If he alone had been placed under a strict manhunt, Lowett would not have thought of taking revenge on the entirety of Branch 153. Human hearts were as venomous as snakes and scorpions; not seeing it coming simply meant not seeing it coming. Letting humiliation turn to rage was unwise.
However, through the navigator's account, Lowett was shocked to discover that Monka and the others were completely fine!
Without question, Marine Headquarters not only intended to suppress news of his existence, but also to bury Monka's problems. They had even gone so far as to exchange benefits with the Kingdom of Goa and reach an agreement.
Monka alone was not worth that much.
What the Marines sought was called "stability," called "the bigger picture."
Given Sengoku the Buddha's reputation as the "Wise General," Lowett believed Marine Headquarters could not possibly fail to see the truth.
So the answer was obvious.
"Wielding righteousness to slaughter the innocent... Justice, what a grand and sanctimonious word!"
Justice was white as snow, and heaven's laws were clear.
But the justice people were allowed to see was black as ink!
"Then please offer up your hearts for justice, that you may fulfill the name of loyalty and righteousness!"
He did not seek revenge against Monka, nor did he seek revenge against Branch 153. He was declaring war on that laughable "justice"!
Clang! Crash!
Woo! Woo!
The sounds of fighting, alarm whistles, and screams echoed throughout Branch 153.
BOOM!
The armory was detonated by the zombies' suicidal assault. Blazing flames lit up the night sky and illuminated the zombies' savage, horrifying faces.
Splat!
Monka jolted awake from his sleep. Without even having time to dress, he swung his battle axe and hacked apart the undead blocking his way, fighting all the way to the square.
"You!"
Seeing soldiers fleeing in panic all around him, Monka grabbed one and demanded, "What happened? How did the enemy get in?"
"I... I don't know."
The soldier trembled as he turned to look at the "enemies" howling amid the flames, then shuddered.
"Colonel, they aren't human. They're monsters!"
"Monsters, my ass!"
Monka knew he would get nothing out of him. He casually threw the soldier aside and turned around.
Gulp...
"L-Lieutenant Colonel Alva!"
Only then did Monka finally make out the undead's faces. This one happened to be someone he knew—Lieutenant Colonel Alva, the superior of his superior's superior back when he had been a private.
In an instant, a chill surged from his crotch to his brain and spread up his spine.
Monka finally understood why the soldiers had failed to put up any effective resistance and had simply been chased down and slaughtered. Even if they had been ambushed, they should not have collapsed so completely.
Now he understood.
When the dead stood before you once more—when they were your closest brothers, companions, and officers—the absurd, uncanny familiarity of it was more terrifying than any bloody spectacle!
"ROAR!"
Lieutenant Colonel Alva did not recognize his former subordinate. With a roar, he raised a rusty iron sword whose edge was nearly chipped away and brought it down at Monka's head.
The whistle of the wind snapped Monka awake. He wanted to raise his axe to counterattack, but his ice-cold limbs could not muster even a shred of strength.
He could only tilt his head aside and roll away in a miserable scramble.
The rusty sword struck the stone paving of the drill ground, leaving a diamond-shaped mark the length of a knuckle as sparks scattered. Had that strike landed, Monka would have been crippled even if he survived.
"Colonel, watch out!"
Several soldiers rushed over and surrounded Monka. The vitality of the crowd dispersed some of his fear.
Looking up, Monka watched a soldier at the edge of the protective circle scream and fall beneath Lieutenant Colonel Alva's... no, that monster's slash. He took a deep breath.
He had to run!
If it were merely the dead coming back to life, he would still have had the courage to fight.
To keep his position, he had already committed far too many unforgivable wrongs. Unless absolutely necessary, he would never allow himself to give it up.
But these monsters were extraordinarily strong, and they outnumbered the branch soldiers. Their overall combat power vastly surpassed that of the branch.
There were only two paths.
Either gather the troops and fight to the death without retreating, or take advantage of the undead being occupied with slaughtering everyone else and flee while they were not paying attention to him.
Would he be a hero for one minute, or a coward for a lifetime?
To hell with heroic spirit!
Surviving was what made a winner!
With that thought, Monka ignored the soldiers desperately shielding him from the attacks and turned to run.
Hearing the commotion, several soldiers looked back at Monka's fleeing figure and froze for a second.
"C-Colonel?"
Splat!!
The sword of vengeance tore through the air, blood staining their uniforms.
Even as they fell and died, those soldiers' eyes were filled with disbelief. They were not afraid of death; they simply could not understand why their colonel had abandoned them.
It was not supposed to be like this, was it?
Wasn't he the battle hero who had captured Kuro?
"Mm, I smell resentment."
Holding a bell, Lowett strolled leisurely through the noisy drill ground as though he were walking through a tranquil moonlit garden rather than a bloody slaughterhouse.
Turning around, he watched black smoke seep from a soldier's seven facial orifices, and the corners of Lowett's lips rose.
"After the waves wash away the sand, even the smallest individual can produce an aberration, provided there are enough of them."
That was the black smoke of souls that ordinary people could not see. The solidified soul core retained only a trace of emotion while rapidly collapsing, clearing away all unnecessary "impurities."
The impurities belonging to "humans."
"Unfortunately, its intensity is limited. The conversion will inevitably fail."
"Fine... Since you want to know the answer, I'll give you a hand."
Stopping, Lowett held his palm upright before his brow. The string of bells hung from the crook between his thumb and index finger as he softly began to chant.
Bang!!
The battlefield changed in an instant. There was no room for carelessness.
The soldiers who were barely holding on had not given up on such a heaven-sent opportunity. Major Aiden had long noticed Lowett strolling behind the zombies. From a second-floor window, he raised his musket, took aim for a long time, and pulled the trigger.
"Lowett, huh? I never expected him to be such a terrifying fellow!"
Major Aiden curled his lips into a smile.
"But as long as I kill you, all the credit will be mine!"
Lieutenant Colonel Jordi had failed in his duties, Colonel Monka had fled in fear of battle, and Klimans was nowhere to be found. It would be him, Aiden, who turned the tide and saved the branch from disaster!
This shot had to hit.
Colonel Skinner could cut off one of his arms, so why couldn't I?
He could already see himself receiving commendation afterward and putting on a colonel's shoulder insignia.
But then...
Clink!!
Something seemed to drift past. Was it wind, or something else?
Aiden had kept Lowett in the corner of his eye. He saw sparks burst from the air three meters in front of Lowett with a sharp crack.
"What?!"
His pupils shrank.
The bullet had been blocked?
But what had blocked it?
There was clearly nothing in that area!!
The next second, he had his answer.
A black phantom suddenly appeared, crouching on the windowsill.
The messy hair hanging to its cheeks obscured its face, but Aiden was all too familiar with the five sharp steel claws of its left hand embedded in the wooden window frame.
"K..."
RIP!
"K... Cough, cough... cough!"
Thud...
With sheer terror on his face, Aiden clutched his torn-open throat and fell backward.
At the same time, Lowett finished chanting.
Jingle, jingle!
Crisp bell chimes echoed across the drill ground. Whether Zombie Puppets or ordinary living people, all of them stopped moving beneath the soul-shaking sound waves.
Then, a corpse dug its fingers into the ground and swayed as it climbed to its feet.
Then came the second corpse, the third... Before the desperate, horrified eyes of the surviving soldiers, their fallen comrades stood up again, but aimed the weapons in their hands at them.
Necromancy: Skeleton Revival!
If there were corpses, use corpses. If there were no corpses, summon them from the Necro-realm.
A Necromancer never fought alone.
"Go!"
"Blood-soaked justice is the most tragic kind of beauty."
Lowett spoke softly.
The next moment, Zombie Puppets revived one after another, roaring as they pounced into the crowd like tigers among sheep.
There was only one exception.
"Why?"
The swaying zombie's face was full of confusion. It tilted its head where it stood, looking utterly brain-dead.
"Why?"
Clear syllables came from its mouth, standing out amid the battlefield full of undead howls.
Lowett slowly approached, rested his chin on its shoulder, and whispered in its ear.
"Yes, why indeed?"
Jingle, jingle!
Raising the hand holding the bells, Lowett pointed toward the back gate.
"Why not go ask him?"
At those words, the unusual zombie's eyeballs shifted, as though light flickered within them.
"Yes, find him. Why... why!!!"
The soft murmur abruptly turned into a scream. It suddenly went berserk, dropped to all fours like a wild beast, and shot forward.
I have a Skeleton Revival.
I have a Vengeful Spirit Creation.
Ah~
Vengeful Spirit Zombie!
"Now this will be entertaining!"
Lowett took out a camera Den Den Mushi he had picked up along the way and fed it a piece of cabbage leaf. The little creature, with its orange-yellow shell and black stripes, had no interest in eating at the moment.
As he stepped forward, a gust of wind swept past, and the Black Knight appeared behind Lowett.
No matter what evil thoughts its master had, it possessed only one thought.
Its master's will stood above all else!
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