A black bird circled, then folded its wings and dove downward. The speed didn't match its massive size. Maybe its weight made it fall even faster.

Boom—the air ripped with a loud sound, and just as the black bird streaked past below, Rem vanished from his spot.

“This insane bastard—”

Pell had seen what Rem did and couldn’t help but blurt out high praise.

He had wondered what Rem meant by "cover me," but...

Right before the bird struck, the madman from the West had wrapped a cord around a hand axe and tossed it into the air.

As the black bird came barreling down, its beak poised like a great lance, Rophod and Pell swung their swords to deflect the beak off its mark, and the axe and cord launched by Rem snagged around the creature’s neck.

Thus, Rem climbed onto the bird’s back—and the bird took flight again.

“Commander.”

Rophod called Enkrid. Enkrid already knew the name of the one person on this earth no one needed to worry about.

“That’s Rem.”

In other words, someone who could handle his role even in the sky.

“Loo–loo–laa–la!”

A monstrous scream echoed from above. It was Rem’s voice.

He was likely forcing out a joyful cry under the influence of Teresa’s song echoing from below.

It had been a while since Rem recalled lyrics from the West.  Wasn’t there a saying that a crow’s cry was bad luck or something?

Mounted on the bird’s back, Rem summoned a companion spirit with a spell. The moment the massive eagle form appeared behind him, he drove his left fingers between the black bird’s feathers. Like talons, they pierced through and dug into the flesh.

Piiiii—

He puckered his lips and let out a whistle that echoed like an eagle’s cry.

Using his left hand as an anchor, Rem lowered himself and crawled forward—like a climber scaling a cliff.

The only difference was that the “cliff” was a massive beast's back, and they were midair.

He moved toward the black bird’s head, then drove the axe he’d set up earlier straight down into it. Each movement was so fluid and precise, it all seemed instantaneous.

The black bird thrashed, twisting left and right to shake him off—but Rem didn’t fall.

And the result—

Thunk!

The axe split the bird’s skull.

Black blood and brain matter rained down from the small head. Still gripping the beast with his left hand, Rem bent low and half-rose.

When he looked up, he saw the distorted gray sun fading far in the distance. Another bird flew past it.

Rem had already predicted its movement.

He'd holstered the weapon he had just used and pulled out the axe embedded in the now-dead bird, then hurled it.

Being large meant it offered plenty of target area.

Thhhwip—

The hand axe sliced through the air and embedded itself with a thunk in the back of the second bird. The first bird was falling, but it could still serve as a stepping stone. And Rem used it exactly that way.

He bent his knees slightly, flexed his thighs, grabbed the cord still attached to the axe—and yanked.

The black bird, flapping frantically in midair, was pulled toward him and stalled for a moment.

Just a moment—but that was enough.

Rem pulled the cord and leapt, arms spread wide as he caught the wind and landed on the second bird’s back.

With his arms outstretched, he looked like a real eagle in flight.

Meanwhile, the first bird—his former platform—crashed down far from the battlefront.

Crash!

As the sound of its fall echoed, Rem’s axe once again smashed into a second bird’s skull.

Piiii—

His whistle rang through the skies once more.

***

How the hell was he planning to get down?

It was a reasonable question, but Enkrid didn’t ask it.

He truly believed Rem would figure it out on his own. He wasn’t the type to go up without a plan. And there were plenty of ways down.

He could slow himself using a tree as support—or just ask Audin to catch him if needed.

“His legs might break... but probably not.”

It wasn’t as if he’d gone up so high he looked like a speck. This much should be fine.

And right as that thought ended, the last of the three black birds panicked the moment Rem climbed aboard and shot up into the sky.

Even Enkrid could see that its reaction was pure fear—but in the end, it was like a suicide run.

Humans can’t fly. Not even knights.

The bird that had cast a deep shadow overhead now looked no larger than a person.

Would Rem bash its head and ride it down?

No—he simply slashed the bird’s throat.

Once again, black blood rained from the sky. Blood and feathers poured down, along with a falling bird—and one man.

Rem used the corpse as a stepping stone again and displayed an astonishing feat.

Once he descended far enough, he literally flew through the air.

Rem wasn’t a knight. He was a shaman.

He summoned the spirit of an eagle to buoy his body. Not that he could truly fly—but with his arms and hands spread wide, it looked more like gliding than falling.

The only issue was...

“That guy looks lost.”

Apparently done dealing with the plague ghouls, Ragna walked over and made the comment. When Enkrid didn’t respond, Ragna repeated it for emphasis.

“That idiot who can’t even find his way is over there.”

He almost sounded amused.

“...He’ll make it.”

The black bird had flung Rem far into the distance. Whether it intended that or not, who could say—it was already dead.

If it had wanted to strike one last blow even in death, it had done so well.

Still, Enkrid wasn’t worried. He meant it when he said Rem would make it.

Rem wasn’t Ragna. A hunter from the West could find his way even in the Demon Realm. There was no need to wait.

Whatever they were thinking, both the magic spirit who had been perched on the spire and the priest or castellan had vanished.

In truth, both had left because they knew this rowdy group would keep fighting until exhaustion.

Plague ghouls were tricky monsters—difficult to handle. And it wasn’t just ghouls they had to face.

Above them flew modified crow-beasts, and beyond the ghouls, monsters created through forbidden research and sorcery.

Besides, this side was protected inside a fortress ringed by thorned walls. They could afford a bit of leeway.

From the magic spirit’s perspective, having already launched her arrows, it was time to conserve strength.

Their plan was clear and deliberate.

They would mock the weary from above, after the battle.

"Well done, you fought hard. Now, why don’t you play with this four-armed werewolf? Oh, my apologies—did you happen to see my hand-crafted ‘elite’ monster back there?"

They would say this from the wall as they looked down.

So the challenges ahead would be on a whole other level compared to dealing with plague ghouls.

From atop the tower trees, arrows would rain down. Crystal knights in black armor would also be sent out.

Even Enkrid couldn’t fully read the intentions of the vanished priest or the magic spirit.

But if they were relying on those walls—that faith was something he fully intended to shatter.

And although the two had left, the walls were not unguarded. A few shadows could be seen. Enkrid’s eyes detected their movements.

And in that same moment, he realized—Jaxon had vanished.

He would be doing his part. And the rest of them here would do theirs.

Enkrid opened his mouth.

“Lua.”

Lua Gharne didn’t answer his call. Instead, her large eyes simply rolled again and again.

The wall. The monsters. The arrows. The magic spirit. The terrain. The situation.

She painted a picture in her mind with all of it.

Frokk Lua Gharne—she finds victory in disadvantage. That’s her specialty.

She’s the kind of strategist who turns weakness into parity or even advantage.

Because it all stems from her instinctive combat sense, it’s hard to teach and harder to learn—but the talent itself was undeniable.

If someone could turn the tide when things looked grim, then how much more fearsome would they be when already in a favorable position?

It’s obvious—those who fight well when things are bad will fight even better when everything’s in their favor.

The foundation of Lua Gharne’s tactical swordsmanship was exactly that.

Enkrid had more or less learned it after dying countless times.

How could Lua Gharne not grow fond of him? Combat instinct isn’t something you can just teach—but this guy learns when taught. No matter what he’s doing on his own, he somehow figures it out.

That curiosity and craving for brilliance were what stirred Frokk’s interest. That’s why she was here.

When Lua Gharne looked toward the fortress wall, Enkrid began to think along the same lines.

“Siege experience.”

Enkrid recalled the moments in his past where he’d assaulted castles. Not many, but enough.

There was no need to weigh the advantages of defense or the weaknesses of offense. There was no moat, and it wasn’t likely they’d pour boiling oil from above either.

But the moment they approached that wall, wraiths clad in thorny robes would reach out and try to tear them apart. He didn’t need to experience it to know.

“This isn’t an ordinary castle. So we can’t approach it with ordinary tactics.”

Normally, defenders would use a moat as a barrier and send out guerrilla units to cut off the attackers’ supply lines. Defense was like guarding your home. Offense meant sleeping on damp ground and enduring ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) blows.

“Usually, defenders have the advantage.”

Though sometimes the opposite holds true—like when a castle low on rations is surrounded and starved into surrender.

“None of that applies now.”

Their side was a small elite force with no supply line. The thorn-fortress in the Demon Realm wasn’t an ordinary stronghold.

It seemed like a long reflection, but Enkrid’s thoughts moved quickly.

Everything flashed through his mind, leaving behind just two key questions.

What did their side lack?

“A siege engine.”

Even if not a full siege, having something like a mangonel or trebuchet would help. There were ballistae on the wall that looked like they were made of bone—things the enemy had that they didn’t.

Then the second question:

What did their side have?

“Nine powers known as disasters... no, eight for now.”

Once Rem returned, it would be nine. For now, it was eight “disasters,” plus Frokk, who knew how to spot weaknesses.

Enkrid’s gaze settled on Lua Gharne.

Lua didn’t puff her cheeks once. She made no sound—just stared quietly.

The gray sunlight faded. More precisely, it was swallowed by darkness. It was as if black soot had begun to spread through the twilight of the Demon Realm.

Someone had dipped a black brush and started painting from the sky to the ground.

Just before that blackness engulfed everything, Lua Gharne’s cheek twitched.

Gurrrk.

“Looks like fun.”

That was all she said.

“Let’s smash through it with brute force.”

Her explanation was short and clear.

She more or less knew what each member of their group was capable of.

Telling them to circle the fortress and fight carefully would’ve been a poor move.

“Will isn’t infinite.”

Even Enkrid, whose Will never dried up, didn’t have infinite stamina.

So the answer now was to break through in a single push.

And they had the firepower for it.

The enemy had underestimated Enkrid’s party.

The group, initially clustered together, had fanned out to the left and right, stretching out across the front of the wall.

Lua Gharne didn’t overthink it.

Sometimes simplicity was the clearest answer.

If they delayed to overanalyze, they’d hand the advantage back to the enemy.

What was needed now was something unexpected.

If you had ridiculous power, you could do something ridiculous. This was exactly the kind of thing Lua Gharne hoped for.

There were no doors in the fortress wall. Nowhere that resembled a path.

Only thorns. Sharp as awls, painful even to look at. Spikes thin and jagged enough to punch holes the size of fists.

“I’ll open it.”

Audin spoke as he looked at the doorless wall.

Uwoooh. Uwehgeh. Weeegh.

Perhaps due to Teresa’s hymn, the wails of the wraiths forming the wall had changed again.

One creature vomited something dark red that pooled like a moat below the wall. Was it trying to make a ditch?

Another stuck out a tongue covered in barbed thorns, its twisted face twitching like Lua Gharne’s whip.

Crack, crack.

The tongue of thorns ripped the air, ready to shred anything that approached.

Another stretched out its arms. One had a split face and a tongue like a sharpened awl, stabbing out.

Nothing stayed still. Not one of them.

“Shall I sing?”

Teresa asked.

“Spare your strength, Sister.”

Audin shook his head.