She was close—closer than before. Before I realized it, Rosecha’s hands cupped my face, her crimson eyes locked onto mine.

“I’m completely smitten. How did you do it? Hmm? Aren’t you going to tell me?”
“...”
“I’m not usually this easy, you know. You’re the first. If you knew how much I suffered because of that thing, you’d understand. You saved my life, you know. Truly.”

Rosecha pressed her body against mine, slowly inching closer until my back hit the cold wall.

“Do you like it when things are forceful? Or maybe… the opposite?”

Even though she was looking up at me, I was the one shrinking back. For what felt like the hundredth time, I was grateful to be undead. Falling for her charms would surely lead to disaster.

Before she could push any further, I gently pushed her away.

“Calm down for now.”
“Calm down? Why should I? You’re the one who got me all worked up.”
“That’s not why I came here.”
“Oh? Didn’t you say you needed my help? The most straightforward way is marriage, isn’t it? Or maybe just a tumble in bed—that would solve everything, wouldn’t it?”

Of course, Rosecha’s flirtatious nature shone through, but I couldn’t let her take the lead. If I let her continue, she’d dominate the conversation. I cut her off before she could go further.

“What I want is a temporary alliance.”
“...Temporary? Not a full one?”
“We’ve only just met. A permanent alliance would be too hasty. Besides, how do you think the other dungeon bosses will react when they hear about a partnership between us at the upcoming 72-Dungeon Assembly?”

I wasn’t sure of the power dynamics among the 72 dungeons. Still, if the newly reborn Seventh Abyssal Palace suddenly declared an alliance with the sixth-ranked dungeon, it would undoubtedly shake things up. Worse, if the other bosses perceived it as a threat, it could trigger a chain of retaliation that I wasn’t prepared to face.

Rosecha shrugged. “I don’t care about what others think. I’ve never been one to worry about appearances.”
“Well, I do. This could make things difficult for me.”
“Fine, fine. If you’re so concerned, we’ll call it temporary. For now.”

She made it sound so casual, but the lingering pink hue of her level indicator revealed how much she liked me. Unfortunately for her, I was an undead eunuch.

I explained the current situation in my dungeon—the story of Valmonk, Wilhelm, and the awakening of the Holy Sword. Rosecha listened silently, a sly smile playing on her lips.

“So, you’re running a one-man dungeon? No wonder it’s full of vulnerabilities. Since you’re new, I suppose I’ll have to help out for a while.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Hmmm, it’s not hard for me to help... but I have a condition.”

She gestured toward the bed with her chin and started running her hands over me.

“Let’s have some fun in bed.”
“...”
“Hehe, just kidding. Well, half-kidding. You’re such a hard-to-get guy, aren’t you? I like that kind of type.”
“And your answer?”
“Temporary alliance? Sure. Of course, I’ll provide support too. I owe you that much for saving my life. Honestly, it feels like I’m giving away too much for what you’ve done. Are you sure there’s nothing else you want?”
“There is one thing. The Necronomicon.”

I’d planned to bring it up subtly, but the conversation’s flow made hesitation unnecessary.

“The Necronomicon? Necromancy? You’re not even a lich. Why do you need it?”
“My lieutenant is a witch. With that, we’d significantly bolster our forces.”
“A woman?”

Her expression darkened immediately, and I realized my slip. How could I put out this fire?

“Sweetheart, don’t even think about fooling around with your lieutenant. If you do, that witch will die by my hand. Got it?”
“That was never my intention.”

I managed to keep my voice steady, hiding my nervousness. Rosecha’s smile returned, and she hummed a tune as she continued to run her hands over me in a deliberately provocative manner.

“The Necronomicon, huh? I’ve already mastered it, so I don’t need it anymore. Fine, I’ll gift it to you. I don’t like giving it away, but I’ll make an exception for you.”
“You have my thanks.”
“Anything else?”

Her generosity was almost overwhelming, but nothing else came to mind.

“This is already more than enough.”
“Hmm, well, if you can’t think of anything, how about my first time? I might look like this, but I’m a virgin, you know.”

I already knew, but hearing her say it herself left me flustered. This was a delicate situation—outright rejection would hurt her pride, but I couldn’t accept either. I needed to reject her diplomatically to maintain our rapport.

“I’m undead.”

I can’t, even if I wanted to.

Rosecha laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. At first glance, it was a demure laugh befitting a lady—but only at first glance.

“There’s always a way. How about it? Want to leave your body in my care? We could explore each other until sunrise.”
“There is no sunrise here.”
“Exactly. Forever. And I’ll stay here with you for eternity.”

This woman’s flirting was relentless. I had to stop her before my sanity crumbled. Pushing her hands away, I redirected the conversation.

“When will the support be ready?”
“Hmmm, if I prepare today, maybe two days? I won’t send fodder—I’ll send the best.”

Finally, the answer I’d been waiting for. A force from the Seventh Abyssal Palace would be more than enough to hold off Wilhelm’s strike force.

Rosecha pressed a finger to her lips thoughtfully.

“You might have seen him on your way here—Karleon. He’s the strongest after me in this castle. Just so you know, he’s not my bodyguard or anything. He’s a bit... much. But maybe you could take his place as my personal knight?”
“I’ll pass.”
“Hehe, you’re so cool. My man can’t be too easy, or he’d be no fun. Anyway, I’ll send the entire Ninth Legion, including Karleon. How’s that?”

Karleon—the Dullahan I’d met earlier. If he came to my dungeon, he’d undoubtedly pester me for duels. Still, his skills were undeniable, and with Wilhelm’s Holy Sword looming, I couldn’t afford to be picky.

“Could you ask him to avoid bothering me?”
“Oh, I get it. Sure, I’ll make it clear to him. By the way, I don’t think I caught your name?”
“...Barghor.”
“Barghor. Even your name is cool.”

She seemed like the type who’d think anything I did was cool. Her radiant pink level indicator confirmed as much.

“That concludes our business.”

Any longer here, and I might lose my composure entirely.

As I moved to leave, Rosecha grabbed my wrist, her disappointment obvious.

“You’re leaving already? Stay a little longer.”
“Perhaps next time.”
“Tch… fine. I’ll tell my lieutenant to pack the book and see you off.”

Finally, she released me, her touch lingering just long enough to leave me drained—not physically, but emotionally.

As I reached for the door, her voice called out.

“Sweetheart.”

I glanced back. Rosecha waved with a fox-like smile.

“Can I visit you sometime?”
“Let me know in advance.”
“Okay. Take care, sweetheart.”

Please don’t. In some ways, being with you is more exhausting than facing Callandas.

*

"Ugh, what a shame. I really wanted to pin him down."

Left alone in her bedroom after Barghor’s departure, Rosecha licked her lips, staring longingly at the door he had walked out of.

"Maybe I should’ve just taken him by force."

With her seal broken, it wasn’t beyond her power to overpower him, but knowing he ran a one-man dungeon gave her pause. She couldn’t afford to break him—not yet. As much as she regretted not making a move, she also understood the consequences.

At first, her interest in him had been mild curiosity. A newly reborn Seventh Abyssal Palace was intriguing, and if she could seduce him into her faction, it would make consolidating power much easier.

But as they talked, she found herself drawn to him. By the time he broke her seal with a mere gesture, she was utterly captivated.

"He’s so sexy. My husband, my mate."

In her mind, he was already her husband. No one had managed to solve her problem for 50 years—not even the greatest powers of the Abyss. But Barghor had done it effortlessly, brushing it off like it was nothing.

"..."

Rosecha ran her hand over her chest, where the cold gem used to be. It was gone, replaced by the warmth of her own heartbeat.

How could she not fall for him after witnessing such a sight? His indifference to her advances only fanned the flames of her possessiveness.

For now, she had to be patient. They both had eternity ahead of them—an immortal succubus queen and a death knight. There was no need to rush.

"Still… I can’t hold back anymore."

Blushing deeply, Rosecha twisted her body in frustration before calming herself with a deep breath. She raised her hands, gathering magic as she began to shape the air. Carefully and deliberately, she worked, using her memory and the sensations she’d stored from touching him earlier.

An hour later, the result of her efforts stood before her—a life-sized replica of Barghor, down to the smallest detail. She examined her creation with satisfaction, a proud smile spreading across her face.

"Lie down next to me."
"As you command."
"No, no, not like that. The tone is all wrong."

Though the likeness was perfect, the voice needed adjustment. Rosecha carefully fine-tuned the doll in her magical workshop.

"I am undead. Do not bother me."
"…That’s it."

She hadn’t expected to create such a thing for such selfish reasons, but without it, she would have gone mad with yearning.

"Barghor."

She climbed into bed, lying beside the doll, staring at it with a dreamy smile before spreading her arms wide.

"Hug me."
"Very well."

As the doll wrapped its arms around her, Rosecha snuggled into its embrace. Staring up at its face, she felt a brief urge to add something extra between its legs, but she quickly dismissed the thought.

"No, I can’t. My first time has to be with the real one."
"I decline as well."

Her thousand years of chastity weren’t going to be spent on a mere replica. For now, this was enough.

"If only you’d treat me like this."

Though a succubus queen, Rosecha couldn’t deny her love for a touch of romance. As she practiced with the doll, she imagined Barghor holding her tenderly, treating her with quiet affection.

If he refused her advances, maybe she’d at least ask for something like this.

And so, Rosecha spent the endless night thinking only of him.

*

The Holy Sword, also known as the Floating Sword, was a weapon of divine renown. Chosen wielders could grip it with their hands or command it to hover and strike as though guided by magic.

As the Seventh Abyssal Palace was being infiltrated, the one leading the charge was not Wilhelm, but the Holy Sword itself. Like a shepherd guiding lost lambs, the knights followed the radiant blade as it lit their path.

"Every time I see it, it feels like the ultimate weapon. The Commander’s Holy Sword."
"What's there to say? It's unmatched."
"Shh."

At Wilhelm's subtle hand signal, the idle chatter ceased. This was no place for distractions—carelessness here meant death.

The floating Holy Sword led the way, while Wilhelm, ever vigilant, kept a close eye on their surroundings. Behind him, the knights maintained their formation without flaw, their movements precise and disciplined, a testament to their rigorous training.

Suddenly, Wilhelm stopped. The knights followed suit, halting in unison.

For a group that had spent their lives hunting the undead, the sinister aura suffusing the air was all too familiar. Wilhelm gestured downward with two fingers, and the Holy Sword, which had been hovering serenely, plunged toward the ground at an incredible speed.

Thunk!

A guttural shriek erupted.

"Pathetic tricks!"

The piercing wails of the undead filled the air, yet the knights remained unshaken. Their sunlit auras flared as they drove their swords into the ground in unison.

The chamber echoed with cries of anguish as skeletal hands reaching from the dirt were sliced apart like paper. In under ten seconds, the unseen threat had been reduced to scattered remains, the undead annihilated before they could fully surface.

Groooan...

"Commander, what is that?"

A figure staggered forward from the shadows, its unsteady movements catching the knights’ attention. As it drew closer, its grotesque features became more defined, and Wilhelm’s pupils dilated unnaturally as he recognized it.

"…Valmonk?"

Groooan...

Though he wished otherwise, Wilhelm immediately knew the truth. The undead figure before him was his lifelong comrade, his dearest friend—Valmonk, the Hero of Faith.

"Wil…helm…?"

"It’s me, my friend," Wilhelm responded, his voice steady.

"Wil…helm..."

The undead Valmonk shuffled closer, his arms outstretched toward Wilhelm. Overwhelmed, Wilhelm stepped forward, opening his arms to embrace the reunion.

Schwick!

Suddenly, the Holy Sword struck, impaling Valmonk through the chest. The undead’s hidden claws, poised to strike, fell limp before they could reach Wilhelm.

"Wil…helm..."

Expressionless, Wilhelm approached the crumpled form of his old friend. The milky, unfocused eyes of the undead burned with hate, but they could do nothing except glare at him as its hands weakly clawed at the air.

Wilhelm endured it all.

He knelt beside Valmonk’s twitching body, his gaze unwavering. Then, with solemn determination, he grasped the Holy Sword in his hand.

Squelch!

The blade pierced through Valmonk’s skull. Even as putrid fluids oozed from the wound, the sword’s radiance did not dim. If anything, its divine light seemed to restore a semblance of humanity to the fallen hero.

"Wil…helm…"

"Rest now, my eternal friend."

The decayed flesh glowed under the purifying light, gradually restoring Valmonk’s body to that of a serene, lifeless corpse. Wilhelm knelt further, his hand closing Valmonk’s eyelids.

Behind him, the knights bowed their heads in silent respect, honoring the noble spirit that Valmonk had once been.

After offering a silent prayer, Wilhelm stood and addressed his knights.

"Recover Valmonk’s body. Preserve it as best as you can."

He exhaled deeply before delivering his next command.

"When you find the necromancer responsible, do not kill them. Bring them to me. I will see to their end personally."