The Signal (12)

The army of corpses created by Belphegor, though slow, marched relentlessly forward. Belphegor watched their advance with amusement.

"...Slow," Frondier muttered, his eyes trembling as he observed the approaching horde.

Most of the incomplete bodies stumbled and shuffled, while the four-legged monsters moved with slightly more speed.

"No matter how slow they are, they will reach the barrier," Belphegor declared.

If this army reached the barrier, it would undoubtedly crumble under the combined assault of the monsters, already weakened by their relentless attacks.

"That won't happen," Frondier countered. Belphegor's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized him.

"Still all talk, I see. You said you would stop them."

"I won't be the one to stop them."

Belphegor's brow furrowed in confusion.

"...Then who will? The Empire is a long way from here. Even if someone were to come, these creatures would reach the barrier long before them. And even if they did arrive in time, they wouldn't be able to stop them all."

Belphegor carefully considered his deductions, finding no flaws in his logic. Frondier's Mana was nearly depleted, and the distance from the Empire to Manggot was vast. Moreover, only a handful of individuals knew the way here.

Yet, Frondier smiled. From Belphegor's perspective, everything seemed to be in order.

"Belphegor, there are three things wrong with your assumptions."

From Frondier's point of view, however, Belphegor's plan was riddled with problems.

"Wrong assumptions?"

"Firstly, as I said, they won't reach the barrier."

"What trickery are you attempting now? You're a husk of your former self."

"It's true that my Mana is nearly depleted. However..."

Frondier raised his right hand, a faint glimmer of Mana gathering within it.

Belphegor's eyes widened in surprise.

"...You don't faint even after exhausting your Mana. You truly are insane."

Belphegor immediately understood the source of Frondier's renewed Mana. Through his past experiences, Frondier had learned to remain conscious even after depleting his Mana reserves.

He had also discovered a "shortcut" to draw out additional Mana.

"But what can you possibly achieve with such a meager amount of Mana? Your boasted rune, the weapons weaving from the fragments of Helheim... none of them will function properly."

As Belphegor stated, the Mana Frondier could muster was insignificant. Until now, he had merely supplemented his original Mana reserves. The amount he could extract in his current state was negligible.

"Indeed, I cannot create a rune or weapons with this," Frondier admitted, extending his hand.

His hand pointed towards a location far ahead, beyond the path of the advancing corpse army.

"But I can still manipulate what has already been created."

The moment he uttered those words, Belphegor sensed a surge of magical energy emanating from the distance.

Menosorpo

Expansion: Open

It was a rune. The 'Menosorpo' rune, previously dormant, was expanding its reach from afar.

"...What?"

Belphegor stared in disbelief, momentarily stunned by the unexpected development.

Frondier's Mana was already at its limit. Even by forcibly extracting his life force, he shouldn't be able to generate enough Mana to activate such a large-scale rune.

"...I see! You had a smaller rune prepared from the beginning!"

"Correct."

This was one of the tricks Frondier had experimented with during the previous devil incident.

Just as he had expanded the Menosorpo pre-installed in the Emperor's bedroom, he had now employed the same tactic.

"But what good is a rune alone! It won't be enough to deal with all of them!"

"That brings us to the second point," Frondier continued.

"The distance from the Empire here is not 'far'."

As the Menosorpo rune continued to expand, a structure began to materialize within its domain.

Menosorpo

Void Weaving

Workshop

Frondier's workshop emerged into view, leaving Belphegor speechless.

"...Where did that come from? I neither saw nor sensed a building of that size!"

The workshop had grown considerably, having absorbed numerous weapons and equipment in the past. Now revealed by the Menosorpo rune, it exuded an imposing presence.

Frondier clearly lacked the Mana to create such a structure from scratch. Like the rune, this building must have been prepared beforehand.

'He had a magic unrelated to combat active all this time! Against me!'

The fact that he, a devil closer to the realm of Mana than any human, had failed to detect it was unbelievable.

"Belphegor, there's no need to be surprised," Frondier said calmly, observing his reaction.

"You are well-versed in Weaving, are you not? Surely you haven't forgotten."

"...Weaving."

"Indeed."

It was initially invisible because it was an illusion.

"You bastard!"

Belphegor lunged forward, his fist aimed at Frondier. His judgment was accurate. Whether it was the workshop or the rune, they would vanish if Frondier, the caster, were to die.

His fist, imbued with Mana, was the same attack that had sent Frondier crashing to the ground earlier.

'Not a single moment can be missed,' Frondier thought, his eyes gleaming with determination. He extended both arms to meet Belphegor's attack.

Weaving was the magic of replicating objects stored in the workshop as illusions. Magic was not a physical substance but a phenomenon that influenced reality.

A sword represented the 'phenomenon of cutting.'

A shield represented the 'phenomenon of blocking.'

Weaving

Workshop Item No. 3

Rank - Common

Iron Shield

His invisible shield met Belphegor's fist head-on. Though unseen, the shield materialized at the perfect moment, intercepting the blow.

Kwaaang!

The shield deflected Belphegor's fist for a split second before shattering like paper.

"Kwaaak!"

Frondier was sent flying, absorbing the impact that the shield couldn't fully negate. His parry was flawless, but it wasn't enough.

The force of Belphegor's punch, having pierced through the shield, broke both of Frondier's arms.

Thud, Crash!

He crashed to the ground once more, rolling several times. With his Mana depleted, his body was unable to withstand the impact.

Excruciating pain ripped through him, leaving him gasping for breath on the ground.

Despite the devastating blow, he was still alive. That alone was a blessing.

Keeek!!

However, his landing spot was unfortunate. Whether by Belphegor's design or sheer bad luck, he had fallen right in front of the advancing corpse army.

The reanimated corpses harbored hatred for all living beings. Naturally, Frondier, with his lingering life force, became their immediate target.

The shuffling of feet, the grotesque moans that resembled screams, drew closer as the corpses surrounded Frondier.

Lying prone, Frondier endured the pain, his eyes fixed on the workshop.

'—This is the signal.'

Kwaang!

At that moment, the doors of Frondier's workshop burst open.

And from within, a small, droplet-like object emerged, floating gracefully through the air.

"...?"

The corpses, momentarily distracted from their prey, turned their attention to the approaching droplet. It was so small that it was barely visible, yet they were inexplicably drawn to it, their senses fixated on its presence.

And as the droplet reached the nearest corpse—

*Kwaaoooooooooooo—!!!*

The droplet transformed into a raging inferno, engulfing the surrounding corpses in a chain reaction of fiery destruction.

Phoenix Rise - Nether Hell

The crudely reanimated bodies were incinerated without a trace, their close proximity only serving to fuel the flames that consumed them.

"...!"

Witnessing this spectacle, Frondier shifted his gaze back to the workshop.

From the open doorway, a young woman stepped forward, taking the lead.

With hair the color of the setting sun and eyes like azure lakes, her mere presence painted a breathtaking scene. Yet, within those eyes burned an intense fury.

"How dare you," she declared, her voice resonating with power as she confronted the army of corpses.

"You filthy creatures dare lay a hand on him!!!"

Elodie's voice echoed through the battlefield, her presence alone rivaling the might of the entire corpse army. The divine powers at her command shimmered around her, each one radiating its unique aura.

"...Inies!"

Belphegor, recognizing the girl, uttered her name with a hint of apprehension. He had heard plenty about Elodie, the one blessed by the Five Gods, and had taken precautions. In his prime, he was confident in his ability to defeat her. However, he had taken the full brunt of Frondier's attack.

Despite appearing unharmed due to the nature of Sloth, Belphegor had sustained significant damage.

However, as far as he knew, Elodie was primarily a magic user. Considering Frondier's current state, Belphegor believed he could gain the upper hand by engaging her in close combat.

"The third point," Frondier's voice, though faint from afar, reached Belphegor's keen ears with chilling clarity, interrupting his thoughts.

"It's not just 'one' who is coming."

And as if in response to his words—

Thud

One by one, individuals emerged from the workshop, answering Frondier's call.

Aster, Sybil, Selena, Mei, Aten. Starting with them, the students of Constel had crossed the Empire's borders and arrived at this battlefield.

And finally, Osprey appeared, his eyes falling upon the sight of the injured Frondier and Belphegor.

'...He inflicted such wounds on a Sin of Sloth...'

Osprey realized the extent of Frondier's combat prowess and silently concealed his astonishment.

"Fron!"

"Frondier!"

Elodie and the others cried out in alarm upon seeing Frondier's condition.

His body was covered in blood, his arms broken, as he lay on the ground, barely breathing.

"...Haa!"

He forced himself to sit up, using only his core and lower body to lift his torso since his arms were useless. He couldn't greet his long-awaited comrades in such a pathetic state.

"Everyone."

Frondier spoke slowly, his gaze scanning the faces of those who had arrived.

The weight of his decisions regarding the barrier's personnel deployment, implemented without any modifications from the Empire, bore heavily on him. He had pushed his comrades to their limits, knowing that he couldn't afford to lose a single one of them.

And so, upon seeing their faces, the words slipped from his lips involuntarily.

"Is everyone alright?"