Episode 165: Transformation
Hexa Thanatos, the Six Judges of the Underworld—chosen elites of Lugdura, one of the “Seven Great Calamities.” Their power reaches the realm of legend, surpassing even the Grandmaster of a nation’s knight order or the chief court mage, the Grandcaster.
However—
Leading the charge was Yernius, the mightiest undead swordsman, known as the “Knight Commander of the Abyss.” His abyssal strike roared as it bore down on Siegfried. Yet, Siegfried blocked it with his sword and spoke calmly.
“Brandishing your blade even in death, facing your enemy in silent resolve—a villain befitting a true warrior. I don’t dislike that.”
In that instant, Siegfried’s sword shimmered with crimson light and azure lightning, imbued with otherworldly power as it flashed.
A single slash, born from the fusion of his vampiric magic and his innate power, vaporized Yernius’s armor and blew away the miasma that formed his essence in an instant.
An unmistakable overkill. There was no need for such a devastating technique just to defeat Yernius.
But this strike was Siegfried’s parting gift to the “warrior-type villain.”
Immediately after, seizing the moment, Gal=Lexia, the “Governor of the Otherworld,” launched an attack.
Six arms and eight legs—each imbued with a curse that corroded anything it cut.
With those grotesque limbs, Gal=Lexia relentlessly assaulted Siegfried.
“A battle of sheer numbers, is it? …Fine, I’ll play along.”
Muttering this, Siegfried countered with a hand blade infused with magic. With just two arms, he matched Gal=Lexia’s onslaught blow for blow.
No—it was only equal for a fleeting moment. As if declaring the spectacle over, Siegfried’s barrage suddenly accelerated.
And then—he cleanly severed every arm and leg. For the final blow, Siegfried’s hand blade tore through Gal=Lexia’s heart.
“—■■■■! ■■■■!”
With an otherworldly scream of agony, Gal=Lexia crumbled into dust and vanished.
But in that moment, Vanshrat, the “Archbishop of Hell,” unleashed his magic. Siegfried was enveloped in hellfire that scorched even the air itself. As if in pursuit, Lugnavrel, the “Purgatory Dragon,” charged forward. The flames of purgatory within its massive form merged with Vanshrat’s infernal blaze, radiating an overwhelming malevolence.
“A dragon of flame, huh? Then I’ll answer with a dragon of blood.”
Siegfried deployed a magical barrier, enduring the enemy’s attack unscathed. Then, he invoked his magic.
What appeared was a crimson dragon formed of blood. It devoured the surrounding flames, sinking its sharp claws into Lugnavrel. And then—it unleashed the consumed flames toward Vanshrat.
“Gaaaahhh!”
The “Archbishop of Hell” let out a piercing scream.
“Burned by the very flames you created—a classic, but a fitting end.”
At the same time, Lugnavrel’s massive form shattered, collapsing in ruin.
In that moment, the legendary undead collective, Hexa Thanatos, was utterly annihilated.
But—the mightiest necromancer had been waiting for this very moment.
—Zash.
The sound of flesh being pierced echoed.
Something had pierced Siegfried’s heart.
It was—Lugdura’s hand. Having slipped behind him unnoticed, he had transformed his arm into a bone blade and thrust it into Siegfried’s back.
“Kah…!”
Blood spurted from Siegfried’s mouth.
“Even you cannot withstand this.”
Countless bone spears extended from Lugdura’s arm, each piercing Siegfried’s body from within. The tips of the spears glowed faintly white, and the flames of the underworld erupted.
“Burn eternally in the flames of the underworld—from within.”
Lugdura had perfectly discerned Siegfried’s weakness.
He always prioritized amplifying the presence of evil. And in the fleeting moment when that evil shone brightest as it fell, he focused all his attention.
Thus, the instant he vanquished evil was when he was most vulnerable.
Yet, even with his heart pierced, his body skewered, and burned by the flames of the underworld—Siegfried was smiling.
“Heh…”
Forcing himself to turn despite the spear through his chest, he swung his sword down at Lugdura. That single slash seemed to cleave Lugdura’s body in two—but.
“You can still move?”
Lugdura’s voice held no trace of surprise.
His supposedly severed body had already reconnected.
Naturally. Just before the strike landed, Lugdura had split his own body. Thus, Siegfried’s slash, capable of annihilating even immortality, never reached him.
He was the mightiest necromancer. He could freely manipulate the bones under his control. Naturally, that included reshaping his own body.
The reason he could slip behind Siegfried was because he had merged with the “Purgatory Dragon” Lugnavrel by altering his form.
“But—your bravado won’t last long.”
Lugdura spun, putting distance between himself and Siegfried.
In the next moment, countless undead crawled forth from around him.
The elite force second only to Hexa Thanatos—the Skuldain, the Hundred Calamities of the Bone Realm. A hundred undead, each capable of overwhelming a thousand-strong army, roared in unison.
“Heh… Hahaha!”
Even as the flames of the underworld seared his body, Siegfried shifted to counterattack.
He unleashed—Magic Meridian Strike.
Each strike pierced the undead’s bony forms, disrupting their magical flow. The Skuldain moved as if time itself had been stolen from them, their actions slowing drastically.
(—I see.)
Lugdura calmly observed Siegfried’s technique, discerning its nature.
(Even the undead, like the living, have a flow of magic. By precisely targeting it, he seals their movements with minimal effort… This man’s combat talent is truly exceptional.)
Destroying an undead’s body with slashes or strikes would only lead to immediate regeneration. Yet, an attack that eradicated their immortality required immense magical energy.
But with the Magic Meridian Strike, Siegfried achieved maximum effect with minimal magic.
The undead, their magical flow disrupted, had most of their power sealed within, their strength reduced to a tenth or less.
Weakened to that extent, the undead were effectively useless in a battle of this level—neutralized.
Of course, it was far from easy. It demanded an almost genius-level sense to pinpoint and strike the flow of magic.
(But that is your final struggle. It ends here.)
Lugdura quietly slipped his hand into his chest.
And then—he drew forth a blade of bone, the underworld sword Necrovalza.
(What I unleash now is a fatal strike—Necrorequiem.)
The Necrovalza was etched with the grudges of all those Lugdura had slain.
This strike, releasing all that resentment, carved irreparable ruin into the body and mind of its target.
Lugdura closed in on Siegfried, seizing the slightest opening.
And—without hesitation, he swung the fatal blade.
A white, malevolent sword flash tore through the air… and Siegfried’s body.
“…”
After the flash, Siegfried’s body split in two and finally collapsed to the ground.
No, it was already beyond reason that he had remained standing in that state—pierced through, burned by the flames of the underworld.
“Forcing me to use this technique is worthy of praise.”
Lugdura’s words echoed softly. Then, a hoarse laugh rang out.
“Heh… ‘Forcing me to use this technique is worthy of praise,’ huh… A line so fitting for a boss villain… Hearing it for real… I’m satisfied.”
“You still have the strength to spout such nonsense? Incomprehensible.”
Lugdura looked down at the fallen Siegfried. The resentment of Necrorequiem was eating away at his body, completely exhausting his vampiric regeneration.
But—suddenly, Lugdura realized a possibility.
“I see. You wanted me to defeat you.”
Siegfried’s power was overwhelming.
And because of that overwhelming strength, he might have been lonely.
Even if he found beauty in the “radiance of evil as it falls”—there was no one strong enough to let him shine in that same beauty.
That must be why he summoned Lugdura from the underworld.
“Exactly.”
Siegfried’s voice echoed low and calm.
But even if that were true, there wasn’t a shred of sympathy in Lugdura’s heart.
Emotionlessly, he thrust the Necrovalza into Siegfried’s body once more.
In that moment, Siegfried muttered something faintly.
“Halfway.”
That’s what Lugdura’s ears caught. But he couldn’t grasp its meaning.
Immediately after—the magical presence from Siegfried’s body vanished completely.
“…Dead?”
Muttering this, Lugdura glanced at Siegfried, still impaled by the sword, and turned to walk away.
He planned to use Siegfried’s body for necromancy later.
But for now, he needed to replenish his expended magic.
The method was simple. Slaughter the people of the capital and feed on their life force.
The King of Death advanced, ready to sow death across the world.
But—after a few steps, Lugdura’s feet stopped abruptly.
“What…?”
He sensed a distinct presence from behind.
An unsettling premonition, as if the one who should have fallen was rising again.
Slowly turning, he saw—a silver-haired young man standing there.
But his presence was entirely different from before.
His silver hair now reached his waist, adorned with black patterns on his neck and hands. His right eye, once blue, glowed red, while his left eye flickered with blue flames of magic.
And—around him swirled a vortex of dark, ink-like magical energy.
“Why?”
Lugdura fixed Siegfried with a sharp gaze.
“Your magic and life force should be exhausted. Why do you stand? And that form… What is it?”
“You don’t get it unless I spell it out?”
The silver-haired young man smiled.
“I told you from the start, didn’t I? I’m a villain.”
“…And?”
“The bosses in RPGs or action games, the formidable foes in battle manga… They all have that. Naturally, I do too.”
The dark magic swirling around Siegfried rumbled like thunder, shaking the very space around them.
It was as if it declared the fight was being reset—no, that the real battle was just beginning.
“In other words—my second form.”
