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Scene shift—

While Kurumi had gone searching for Bokue and her sister Yuki, the Hero Village had already descended into absolute hell.

The training grounds, once filled with the sound of sparring and laughter, had fallen silent. The same earth that generations of villagers had poured sweat into was now soaked in blood.

"RAAAHHH!!!"

With a roar that sounded more like a demon from the abyss than any human cry, a crimson arc of steel slashed down from above—followed by a gurgling scream of pure agony.

One of the village's strongest warriors—a hulking man built like a bear—was cleaved clean in two. His upper half, along with a spray of blood and entrails, was flung skyward by the brutal force of the strike before raining down in scattered chunks.

He didn't move again.

"AHHHH!!!"

His comrades cried out in grief, rage filling their eyes as they gripped their swords tighter and charged the monster before them.

Their enemy stood tall, gripping a massive crescent blade—a humanoid figure, but no longer anything close to human.

Corrupted by the evil spirit, his body had transformed grotesquely. His once-clear eyes were now pits of deep crimson. His cropped black hair had grown into wild, spiked brown strands that fanned out like a beast's mane. Hair sprouted along his limbs, shoulders, even his face—coarse and monstrous.

He was terrifying to behold—enough to break even the spirit of seasoned warriors, let alone children.

But the worst part wasn't just his strength, enhanced by both the cursed spirit and the demonic sword Brynhildr...

"Grrraaah—"

A low growl cut through the battlefield as something impossible occurred—the man who'd just been bisected... began to move.

With blood pooling beneath him, the corpse dragged its upper half upright, clawing at the earth—and when he lifted his head, those same crimson eyes glared out from his ruined face.

They were turning.

Every person the cursed one killed became a new vessel for the spirit. Like a plague, the infection spread—one victim at a time—building an unstoppable undead army.

And now... the army was almost complete.

"D-Dammit... what the hell do we do..."

At the entrance to the training field, a small group of adult warriors huddled back-to-back, clutching their weapons. Their eyes darted around the battlefield as they watched the undead horde closing in from every side.

They were the last defense. If they fell, nothing would stop the cursed army from reaching the village itself.

But they were breaking.

Most of the real fighters had already been lost. These were the leftovers—men who'd never been strong to begin with, now gasping for breath, drained of stamina and hope.

To put it bluntly—they were the slackers. The village bottom tier.

And the enemy knew it.

The cursed spirit didn't attack head-on. Instead, it sent its undead pawns to harass and bait, picking away at their morale like a cat toying with a mouse. Slowly, patiently, it was bleeding them dry.

"We... we can't hold this anymore. Let's just run for it."

One of the men finally cracked, his voice shaking.

"What's the point? Even if we hold a little longer, they'll break through eventually. We should fall back to the village while we still can—"

"Are you out of your damn mind??" Another man snarled, just as terrified, but still clinging to his duty. "There are kids sheltering back there—our future! If we run now and they make it through, they'll slaughter everyone!"

"B-But I don't have kids!"

"Neither do I, actually."

"..."

Those two sentences hit like a divine revelation. And yet—no one laughed. The fear in the air was too thick.

All it would take now was one more whisper of surrender. Their hands were slick with sweat, trembling too much to hold their blades steady.

And then—

"You've done enough. Leave the rest to me."

A boy's voice echoed from above, clear and confident.

What—?

They barely had time to look up before a streak of golden light plummeted from the sky.

BOOM!!!

The ground quaked with a deafening impact. A shockwave of divine energy exploded from the epicenter, scattering the undead like dust.

Standing in the center of the crater was none other than Bokue Keikain.

He calmly stepped forward past the stunned warriors, Golden aura still blazing around him. His eyes swept across the field—at the ocean of cursed dead crowding the training grounds—and even he blinked in disbelief.

"That's... a lot."

"Y-Yes, Acting Head Keikain..."

One of the men stammered from behind him. At this point, they were one more heartbeat away from pissing themselves.

But Bokue had no time to comfort them. "So, I need to clear all of these?"

"N-No... yes." The man hesitated.

Bokue turned back and gave him a flat look. "Which is it? 'No,' or 'yes'?"

"W-We do need to clear them... but the main threat is Seito!"

He pointed toward the center of the horde—where a single, heavily mutated warrior stood out among the rest, wielding the massive crescent blade.

"That's the sword Brynhildr... we can't stop it with ordinary weapons. If you can take him down first, it'll be a lot easier."

"Got it." Without hesitation, Bokue clenched his fists. The golden aura around him roared skyward, spiraling into the heavens like a divine flame.

"Then I'll take care of him."

"W-Wait, are you just gonna charge in??"

They hadn't even finished their sentence before Bokue exploded forward.

"Cover my back! I'm going in—don't let anything sneak up behind me!"

His shout rang across the field as his foot slammed down, sending another wave of golden force surging across the ground. The undead reeled, staggering from the impact.

Then—his fists flew.

One punch shattered three undead soldiers. Another smashed through bone like paper. In seconds, Bokue was carving a path of pure devastation straight through the horde, fists blazing with light.

He wasn't fighting—he was erasing them.

"He's... incredible..."

The adults behind him could only gape. But they had no choice. It was now or never.

"GO! We have to follow him!" One of them finally snapped out of it and charged—only to freeze a second later.

The gap Bokue had made was already closing. The undead surged to fill the path he'd cleared. The window was gone.

Their one chance—vanished in an instant.

"It's... it's no good. We can't catch up—"

"Let's just run! We'll never make it through!"

"I'm sorry... the rest is up to you, Acting Head!"

"WHAT??"

Bokue's head snapped back, eyes wide—but all he saw was the cursed horde behind him.

He was surrounded.

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