s eyes. It was the angel’s downward strike.

"Hup!" Varos let out a sharp breath and met the blow with a silver flare of aura.

Two trails of light clashed in midair. The sky thundered as the atmosphere trembled. Varos was blown back by the shock, while the angel stood motionless. The difference in power was plain to see.

Varos clicked his tongue. The angel ignored him and shifted its focus. Leven had just moved in to attack from behind. In an instant, the angel turned in place and locked eyes with him.

Leven was shocked. That fast? 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

A human couldn’t rotate their body that quickly. Physical movement always required a pre-motion. But this angel twisted its body in the blink of an eye with just a flutter of its wings! With its divine singing, the angel thrust its lance toward Leven’s head.

He paled as he twisted to evade. His timing just barely saved him, but the danger hadn’t passed. Before he could recover, another strike came crashing down. Leven’s face stiffened. He had already overextended just to dodge, which meant there was no time to move again.

"Brother Leven!" Lapicel shouted.

At the last second, her purple aura blade was slashed toward the angel’s head. The angel twisted midair and diverted its strike from Leven. It deflected Lapicel’s sword instead.

She’d managed to save him, but the price was a thunderous blast that sent her flying. The gray-haired girl tumbled across the ground.

She didn’t even manage to land properly. Even though Lapicel had redirected most of the force, the remaining power had been overwhelming. Her whole body throbbed with pain, and she couldn’t move anymore.

Earlier, she’d accessed some of the martial king’s ability by briefly losing consciousness. But now, she was just the young Lapicel again. She couldn’t wield power beyond the purple-tier.

Just as the angel raised its radiant lance to strike her down, Varos leaped in and blocked its path. "Not so fast!"

He swung his sword in a diagonal arc with his silver aura blazing. The surging silver aura carved through the air with a downward slash. Then, it transformed and launched a dual-pronged assault from both flanks.

—Counter Force!

The cross-shaped slash deflected the angel’s attack. It was a perfect counter, redirecting the enemy’s strength back against them. It was one of the ultimate techniques of Dreltein, the Martial King of Kretas. With that, Varos pulled Lapicel out of danger, cold sweat beading on his brow.

Ugh, that was close, he thought.

As expected, neither Leven nor Lapicel was yet capable of facing the Angel of Radiant Wings head-on. If their goal had been to cut it down with overwhelming force, then perhaps they could have managed it, given their heaven-shaking talent.

But with Millia trapped inside, they had to restrain themselves, and the angel was far too powerful to go at it half-heartedly. In situations like this, what truly mattered wasn’t swordsmanship. It was judgment.

It was the ability to instantly decide when to strike, when to pull back, when to go all out, and when to hold back. And that sort of judgment came not from talent, but from experience. In that regard, both were lacking.

Normally, reaching purple-tier took over a decade of real combat experience at minimum. Even the greatest natural talent couldn’t skip the passage of time. Leven was undoubtedly a genius, but he had too little practical experience. Lapicel likely had plenty, but she couldn’t remember any of it.

If she knew what to do, she’d execute it better than anyone. But not knowing what to do at all? Even a genius would stumble.

Still... it’s not all bad. Catching his breath, Varos glanced sideways at the angel’s left flank. At least Sir Serati is pulling her weight.

***

Serati circled the outer edge of the battlefield with her blue aura blade. She knew that she couldn’t hope to land a meaningful blow on that Angel of Radiant Wings.

So I’ll do what I can!

She dove in. The angel turned toward her while singing its ethereal hymn. Immediately, she withdrew. The moment she pulled back, the angel hurled its lance of light at her.

It was fast. Too fast. If she waited to see it before reacting, she’d be skewered instantly. So she gambled and dodged before it was thrown.

She twisted her body low to the right and dropped down. Luck was on her side. The lance barely grazed a few strands of her hair. But the attack didn’t end there. A follow-up strike came hurtling in.

The lance altered its trajectory midair, slamming downward to cleave her skull in two. Again—too fast. This time, she couldn’t dodge in time. Serati calmly flung her aura blade forward while facing death head-on.

She threw away her sword, the very embodiment of a knight’s soul, just to survive. Then she retreated again, still just as calm.

The truth was, aura users could afford to drop their weapons. With aura, you could simply call it back. Most people just didn’t think that far ahead. Serati kept circling the angel after reclaiming her sword.

Even as she flirted with death, she kept her head cool. Right. I just have to do what I can.

Her objective was clear: Survive and hold the line. She would buy time for Karnak.

That look on that man’s face... it means he’s up to something.