For those who walk the road alone.

Evan strolled leisurely before the battle lines, cradling a jar of honey in his arms.

The ones following closest behind him were not the deputy, but two half-Vampires who kept their backs bowed and their eyes fixed on his face, watching for the slightest change in expression.

One of them was Loyalist One, who had barely survived his encounter with Velarys that day.

According to his tearful account afterward, the madwoman had simply decided that she liked the shape of his hands and the face of one of his companions, so she had casually “taken” them.

Evan had always considered himself generous. Without hesitation, he had poured a precious Restoration Elixir down the man’s throat and restored his missing limbs.

The other attendant was Loyalist Two, whom Evan had only recently selected.

When Evan glanced around, Loyalist One was the first to grasp his intention. He immediately dropped to all fours and offered himself as a seat.

Loyalist Two was filled with regret. He berated himself for reacting too slowly again and missing another chance to prove his loyalty.

That was precisely why Evan insisted on having two attendants. Competition encouraged increasingly attentive service. With only one, complacency was inevitable.

Both armies had long since taken their positions on the battlefield. Their murderous intent hung so heavily in the air that it seemed almost tangible. All they awaited was a single order from Duke Severin Voss, and the bloody slaughter would begin.

Yet Duke Severin Voss, the supreme commander, merely sat before the battle lines, dipping a finger into the jar again and again before slowly bringing the viscous amber honey to his mouth.

His excessive calm seemed to heighten the stakes with every passing moment. The invisible pressure left many human soldiers atop the walls of Highfort Keep sweating and struggling to breathe.

Eleanor and Velarys, however, had worked with him long enough to draw a very different conclusion.

They knew that Duke Severin Voss was probably having another one of his “episodes.”

During the previous attempt to surround and kill Alaric, Severin had behaved strangely at a crucial moment, all because of honey. Combined with his current physique, it was easy for them to tell that something was wrong with him.

There could be no doubt. Duke Severin Voss had likely fallen victim to some vicious curse, or else paid a terrible price in exchange for immense power.

He needed to consume vast quantities of sugar at irregular intervals. Otherwise, he would grow weak and might even… lose his life!

The latter possibility seemed even more likely.

After all, everyone knew of the hatred between Duke Severin Voss and Alaric. What could possibly matter more to him than personally killing Alaric, except preserving his own life?

Surely a mighty frontier duke had not become so addled that he would abandon glory already within his grasp merely for the sake of a little sweetness.

Deep down, Eleanor was secretly delighted to discover such a fatal weakness in Duke Severin Voss.

She had been furious when he allowed Alaric to escape, but Alaric was now trapped inside Highfort Keep, and the fortress could not hold out much longer. Eleanor was certain that the credit for its conquest would eventually fall into her hands.

By comparison, her struggle for power with Duke Severin Voss would likely continue for countless years.

Seen from that perspective, discovering her opponent’s fatal weakness without paying any price was an extraordinary stroke of luck.

Velarys’s thoughts were considerably more direct. She licked her lips, an excited and dangerous gleam flickering in her violet eyes.

“He looks so adorable licking honey… I want to kill him right now!”

Meanwhile, at the heart of the entire battlefield, inside Duke Severin Voss’s mind…

“Stop eating! Give the order to attack! If you delay any longer, the sun will be up!” Duke Severin Voss’s voice was almost a roar.

“Why are you shouting?” Evan replied lazily. “When all is said and done, this is your war, Duke Severin Voss. Why should I go to the trouble of commanding it for you?”

“This is your body now too!”

“I don’t mind.” Evan smacked his lips. “As long as I have honey to eat, I’m perfectly content. As for power and strength, I think I already have enough.”

“Then let me take control. I’ll repay the time later!”

“For every nine shares of time you borrow, you repay thirteen. Interest compounds daily.”

Duke Severin Voss fell silent.

They might have an overwhelming advantage, but Highfort Keep would not fall easily. Completely breaching it would take at least a week, perhaps half a month.

With interest compounding daily at such an extortionate rate, Severin might as well surrender permanent control of his body.

Time passed, and the silence before the battle lines grew terrifying.

Evan had slowly worked his way through nearly half the golden honey before Duke Severin Voss finally spoke again.

In a gentle tone none of his subordinates had ever heard, he said within their shared mind, “I understand. You resent me for carelessly sending your dogs… your subordinates into danger. I admit I failed to consider the matter properly. But you already got your revenge when you ambushed Alaric. We now share the same body. If we continue retaliating against each other, we’ll only harm ourselves and allow outsiders to profit.”

That made perfect sense. Evan could not help nodding.

Seizing the opportunity, Duke Severin Voss proposed, “How about this? Name your condition. What will it take for you to help me? I won’t need much of your time. You only have to issue a few simple attack orders. You can spend the rest of it enjoying your honey in peace. What do you say?”

“Nine for thirteen…”

“Anything but that!” Duke Severin Voss interrupted through clenched teeth, struggling to contain his surging fury.

Fortunately, his roommate finally stopped insisting on those horrifying loan terms.

“You’re right. Since we share a body, we should cooperate instead of continuing to sabotage each other’s plans.”

Duke Severin Voss desperately wanted to roar, “You’re the only one who’s been sabotaging anything!”

But Evan’s attitude had finally softened, and Severin was not foolish enough to argue. Instead, he murmured his emphatic agreement through their mental connection.

“So I think I deserve half the credit for your accomplishments. His Majesty has some Book of Miracles about the Abyss, doesn’t he? When rewards are handed out after the war, get it for me to read.”

“That really is… half…”

The book was the bait Severin had originally used to entice the dark mage Malgas into helping him.

Of course, he had not made that promise without any intention of keeping it.

If the original plan had proceeded smoothly, he truly would have asked His Majesty to grant him the book as a reward.

Had the Otherdream ritual succeeded and grievously wounded Alaric, Severin alone would have claimed the greatest credit for capturing Highfort Keep. Requesting a single book would have been a trivial matter.

But now… three dukes were fighting side by side.

Even if they successfully captured Highfort Keep, it was easy to imagine what would happen if he requested the Book of Miracles. His share of the material rewards and territory would shrink considerably.

Still, he could only choose the lesser cost. It was better than letting the roommate inside him ruin the campaign and bring the Emperor’s punishment down upon him.

* * *

Evan beckoned the deputy over.

“Tell Velarys to send her Trolls against the left flank, with the rest of her forces following close behind. If possible, they should destroy the underground mana-transfer nodes… Have Eleanor lead her troops against the magic tower on the far right. It’s already damaged, so they should be able to… Take the Crimson Knights and divide them into three hundred-man detachments. Spread them into a skirmish line and support the assault on the main gate. Make it look like a full attack, but withdraw as soon as you make contact…”

So much for “simple orders.” By the time Evan had finished repeating Duke Severin Voss’s entire arrangement, his mouth had gone dry.

Watching the deputy leave to carry out his orders, Evan curled his lip.

“Our army is so much stronger. Why not just crush them head-on? Why make it so complicated…?”

Of course, Evan did not want Demonkind to simply win this war. Once Demonkind achieved uncontested dominance, it would pose a tremendous obstacle to his grand plans for the mycelial mat.

Honestly, though, there was not much he could do to help the humans.

He controlled only half of Duke Severin Voss. He could get away with a few small acts of sabotage in secret, but if he openly turned against Demonkind, Severin would choose mutual destruction before the higher ranks of the Veiled Empire even had a chance to intervene.

Evan had no intention of sacrificing himself for the sake of humanity.

For now, he could only hope the pink Puffcap’s father proved reliable. Evan was willing to offer them the fullest possible measure of moral support.

* * *

Goldvale City was a small city in the western central region of the Kingdom of Concord, with a garrison of two thousand soldiers.

Although it stood near Duke Brennus’s front, the flames of war had fortunately never reached it.

During the standoff, Goldvale City had become much like every other settlement in the region, serving as a temporary refuge for the wounded and a transfer point for military supplies.

If there was one thing that distinguished it from the surrounding cities and fortresses, it was the composition of its garrison. Of its two thousand troops, five hundred were Puffcap handlers and another five hundred were Beastkin soldiers. Human soldiers made up the remaining half.

The various Beastkin tribes were nominally part of the Kingdom of Concord and had long inhabited the difficult, underdeveloped jungles of the southeast.

The combined territory of every Beastkin tribe was smaller than any single duchy in the Kingdom of Concord. They were rarely invited to take part when the kingdom made important decisions, and Beastkin faced varying degrees of discrimination throughout much of the realm.

Yet when confronted with the threat of the Veiled Empire, they were apparently indispensable members of the Kingdom of Concord. Naturally, no conscription campaign would overlook them.

Unlike the humans, their communities were subject to mandatory levy quotas.

Tigerkin possessed tremendous natural strength, while Pantherkin were exceptionally agile. Both made excellent soldiers.

The only problem was that the conscripted Beastkin forces did not consist solely of Tigerkin and Pantherkin. Beastkin were a highly diverse collection of peoples.

Ratkin, Foxkin, Avianfolk… many of them were rather weak.

Some groups that could be considered Beastkin had even joined the Veiled Empire, such as the Boarfolk.

The assembled Beastkin troops were similarly varied, a motley force poorly suited to a battlefield where unified command and strict discipline were essential.

Still… they were better than nothing.

As commander of the Beastkin troops, Angela would have welcomed more soldiers of any kind, no matter how mismatched they were.

She did not feel safe at all.

News that Brennus’s army had collapsed, and that the Sword Saint had been gravely wounded or perhaps even killed, had spread throughout the city alongside the defeated soldiers fleeing for their lives.

The civilians abandoned their last illusions. They packed their possessions and fled in great numbers, hoping to find safety farther behind the front.

Goldvale City had neither towering walls nor devastating magic towers.

No one believed the city could halt Demonkind’s advance with nothing but the moat encircling it and no field army to protect it.

Even Angela did not believe they could hold.

Yet no order had arrived permitting the garrison to withdraw.

Desertions naturally followed.

A month earlier, these same men had complained about missing their chance to earn glory on the front lines. Now, in the space of a few days, more than thirty Puffcap handlers and over fifty ordinary soldiers had fled. Strangely enough, not a single soldier in Angela’s Beastkin contingent had deserted so far.

That was not because she was a better commander than her colleagues. Under the laws of the Kingdom of Concord, Beastkin soldiers received harsher punishments for desertion, and the consequences extended to their entire tribe.

As for Angela herself… unless an officer intended to defect or deliberately bring ruin upon their own family, obedience was the only choice.

All she could do was pray that the Demonkind army would continue pursuing the remnants of Duke Brennus’s forces and overlook an insignificant little base like Goldvale.

That was clearly impossible.

The Demonkind army had naturally chased Duke Brennus’s defeated forces eastward, but it had no intention of ignoring the easy targets along the way.

Several Demonkind units had been detached from the main force and sent racing toward the poorly defended surrounding regions.

They came for only two things: killing and plunder.

When Angela saw the Serpentfolk force appear in the distance, despair gripped her.

There appeared to be roughly two thousand of them as well, but they were clearly elite frontline troops, and their morale was soaring.

Her own soldiers were merely local guards, and more deserted every day.

The outcome seemed obvious.

As for the city wall… without specialized magic arrays to reinforce it, an ordinary wall’s primary purpose was little more than controlling access and collecting entry taxes.

Goldvale was an unimportant provincial city. It had never received the defenses reserved for major fortresses.

The Serpentfolk did not appear eager to attack. Instead, they established camp well outside the defenders’ range.

Angela suspected they intended to wait for the garrison to collapse on its own.

So far, the strategy was working.

“Viscount Nate, perhaps… perhaps we should withdraw!” one officer suggested, trembling. “We can’t win. Even if we somehow do, it’ll only bring more Demonkind down on us, and they may retaliate against the city for resisting! Wouldn’t it be better if we…?”

Before he could finish, Viscount Nate answered with his sword.

The officer’s head struck the ground and rolled to Angela’s feet. She swallowed hard.

Neither Angela nor the other commanders had expected the usually easygoing Viscount Nate to draw his sword without another word.

“Where would you run?” the gray-haired viscount demanded, flicking the blood from his blade. “Will you let your families be enslaved as punishment? Or will you surrender to Demonkind and become slaves there instead? Grip your weapons and fight, for your families and your dignity!”

“Yes…” No one dared openly oppose him.

That night, however, nearly a hundred more soldiers deserted, including the commander of the Puffcap handlers.

As a result, through no action of their own, Angela and one of her colleagues were promoted to Thousand-Captains. The Puffcap handlers were placed under Angela’s command.

The next day, just as expected, the Serpentfolk stopped waiting and launched their attack.

But once the battle truly began, events unfolded very differently from what either side had expected.

The Serpentfolk army did not commit its entire force to a reckless advance. The first wave, consisting of seven or eight hundred soldiers, spread into a skirmish line and slithered toward the city wall.

These warriors from the North were tall and powerfully built, with most standing over six and a half feet upright. Although their species had roughly the same potential for growth as humans, their physical attributes at the same Level were considerably superior.

Moreover, these troops were Serpentfolk elites who had only recently been tempered by war. Their average Level was substantially higher than that of the city’s garrison.

In the air, an Avianfolk scout carefully carried a Puffcap forward in his talons.

He did not dare fly too quickly. If he charged ahead carelessly and misjudged the distance, he would end up like the last member of his tribe, struck by a water arrow from a mage behind the Serpentfolk lines, forced into a rough landing, and then hacked to death.

Once he judged that he was close enough, he hurled the Puffcap into the mass of Serpentfolk with all his strength.

The Puffcap tumbled through the air, its two short fungal legs flailing wildly in the wind as it began to fall.

Boom!

A small clearing exploded into existence among the Serpentfolk below. Two soldiers were thrown off their tails by the blast, but their scales protected them well enough that they suffered only minor injuries.

Meanwhile, atop the city wall…

“Are you an idiot? Why did you detonate it early?”

“I… I thought it was close enough! If I’d waited any longer, it would’ve hit the ground and died!”

Angela silenced the arguing Puffcap handlers. “Stop fighting and send out every Puffcap we have! All of them!”

The woman serving as acting commander had never been a Puffcap handler herself. All she wanted was for these inexpensive familiars to wear down as many enemy troops as possible before the two armies properly engaged, even if they accomplished nothing more than exhausting them.

More than four hundred Puffcap handlers remained in the city. Once the order was given, nearly 8,000 Puffcaps surged through the open city gate at once.

Naturally, they immediately began trampling one another.

The Puffcap handlers were entering battle for the first time and had forgotten every tactic they had practiced during training. They simply repeated the order to charge over and over.

Fortunately, the plump Puffcaps weighed very little, so the stampede caused relatively few casualties.

At first, the sight of a vast white mass pouring from the city gate caused the Serpentfolk to noticeably slow their advance.

The spectacle of Puffcaps surging forward like a tide was undeniably intimidating.

Once they saw what was actually approaching, however, mocking hisses erupted throughout the Serpentfolk ranks, and the warriors accelerated again.

When the first Serpentfolk soldier reached the Puffcap formation, everything unfolded exactly as expected. He swept his spear through the crowd, reducing five Puffcaps to scattered remains in an instant.

The sight only deepened the Serpentfolk soldiers’ contempt.

A moment later, the black and white tides collided.

“Fire! Archers and crossbowmen, fire!” another Thousand-Captain shouted.

“But the Puffcaps are still down there…”

“Have you lost your mind? Forget the Puffcaps! Fire!”

A sparse rain of arrows descended alongside the Spore Cannon shots launched by the artillery Puffcaps on the city wall, indiscriminately striking both sides below.

The eight hundred Serpentfolk had good reason to be confident enough to launch the charge.

Most of the garrison’s arrows simply bounced off their scales. Even those that barely penetrated their defenses struggled to inflict fatal wounds. Whenever an arrow accidentally struck a Puffcap, however, it almost invariably killed the creature in one hit.

With the double advantage of species traits and Levels, the Serpentfolk would undoubtedly shatter the garrison’s morale the moment they reached the city wall.

The Serpentfolk vanguard commander, however, had already sensed that something was wrong.

His thick tail abruptly contracted, narrowly avoiding a steel pitchfork thrust at him from the side.

The weapon belonged to another Serpentfolk soldier. Realizing what he had nearly done, the warrior hastily forced an apologetic smile and pointed at a Puffcap darting away nearby, indicating that he had only been trying to strike the little creature.

While the fool was still attempting to explain himself, the commander watched another Puffcap dart up from behind and latch tightly onto the soldier’s tail.

The soldier immediately began convulsing as if struck by lightning. His body twisted uncontrollably before crashing heavily to the ground.

He was not dead, but on a chaotic battlefield, being completely unable to move was hardly any different.

The commander quickly skewered two Puffcaps attempting to approach him, then swept his gaze across the battlefield.

The same thing was happening everywhere.

It had not been obvious while the two forces were still clearly separated. Once they became thoroughly entangled, however, he was suddenly overcome by the helpless frustration of trying to stamp out a field crawling with vermin.

The small fungal creatures darted nimbly between the Serpentfolk’s towering bodies, finding passages everywhere.

Every Serpentfolk attack risked striking an ally. To avoid killing one another, the warriors were forced to hesitate and restrain their movements, drastically reducing the frequency of their attacks.

Yet they could not afford to ignore the Puffcaps.

Some discharged electricity, others self-destructed, and still others released toxins. The Serpentfolk were tormented from every direction.

They were valiant tribal warriors, but they were not elite troops trained to handle every unusual battlefield situation. The Puffcaps’ endless assortment of strange abilities left them struggling to defend themselves.

Most unbelievable of all was the Puffcaps’ lethality.

Blood continued to stream from a wound on the vanguard commander’s tail. He had suffered it moments earlier when he smashed a rapidly spinning Puffcap with his tail.

The creature’s sharp edge had sliced through his hardened scales with ease, leaving a remarkably deep wound.

He could not understand it. The humans on the city wall were clearly so weak, so why were their pets more dangerous than their arrows?

Should he retreat?

Because of these walking mushrooms?

“Cough, cough…”

As the Serpentfolk vanguard commander struggled with the decision, violent coughs suddenly racked his body.

Weakness spread from his chest through the rest of him. To his alarm, he realized that his grip on his weapon had inexplicably weakened by nearly a fifth.

He jerked his head up and finally noticed how many Puffcaps had died. A visible haze of spores already filled the air, hanging over the battlefield like a thin mist.

Only the gods knew how many different toxins were mixed among those drifting particles.

He raised one hand to order a retreat, but a piercing hiss sounded from the main Serpentfolk force behind him first, signaling withdrawal.

Although every Serpentfolk had suffered injuries, their retreat remained fairly orderly. They did not even abandon their gravely wounded companions, instead using their powerful bodies to support the injured as they withdrew.

Atop the city wall, an elated Viscount Nate tried to order a pursuit, but Angela and the other Thousand-Captain firmly restrained him.

Many of the garrison soldiers erupted into cheers of relief. They could scarcely believe they had actually repelled an attack by the ferocious Demonkind so easily.

Once the casualties were counted, they found that more than three thousand Puffcaps had died in exchange for roughly a hundred Serpentfolk.

Angela was not particularly pleased. Far too many Serpentfolk remained. Another one or two assaults would be enough to overwhelm them.

* * *

On the other side of the battlefield, the Serpentfolk chief’s expression darkened as he watched the battered vanguard return.

He had assumed this was a minor city he could seize almost casually. Instead, he had lost more than a hundred warriors without even reaching the city wall.

“Chief, we don’t have enough Antidotes!”

Most of the returning Serpentfolk displayed symptoms of poisoning to varying degrees. They were not part of Demonkind’s regular army, after all, and their logistical support was nowhere near as comprehensive.

“Give them to the worst cases. Those with mild poisoning will have to endure it!”

The vanguard commander had also been poisoned, but he did not claim one of the precious Antidotes. Instead, he dragged his exhausted body over to the chief.

“Chief, are we going to keep attacking?”

The chief did not answer immediately. He looked toward the Serpentfolk priest beside him, who had kept his eyes closed as he extended his senses.

The priest held his palms together as Mana circulated around him, closely connecting him to the scrying eye suspended high in the sky.

After a long while, he slowly opened his eyes.

“There are still vast numbers of white creatures gathered inside the city. I estimate that all of them are familiars of the same kind.”

After hearing the report, the Serpentfolk chief made his decision.

“Pass down the order. We’re turning west. I remember there’s another town in that direction.”

The losses infuriated him, but now that he had confirmed how costly it would be to take the city, he had no intention of letting his tribe members continue shedding blood there.

Demonkind had granted them permission to leave the army and operate independently as a reward for their assistance in the war.

If he sacrificed the tribe’s main fighting force for the sake of a single raid, it would completely defeat the purpose of acting independently.

Once the force began moving, the chief gave the priest a specific instruction.

“The next time we encounter those damned walking mushrooms, warn me in advance. The blood of our tribe members should not be wasted in a place like this!”

“They’re retreating? They’re… really leaving?” A soot-covered soldier leaned against the battlements, staring at the Serpentfolk force as it gradually disappeared into the distance.

A wave of jubilation swept across the city wall the next instant.

“We survived! We won!”

“Hahaha! So much for the damned Demonkind!”

“Did you see that? My self-destructing Puffcap blew a Serpentfolk’s tail apart!”

Everyone was cheering, but the Puffcap handlers were by far the most excited. The others had played a much smaller part in the victory, though none of them were particularly eager for greater involvement.

Angela leaned against the cold stone wall and released a long breath.

Only when her taut nerves finally relaxed did she notice that her sword hand was still trembling slightly.

Not long ago, she had prepared herself to die in battle. She certainly had no interest in experiencing life as a slave.

And now she had survived…

“Puffcap handlers are surprisingly useful,” she murmured.

Of course, by “useful,” she meant the potential of the emerging profession itself, not the particular group under her command.

These Puffcap handlers had demonstrated exactly what it meant to be new recruits entering battle for the first time.

They had no tactical sense, lacked discipline, and descended into chaos the moment they encountered the enemy.

Today’s victory had depended entirely on how troublesome Puffcaps were as familiars.

Nor were the Puffcap handlers the only ones to perform poorly. The archers and crossbowmen atop the city wall had been equally unimpressive.

Judging by the Serpentfolk corpses, fewer than twenty had actually died from arrow wounds. Meanwhile, a considerable number of Puffcaps had been accidentally killed by friendly fire.

Despite such chaotic coordination, they had still managed to repel a Serpentfolk force that had initially appeared invincible.

That alone proved the tremendous potential of Puffcap handlers as a military unit.

Angela suspected that the Serpentfolk might have fared better if they had disregarded everything else and rushed the city wall to kill the handlers first.

Clearly, however, even the handlers themselves did not fully understand their profession’s characteristics, much less their enemies.

In any case, they had escaped disaster.

For now…

“Is there any way to replace these Puffcaps?” Viscount Nate’s voice dragged Angela back to reality.

He was clearly already considering the city’s future defenses. Losing half their Puffcaps had left him feeling deeply insecure.

Angela and the other Thousand-Captain exchanged blank looks. They had no idea.

Even the commander who had originally overseen the Puffcap handlers had deserted.

With no other choice, they summoned several Puffcap handler squad leaders to discuss the matter.

“If you feed monster carcasses to the mycelial mat in the Puffcap Dungeon, it’ll grow new Puffcaps.”

“How are we supposed to return to the dungeon now?”

“What about the mycelial mat inside the city?”

“I don’t think that’ll work… I heard Puffcap production mainly depends on ambient Mana. The Mana concentration on the surface isn’t high enough.”

“What if we feed it more carcasses?”

“Where are we supposed to find monster carcasses now? Are we meant to risk encountering Demonkind units by searching the wilderness?”

“I don’t remember anyone saying the carcasses had to come from monsters…”

The discussion went back and forth until everyone fell silent at once.

Their gazes turned toward the Serpentfolk corpses outside the city.

As far as the garrison was concerned, using enemy remains to replenish their own fighting strength was perfectly reasonable. No one felt the slightest moral burden.

Every Serpentfolk corpse was collected. Even the heaps of Puffcap remains beneath the wall were carefully recovered. Everything was transported to the mycelial mat inside the city and spread evenly across its surface.

The bodies of the few Avianfolk who had died, along with those of the garrison soldiers killed atop the wall by spells and thrown spears, were buried elsewhere in the city.

Without Evan using Mana to accelerate the process, the mycelial mat decomposed matter rather slowly.

Angela, Viscount Nate, and the others visited it several times each day.

Fortunately, no other Demonkind units appeared nearby over the following few days.

On the first day, fine hyphae spread silently across the corpses like cobwebs, while scattered mushrooms began emerging around the edges of the mycelial mat.

On the second day, the mushroom colonies became noticeably denser. Several enticingly colored Delectable mushrooms even appeared among them. No one was willing to touch fungi nourished by corpses during the day, but late that night, two Beastkin soldiers with fewer reservations secretly picked them for a midnight snack.

On the third day, the long-awaited change finally came. Amid the pile of half-decomposed corpses, the rounded body of the first newborn Puffcap emerged. More nascent Puffcaps were already rising from the mycelial mat around it.

When a Puffcap handler successfully established a mental link with the newborn Puffcap, everyone present released a collective breath of relief.

Over the following days, newborn Puffcaps continued emerging from the mycelial mat in great clusters.

Before the remains had been completely decomposed, every Puffcap lost in battle had been replaced, with the final number even slightly exceeding their previous total.

With their fighting strength restored, the burden that had weighed on everyone for days finally lifted.

What they did not know was that the Mana produced by decomposing a little over a hundred Serpentfolk was nowhere near enough to create more than three thousand Puffcaps. Evan had naturally subsidized the difference.

There was no helping it. Goldvale City was the Puffcap handlers’ first appearance on the battlefield. The more impressive their record, the more attention they would receive in the future.

Evan was willing to accept a small loss of Mana. He could consider it the price of purchasing skill Proficiency.

Several days later, another Demonkind force arrived outside Goldvale City, though it was smaller than the Serpentfolk army.

After leaving dozens of corpses behind in a probing assault, it quickly withdrew as well.

For a long time afterward, no more Demonkind came to Goldvale City. Humans, however, arrived in abundance.

Goldvale had survived because it possessed Puffcap handlers. The surrounding towns had no such defenses and fell one after another to Demonkind raiding parties.

With the Demonkind forces dispersed, a few survivors always managed to escape whenever a settlement was captured. Some eventually made their way to Goldvale City.

Refugees and routed soldiers continued pouring in.

They brought little actual fighting strength to Goldvale, while placing even greater strain on the city’s already dwindling food reserves.

At the same time, Goldvale City was becoming a much more prominent target.

The Avianfolk responsible for reconnaissance had recently discovered numerous Demonkind scouts moving through the surrounding area.

Goldvale City had convinced its enemies to withdraw twice, but not because its defenders were stronger.

Either of those two enemy forces could have taken Goldvale if they had been willing to fight to the bitter end. They had retreated only because the losses would have outweighed the gains.

Now, with refugees streaming into the city, Goldvale’s “value” in the eyes of Demonkind was rapidly increasing.

Angela realized that it would not be long before Demonkind considered the city worth taking at any cost.

“In the worst case,” she said grimly, sweeping her gaze across everyone present, “several Demonkind units may attack the city at the same time.”

Besides Viscount Nate and Angela’s fellow Thousand-Captain, the council chamber now held a new face: Baron Morton.

He had escaped wounded from his fallen territory. Nearly every soldier under his command had been wiped out, and only his Diamond-rank strength had allowed him to survive.

“We need more Puffcap handlers,” Viscount Nate said.

“We already tested the symbiotic hyphae,” Angela reminded him. “The success rate is lower than it is inside the dungeon, but it can create new Puffcap handlers. The problem is that we don’t have any spare corpses left to cultivate more Puffcaps.”

Viscount Nate slowly traced a finger across the map before stopping at a mark west of Goldvale City.

Valor’s Cape, a small port that had once traded frequently with Goldvale.

“It fell several days ago,” Baron Morton warned. His territory lay nearby, and he knew better than anyone how that region had been lost.

Viscount Nate slowly shook his head. “That’s precisely why we have to send people there.”

“My Lord, you mean…” Angela could guess what he intended, but she still found it difficult to believe.

“We need bodies,” Viscount Nate said with terrifying calm. “More bodies.”

Baron Morton shot to his feet. “Have you gone mad? Those are human remains! You intend to use them to… to…”

“They’re already dead!” Viscount Nate suddenly raised his voice. “But we’re still alive! The people in this city still want to live! Without enough Puffcaps, we cannot withstand the next attack. When it comes, every last one of us will die!”

Baron Morton opened his mouth, but no rebuttal emerged. In the end, he lowered himself back into his chair.

Viscount Nate looked around at everyone seated in the chamber, his voice calm once more.

“The journey will take at least two days there and back… Who will go?”

* * *

At the same time, a large ship was sailing slowly along the coastline.

Only after the Avianfolk scouts repeatedly confirmed that no Demonkind observers were nearby did a hundred-person detachment quietly leave Goldvale City.

Angela and Baron Morton jointly led the group. Its members included Puffcap handlers and Beastkin skilled in reconnaissance, such as the Avianfolk. This was nearly the largest force Goldvale could spare from its already limited defenses.

Everyone prayed that they would return safely.

Every Puffcap accompanying the detachment possessed both mycelial tendrils and Mana Storage.

The former were necessary for transporting cargo, while the latter were essential because this operation would take them away from the mycelial mat. Any Puffcap without [Mana Storage] would starve to death before reaching their destination.

Fortunately, although Puffcap skills varied from one individual to another, those two traits were common enough that assembling a full group was not difficult.

A Puffcap handler’s effective command range was approximately 1,000 feet. Beyond that distance, the Puffcaps’ responses became sluggish, and they might stop receiving orders altogether.

The plump creatures were therefore jogging along both sides of the formation, staying close to their respective masters.

During the march, one Puffcap handler could not resist tapping the shoulder of the colleague in front of him.

“One of your Puffcaps has wandered into my group. It’s ruining my formation. Get it under control.”

Without looking back, the other handler replied, “Mine are all on the right. That one belongs to someone else. Why does it matter if they mix together? They’ll all charge at the same time when we encounter an enemy anyway.”

“It matters… Looking at a crooked formation bothers me.”

While they spoke, the unidentified Puffcap quietly dropped several paces back and disappeared among the group behind them.

Only after watching it vanish into the crowd did the complaining handler order his Puffcaps back into neat rows. He nodded in satisfaction.

Tsk.

Sharp-eyed Puffcap handlers were so annoying.

The Puffcap was naturally being controlled remotely by Evan through [Thrall Command].

There was nothing particularly remarkable about the creature itself, aside from its slightly more powerful Detonation. Evan was primarily borrowing its senses to observe the expedition.

In a small-scale reconnaissance mission like this, the value of Beastkin soldiers was fully displayed.

The advantage of aerial reconnaissance from the Avianfolk spoke for itself. The group had only been traveling for half a day when an Avianfolk scout flew ahead to Valor’s Cape and returned with information.

Just as Baron Morton had said, the port had fallen. The Avianfolk had circled it once without spotting a single living person. All he saw were charred ruins and corpses scattered across the ground.

Fortunately, he had not found any trace of Demonkind either. They had apparently stripped the town of anything valuable and moved on.

Aside from the Avianfolk, most of the Beastkin traveling on the ground were experienced hunters capable of analyzing the various tracks and traces they discovered nearby. Even the Ratkin, widely considered the least useful among them, were at least adept at sensing vibrations and could detect approaching cavalry in advance.

Despite those advantages, Angela remained tense throughout the journey.

It felt as if they were creeping through a predator’s territory, attempting to remove what they needed without being detected.

If any Demonkind unit discovered this hundred-person detachment, the entire group would likely be wiped out.

Perhaps a few Avianfolk would have a slim chance of escaping by air.

Fortunately, nothing unexpected happened before sunset.

As the last light vanished beyond the horizon, the detachment safely arrived at Valor’s Cape.

The once-prosperous port town had been reduced to ruins.

Even the embers among its burned houses had long since gone cold.

In the frigid night wind, the only sound echoing through the ruins was the wet chewing of monsters feeding on corpses.

There was no time to rest. By moonlight, the soldiers began driving away the beasts enjoying their feast and taking possession of their meal.

No one lit a torch or cast an illumination spell. Doing so would have been little different from announcing their location to Demonkind.

* * *

While his subordinates collected the “supplies,” Baron Morton stood alone beside a broken wall, repeatedly rubbing an exquisite pendant between his fingers. His family crest was engraved upon it.

As Angela passed, she heard him murmuring to the pendant.

“My little Lucia…”

“Lord Morton, what is that?” Although both of them were Diamond-rank, Baron Morton clearly held the higher social standing.

He did not conceal the answer from her. “It’s a Marlon Gem, commonly known as a Bloodline Gem. When worn as a pair by close blood relatives, each gem can sense the direction of the other across a great distance. My daughter has its mate.”

“Your daughter…”

After a brief silence, Angela offered softly, “Demonkind has taken a great deal from us, but as long as we keep fighting, there’s still hope.”

“It wasn’t only Demonkind.” Baron Morton gave a bitter laugh. “Commander Angela, do you know that it took me forty years to rise from an insignificant squire to the lord of that small, impoverished territory? Only then did I finally have the means to start a family and raise a daughter…”

“When the border crisis began last year, I donated seventy percent of my territory’s grain reserves. At the beginning of this year, I personally sent three hundred able-bodied young people to join the army. I thought that would protect my land and my family!”

He turned abruptly toward Angela, anger burning in his eyes.

“And what happened? When the army retreated, they didn’t even warn us! They sacrificed our lives just to buy themselves a little more time!”

Angela could understand Baron Morton’s anger. Goldvale City had also been among those abandoned.

At the same time, she understood the decision made by those above them. Sacrificing a small part of a group to preserve the greater whole was perfectly ordinary.

That was true not only in the Kingdom of Concord, but among the Beastkin tribes as well.

Those sent to fight in this war had always been the portion chosen for sacrifice.

The difference between Angela and Baron Morton was simply that she still had family in her tribe, making her sacrifice voluntary. Baron Morton clearly felt very differently about his own.

Understanding him was one thing, however. She still felt he was becoming overly emotional. Completing the mission had to remain their priority.

Angela was about to offer some advice when a soldier approached with a ragged human in tow.

“Commander, we found a survivor. He claims he fled here from somewhere else and isn’t a local.”

The moment the man approached, he dropped to his knees. He did not kneel before Angela, but before Baron Morton.

“M-my lord! Thank the gods you’re alive! The people who escaped said you stayed behind to cover your subjects’ retreat, and that Demonkind had…”

The man was visibly emotional. His relief at seeing Baron Morton alive was genuine.

Baron Morton looked down at the kneeling man and released a deep sigh.

“It would have been better if I had died then…”

A blade left its sheath the next instant.

Years of combat instinct sent Angela lunging backward, but the blade still sliced across her right shoulder.

“You…” Blood seeped between the fingers pressed against her wound. “Why?”

Baron Morton’s face twisted for a moment.

“He was mistaken,” he said hoarsely. “I wasn’t covering my subjects’ retreat. I was protecting my family, and… I failed. So I chose another path!”

As if to confirm his words, dozens of torches flared to life in the surrounding darkness.

Heavy footsteps approached from every direction. A tide of tusked Boarfolk soldiers in crude iron armor poured from the ruins and surrounded the detachment.

Baron Morton swiftly retreated to the side of a chief who stood taller and broader than any of the other Boarfolk.

“Papa!”

A young girl’s tearful cry rang out as she was shoved roughly into Baron Morton’s arms.

Around her neck hung a gemstone pendant identical to his. She clutched his clothes tightly and sobbed against him.

The Boarfolk chief grunted in satisfaction, spraying foul breath into the air.

“Not bad!” He slapped Baron Morton’s shoulder with a thick hand. “That’s how it’s done. Keep proving your value, and I guarantee you and your daughter will live comfortably in my territory.”

He turned toward the surrounded detachment and bared his tusks in a wide grin.

“The same goes for all of you! Drop your weapons, kneel, and surrender. Do that, and you live!”

Angela endured the searing pain in her shoulder and slowly straightened.

She looked at Baron Morton, who clung tightly to his daughter without daring to meet her eyes, and gave a scornful laugh.

“How ironic, Lord Morton. A moment ago, you were condemning the Kingdom of Concord for sacrificing you. Now you’ve chosen to sacrifice us in exchange for your daughter’s life.”

She drew a sharp breath and raised her longsword steadily in both hands, its point aimed directly at the Boarfolk chief.

“Surrender? You fat pigs stink too much. I couldn’t bear it!”

Clang!

The clash of weapons echoed through the ruins.

Angela was fighting the Boarfolk chief alone.

The Boarfolk soldiers had already surrounded the troops from Goldvale City. At first, two Avianfolk had attempted to break through the encirclement amid the confusion, but thrown spears pierced them the moment they took flight. They plummeted to the ground screaming.

The Boarfolk chief had not ordered an attack, so his soldiers continued to surround their captives without advancing.

The humans did not dare strike first either.

Everyone watched the duel at the center of the ruins, though its outcome seemed all but certain.

Angela constantly shifted her position, cold light flashing along her longsword. Yet every thrust she aimed from an unexpected angle was effortlessly blocked by the Boarfolk chief, who moved with an agility utterly at odds with his enormous frame.

The heavy spiked club seemed weightless in his hands, always moving into place to seal off every path of attack.

Angela, meanwhile, was struggling with the wound in her right shoulder, which tore open further with every violent movement.

Blood ran down her arm, gradually soaking half of her battle robe.

Her face grew paler, her breathing rougher. Every collision sent a tremor through her body.

Anyone could see that the Boarfolk chief was holding back. Like a cat toying with its prey, he was leisurely enjoying Angela’s futile struggle.

He easily knocked aside another thrust, laughter rumbling beneath his heavy breaths.

“Why be so stubborn? We may be different kinds, but aren’t we both Beastkin? Why throw your life away for humans?”

Angela used the force of the deflection to retreat half a step. Her longsword traced a guarded arc before her while more blood seeped from her shoulder.

“Look at your situation.” The Boarfolk chief waved his heavy spiked club. “Those human nobles treat you as a piece they can sacrifice whenever they please. They take the credit, while you’re the one sent to die. In their eyes, you’ll always be an outsider.”

He stepped closer, the firelight illuminating his scarred face.

“But in the Empire, strength determines status. With your abilities, you could earn far greater wealth and military rank than you have now. In Duke Xenophon’s name, I promise you’ll receive the treatment you deserve if you join us.”

“And I wouldn’t be an outsider among the Boarfolk?” Angela asked. “If you accept me, will you also accept my soldiers and my tribe?”

The Boarfolk chief scoffed disdainfully.

“Why concern yourself with the fate of the weak? If you want a place in the Veiled Empire, the first thing you must learn is to cast aside such pointless attachments.”

Angela answered with another thrust.

The gulf between their strength was ultimately impossible to overcome. The Boarfolk chief did not even need to dodge. He casually swept his spiked club sideways, and the tremendous force hurled Angela through the air.

“Foolish.” The Boarfolk chief shook his head, the last trace of patience fading from his eyes.

He advanced, dragging his spiked club through the ground and carving a deep furrow behind it.

The Boarfolk chief began attacking in earnest. Angela barely managed to block, but the relentless storm of blows drove her steadily backward.

Every collision numbed her hands. Weakened by blood loss, her body had already begun to sway.

It was obvious that Angela would soon be defeated, so Evan began considering how best to expend his Puffcap.

Turning defeat into victory was naturally impossible. Evan was controlling a single Puffcap, not Sable.

Still, this Puffcap specialized in Detonation. Used properly, it could inflict considerable damage. If the resulting chaos was great enough, perhaps one or two members of the detachment might escape.

Time was running short. Evan selected a group of Boarfolk javelin throwers and prepared to roll toward them before self-destructing.

A surge of Mana suddenly came from the sea.

The Boarfolk chief raised his spiked club to deliver the final blow to Angela, but a glimmer over the water caught the corner of his eye.

His first thought was that dawn was approaching. He was a Boarfolk, not a Vampire, so daylight would actually make it easier for him to fight.

Then realization struck him.

The sun did not rise in the west.

An arrow formed from pure Mana shot toward him without a sound, moving at astonishing speed.

The Boarfolk chief roared and barely managed to bring his spiked club around to block. The arrow struck the metal shaft and gouged a deep notch into its hardened surface. Even after being deflected, it retained enough force to pierce the chest of a nearby Boarfolk warrior with a wet thud.

Before the chief could catch his breath, agony erupted in his abdomen.

He looked down and saw Angela’s longsword buried deep in the side of his armor.

With an enraged roar, the Boarfolk chief swung his spiked club and smashed it into Angela. The Beastkin warrior was hurled more than thirty feet through the air, demolishing half a ruined wall before falling still.

“Damned cur!”

He tore the longsword from his abdomen and threw it to the ground. Blood immediately began pouring from the wound.

By then, the second volley had arrived.

Several more magic arrows streaked across the night sky like meteors, but this time they targeted ordinary Boarfolk warriors. Other than the chief, not one of them could react effectively.

Some arrows pierced throats, while others struck directly through hearts. Every shot was fatal.

In moments, nine Boarfolk lay dead.

“Who’s there?!”

The Boarfolk chief narrowed his eyes against the dim moonlight and barely made out the faint silhouette of sails on the horizon.

The ship was at least a mile from shore. From that distance, even the details of its hull were difficult to distinguish.

“From that far away… How is that possible?!”

The realization made his heart sink. They had no means of retaliating at such a distance.

He quickly recovered and roared at his subordinates.

“Kill every human! Leave none alive!”

He intended to endure the arrows long enough to complete the slaughter before reinforcements reached the shore.

He did not know that this decision had cost him his final chance to escape.

As far as he could tell, the ship would need quite some time to reach land. That should have been more than enough to massacre the detachment from Goldvale City.

Realizing that their lives hung in the balance, the Puffcap handlers ordered their familiars into a desperate charge.

The Puffcaps capable of releasing Hallucinogenic Spores were especially reckless. They flooded the area without regard for friend or foe, and a dense spore cloud soon engulfed the entire battlefield, temporarily preventing the Boarfolk soldiers from closing in.

To his growing agitation, the Boarfolk chief discovered that the constant interference from the various Puffcaps made the slaughter take far longer than expected. By the time they had killed half the humans, a considerable amount of time had passed.

During that interval, magic arrows claimed the lives of many more Boarfolk soldiers.

The Boarfolk chief finally began considering retreat, but as he hesitated, the situation at sea changed again.

More than twenty figures in silver armor were running across the waves, leaving trails of ripples over the water.

They bore none of the familiar sacred emblems, but the style of their armor made their identities obvious.

Church warriors.

The warrior in the lead moved with astonishing speed, leaving the others far behind. Beneath his helmet, eyes filled with hatred remained fixed on the Boarfolk chief.

The Boarfolk immediately understood that, wounded as he was, he could never outrun his pursuer.

He turned without hesitation, his muscles swelling across his entire body.

[Bloodline Surge LV7]

[Strength Enhancement LV8]

[Crushing Weight LV5]

With a deafening roar, he raised the spiked club in both hands and brought it down with all his strength upon the approaching Church warrior.

A sharper hiss cut through the air.

A magic arrow, faster than any before it, pierced the Boarfolk’s wrist. With all his attention fixed on the powerful enemy ahead, he had been unable to block it.

The Church warrior easily evaded the devastating but inflexible strike. Dirt exploded beneath his feet as he closed the remaining distance, his longsword blazing with brilliant light.

[Hallowed Smite LV10]

The sword’s radiance flashed, and the Boarfolk’s massive body split in two.

From her position at the ship’s bow, Hero Sophia witnessed the entire scene.

The longbow in her hands never stopped. Each time the bowstring thrummed, another Boarfolk was struck.

Priest Samuel stood quietly behind her, guarding against any unexpected danger.

Bella, meanwhile, used the Ocean Scepter (Incomplete) to accelerate the ship while staring longingly at the battle onshore.

She wanted to charge over and kill Demonkind too.

Amid the chaos, no one noticed a Puffcap quietly crawling to the dying Angela.

It gently shook its cap, scattering spores across her bleeding wounds.

To those watching, the silver-armored Captain of the Guard came racing across the waves, his holy sword flashing once before the ferocious Boarfolk chief was cleanly split in two.

Few noticed the magic arrow that had crippled the Boarfolk’s wrist at the critical moment.

The Boarfolk soldiers had already been tormented by the unanswered barrage of arrows from the sea, and their morale was in tatters.

With their chief dead, what little resolve remained collapsed completely. Despite their overwhelming numerical advantage, they scattered and fled in every direction.

Sophia’s personal guards showed no mercy to enemies who had exposed their backs. They gave chase, blades flashing as Boarfolk fell screaming one after another.

However, there were only a little over twenty guards.

Even with their utmost effort, they could not possibly eliminate more than five hundred Boarfolk fleeing in different directions.

The survivors from Goldvale City, who should have joined the counterattack, were sprawled across the ground in contorted poses, vacant smiles plastered across their faces.

The Hallucinogenic Spores released by the Puffcaps di