Puchi.
Before Pablo could even react, a sharp dagger sliced cleanly past his ribs and plunged straight into his heart.
"Sorry," Hel said softly, her tone mocking. "My skeletons were a bit rusty—that's why you lasted this long. But me? I'm a professional."
Pablo's pupils constricted violently. Even with his heart pierced, he still tried to resist. But Hel was faster.
She pulled the dagger free, then with a precise motion drove it upward into the opening at the base of his skull.
The strength in Pablo's body instantly vanished. A wave of vertigo and darkness swallowed him whole. Even with all his willpower, no human could withstand such a fatal strike.
And just before his consciousness faded completely, he heard Hel's cold voice echo beside him:
"Your so-called justice is nothing more than the self-interest of the strong—it has nothing to do with the justice ordinary people believe in."
He wanted to retort. Heh… that arrogance… it's the witches' pride, he thought bitterly. But his lips never moved again.
"Captain Pablo!"
Not far away, Alec saw Pablo's lifeless body fall to the ground. His eyes went red. Rage consumed him.
He took several deep breaths, and milky-white aura surged from his body—just like Pablo's before.
"You damned witch!"
He roared and charged toward Hel, sword raised high.
Pablo had been more than a comrade to him. They'd fought side by side for over a decade—teacher, brother, mentor, friend. And now Pablo was dead. How could Alec not lose himself to fury?
Even though he knew he couldn't win, he would rather die fighting than retreat.
"Oh right," Hel murmured, turning toward him. "I almost forgot about you."
She lazily pointed a finger in his direction.
[High-Tier Death Magic: Return Across the River of Forgetfulness]
At once, the once-solid ground began to bubble with blood. The stench of decay filled the air as countless pale skeletal hands burst forth, clawing at the knights' legs and dragging them down.
"Get off the ground!" Alec shouted.
He turned to look behind him—only two of the eight remaining knights had managed to escape the bone claws. The others screamed as the ghostly hands tore into their flesh, their armor clattering as their bodies melted away.
In seconds, six living men had become armored skeletons.
"What kind of accursed magic is this…" Alec's voice trembled as he watched. His hands gripping the sword shook uncontrollably—whether from fear or fury, even he couldn't tell.
But Hel had no intention of stopping. She raised her hand once more.
[High-Tier Death Magic: Death Finger – Chain Lightning]
A storm of sickly green lightning arced toward the surviving knights.
Seeing it, Alec quickly pulled a metal chest from behind his cloak and thrust it forward.
The Sealing Box—a top-grade relic of the Holy Adjudicators—was said to be indestructible to most high-tier magic.
The lightning crashed into it, the sheer impact sending Alec flying backward. The box itself was hurled far across the rubble.
The other two knights, however, weren't so lucky. Having just escaped the bone claws, they were struck by the lightning head-on. Their bodies convulsed—and then fell still, smoke rising from their armor.
Hel raised her hand again, preparing to finish Alec off for good—but then her expression changed.
She lifted her gaze toward the sky. In her perception, two immensely powerful presences were approaching rapidly—too fast.
If she lingered here, she might be forced to expose more of her true power.
Her eyes swept once toward the wreckage where Alec lay buried, and then toward the spot where the Sealing Box had fallen.
Without hesitation, she moved.
Hel darted toward the box, scooped it up, and then shot into the opposite direction from the incoming auras.
Moments later, only ruins remained. The undead, having lost their master's command, dissolved one by one into black mist and vanished.
Silence returned. All that was left was wreckage, corpses, and Alec—half-buried beneath the rubble, barely conscious.
Then, two figures descended from the sky.
It was Axel and Old Deezer.
"What in the world happened here?" Axel asked sharply as he strode into the castle. But when he saw the field of corpses and the destroyed walls, his heart sank—there was no sign of the one he'd been searching for.
Outside, Old Deezer dug Alec out of the debris and uncorked a vial from his spatial ring, pouring the healing potion down the wounded man's throat.
"Cough… cough…" Alec sputtered weakly, forcing his eyes open. When he saw who had saved him, he gasped out, "The Witch of Death… we encountered the Witch of Death…"
"The Witch of Death?!" Deezer's face twisted in disbelief. "That's impossible!"
Far away, Hel floated through the night sky, her puppet body—Morrigan—recovered with the help of her familiar.
A faint smile curved her lips as she recalled the battle.
"The Witch of Death appears in the Dessert Kingdom… heh, it won't be long before the entire continent hears of it. That should be enough to draw attention away from the Mandrake Territory."