The black-clad zombie with a square-shaped head snapped his fingers, arched his upper body backward, and proclaimed haughtily:
"I bring you the words of the Great Oneee♪ Everyone, bow down and obey his will♬"
At first, Deimos's mind froze at such utter nonsense, but in the next instant, his fury erupted.
"A-A mere low-class undead dares run its mouth?!"
He spat out words that hardly seemed fitting for someone who was now an undead skeleton himself.
Lucas, too, wore a faint smile while cracking his knuckles as he addressed the square-headed, black-clad zombie.
"How offensive. Truly offensive. Demanding that we obey the will of your so-called 'Great One'?"
Raising his voice, he closed the distance toward the zombie with slow, deliberate steps.
There was no stopping him now. To Deimos and the others, this creature's proclamation was the ultimate insult—tantamount to spitting on the very being they revered with fanatical devotion. In all likelihood, no one in this world save for their master Himself could halt Lucas in his current state.
"The Rot King is a generous lorrrd♩ And right now, we need vast military might for the war against Ars♪ If you swear obedience from the depths of your souls, your lives will be spared—as if! Not a chance, never, nope♬"
Before anyone could react, Lucas was standing directly behind the square-faced zombie, who had still been snapping his fingers in rhythm. Seizing the creature's head in an iron grip—
"Offensive! Offensive! Offensive! Offensive! Offensive! Offensive! Offensive! Offensiiiiiiive, iiiive, iiive, iiiiiive, aaaaaaaargh!!"
Eyes bloodshot with rage, Lucas slammed the zombie's head into the ground again and again. Every impact carved out a crater, each strike widening the destruction.
This was bad. Just as expected, all reason had been utterly incinerated by his wrath. Deimos understood the sentiment all too well, but if Lucas continued unchecked, he might bring down the very building where Lady Laila lay resting.
"Lucas!"
At Deimos's shout, Lucas froze instantly, his expression immediately snapping into a polite smile.
"Oh dear me. I seem to have gone a bit too far."
Stepping away from the chunks of flesh that no longer bore any semblance of a body, he flicked his blood-soaked gloves, withdrew a handkerchief from his breast pocket, and neatly wiped them.
"I hardly think that qualifies as 'a bit'..."
Even Deimos had been unable to track a single fraction of that sequence of movements. Had Lucas grown even stronger? Was this man truly human? Deimos could not help but feel that both Oboro and Lucas were morphing into incomprehensible monsters with each passing day.
"After all, we must thoroughly interrogate him for information regarding that offensive piece of trash known as the Rot King."
No sooner had Lucas stepped away than the mangled mass of flesh began knitting itself back together—down to its very clothes—as if time itself were flowing in reverse.
As the square-faced zombie shook his head and clambered back to his feet, a star-faced female zombie emerged from deeper inside, offering a lilting, sing-song warning:
"Shikaku, these ones are apostles of another god♪ Be careful♬"
In stark contrast to before, the square-faced monster abandoned his bizarre dance and lowered his center of gravity into a guarded stance.
"Deimos, please leave this to me. I will ensure these rotten fools personally suffer the penalty for mocking our God."
Lucas's face twisted into a vicious sneer. He possessed his own unyielding code of chivalry, and toward anyone who transgressed it, he was merciless to the extreme. The scum responsible for this scheme violated every tenet of that code. By nature, men like Tamuri and Tokotsu belonged to the human race Lucas abhorred above all else. Because this was part of the Great One's plan, he had endured it thus far, but his fury had clearly reached its boiling point.
"Underst—!!?"
Just as Deimos moved to give his assent, he sensed the skeletal knights he had summoned being extinguished all at once.
"It can't be!"
He bolted into the building, only to find the makeshift bed of chairs where Lady Laila had been resting completely bare.
Rushing back outside, he bellowed at the top of his lungs:
"Lady Laila has been taken!"
For a fleeting second, Lucas froze in stunned disbelief, trembling faintly before throwing his head back and roaring toward the sky, his features warped in pure, unadulterated wrath.
"You worthless shitstaaaaains!! You dare lay your hands on someone precious to the Great One?! I will not grant you a merciful demise! I shall drag you through an agony that makes living hell feel gentle!!"
"I will get Lady Laila back!"
Deimos lunged forward, but—
"We can't let you do thaaat♬"
The star-faced woman blocked his path. Like Deimos and his allies, these aberrations existed outside the conventional laws of this world. In short, Deimos realized they were the vanguard of another god, just as Lord Girimehkala had warned.
Good grief, he had never imagined in his wildest dreams that he would be thrust into a war between mythic powers. Yet this clash directly concerned the safety of a person dear to his supreme master. Failure was not an option under any circumstances.
"Deimos, hurry to Lady Laila!"
Lucas's form blurred. In an instant, both of the star-faced woman's arms blew apart, and her limbs were pulverized into a mangled mess. A heartbeat later, the square-faced man was engulfed and consumed by raging black flames.
Deimos moved to press deeper into the ruins, but a grotesque tide of flesh erupted from the crown of the star-faced woman's head, billowing outward to form a colossal wall of meat that sealed off his advance.
"We won't let you get awaaay♩"
This was troublesome. Without question, Lucas was the superior combatant compared to both the star-head and the square-head. In a straightforward fight, Lucas would effortlessly crush them. However, ever since identifying Lucas and Deimos as apostles of a rival god, every shred of arrogance had vanished from their foes. They were stalling for time with flawless execution. What was worse, if Deimos's assessment was correct, Lucas had poor tactical compatibility against regenerating foes in their current position. At this rate, the worst would happen, and Lady Laila would be placed in mortal peril. That outcome had to be prevented at all costs.
True, their master had entrusted her protection to Deimos. But Lucas possessed vastly superior mobility. This was no time to cling to pride.
"Lucas, I will hold them off! Go retrieve Lady Laila!"
Activating his divine protection—Pinnacle of Magic—Deimos dramatically amplified both the volume and potency of his mana before unleashing one of his supreme, legendary-tier spells.
"Inferno!"
Numerous spheres of blazing crimson ignited around them, expanding in a flash to engulf the dodging star-face and square-face along with the towering meat wall behind them.
The scorching heat melted the fleshy barrier into a bubbling slurry, yet the meat surged back with even greater ferocity, swelling to several times its original thickness and height.
"It's uselessss♩ Our regenerative power isn't something a low-class undead like you could ever break throughhh♬ Besides, the more you attack—"
Lucas slashed the barrier to ribbons, but just as before, the flesh only proliferated further, choking the corridor completely.
"That's right, that's right♪ Lord Rot King will have his new vessel very soon♩ Once he does, our power will swell! Crushing Ares's army will be child's play♬"
Just as the square-faced man finished his triumphant boast, a hulking, bald-headed man—his face smeared with tears and mucus—came tumbling onto the ground before the building.
"Right here! I was told to bring him right here!"
He shrieked hysterically, his trembling right hand pointing straight at the structure.
And standing right where the bald man pointed was Deimos and the others' supreme master.