The old man sat on his rickety carriage, rubbing his calloused hands together anxiously. His clouded eyes were fixed on the grayish-white mist hanging over the cemetery.
As evening approached, the wind in the woods carried a chill, making his tattered robes flap loudly.
"It’s not right... this isn't right at all..."
He muttered under his breath, his brow furrowed into a knot.
He looked up at the sky again, then roughly counted the time on his fingers. His unease grew heavier by the second.
"By all logic, even if the lad was being particularly... vigorous, an hour should have been plenty for the whole thing. Even if they spent some time afterward... whispering sweet nothings and lingering, an hour and a half would be the absolute limit. But this..."
He looked toward the cemetery with a bitter expression. "It’s been nearly three hours! Why hasn't he come out yet!?"
Uncontrollable, grim images flashed through his mind.
"Could it be... that something actually happened?"
The old man's heart tightened.
Although the young man was a bit strange, he was a good person and had even given him a gold coin for his emergency.
The more he thought about it, the more panicked he became. He began to seriously consider whether he should immediately whip the horse and rush back to the city to report it, even if it meant finding the city guards...
Just as he was hesitating, his hand already reaching for the whip, the tall grass at the edge of the distant mist suddenly shifted.
A familiar figure, somewhat staggering, emerged with difficulty from the thick, impenetrable gray-white fog.
It was Greg!
Although he looked much more exhausted than when he went in, he had at least come out in one piece!
"Oh! Thank the Goddess of Night for her protection!"
The old man let out a huge sigh of relief. His tense shoulders slumped, and a smile of relief broke across his face. He quickly hopped down from the carriage, preparing to go and meet him.
"Young man! You finally—!"
His enthusiastic greeting caught in his throat.
Immediately following Greg, three more figures emerged one by one from the churning mist.
One was a pretty girl with long gray hair and a clearly indignant expression, currently turning her head to say something to Greg. Though she was covered in dust and grass, her vibrant energy was unmistakable.
Another was a delicate girl with long pink hair and a gentle, clear beauty. She was looking at Greg and the gray-haired girl with a slight look of worry.
The last was a beautiful young woman with hair like a golden waterfall and calm emerald eyes. Even in this desolate wilderness with her dress slightly soiled, her elegant and aloof aura was hard to hide.
The old man stood there with his mouth agape, his hand still half-raised, frozen in place.
His eyes widened as his gaze darted back and forth between Greg and these three girls, each with a different temperament but all undeniably stunning. His jaw nearly hit the floor.
"Good... Good heavens..."
An utterly ridiculous yet seemingly perfect explanation for the delay exploded in his mind like a thunderclap!
"No wonder! No wonder it took so long! It turns out... it wasn't just one, it was three at once?!"
The old man felt his heart thumping unfaithfully. He had lived a long life and considered himself someone who had seen his share of storms, but this lineup... this scale...
"And looking at the appearance, aura, and clothes of these three girls... these aren't just any ordinary young ladies. These are clearly..."
His gaze involuntarily swept over the girls' outstanding faces and figures. Despite their fatigue, the impact of their combined presence—arrogant, soft, and cold all at once—left even the well-traveled old driver feeling a bit dizzy.
"Holy... this young man... actually has that much stamina?!"
The old man let out a heartfelt exclamation of awe in his mind.
He automatically filled in a grand drama of a young talent and three noble ladies of extraordinary status having a long-lasting, heart-pounding, and spicy secret rendezvous on the edge of a dangerous, hidden cemetery. He was deeply impressed by Greg's physical strength and audacity.
However, reality was the exact opposite of the old man's colorful imagination.
At this moment, Greg felt physically and mentally drained, his head throbbing with a massive headache.
It was bad enough that his plan to act low-key had been exposed, but now it had even triggered a misunderstanding!
What kind of mess was this!?
"Little Gray... cough! I mean, Victoria!"
Greg tried to explain:
"Listen to me, I really didn't mean to steal your thunder or hog all the credit! I really did this for your own good! There was originally another, even stronger enemy in that tomb. You wouldn't have been able to handle it!"
Victoria stood with her hands on her hips, the fire in her gray eyes still burning. She gave Greg a fierce glare and turned her head away huffily.
"You're still lying! We all saw it when we went in! Aside from that Undead Knight that had already fallen apart, what other dangerous enemy was there?"
"Er... well..."
Greg was momentarily speechless, his lip twitching slightly.
Regarding the whereabouts of that more dangerous enemy, he really couldn't explain it.
After all, he couldn't exactly say that the stronger undead enemy had been eaten clean by him, could he?
That would be far too terrifying to hear!
Seeing Greg's incoherence, Victoria grew even angrier.
On the way here, she had relied on her own strength to save many classmates from the undead, earning a great deal of awe, gratitude, and following gazes.
That feeling of being surrounded by everyone, being seen as a leader and a beacon of hope, had mostly dispelled the frustration and loss she had felt because of Lilith. Her self-confidence had reached an all-time high.
She had originally intended to lead her team with grand ambitions, charging into the heart of the cemetery to personally subjugate the culprit, complete the mission, and firmly establish her position among the new students. She had even begun to fantasize about the scene when her fame reached the academy...
And the result?
When she led a group of followers—all eagerly waiting to see Lady Victoria show off her divine might—through the mist and scattered undead, charging into the final catacombs with boiling blood, what they saw was—
The once-flat ground in the center of the catacombs was now covered in hideous, deep cracks like a spiderweb, as if it had been repeatedly hammered by an invisible, colossal force.
In several places on the walls, dense fractures radiated from massive impact craters, with fine gravel still trickling down from time to time.
Most striking of all was the pile of heavy armor fragments scattered in a corner of the tomb, reflecting the dim light.
The edges of those shards still held remnants of powerful energy. Even though they were shattered, they still emitted the heavy pressure of an elite undead creature.
There was also a massive black iron sword, as large as a door, thrust into the ground in the distance, with the black aura swirling around the blade not yet fully dissipated.
All of this silently told the story of just how fierce and terrifying a battle had broken out here not long ago.
In the center of this wreckage and silence, Greg Sass stood facing them, standing there quietly.
His clothes were torn in multiple places, covered in dust and unknown stains, with several fresh scrapes and bruises on his exposed arms and calves.
However, his back was straight.
Like a javelin that had weathered a storm without bending, he was firmly rooted in this land permeated with the aura of death and destruction.
In the gloom, the profile of his face was exceptionally clear and... calm, illuminated by the residual light deep within the tomb.
There was no winner's swagger, no survivor's ecstasy—only a deep gravity, as if he were still surveying the battlefield he had personally brought to an end.
Rate on N.U.
