Dilmond smashed the undead endlessly. He cut down as many undead as he could, regardless of who they used to be when they were still alive—some were commoners that used to run a business up until yesterday, yet they were still his comrades that fought shoulder to shoulder with him, and some had been young knights that he trained himself. Although Dilmond found the undead to be unpleasant at first, he was now familiar enough with them to even take a nap beside them without a problem. He had never thought that the undead would be his enemies again.

“Bring it on, you son of a bitch!”

The head of an undead disappeared upon being hit by Dilmond’s hammer. That undead had been an arle servant who used to ask if he too could become a real knight too once Ras regained his honor. The more Dilmond killed, the more he actively flew through the battlefield. However, Dilmond felt his hammer getting heavier and heavier as it got soaked in blood. He felt the urge to drop his hammer to the ground and fall asleep with his back lying down.

“Sir Dilmond, are you alright?” one of the knights of the Order of Huginn asked in concern as he saw Dilmond gasping and starting to fall behind.

Dilmond luckily ran into a group of survivors while he fought fiercely.

“I’m fine. Go to the front,” Dilmond said as he pushed the knight’s back forward.

The knights were looking...