Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

As if she had lost everything in an instant and then gained even more Freya, she rushed into Samael's arms and cried her heart out.

"Nonsense, where would I find such an excellent housekeeper if I were to abandon her?"

Samael smiled slightly, gently stroking the little head nestled in his arms, and whispered softly in his ear.

"Hurry up and get ready, we'll leave here together."

Finally, having vented her fear and unease, the fairy girl burst into laughter through her tears, nodded emphatically, and got up to go to her small room to pack her belongings.

Samael watched as Freya, who had managed to abruptly halt the transformation of Mos with her inherent kindness, walked further and further away. He got up, went to the table, picked up a spoon, scooped up a spoonful of crystal-clear pudding, put it in his mouth, closed his eyes, and chewed, thoroughly enjoying himself.

After carefully finishing this culmination of his hard work, the ancient snake picked up the bundle, walked out of the porch, and looked at the perpetually shrouded mist overhead. Deeply moved, he shook his head and murmured to himself.

The Nameless Forest, the land of fairies, is truly a land unsuitable for the growth of kindness.

Chapter Fifty-Six: I'm Slacking Off, I'm Happy!

Darlington, the fortress was in ruins, with dried, purplish-black bloodstains and rotting limbs everywhere.

Looking down from the battlements, one could see the corpses of the dead, who had been wandering in the wasteland, swarming and attacking the city like ants, climbing up the walls with overwhelming force, following the scent of life, forming dozens of long, black dragon-like piles.

These monsters are tireless and fearless. Their purpose in resurrecting is to destroy the living. No matter how they are hacked with knives and axes, chopped with swords and spears, crushed by rolling stones and logs, or even doused with oil, nothing can stop their wave after wave of attacks.

Gradually, the bodies of these dead were covered with arrows, their flesh torn and rolled up; they bore the marks of burning, their limbs charred black; their eyes were hollow, with the eyeballs hanging out and the muscles protruding; their abdomens were cut open, and their organs slipped out... As far as the eye could see, it was like a painting of hell.

Worse still, the undead that climbed onto the city walls would grab the living and start biting them. Even when they were about to be driven back, the lingering corpse poison left the druids helpless, and they could only watch as the wounded soldiers died in agony.

The only thing they could do was to cut off their heads before they were converted.

Meanwhile, as the horde of corpses moved, jet-black caterpillar-like monsters burst from their bodies, scattering in all directions and causing serious secondary pollution.

Water sources, plants, and even the human body have all suffered varying degrees of erosion.

In just one week, Darlington was devastated, filled with the stench of decay and death.

If war hadn't been commonplace in this era, and if barbarians hadn't constantly invaded, causing all the territories to diligently build fortresses, Darlington, as a transportation hub, would have already fallen long ago, having absorbed most of Durham County's population and military strength in the lead-up to the outbreak of the calamity.

Even so, it was only a matter of time before it fell.

"Hold on! Hold on! Reinforcements are coming soon! We absolutely cannot let them break through the city!"

The general guarding the fortress brandished his hilt-sharp sword, wiped the blood from his face, and roared hysterically as he surveyed the battlefield. The entire garrison was like a wound-up machine, firing arrows, wielding swords, and repeatedly hurling stones and logs down, but the number of corpses did not decrease in the slightest.

Looking around, the monsters had filled the moat, and the wilderness was a dark mass.

The only rallying cry, "Reinforcements are on their way," has been shouted hundreds of times, but there's still no sign of them.

The equally exhausted defender cursed under his breath.

Seven days, a full seven days!

Why haven't those old bastard Hector's reinforcements arrived yet!

Just as he was having a headache, shouts and fighting broke out again from inside the fortress. The garrison commander was already numb to this level of chaos and simply waved his hand to signal a small squad to quell the unrest.

Darlington is now completely surrounded, and the deathly aura is constantly eroding the land. Crops are withering in large areas, water sources are being polluted, and weak people are increasingly unable to withstand the growing deathly aura, falling into fainting and undergoing strange changes.

If this continues, before the horde of zombies even breaches the city and devours them all, the city itself will start eating people first...

Just as the guard was distracted, long, black, dragon-shaped hordes of corpses in the distance seemed to be drawn together by some force, intertwining and converging.

Gradually, a pitch-black mountain of flesh composed of thousands of corpses took shape, rolling down the slope like a snowball, absorbing the remains along its path and gathering them onto the pile of bodies.

Boom!

The ever-growing mountain of flesh, with the force of a thunderbolt, rolled across the choked moat and crashed heavily against the city wall.

In an instant, the earth shook violently, and terrifying cracks spread like spider webs across large sections of the city wall. Many defenders were thrown high into the air and flung into and out of the city during the violent shaking, where they were either devoured by the horde of corpses or smashed into a bloody pulp on the ground.

Rumble!

Even more deadly was that, seeing that this move was effective, three more piles of corpses formed on the high slope, about to roll down.

Finished!

Seeing that the city was about to fall, the defending general's eyes showed a trace of despair, and the sword in his hand slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground with a clinking sound.

"The Inner Sea of ​​Stars, the Lookout Tower. This is the primordial void, without walls, cities, or nations, the originating star shining deep within the earth. Emerging from Paradise, to bless you with pilgrimage—an eternally open Utopia!"

At the critical moment, a melodious, hymn-like voice came from the side.

At some point, a female sorceress with a hood, silver hair, and purple eyes was sitting lazily on the city wall, her legs crossed.

As the wand swept down like a conductor's baton, the three ever-growing, spherical piles of corpses instantly transformed into a shower of crimson petals as they approached the city gate.

Against the backdrop of fragrant blossoms, her slender and beautiful figure resembled a goddess from a dream.

"Goodbye, buddy. Your resistance has come to a successful end. Now, it's our turn to get to work..."

Amidst the cheerful laughter, the sorceress suddenly appeared before them, leaping down from the city wall and landing on a dark mass of corpses.

The guard instinctively wanted to reach out and stop him, but hesitated for a moment and muttered something unconsciously.

us?

"The voices of a thousand, the dreams of ten thousand, are all beneath my feet. The shattered footsteps are the souls of utter despair. Lamentation and rage are my power. From this point on, despair, let out a mournful cry—the Painful Illusionary Lament!"

At the same time, laughter, brimming with mockery and cruelty, drifted from the high slope, and crimson cursed flowers, resembling thorny roses, bloomed everywhere.

They grow from the earth, from the rocky beach, from flesh and blood, and nourished by the deathly aura, they grow ever stronger and more beautiful.

One by one, the corpses, drained of their life force, lost all support, disintegrated, and returned to dust, becoming humus for the fertile earth.

Boom boom boom!

Immediately afterwards, the sky changed dramatically, and ether gathered wildly. One after another, magical spears flashing with lightning and flames descended from the sky, blasting apart the horde of corpses that were trying to regroup.

However, as the corpse shattered and disintegrated, caterpillar-like monsters flew in all directions and emerged from their cocoons at an extremely fast speed, transforming into gray moths that swarmed towards their new hosts.

"Ugh, you bug, stay away from me!"

The previously intense bombardment of magic suddenly went silent for some unknown reason, accompanied by a suppressed tremor in the distance.

"The flames rising from hell guide the dead home. Roar, my fangs! — Black Dog Death Eater!"

Just then, a solemn low shout arose, and several red and black magical storms spiraled upwards, piercing through the heavens and earth.

In an instant, shadowy figures, wreathed in red and black flames and resembling hunting dogs, burst forth and crashed into the dense ranks of demonic insects with lightning speed.

As these black dogs ran wildly, the earth trembled and shook, and caterpillars and cocoons were instantly crushed by this strange force.

The gray moths in the sky, as if trapped in a quagmire, fell to the ground one after another, turning into clumps of ashes in the red and black firelight.

Among the withered trees in the distance, the Star Sword Wielder on the roof of the carriage, watching the fierce battle, was so moved that he struggled to... turn over.

Samael shifted to a more comfortable position, closed his eyes lightly, and continued to lie flat, basking in the sun and murmuring leisurely.

All that effort wasn't for nothing; this time, I can finally slack off.

Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Person Who Eats Rice, The Soul Who Eats Rice

A few days later, a mysterious savior team appeared out of nowhere, running around to quell the disaster. Under their powerful influence, the insect and beast plagues that had ravaged the southern region for half a month gradually subsided.

It not only simply defeated the monsters, but also purified the water sources, eroded land, and decaying forests that had been contaminated by the demonic insects and corpses.

The places the Salvation Squad passed through seemed to receive some kind of blessing, regaining their vitality.

Even in Darlington, which was the hardest hit, the withered nurseries in the fields began to sprout green life again in just a few days.

The villagers' food supply for the coming year was finally secured.

These green things are more precious than gold and silver; they are their guarantee of a better future. With these, no more people will starve to death next year.

The rescued were moved to tears and wanted to compose hymns and sing songs of praise for this rescue team.

However, people were embarrassed to discover that they knew almost nothing about this rescue team.

They appeared on the battlefield sometimes in groups of three, sometimes four, sometimes five, sometimes seven...

Their names are all shrouded in mystery. Only through a few distant observations can one vaguely discern that the members are mostly beautiful girls, and that there seems to be a species among them that is different from humans.

According to scholars, it should be a fairy.

So people simply called these saviors "fairy knights".

There is no definitive answer as to where they came from. Some say they came from the nameless forest of the fairy kingdom; others say they came from Orkney, the land of the end; and still others claim that they are fairies from the island of Avalon.

All they knew was that the leader of this squad called himself "Ash," the giant tree in Norse mythology that purifies evil and supports the world.

The rampant rumors made everything about this savior team even more mysterious and legendary, gaining them a huge following and admirers in the Southern Reach.

However, at this moment, the savior team that people said was there to quell the calamity had already left the southern border and arrived in a foggy swamp in the north.

"This is... the remains of a swamp dragon?"

Samael jumped down from the parked carriage, stretched his limbs, looked around, and muttered to himself.

With the arrival of Bavanshi and Bagst, the plagues of insects and beasts in Britain have been eradicated, the filth has been removed, and the land has regained its vitality.

However, after tracing their path, they discovered that the source of the calamity was not in the southern region.

Currently, the Wild Hunt's whereabouts are unknown, and it is still playing guerrilla warfare with the Knights of the Round Table.

Based on a rough calculation, the most likely answer is the [swamp dragon skeleton] that is brewing the dragon calamity.

"It should be right."

Morgan took a deep breath, the high-purity ether and the smell of decaying plants filling his lungs. He glanced around for a moment and answered seriously.

"Then what should we do next? Please give us your instructions, Your Excellency, Ash."

Amidst the teasing laughter, Meryl raised her hand to her chest, performing a standard courtly gesture, and used this now-famous pseudonym to jokingly tease her old rival, Morgan.

The witch glared at the person beside her who always liked to tease her, her cold, sharp gaze causing Mary to shut up in annoyance. Only then did her expression soften as she turned to look at her more reliable companion.

"My senses have reached their limit, and I don't know which way to go from here."

As she spoke, Morgan frowned slightly, a hint of confusion appearing in her eyes.

The reason the team was able to pinpoint the exact location of the swamp dragon skeleton so quickly was not only because of their assessment of the source of the calamity, but also because Morgan felt a peculiar resonance with the area.

It seemed as if something in the swamp was calling to her and drawing her there.

"No need to think about it anymore, it seems something is coming to pick us up."

As everyone was talking, Samael smiled with narrowed eyes, turned his head to look at the depths of the swamp where the mist was churning violently, and slowly drew the broken steel sword from his waist.

"Hoohoo!"

Moments later, accompanied by the sharp, piercing sound of air being cut and the savage roars of beasts, dozens of shadowy wings, accompanied by a fierce ethereal storm, smashed through the branches along the way and rushed straight down toward the carriage.

"Wyverns? Is that all the enemy has to offer us? Their formation is truly weak! Let me handle this trivial matter. Watch me rout them from the front!"

However, before Samael could make a move, Bagst, who had been enduring the bumpy ride in the carriage and was almost suffocating, rushed out as soon as he heard the battle begin. His fairy sword Caventin, stained red and black, burst into flames and swept across the air.

In an instant, the ethereal flames that were forcefully flung out swept across the area, their intense heat causing the air to distort slightly.

Boom boom boom!

With a single blow, the wings of these swarming bipedal dragons were destroyed, their scales shattered, and they plummeted from mid-air, crashing heavily to the ground.

"Weakness! Weakness! Hahahaha!"

The moment the wyvern crashed to the ground, Bagst, with his exceptionally keen combat instincts, immediately burst into a frenzied charge, laughing wildly. His broad fairy sword dragged along the ground, ploughing up the mud, drying out the moisture, and carving deep furrows in the earth.

Puff puff puff!

In an instant, the sword light blazed like fire, and several tenacious bipedal dragons, which were still struggling after being shot down, were pierced through the heart and skull, their bodies emitting a burnt smell from the raging flames.

The finishing blow was great...

Looking at the wyverns, each one of which had been slashed twice and confirmed dead, Samael nodded secretly.

But then, the ancient serpent's gaze fell on Bagst, who was excitedly chasing after the remaining two-legged wyverns. When its eyes met the increasingly intense blood-red color in the elf knight's eyes, it couldn't help but frown slightly.

Bagst's talent in combat is beyond doubt.

However, the only drawback is that, seemingly due to her black dog bloodline and her belief in the survival of the fittest, she is prone to losing control once she gets into a fight.

"Stop! If you keep chopping, you'll turn it into mincemeat. How are we supposed to eat it then?"

"Eat? Father, the meat of these beasts is tough and dry, can it really be eaten?"

"That's because you don't know how to handle it. The meat of the wyvern is a rare delicacy. A friend of mine used to love it and said it tasted even better than mutton."