The North. At the Barnesdale Village.

"Sound the alarm! To arms! Everyone who can hold a weapon, get out here!"

"The third line has been breached!"

"Then build a palisade!"

The blood-soaked vigilantes of Barnesdale screamed orders. Everyone—young and old—hauled stones and stacked wooden barricades. Some, lacking materials, even began tearing apart their own homes with axes.

But the invaders gave them no time.

"They’re coming!"

Beyond the palisade, a countless horde of undead came into view. Their main force consisted of Yeti Zombies, grotesque abominations formed from the rotting corpses of the snowfield monsters. The sight of them shuffling forward, bodies riddled with holes, rotten organs and bone fragments jutting out, was a vision of pure terror. Their once-white fur was either matted crimson with dried blood or had rotted away to black. They were joined by various other northern monsters, all twisted into zombies and skeletons.

The horde drew closer. Behind the crude palisade, the vigilantes and villagers held their breath, their faces taut with tension.

"Listen to me!" an elderly man cried out. "The difference in our numbers is too great! At this rate, even our children will die for nothing. We should fall back for now, and when the Grand Duke returns..."

An axe flew through the air with a sickening thwack and embedded itself in the old man’s arm. He screamed and collapsed.

"Even a veteran warrior, once a legend in his youth," a vigilante with a rough face and a black beard strode forward, "becomes nothing but an old fool in the end."

"Guh! You...!"

With a thump, the vigilante stomped on the old man’s face and roared, "A Northerner has his pride!" He scanned the faces of the villagers, his voice booming. "I declare it is worth more than life itself! We’ll all die someday, worthless and old like him, so what’s the point of clinging to this life? But once pride is broken, it can never be restored!"

He raised his axe high. "Let’s fight! Let’s all fight and die together! This is where we make our stand!"

"AAHHHHHH!"

The villagers raised their weapons, their cheers echoing his cry. They screamed to drown out their fear, shouting until their throats were raw. But on some faces, the terror was impossible to hide.

"The undead are upon us!"

"Shut up and shoot!"

Arrows flew over the palisade. Cries of ’Die! Die!’ tore through the air. A few undead fell, but against the sheer size of the horde, it was a meaningless gesture.

"Shoot! Keep shooting! What are you doing, you fucking maggots!" Leslie, the black-bearded leader, bellowed.

"Leslie, we’re out of arrows."

They had fired so indiscriminately on the front line that their quivers were now empty.

"Ah, shit! Dammit!"

Leslie raised his axe and vaulted over the palisade. "It’s come to this! Everyone, charge! We have no choice but to fight them head-on!"

The vigilantes screamed as they followed him, the villagers hesitantly forming up beside them.

"They may take our lives, but they can’t break the pride of the North! Let’s go!"

"AHHHHH!"

The black-bearded man and his remaining vigilantes gripped their weapons and charged toward the undead horde.

’Thump!’

’Thump!’

The ground shook with their charge. A zombie was crushed under a massive foot, and from behind it, a colossal undead creature stepped forward. The charging vigilantes froze in their tracks.

"...That’s!"

"It’s—it’s a named one! It’s ’The Gourmet’!"

The Gourmet, a massive bear monster rotted into undeath. It had earned its name by preying exclusively on the most comely-faced humans in the villages it attacked. At its appearance, despair washed over the warriors’ faces. In the years since it was first named, no one had succeeded in hunting it.

’Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!’

Unlike the other Yetis, The Gourmet charged on all fours, its rotten intestines dangling from its belly. It roared, its maw splitting open in four directions—a sight grotesque enough to shatter the mind.

"Fuck! Don’t you dare flinch! We are Northerners!"

While everyone else was frozen in terror, the black-bearded man gathered mana in his legs and leaped, bringing his axe down on the charging Gourmet’s cheek.

Pitch-black blood sprayed with a wet squelch. Hanging from his axe, which was embedded in its flesh, he laughed maniacally. "How’s that taste! You monst—!"

His words were cut short. The Gourmet swatted him with its other arm. His body flew about forty feet, slamming into the palisade where the villagers stood.

"Aaaaaaah!"

"Leslie!"

The dust settled, revealing the black-bearded man impaled on the sharpened wood. He coughed up blood, yet he chuckled weakly. "Ah, don’t worry... This is just..."

His gaze fell downward. A sharp stake from the palisade had pierced straight through his chest.

"Son of a biiiiitch..."

He went limp, the light fading from his eyes. He was dead.

"Agh!"

"This is fucking insane!"

With their leader gone, the vigilantes who had charged forward faltered, backing away. The palisade they had built now trapped them.

’Thud! Thud!’

The Gourmet, which had been on all fours, slowly rose to its hind legs. It was like watching a mountain range rise from the earth. It blotted out the sun, casting a black shadow over them all. Behind it, the rest of the undead horde surged forward.

It was a hopeless situation. In the face of such absolute terror, what meaning did pride have? They gripped their weapons, paralyzed by despair, able to do nothing but brace for death.

Just as The Gourmet’s arm descended, cutting heavily through the air...

With a deafening clang, a flash of white light erupted. The Northerners, who had squeezed their eyes shut, opened them to see a giant arm flying into the air, its claws glinting in the sun before it landed with a heavy thud. A knight in black armor strode confidently from behind the palisade. He wore a red cape, emblazoned with the symbol of the North.

"Ah!"

The villagers either gaped in awe or sank to the ground, their strength leaving them in a wave of relief.

"Aaaaaah! Aaaaaah!" Their cries, a mixture of elation and tears, echoed through the valley.

"The Grand Duke! The Grand Duke has come!"

"We’re saved!"

"WHOAAAAA!"

The shout seemed to shake the very mountains. The knight in black armor let his greatsword hang low, a faint, awkward smile playing on his lips from within his helmet.

’Thank goodness, they don’t know.’

Of course, he was not the Grand Duke, but Simon. The thunderous cheers from behind were deafening, a testament to just how revered the Grand Duke was in this territory.

’Alright then.’

The Gourmet, its arm severed, retreated as the rest of the undead horde swarmed forward. Not to be outdone, Simon stretched out his arm.

’Go, my legion!’

At his mental command, the undead of his legion poured over the palisade. The villagers didn’t flinch; they cheered and leaped for joy.

"It’s the Grand Duke’s undead army!"

"They’re on our side! We’re saved!"

The main force was the Deathland Zombies, his most numerous unit. The smallest zombie at the vanguard, wearing a tiny crown, rushed out.

[Let’s gooo!]

Prince leaped into the air and threw a punch. A deafening boom echoed as a hole was blasted through the Yeti Zombie formation. The rest of the zombie unit charged like a spear, ramming into the enemy lines. As the enemy formation collapsed, the northern undead tried to spill out to the sides.

Simon calmly issued his commands. ’Pier! Use the skeletons to evacuate the villagers far behind us!’

[Understood, boy!]

’Take the left and right flanks! Erze! Akemus!’

[As you command, Commander!]

[Departing, Young Master.]

The left flank was held by Erzebet’s Corpse Spider unit. Yeti Zombies recklessly leaped at her, only to be sliced apart by her webs. On the right, Akemus and the Skullwings swarmed. The flying undead, based on harpies, flapped their jet-black wings, grabbed zombies by the shoulders, and dropped them from great heights. Erzebet and Akemus gradually herded the undead toward the center.

’Good.’

With the villagers evacuated, Simon advanced with his legion, his mind at ease as he continued to direct the battle. The surrounded horde was being packed more and more tightly into the center. Now that he had them corralled, he needed a big explosion.

’Are you ready, Herseva?’

[Of course!]

Herseva, the lich who had become his staff, floated in mid-air, a female figure of sand perched upon it.

As Simon gripped the staff with a soft clasp, the sand figure dissolved.

’Here I go!’

’Golden Transformation’

Simon struck the ground, turning it to gold. Buildings erupted from the gilded earth, and mummies poured out.

’Swish! Swish!’

The mummies wrapped nearby zombies in their bandages and hurled them into the heart of the battlefield. Spotting the airborne zombies, Simon clenched his fist.

’Corpse Explosion’

The zombies soared through the air and detonated the moment they landed in the enemy’s midst. A dozen Yeti Zombies were blown to bits in a single blast. The tide of battle was turning in an instant.

The villagers watching from afar erupted in cheers.

"As expected of the Grand Duke’s legion!"

"Did he not bring his famed knights?"

"Nah, at this level, there’s no need for them! He must be testing out new troops."

The people believed without a doubt that Simon’s army was the Grand Duke’s. After all, who else but the Grand Duke could command such a massive undead force? A smile touched Simon’s lips.

’This place...’

It was different from Roc Island. Here, he might be able to grow tremendously as a Legion Commander.

-Kwooooooooar!

Though the tide had turned, one enemy was still rampaging, inflicting heavy damage on his forces. In the North, where danger ratings were meaningless, this was the named undead they called ’The Gourmet.’ One of its arms had been severed by Simon and Pier, but it had merely concentrated its Jet-Black into the remaining limb, enlarging it grotesquely as it swatted his zombies away. At this rate, his losses would mount.

’Prince, I’m counting on you. Just be sure to leave the core intact.’

[What? I can’t destroy it?]

’No.’

Prince clicked his tongue and darted through the zombies. The Gourmet was sweeping away his forces like flies when Prince’s small figure shot up before it.

[Take this!] he yelled, clenching his fist. [Hidden Card Punch!]

With a deafening roar that shook the air, Prince’s fist connected squarely with The Gourmet’s jaw.

A sickening crack echoed as The Gourmet collapsed from the impact, and Prince grinned.

[Don’t get cocky, you little brat! Have you even been a corpse for a hundred years? Huh?]

But before Prince could even land, The Gourmet swung its enlarged left arm, sending him flying with a thunderous boom.

’Oh.’

Simon was genuinely impressed. It was fighting on par with one of his Ancient Undead. The Gourmet rampaged even more wildly, struggling against the Corpse Spiders’ webs, crushing his soldiers, and eventually tearing the webs apart.

’Clank!’

Pier chuckled as he approached. [Shall I step in, boy?]

"Ah, there’s no need for that." Simon gestured. "No matter how strong it is, it’s no match for numbers."

Mummy bandages flew from all directions, wrapping around The Gourmet’s limbs. Skullwings showered it with cursed feathers from above, while Corpse Spiders sank their poisonous fangs into its flesh. Its movements grew sluggish.

’A chance.’

Simon then detonated the zombies clinging to The Gourmet with ’Corpse Explosion.’ The beast staggered and fell to its knees. Through the smoke, a small zombie descended, landing on its head.

[No more holding back!] Prince declared, appearing unharmed. He clasped his hands together and raised them high.

With a final, earth-shattering blow, Prince drove The Gourmet’s head deep into the ground. It couldn’t withstand the impact.

"Good work, everyone."

The other undead had been defeated as well. Once the area was secure, Simon walked over to The Gourmet.

[This one, are you planning to make it yours?]

"Yeah."

Since it was a naturally occurring undead, not a summoned one, it seemed possible to add it to his legion. Prince grabbed The Gourmet and laid it out properly. When he tore away the skin on its chest, a core, beating like a heart, was revealed.

Simon placed his palm on the core to begin the process.

The moment his hand made contact, the steadily beating core went wild with a high-pitched whine.

The Jet-Black throughout its body surged past the core’s limit, threatening to explode.

’What the—!’

[It’s dangerous! Step back, boy!] Pier rushed over and placed his own hand on the core. With his masterful control of Jet-Black, he skillfully suppressed the impending explosion. [Things are getting interesting,] Pier chuckled, channeling his own Jet-Black to stabilize the core.

’What’s wrong, Pier?’

[I will explain shortly. First, we must meet with the Grand Duke!]

When Pier removed his hand, The Gourmet, its core now stable, shot to its feet. Simon felt a strange kinship with it as a dark blue smoke began to rise from its body.

He grinned. "Welcome to my legion."

’Grrr!’ The Gourmet lowered its head toward him in submission. Simon stroked its head.

---

Meanwhile, in Dondra, Kalos North.

’Hee-hee-hing! Snort!’

Undead cavalry were spread across the battlefield, motionless corpses strewn between them.

[...Strange. This was too easy,] the Grand Duke muttered from within their black armor.

"Grand Duke! Grand Duke! There’s an emergency!"

[Huh?]

A messenger hurried over and knelt before them. "Reporting! Barnesdale village has been raided by a large horde of undead! The named one, ’The Gourmet,’ was with them."

The Grand Duke ground their teeth. [We’ve been had. What’s the situation?]

"The village was under attack right after I departed! I regret to say that we may be too late!"

The Grand Duke silently mounted their horse. [We move to Barnesdale immediately.]

"Reporting!"

Just then, another messenger on horseback galloped in, his head covered in snow from the speed of his journey. "I bring joyous news! Barnesdale...!"

The messenger trailed off, a look of confusion on his face.

[What is it? Report.]

"Ah, yes! It’s—it’s a report that the Grand Duke has successfully defended Barnesdale!"

A moment of silence fell.

[...Who defended what, now?]