As with most fortresses under siege, the most heavily fortified part of Strauss Fortress was, without question, its outer walls. Kairon and the Strauss family’s main forces were stationed there. They ate, slept, and kept constant watch right beside the walls, day and night.

As a result, the inner keep was comparatively less guarded. While the veteran knights and soldiers held the line at the walls, less experienced troops were assigned to patrol the keep and inner areas of the fortress, keeping watch for any intruders who might slip through.

A hushed silence blanketed the inner keep of Strauss Fortress, and two sturdy soldiers were patrolling a corridor lined with thick stone walls.

The surroundings were dark. The only sources of light were the dim moonlight filtering through the windows and the faint flames flickering in wall-mounted sconces. Such was all the more reason to stay alert. One could never know what might be lurking in the darkness, if they let their guard down.

The younger of the two guards clicked his tongue. "That being said, there’s no way anyone could sneak in here, right? With Sir Kairon and the family’s elite knights guarding the walls so tightly."

The older soldier responded with a faint smile. "Think of it the other way around."

"The other way around?" The younger soldier asked him.

"If we really do run into enemies here, who do you think they’ll be?"

Anyone who had managed to slip through the wall guarded by none other than Kairon and the Strauss family’s finest would be no ordinary foe.

"That’s exactly why we can’t afford to let our guard down," explained the older soldier.

The young soldier still looked unconvinced. "But if they’re that formidable, there’s nothing we can do about it, right?"

"Well, that’s true..." The old guard gave a bitter smile. Unlike his young companion, he understood what their true role as sentries was.

Even if we die, we have to raise the alarm first. That’s the job.

But there was no need to say that out loud and sap the morale of the youngster.

He waved it off. "All the more reason to stay sharp."

They were exchanging these words just as they turned a corner in the corridor. A breeze swept through. It was strong enough to make the flames flicker and the shadows dance along the walls.

Huh? What was that? The old soldier stiffened in surprise.

Wind, by itself, was not unusual. But this was a corridor inside the keep. A breeze strong enough to make the torches tremble could only come through an open window. And an open window in the dead of night was never a good sign.

Don’t tell me... an intruder?

The guards, startled, gripped their spears tightly and approached the window. But it was firmly shut. There were no signs that anyone had passed through.

"Maybe it’s not an intruder..."

The guards breathed a sigh of relief, but tension crept back in immediately.

"Then why was there a breeze?"

Another gust of wind swept through, this time so fierce it snuffed out the flames in the sconces along the corridor. The torches lining the walls went out one after another, plunging the corridor into darkness as if some monstrous shadow were consuming it whole.

"Ah...!"

"Wh-what’s happening?"

The guards pressed their backs together with their spears raised. Cold sweat dripped off their eyebrows.

The sudden darkness caught them off guard, and their eyes had yet to adjust. They were still waiting, straining for their vision to return, when the rattle of chains began echoing from deeper within the corridor.

A faint, eerie laugh—the voice of a young girl—wove itself between the clinking metal, almost like a sobbing ghost.

Wh-what?!

What is this?!

The guards fell into a panic. If an enemy had simply shown themselves, they could have understood. But they couldn’t understand what these strange sounds were. The rattling of chains continued, and the girl’s laughter went on and on.

Darkness spread endlessly, devouring the corridor. Through the window, the dim moonlight barely traced the faint outlines of objects.

Ughhh...

The soldiers swallowed hard while staring into the pitch-black abyss. They braced themselves against the unseen terror just beyond their sight.

Huh?

Suddenly, a face emerged from the darkness. It was the pale, corpse-like visage of a beautiful woman, her features frozen in an eerie, unnatural stillness. The soldiers were so shocked that no scream escaped their throats. Both men froze on the spot, stiff as statues.

Suddenly, something grabbed the young soldier by the leg and yanked him away. Before he could even react, the soldier vanished into the darkness. The older guard gaped in horror.

He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. He had no idea what was happening. And then he, too, was ensnared by chains and dragged into the consuming blackness. All that remained in the pitch-dark corridor was the sound of an unknown girl’s laughter.

***

As the darkness cleared, a group of figures revealed themselves. It was Karnak and his companions. They all stood unharmed, save for one odd sight. A gray-haired girl crouched in the corner of the corridor, covering her mouth and laughing.

"That’s enough, Lapicel."

"Hm? Oh, is it over?" Straightening up, Lapicel tilted her head in confusion. "But why did I have to do that?"

"Sound effects," he answered her.

The girl blinked at him in confusion.

Karnak let out a small chuckle. "You have to subdue their minds if you want to stop them from screaming."

There was no need to go into the complicated theories of necromancy here. Frankly, there was no point.

He glossed over it easily. "Thanks to you, we managed to knock them out without killing anyone."

"Okay!" Pleased that no lives had been taken, Lapicel beamed and skipped ahead down the corridor.

Trailing behind her, Alius murmured quietly. "You’ve truly mastered the art of the Mediator of Necromancy. That truly felt like necromancy."

It wasn’t sarcasm or suspicion. He meant it sincerely. As always, once Alius placed his trust in someone, he believed in them wholeheartedly. "At this level, they’ll never suspect a thing."

"Still, we can’t afford to lower our guard," Karnak replied while ushering the group onward. "Let’s keep moving."

One by one, the party slipped back into the shadows.

***

In an office illuminated by magical lamps, Leven, inhabiting Emil’s body, sifted through reports detailing supplies and troop status, just as he usually did.

"Supplies aren’t a problem. Naturally." He let out a short laugh and flipped the next page. "But managing troops is a real headache."

Currently, much of the Strauss family’s regular army had been replaced with undead soldiers raised by the necromancers. Thanks to this, they were largely free from the usual burdens of supply. But that didn’t mean administrative work had become any easier.

Even if there were a thousand dead soldiers instead of living ones, they couldn’t just march them off to battle without a care and expect everything to go smoothly. Necromancy could reanimate corpses, but it couldn’t repair broken swords and shields. Even undead troops still required proper armament.

And maintaining the troops came with its own set of challenges. For undead soldiers, their source of power lay with the necromancers controlling them.

He had to account for how long the dark energy granted to the undead would last, how much time was needed to replenish depleted necromantic power, and how to rotate the necromancers to ensure they had time to rest and recover.

Living or dead, as long as they moved and filled out the ranks, they were subject to the numbers game. The only thing that had changed was the nature of the troops. The administrative burden remained the same.

"No, in a way, it’s even worse now." With Emil’s face, Leven gave a bitter smile. "In my previous life, I always left this sort of thing to my adjutants."

When he had fought against Tesranach as a hero of humanity, his human comrades had handled logistics. And after rising again as a death knight and enemy of mankind, his undead subordinates had taken on those roles.

But now, he had no one to rely on. Of course, the knights of the Strauss family were capable enough to serve as adjutants. However, even they knew nothing about handling undead troops. As for entrusting this work to the necromancers of the Black God's Cult... that, too, was out of the question.

They had been ignorant peasants before being suddenly granted power far beyond their means. They knew nothing of strategy or tactics. All they could do was raise corpses with necromancy and mindlessly shout, Charge! Charge! like fools.

And so, once again, he found himself alone, wrestling with unknightly matters, poring over these burdensome tasks.

As he continued reviewing the reports, future Leven glanced toward the window. The sky was thick with clouds, and the moonlight faint and dull. It was a night dark enough for stealth, perfect for an infiltration.

Propping his chin on his hand, he muttered irritably, "What are they waiting for? By now, they should have at least tried something."

Of course, there was no way they had succeeded in sneaking in without him knowing. Strauss Fortress had not one, but two layers of necromantic domains in place. The first, deceptively obvious, was meant as bait, a visible trap.

The second, the true snare, had been spread discreetly around the inner keep. Even if it were Demphis or Maloka, the former Four Governors of the Necropia Empire, they would never notice it. After all, this was the true dark wisdom personally passed down by Tesranach himself.

And to think someone could detect and dismantle all of those barriers without alerting anyone? Unless this Karnak fellow was the avatar of Tesranach himself, such a thing was utterly impossible.

With a small shake of his head, Leven returned to his papers. He was buried in his work when, suddenly, there came a knock at the door.

"May we enter?"

He absentmindedly gave permission. It was late at night, but he had instructed them to report anything urgent immediately, regardless of the hour. So this wasn’t anything unusual.

The door opened, and a group of people stepped into the office. For a moment, Leven, wearing Emil’s face, froze, with his quill still in hand.

"Huh?"

They were mostly familiar faces. In fact, his current self was among them. At the front of the group stood the black-haired young man, Karnak, who smiled pleasantly. "Greetings, Sir Emil Strauss."

***

A brief silence fell. Tension hovered in the air between Karnak’s party and Leven in Emil’s body.

"Well, this is surprising..." A voice, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, broke the stillness. "I expected you to come, but not like this."

His calm gaze swept over Karnak from head to toe. "Did you really dismantle all the domains?"

"I did."

"How?"

"I just did." With a sardonic smile, Karnak shrugged. But his eyes were far from smiling. "Thanks to that, you’re all alone now. No annoying silver knight, no necromancers in sight. This looks manageable."

"Manageable, is it..." Leven, in Emil’s body, slowly moved his hand toward his waist. "You do realize this is a trap, don’t you?"

"Of course. Isn’t it obvious?" Karnak’s reply was laced with mockery. "Once you know it’s a trap, dismantling it isn’t too difficult."

In truth, it had only been possible thanks to the profound necromantic theory he had honed over a lifetime. But as always, he gave nothing away.

At that, a cold smile crept across Emil’s face. "Not too difficult, is it?"

His sword slid from its sheath. The sharp ring of steel accompanied his composed voice. "Then it seems you still don’t understand what the real trap is."