Chapter 119 Operation Subjugate the Undead King
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
I walked the familiar road to school, reading over the report Dahlia had entrusted to me. Thanks to Ethelena subtly adjusting my route—my ‘path correction,’ as she called it—I didn’t bump into a single person. I needed to focus; the mayor’s handwriting was a battlefield of ink, the lines slanted and rushed, like she’d been too fired up to keep steady.
”How’s it looking?” Ethelena asked beside me.
”The main issue’s with the output on the simplified teleportation gate,” I said, eyes on the page. “She’s proposing adjustments to both the spell formula and the internal structure of the magic device.”
Apparently, the mayor had spent an entire day dissecting every flaw in the dual system for the gate. No wonder the script looked half-mad.
”She wants the device redesigned purely for teleportation spell compatibility—to make it more efficient. How does she even come up with demands like this?”
”Probably from watching Tatara’s work all the time,” Ethelena said, amused.
Her words brought to mind Ethelena’s Lonisera・Rinne and Dahlia’s Lantana. Both were absurd creations, masterpieces born from reckless brilliance. I couldn’t deny the logic.
”Maybe if I shape the device’s internal framework to mirror the spell formula itself…” I mused.
”I’m not sure I follow, but would that actually help?”
”In theory,” I said, “it could cut mana consumption by about twelve percent.”
”That’s… actually impressive.”
It was, admittedly. Twelve percent less mana use was no small feat—but the mayor wanted a twenty-percent reduction. Somehow, I had to make that happen.
The problem with the magical markers was simple—insufficient output. That one I could handle. If I routed part of the spell formula to circulate inside the device, I could amplify and focus the mana, boosting instantaneous power without changing total capacity. It was a trick borrowed from the Arcane Gun—and with it, I could raise raw output by thirty percent. That should stabilize the spatial field, at least.
”Morning!” someone called.
”Yo, morning!” another replied.
Following Ethelena’s lead, I entered the classroom. I returned their greetings absently, still staring down at the report.
”Yo—wait, Tatara, you’re at it again?” someone said. The familiar idiot. He’d seen me like this before, apparently.
”Morning. Got a rush job,” I muttered.
”At least look at people when you talk. Then again, you’ve always been like that,” he sighed.
I ignored him and sat down, still sketching out diagrams for the simplified teleportation gate. But the reduction wall remained stuck at eighteen percent. I could swap materials, but that’d complicate mass production. I wanted the core tech—the condenser—to be the only black box. So, no mithril, no rare metals. Reinforced copper might work. That would also give Shamir and Est more to do, a good excuse to train more people in ‘Concept Appraisal.’
The miniaturization request, though—that was brutal. The prototype was already as small as possible without my own precision work. Any smaller, and they’d need craftsmen who worked in jewelry, not magic devices. You can’t mass-produce artistry. Demanding both compactness and cost-efficiency was absurd.
Worse, if I pushed it too far, the internal circuits would burn out instantly. Even if mana flow was optimized, this scale demanded too much power. If they didn’t care about cost, sure—I could forge one in mithril, maybe even make it small enough to hide in a tooth. But they weren’t asking for miracles. Still, I’d include both concepts in the report, just on paper.
”—Julon, answer this one.”
”Huh?”
The sudden call snapped me out of thought. When I looked up, my teacher—a man in his late thirties, always dressed in black—was glaring at me. The same one who’d once commissioned a magic catalyst.
Crap. I’d tuned out the entire question. The chalkboard offered fragments, but the key details were missing. No way to piece it together properly.
”You weren’t listening, were you?” he asked.
”Apologies, sir.”
He sighed, half irritated, half amused. “And this from our top scorer in written exams. I do hope you’re not cheating.”
A few students laughed. But I knew the man wasn’t mocking me—this was his routine. He enjoyed throwing incomplete problems at overconfident students, just to see who could think through the gaps.
”So, Julon,” he said, “what part didn’t you understand?”
”The spell formula on the board,” I replied. “The critical segment’s missing. I can tell it’s for amplification and circulation, but I can’t determine whether it’s meant for discharge, retention, or enhancement—so I can’t tell if it’s offensive, restorative, or physical reinforcement.”
He nodded once. Stoic, but satisfied. A few of the laughers went quiet, realizing too late the trap had teeth.
”Exactly,” he said. “As Julon points out, this spell formula lacks its stated purpose. Therefore—”
He launched into his explanation, and the room scrambled to catch up. Whether as mages or front-line fighters, understanding spell structure mattered. A vague grasp could mean wasted mana or a spell collapsing mid-battle. Flood too much power into a weak formula, and you’d get nothing but smoke. Only robust, well-balanced ones could take that kind of overload.
Some reinforcement magic tolerated brute force—but attack spells? Never.
Still, even knowing that, I had no excuse. Zoning out during class was on me. I forced myself to focus again. The next student called stumbled through an irrelevant answer and got laughed at—different hole this time. The teacher had swapped in a formula with a clear purpose but unclear scale. The irritation on his face was subtle but visible.
Then came the idiot’s turn. He missed one minor detail—barely worth noting. The teacher’s grin turned just a shade too pleased. Yeah. Definitely a sadist.
After class, I headed for the workshop. I’d promised to teach the juniors about reinforced copper today. Last time, that plan got ruined thanks to a monster attack.
I was waiting by the workbench, two kilograms of copper plate ready, when the door knocked.
”Senpai, thank you for teaching us today!” Shamir’s voice rang out.
”Thank you very much,” Est added.
Both looked far too radiant for a normal day. Their eyes practically sparkled.
”Welcome, you two,” I said. “Something good happen?”
They exchanged glances, then grinned and thrust a paper at me.
”…A recommendation letter?” I read aloud. “For a full scholarship to the Advanced Crafter Program!?”
”Yes!” they chimed together.
I couldn’t help but be impressed—scholarships in the Crafter Division were rare enough, but a full tuition exemption? And there, clear as day, was the mayor’s signature. Maybe she’d done it because of what I told her about those two.
”Honestly, this really saved us,” Est said, a soft laugh in her voice. “My family’s been struggling.”
”Same here,” Shamir added, beaming. “I’ve got too many siblings, so getting into the upper division felt impossible. This is like a gift from the gods!”
Both of them laughed, faces bright with relief. If their financial burdens were gone, they could finally focus on honing their crafting skills instead of survival.
”I see,” I said. “Well then, how about we celebrate by learning something new today?”
”Really!?” they both exclaimed.
”Yeah. Master this, and you’ll be able to earn some real money.”
”…Senpai,” Est said warily, “how much money are we talking this time?”
Shamir grimaced. “Please don’t tell us it’s another fortune-sized project. We’d rather stay sane.”
”Hey, what’s with that tone?” I said. “I’m not that bad.”
They exchanged looks that said otherwise. Maybe the last time I showed them how to make a levitation stone really had traumatized them.
Suppressing a sigh, I began teaching them how to forge reinforced copper—explaining the technique for shaping metal into fine wire, and mentioning that both reinforced copper plates and wires would soon be in high demand.
Their enthusiasm dimmed the moment I said that. They probably thought I was about to work them to death.
We moved on to crafting the reinforced copper base for the simplified teleportation gate. I restructured the spell formula into a three-dimensional lattice, and—finally—mana consumption hit a thirty percent reduction. The design even shrank by a full size. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and began drafting the report.
”…Senpai, what’s that?” Est asked.
”Classified military equipment.”
”…Are we going to die?” Shamir whispered.
”Not unless you leak it,” I said. “This one’s a commission from the Royal Research Institute.”
”Then please don’t writ
Ethelena tested her aim, firing rounds from Lonicera・Rinne at a few straggling Giant Bats and Rats that Tatia had missed. For a second I thought she was checking for status effects—but no, she was measuring her drift against moving targets again.
Yohira and I had nothing to do but watch. With those two darting and cutting through the air, there wasn’t much left for us until the Ogres started showing up. Real experience didn’t begin until the thirty-first floor anyway. Until then, letting them take the lead was fine.
We cleared treasure chests as we descended, reaching the fifth floor in under ten minutes. Even for the upper levels, that was fast.
”Goblin Commander squad ahead,” I whispered. “Haven’t seen one in a while.”
”Because thou hast not been diving lately,” Yohira replied. “So—what’s the plan?”
Peering from behind a wall, we counted one Commander, three Warriors, a Wizard, and six regulars. A decent pack, but nothing we couldn’t crush without effort. Still, I needed to regain my combat rhythm before things got serious.
”I’ll take the Wizard.”
”Good choice,” Yohira nodded. “A fine way to shake off the rust. Thy armor’s been improved as well.”
Ethelena and Tatia exchanged looks and nodded their agreement.
”I’ll handle the Commander,” Ethelena said.
”Then I’ll take care of the Warriors,” Tatia added, calm and sure.
Their confidence steadied me. My level might still be higher, but their stats already rivaled mine in places.
”Then I’ll clear the regulars,” Yohira said. “And I shall mind their self-destructs.”
”Appreciated.”
We moved as one. The ambush was clean. Tatia’s first strike pinned the Commander before it could even shout an order.
A sharp crack rang out—then three bodies hit the ground. Three Goblin Warriors, each missing their heads. Only one shot had sounded. What, was she channeling Billy the Kid now?
Yohira’s blade flashed faster than sight, her targets collapsing before they even knew they’d died. Her combat ability was… honestly getting absurd.
While I watched them work, my target—the Wizard—finally came into range. My boosted stats left it frozen, too slow to react. Good. I triggered my weapon’s elemental circuit and charged it with flame for maximum impact.
Weapon Hit: 20 + 121 − 8 = 133.
Fire Damage: 165 − 11 = 144.
A simple overhead swing crushed the Goblin Wizard into the earth. The hammer’s impact echoed—a mix of steel striking soil, bone shattering, and something wet bursting. The fire enchantment never got the chance to burn it; I’d pulped the thing first.
Given the damage, it probably took over a hundred points past its HP threshold. Once we earned our graduation bracelets, we could skip straight to the tenth floor—hell, with Tatia around, even the twenty-first would be efficient.
I glanced over just in time to see the Commander engulfed in scarlet flame, pierced clean through by Tatia’s Andrea. The weapon’s fire was stronger than expected, responding to her mana flow. I made a mental note to study that later.
”At least the weapons are working properly,” I said.
”Indeed. I didn’t expect them to literally ignite…” Tatia murmured.
We collected mana stones, regrouping as we checked our gear. My and Tatia’s equipment had passed the test. The others gave their reports next.
”My attacks registered fire properly,” Yohira said.
”Sorry, I ended up using my regular mana bullets again,” Ethelena admitted.
So hers hadn’t been tested in combat, but she’d already verified it earlier. No issue there.
”Alright then. If elemental attacks are stable, let’s push to the thirty-first floor.”
”Clearing everything along the way, naturally,” Yohira replied.
”Aye. Our skills need honing as much as our strength,” she added with a grin.
Skill growth took time—but if we didn’t push it, the later battles would stall. So we kept fighting, cutting down every rare spawn we encountered. Even the bosses fell without trouble. Fire attacks burned through the Ogres’ regeneration, making them manageable.
Then there was the Troll—Muumin, as always—getting hugged to death by Ethelena again. My urge to murder it surged anew.
As for the Golems… those were mine. I shattered Mithril and Orichalcum variants with satisfying finality, venting all the built-up frustration until my level finally ticked upward. A small relief, but welcome.
And then we reached the thirty-first floor.
”…I’m a little nervous,” I admitted.
Tatia reached out, her hand trembling as she took mine. It was usually Ethelena who did that. I squeezed back.
”Forgive me, Tatara-dono,” she whispered. “A knight should not fear.”
Seeing her shame stirred something in me. Don’t let the one who loves you tremble because you falter, I told myself. Stand firm, Tatara Julon.
”It’s fine to be afraid,” I said quietly.
”…Eh?”
She blinked, confused. Maybe she’d expected a scolding, but I’ve never believed fear was weakness.
”What matters is not running when it counts. Facing fear—that’s courage. Those who feel no fear, they’ve lost their instinct to live. I’d rather fight alongside someone who still values their own life.”
Her eyes softened, focused, listening. Even simple words could anchor her courage.
”Tatia,” I said, “if you truly can’t, Ethelena, Yohira, and I will go ahead. If we fall, bring our bodies back. That’s all I’d ask. So—what will you do?”
Maybe that was unfair. But I couldn’t let her step forward without resolve.
She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and when she opened them again, resolve burned there.
”I’ll go forward,” she said.
”Are you sure?”
”I realized something. I fear your death—and Ethelena-dono’s—far more than my own. If I can stand in front of that, if I can be the shield, then it’s not fear anymore.”
She looked straight into my eyes.
”Then command me, my Lord. Your winged knight, Tatia, awaits her order.”
Lord. The title carried weight. It had been so long since she’d said it. She was asking me to send her into death’s mouth—and trust her to return. That trust scared me more than the battle itself. But if she could believe in me that deeply, then I had to believe in her too.
”I give my command to my knight,” I said, voice steady. “Face the Undead King. Protect our companions… and live.”
”I accept,” she replied.
For a moment, Tatia’s wings blazed brighter than before—whether it was her resolve made visible or just a trick of the light, I couldn’t tell. But her heart had clearly steadied.
’Tatara, Tatia,’ Ethelena’s voice came through our telepathic link. ‘We’ve found the Undead Kings—three of them. It’s going to be tight.’
We sprinted to regroup. Yohira shot us a mild glare for lagging, but when she saw Tatia’s face, she only sighed and gestured that it was fine.
Peering around the stone wall, I saw them—three Liches cloaked in the shadows of the thirty-first floor. If we didn’t coordinate, someone was bound to die.
’Yohira can charge one,’ I said, thinking aloud. ‘That leaves two. Ethelena and Tatia can handle one together, and I’ll take the last.’
’That’s reckless,’ Yohira countered. ‘You’re the least combat-oriented among us, Tatara-dono.’
She wasn’t wrong. Even with my equipment compensating, my base specs were built for rear support. Against undead royalty, I was easily the weakest link.
’Ethelena,’ Yohira said, ‘can you handle one alone?’
Ethelena hesitated. ‘Depends how Lonisera performs. If “Sex Sorcery” sticks, I can win. If not, we’re in trouble.’
We hadn’t had the chance to test her charm magic on undead before. Too risky to bet on it now. Best to pair her with Tatia.
’Ethelena,’ I said, ‘switch gear. Use this.’
I pulled out the last Undead King’s Robe—its trait granted resistance to instant-death effects, perfectly suited for what she was about to face.
’If you can’t finish them in the opening ambush, that should keep you alive.’
”Ugh, I hate how it looks,” she muttered, “but fine.”
She stripped off her upper armor and slipped on the robe. It shimmered once and resized itself perfectly to her frame. A pair of ethereal wings unfurled from her back. Another thing I’d love to learn how to replicate someday.
’Alright, final check,’ I said. ‘Ethelena and Yohira take one each. Tatia and I handle the third. Once your target’s down, assist the others. Agreed?’
They nodded in unison.
Yohira moved first, charging her chosen Lich. Ethelena and I broke cover next, slipping into the dark behind another. Tatia followed a heartbeat later, her wings slicing the air.
The instant the three Liches turned toward us, Ethelena struck—Lonisera flaring to full output. Three mana bullets fired in a breath, piercing the Lich’s back and setting its robe ablaze. As it reeled, we pressed the attack on the others.
I triggered Appraisal—the stats unfolded before my eyes.
*Undead: Lich*
HP 180 / 180
Mana 200 / 200
Skill Power 10 / 10
Physical Attack 10 + 2
Physical Defense 12 + 5
Magic Attack 80 + 15
Magic Defense 62 + 6
Speed 27
Movement 3
Status: Normal
Special Ability: Undead Trait
Equipment: Bone Staff, Undead King’s Robe
Damn. One of the high-defense variants. Still manageable. I funneled mana into my Elemental Hammer. The mithril head glowed red-hot with flame.
Time to end it in one strike.
Weapon Hit: 20 + 121 − 54 = 87
Fire Attack: 1.5 × (165 + 50) − 17 = 308
The hammer came down like judgment itself. The Lich disintegrated under the blow—flame, bone, and dust erupting upward. I blinked at how easily it fell.
Wait. It burned?
”Ethelena!!”
I shouted through the link. Her opponent—the one she’d set ablaze—was still moving, its body now just a skeleton wreathed in embers, lunging straight for her.
I ran—but too slow. My movement stat couldn’t close the gap. A blur of silver wings streaked past me.
”Zeeeyaaaaah!”
Tatia’s voice rang like steel. Her red-silver blade drove through the Lich’s skull, unleashing a burst of pure flame that consumed it whole.
”Are you unharmed, Ethelena-dono!?” she cried, breathless.
Ethelena blinked, then smiled faintly. “I’m fine. Thanks, my gallant knight.”
The joke broke the tension, and Tatia dropped to one knee, trembling. The adrenaline had hit her hard.
”I— I was terrified,” she stammered. “When I thought you might die, I just… charged.”
Sweat ran down her face in rivers. Yohira joined us soon after, calm and unsinged—apparently her fight had been just as one-sided. She’d probably vaporized hers before it could even cast.
”Perhaps we adjust the plan,” Yohira said. “Ethelena and Tatia should fight as a pair.”
”Agreed,” I nodded. “Even at full power, Lonisera barely scratched their armor.”
It wasn’t just strength. That Lich’s magic defense was obscene. Back in the game days, her combo of backstab bonus and elemental rounds could kill one outright. But these undead resisted more than we’d calculated.
”Still,” Tatia said, “its health was nearly gone.”
She was right. Which made it simple: Ethelena and Tatia would fight together from now on, while Yohira and I handled solo engagements.
”Tatia,” I asked, “how’s your level?”
”I gained a lot. A few more kills and I’ll reach the thirties.”
Figures. Fighting stronger enemies sped things up. My own progress wasn’t bad either.
”‘Tis profitable for us physical types,” Yohira said with a grin. “We should take point for the next runs.”
We all nodded. Ethelena looked mildly frustrated—this was supposed to be her moment—but against undead, her magic had limits.
”Oh, right. Tatara—here,” Ethelena said suddenly, tossing me something.
It was a familiar-looking stone.
”…A stat-up item,” I said. “When did you steal this?”
”From that Lich earlier,” she replied with a grin. “My Steal passive—’Pillage’—snagged it mid-fight.”
She said it so casually you’d think it was nothing—but that ability was absurdly overpowered. I glanced at Yohira and Tatia; both nodded, silent confirmation that Ethelena would keep her role as our vanguard and opening striker.
Notes:
• Dahlia – The automaton.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name. Oni warrior.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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