The pitch-black demonfolk army finally retreated like a tide.

The entire battlefield became empty, all the more deathly silent, yet the countless mangled corpses and severed arms left on the ground, and the bright-red blood that had gathered into rivers, all spoke of how brutal this place had been.

Smoke drifted. Dark crows spread their wings. The demonfolk had retreated so hastily they hadn’t even had time to gather the bodies—many engineering devices hadn’t even been hauled away before they withdrew in a rush.

And long after they retreated, that pitch-black sun hanging in the sky, and the will upon that black sun, seemed to finally grow tired of this boring scene returning to calm—and vanished.

All things returned to peace.

Only then did Imperial soldiers on the wall finally dare to stick their heads out, cautiously observing outside.

"Those demonfolk bastards really pulled back?"

"Looks like it."

"It’s not a trap, is it?"

"With an army that huge, they can’t just leave whenever they feel like it. And they ran that clean—there’s no way they can pounce right back immediately."

"What scared them off was that black sun just now, right?"

"Looks like... yeah."

Many soldiers had only just gotten a chance to catch their breath in the bloody fight, and before they could even rest, they looked up at the sky again with lingering fear.

That gray, murky sky was empty again now, but it wasn’t only the demonfolk—Imperial soldiers were still shaken by that black sun that had hung on the horizon.

They couldn’t sense any Evil God aura, but the “black sun” itself was terrifying enough, especially # Nоvеlight # to people like them who were used to seeing a normal sun.

"A demonfolk trick?"

"No way. Who pulls a trick that scares off their own side?"

"Then... could it be something really...?" That soldier couldn’t help shuddering.

"What are you all whispering about!!"

All of a sudden, a furious roar cut off the soldiers’ murmurs.

A knight in bloodstained armor, still holding a demonfolk head in one hand, strode out and swept a savage gaze over the soldiers on this stretch of wall who had loosened up.

His heavy brows were raised high, like a great blade about to fall.

"V-Viscount Donick." Those elite soldiers who hadn’t even feared the demonfolk were trembling under this knight’s eyes.

"Are you that free right now? Since you’ve got time to gossip, why aren’t you hurrying up and cleaning up the battlefield?"

Donick barked, "Two sections of wall on the west side got smashed open into two huge holes. Get moving—haul stone over and patch it up. Who knows when the demonfolk will pounce again? If the wall isn’t fixed by then, I’ll use your flesh to fill it!"

"Y-yes!"

The soldiers answered loudly, then dragged their exhausted bodies away, rushing to continue the follow-up work after the battle.

Donick watched their slightly staggering backs. The fire in his eyes gradually faded, turning into deep helplessness.

He knew he was pushing them too hard, and he knew those soldiers were actually forcing themselves to hold on—mentally and physically, they were already at the edge of collapse.

But there was no choice.

The duke was badly wounded. The demonfolk offensive was fierce. Everyone in this Doronslei Fortress was forcing themselves to hold on. At a time like this, it was a contest of resolve and endurance—who would be the first to fail inside this meat grinder’s bloody slaughter.

And once that breath slipped...

It would probably truly be over.

"I don’t know when the Empire’s reinforcements are going to arrive. At this rate, we really won’t be able to hold out much longer."

Donick shook his head, then, with a disgusted expression, tossed the head of that high-ranking demonfolk aside.

This had been a demon general—powerful, the leader of the demonfolk vanguard that had just assaulted the walls—but Donick didn’t even have the mood to take the head to claim credit.

Because he understood: if they couldn’t hold this fortress, then no matter how much credit he had, it would only be buried with him in the dirt.

Just like the countless soldiers the Empire had buried on this defensive line for hundreds of years.

"Report!"

Suddenly, one of Donick’s personal guards ran over.

"What is it?"

"Outside the city gate... someone is knocking."

"What? Knocking?"

Donick turned his head with a strange look, thinking his guard had to have taken a hit to the head in that fight:

"What kind of joke is this? Do you not know what kind of situation we’re in right now? A demonfolk army of over a million just pulled back—who would come knock on the gate? The corpses under the wall that can’t even be pieced together into one whole body?"

"B-but..."

The guard looked miserable. "Someone really is knocking."

"Bullshit! Believe it or not, I’ll charge you with spreading false battle reports. If someone can knock on the gate right now, I’ll eat that demonfolk’s head on the spot—"

While raising a flag with his own mouth, Donick leaned out and looked down below the wall.

He was ready: if he didn’t see any so-called living person knocking, he was going to kick this bastard guard’s ass hard and teach him to grow a brain.

But what he didn’t expect was...

"Someone really fucking is knocking?" Donick froze.

Doronslei Fortress’s walls were a full hundred meters high. The people standing by the gate below looked ant-sized from up here, but with Donick’s eyesight, he could still clearly see that there were, in fact, several people standing before the gate.

"Fuck, don’t tell me corpses really came back to life. Does the Church still have holy water left? Who’s going to splash a few bottles?" Even Donick, who was always hot-tempered, couldn’t help shrinking his neck a little.

"Th-that... the one knocking seems to say he’s the duke’s son, Muen Campbell."

"What about Muen Campbell? If Muen Campbell comes back as a corpse, we don’t splash holy water? Don’t just say Muen Campbell—if it were his father Lorne Campbell, at a time like this he’d still—wait, what did you say?"

Donick whipped his head around, glaring with his bell-like eyes.

"Who is it?"

"The one outside claims to be the duke’s son, Muen Campbell. Oh, and he also handed over this."

The guard presented a badge.

Donick silently took the badge carved with the Dragon-Slaying Greatsword Regiment.

After examining it for a long time, he suddenly slapped the top of his guard’s helmet.

"You bastard! Why didn’t you say that sooner!!"

"It was you, my lord..."

"Shut up! Hurry—hurry up and take me to welcome him!"

...

...

Outside the gate.

Ebul looked at that familiar, towering wall, yet for some reason felt uneasy.

From the moment that abnormal change began, he had experienced too much along the way—too miraculous—so much so that even now, he still worried it was all a dream.

That there actually was no Young Master Muen Campbell who had come to the Abyss to provide support—when these gates opened, what they would see would only be ruined walls and broken rubble after the demonfolk’s ravaging...

"You okay?"

The blond man suddenly turned back and smiled at Ebul.

"I-I’m fine!"

Under that warm-sun smile, Ebul’s heart immediately steadied. Those unrealistic illusions also scattered with that incomparably real voice.

What “actually”? Young Master Muen Campbell—the one who would bring hope to everyone—was standing right here, wasn’t he?

"Good. Then get ready. We’re going into the city in a moment."

"Understood!"

Everyone held a solemn breath, waiting for the gates to open.

But the moment Muen turned his head back, he heard King Yintuo’s voice transmission at his ear.

"You okay?"

"What?"

"Can you still stand?"

King Yintuo looked at Muen’s ramrod-straight back.

Unlike Ebul and the others, he could tell at a glance how weak Muen was right now.

Creating a pitch-black sun that could frighten demonfolk grand dukes was not, truly, just a simple magic trick.

Maintaining a black sun like that was enough to drain all of his mental power.

"Hah. I thought you were going to say something else."

Muen carelessly adjusted his collar, and the smile on his face became even more perfect.

"Relax. At a time like this, I’m not going to fall."

"Is that so."

King Yintuo closed his eyes and said nothing more.

Creee—

A shrill sound, like two pieces of scrap iron grinding hoarsely against each other.

After taking part in far too many slaughters and struggles, the gaps in the gate and the gears had long since been stuffed full with a mixture of blood and bone. The soldiers spent a great deal of effort before they finally scraped those nauseating remnants clean and raised the massive gate with the mechanism.

What entered Muen’s sight first was a squad of elite soldiers with strict discipline. Even after days of continuous hard fighting, their backs were still straight, their long spears still sharp.

And in the middle of that squad stood a big man with a face full of stubble. He was a head taller than the soldiers around him. Just looking at that weathered face, a ferocity that did not lose to a demonfolk hit you in the face.

"Hello. I remember... you’re Viscount Donick, right? One of Father’s deputies." Muen spoke first.

Not only because of the intelligence, Muen’s own memory also held an impression of this viscount—because as the Duke of Campbell’s deputy, he had often come and gone from the duke’s residence.

Muen remembered hearing Father describe him: brave in battle, strong, outstanding in military merit... if not for the suppression from noble factions, he probably would have been promoted long ago.

The only drawback was that his brain worked, but it didn’t work that well... Muen didn’t quite understand the meaning of that contradictory sentence.

"Hold it."

Faced with Muen’s polite greeting, Donick was cold and unfriendly. He looked Muen up and down and said icily,

"You’re Young Master Muen?"

"Yes. I’m Muen Campbell. Viscount Donick should know me."

"Don’t try to cozy up to me!"

Donick’s eyes widened as he snapped,

"I’m asking you—why did you come from our front? Don’t tell me you’re demonfolk in disguise!"

"I was taking a shortcut, so I jumped down into the Abyss directly from above. There are spatial turbulences above the Abyss, so it’s not easy to control the landing position. Viscount Donick should know that. Besides, I have the Campbell family badge—"

"That could also be something the demonfolk took after Young Master Muen was killed, using it to impersonate him!"

"..."

Muen fell silent for a moment, then asked, "What does Viscount Donick think I should do to prove it?"

"Simple."

Donick put on an official, by-the-book look and produced a round crystal ball.

"Demonfolk magic power is different from human magic power—it’s mixed with Abyss impurities. You need to pour your magic power into this to prove it. And I’ll warn you—don’t try any little tricks. Any little tricks absolutely won’t escape my bright eyes!"

Donick forcefully widened those bell-like eyes again, and those thick eyebrows lifted high.

"...Fine."

After a pause, under the supervision of Donick’s bell-like eyes, Muen took the crystal ball. From the meridians that were already dried up inside him, he forcibly squeezed out a wisp of magic power and poured it in.

Very quickly, a bright radiance lit up on the crystal. That radiance was pure, like moonlight, symbolizing that the magic power inside Muen was likewise extremely pure.

Of course, for a “magical genius” who only knew how to use a Light spell, the magic power inside him had not been stained by any other elements—so it was naturally pure beyond pure.

"Viscount Donick, look—"

"Ah, isn’t this Young Master Muen?!"

Donick suddenly lunged in enthusiastically, grabbed Muen’s “delicate little hand” with a big blood-smeared hand, and shook it hard.

"Don’t call me viscount—call me Uncle! Your uncle here watched you grow up. When you were little, I even held you. Look at you—two years and you’ve gotten distant."

Donick’s smile was brilliant, his manner intimate and fawning, heartfelt sincerity overflowing from every word—except those thick eyebrows twisting nonstop made it hard to feel moved.

"..."

"Ah, don’t be mad. Your uncle was just following procedure just now. Special times, you know."

"..."

Muen’s cheek twitched. He froze for a long while, then squeezed out the word.

"Donick... Uncle, um, look at the one behind me. Do you recognize him?"

"The one behind you?"

Hearing that, Donick finally tilted his head and noticed King Yintuo following behind Muen.

"Eh... now that you mention it, this person really does look kind of familiar. I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?"

"Hello."

King Yintuo pressed his hands together. "I am King Yintuo."

"Oh, King Yintuo... that famous Crowned One. I know, I know. As a martial artist only half a step away from that realm, you have to understand the seniors—"

Donick suddenly froze, those bell-like eyes widening again.

"King Yintuo?"

"Yes."

King Yintuo nodded. "Though I’m not some top-tier powerhouse, protecting Young Master Muen on a trip into the Abyss—and not letting him get swapped out by the demonfolk—is still something I can do. After all, among the eight... no, the seven demonfolk grand dukes remaining now, aside from the two old undead ranked in the top two, in a one-on-one, none of them should be my match."

"..."

"Um, Uncle—King Yintuo coming with me is temporarily kept secret to the outside, but before we came I already gave Celicia a heads-up. At your level, you should know, right?" Muen said.

"Hah... haha. I forgot." Donick scratched his head and gave a simple, honest grin.

"..."

Muen couldn’t help patting Donick’s shoulder.

At this moment, he finally understood what Father meant by “his brain works, but it doesn’t work that well.”

...

...

After that small interruption, with Donick leading, Muen finally walked through the gate.

Ahead was a deep pit that had been excavated to separate the first and second walls. And that majestic fortress embedded in the silver cliff face—now with nothing blocking it—came into his view even more clearly.

A heavy, thick presence rushed at him, mixed with blood, gunpowder smoke, and the stench of rotting flesh.

Muen, however, drew in a deep breath, carefully feeling the blood and fire contained within it.

Days of relentless travel, crossing more than half the Empire, risking a direct leap into the terrifying Abyss...

At last, he had arrived inside this fortress that Father—and even the Campbell ancestors of generation after generation—had once held with their lives.