The battlefield of Sagittarius Continent, once a clash between Life and Death, now suddenly twisted into something far more horrific.
The first tremors of the Death March sent every soldier’s soul trembling, but what followed shattered even the greatest commanders’ expectations.
All across the no-man’s land, the dead rose. Not only the corpses freshly fallen on today’s battlefield, but the countless bones of wars long past clawed their way up from the scarlet soil.
Rotting flesh, hollow sockets, skeletal knights, spectral archers—all clawed upward as if an unseen puppeteer had seized their very essence. The undead tide surged, but the horror did not stop there.
Within the Dead Faction’s own armies, necromancers and skeletal liches raised their staffs, roaring commands, trying to bring the new tide under control. Yet in the next instant, their loyal minions—ghouls, skeletons, revenants—turned upon them, tearing apart their own masters with merciless claws.
"Wha—?!" A lich shrieked in disbelief before his own bone legion impaled him upon rusted spears.
It was an absolute betrayal. Any type of undead risen within the Death law no longer recognizes banners, kings, or masters. Their allegiance lay only with that abyssal decree.
Even more terrifying was the cycle. Every being, whether living beings or dark beings that fell beneath undead claws, rose again, eyes glowing with deathly fire, immediately joining the undead ranks. Their numbers swelled ceaselessly.
The fragile balance of the battlefield broke in an instant.
On the other hand, the Giant War King’s eyes were filled with disbelief before boundless fury surged in his entire body as he rose from his colossal throne, a grimace carved across his menacing features.
At this moment, channeling all his pent-up rage into his war-axe, making it roar with radiance as he swung, the single cleave sending a shockwave that obliterated a swathe of undead.
Dozens of kilometers of corpses were pulverized into dust, the very earth ripped apart by the mana ripple of his strike.
However, it seemed...meaningless for the tide did not falter. Undead trampled undead, rising again, surging forward with no fear, no hesitation, no end.
"Hmph!" The Giant War King’s chest rumbled fearlessly, yet under his heroic mask, his arrogance faltered.
At that moment, two figures descended upon the battlefield.
The Wise King, a violet-armored elf, raised his hand high. The heavens split as a vast sea of light descended, forming a radiant domain that bathed the battlefield in brilliance. Each ray of light carried the Law of Light, searing flesh and bone, reducing swathes of undead to ashes.
Beside him, the Spirit Eye King opened the sealed eyelid upon her forehead. A third eye bloomed with eerie silver radiance. From it surged an invisible wave of soul energy, imbued with the Law of Psyche. Thousands of undead staggered as their spirit flames shattered, their bodies collapsing into lifeless heaps.
Their entry shook the battlefield, their power clearing space like a sudden storm. But again—it was useless.
The undead screamed, but instead of retreating, they grew more frenzied, charging with an even greater madness. Even without souls, even without flesh, they crawled, clawed, and tore toward the three leaders.
In the distance, more Legendary Kings of the Life Faction arrived, unleashing waves of elemental laws, yet even they found themselves pushed back by the endless tide.
The colossal Giant War King ground his teeth, his voice shaking heaven and earth,
"Can someone tell me what the hell is going on!? Who interferes this time!?"
But no answer came. Not even the strongest of them could comprehend it. However, they could all understand his feelings because this was almost the same scenario as when the Champion King suddenly descended and snatched away their prize.
Yet, at least this time, the Giant War King didn’t have to flee instantly and humiliate himself like the last time. But no one was going to mention that...
The Wise King’s face, usually frivolous, had grown solemn.
"There is something very wrong here. That voice—it most likely belonged to a dark being. But I’ve never heard of one capable of such a spell! To turn the dead of two factions against both masters alike..." His brows furrowed. "The only relief is—they are not with the Dead Faction either. These things are killing indiscriminately. If we want to end this, we must kill the spell caster. Otherwise, this will never end! However, looking at the current situation, that person seemed extremely powerful, so much so that I don’t want to face him!"
The Spirit Eye King’s third eye narrowed with a cold gleam, her expression grave, "Do you have a plan? Even with my perception, I cannot fathom their method nor pinpoint their location. That language... it was one of the lost tongues, which means the caster is at least 500,000 years old—or has inherited the legacy of one who was. They spoke the words ’Undying Skyfall.’ In Sagittarius Continent, there is only one forbidden region that bears the ’Skyfall’ title..."
Her voice fell, and both the Wise King and Giant War King stiffened.
The Wise King’s silvery eyes glinted with apprehension, "The Undead Skyfall Canyons..."
The Giant War King’s colossal hands clenched tighter around his axe. His arrogance, his mockery of the Champion King, his certainty of today’s victory—all shattered.
Inwardly, cold fear coiled around his heart.
Today was supposed to be his day of glory, the day he humiliated the Champion King and swept the dark beings from the continent. Instead, an unknown horror had emerged, one even he dared not face without certainty of victory.
Grinding his teeth, his voice thundered across the battlefield, "...Retreat!"
The word was laced with fury, yet behind it was calculation. Retreat first, analyze the enemy, and only if victory could be assured would he return. If not, he would be the first to flee.
The Wise King and Spirit Eye King exchanged glances. There were no heroes. They, too, valued life and gains above all else. This was no battle worth dying for.
"Retreat into the protection of the sanctuaries!" the Spirit Eye King commanded, her tone sharp.
Orders rippled outward. The Life Faction’s armies began to pull back in organized formations. Those who could not keep up were abandoned.
On the opposite side, the Dark Faction’s high command was equally shaken.
At first, when the Death Law erupted and the undead rose, they rejoiced. Their leaders believed some great senior of the Dead Faction had descended to aid them. Their morale soared.
But their delight turned to terror.
The undead turned on them, tearing apart necromancers, liches, vampires, and other Dark Races alike. No amount of command, no banners, no death spells could rein them in.
"What madness is this!?" Roared a Vampire Noble as his own thralls rose from the ground and dragged him screaming into the tide.
"This isn’t our ally—this is annihilation!" A skeletal fable lich howled as his bone army dismembered him.
The so-called allies of death found themselves no better than the Life Faction. Worse, in fact, for their armies were less complete, their forces scattered.
Now, in the face of the endless march, the proud leaders of the Dark Faction knew the truth: They too had become prey!