Chapter 362: The Midnight Lord

Luke pushed forward through the battlefield, the air trembling with the weight of chaos. Every gap the soldiers carved into the undead horde brought them a step closer to the objective, but the castle still felt impossibly far, a mirage on the other side of that wall of rotting flesh. The metallic sound of his kukris slicing through bodies rang across the field as he advanced, boots sinking into mud thick with blood and ash.

[You have slain a…]
[You have slain a…]
[You have slain a…]
[You have slain a…]
[You have slain a…]

The messages flashed in his vision one after another, but they meant nothing now. Just static in the background of war. Charlie led the charge, a living fortress of steel and rage. Every swing of her weapon tore open a path, scattering reanimated corpses like broken puppets.

[Estimated Time Until End: 03 hours : 31 minutes : 42 seconds]

The timer blinked mercilessly, a reminder of reality. Two and a half hours gone, almost half the event’s duration, and none of the three final bosses had even appeared, much less fallen. The situation was tilting toward disaster.

Evangeline raised her fingers to her eyes like makeshift binoculars. “We’re getting close.”

Luke spotted a forest ahead, and beyond it, a bridge leading to the castle, an ancient structure of weathered stone and cracked railings. But the way forward was blocked. A formation of Wardens stood guarding the passage, spears lifted and shields buried in the ground like a wall of iron.

“Open the way!” Ronan’s shout tore through the noise of battle.

“Yes, commander!” the soldiers answered in unison.

“Activate skills!”

Luke watched as they dropped their weapons, which vanished into their inventories in flashes of blue light. A moment later, their skin began to darken and harden, taking on the dull shine of metal. It was the Epic skill of the Blacksmith class, one that turned ordinary men into living battering rams. Then came the buffs: overlapping waves of aura and energy, pulsing before settling into silence.

“Now!”

They charged like a tidal wave. The ground shook beneath their feet as they collided with the Wardens. Spears snapped like twigs, and armored bodies fell one after another, clearing a brutal, narrow path. The group pushed through, but Luke glanced back at the reflection of his blades. The soldiers were still fighting behind them, holding the Wardens at bay, and among them, something massive was moving forward. A towering figure, clad in black armor, eyes burning red like embers.

The Warden General.

“Stay sharp,” Erza warned, her voice calm but cutting.

Luke drew a deep breath and activated his refined perception field. The world sharpened instantly. Sounds grew clearer, the faint crunch of snow under boots, the distant crack of steel, the rhythmic pulse of his own heartbeat. Ahead, the forest waited: thick, cold, and cloaked in mist. The trail narrowed as they entered, the air heavy with the stench of blood and iron.

“So the damn Midnight Lord isn’t leading this battle after all,” Mason muttered beside him.

“If all three bosses show up at once, that’s going to be a nightmare,” Luke replied.

He wasn’t wrong. One Warden General was enough to break an army. Three final bosses appearing together would be a massacre. But turning back wasn’t an option.

“Cinderella, as long as you and I take out the King, the rest will be easy,” Evangeline said, still running effortlessly.

It was a reckless plan, but the only one they had. She would pin the King down using her Epic Shadow skill, and Luke would finish it with a concentrated mana arrow.

Simple. Suicidal. Perfect.

The bridge was close now, visible through the thinning trees. Beyond it stood the castle—the exit, the end of this ordeal. That single glimpse lit something inside everyone. Hope and dread tangled together.

Then the wind shifted.

A sudden gust swept through the forest, warm and heavy, breaking the sharp winter chill. The leaves rustled once, then went still. The silence that followed made everyone stop.

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“Stay sharp,” Erza said, raising a hand. The maids froze beside her, falling into a defensive stance.

Her perception field was the sharpest of them all—a heightened version of Luke’s skill. Where he could sense what was near, hers reached far beyond. Weapons came up. The group closed ranks, backs to each other. Nothing but breathing filled the air. Yet something was there. Huge. Watching. Luke gripped his kukris, ready to throw.

“Should we… head for the castle?” Anne whispered, eyes scanning the trees.

“It’s circling us,” Erza answered quietly.

A chill rippled through the group.

“Standing still is worse,” Luke muttered, tension coiling through his voice like a drawn bowstring.

The sound came then—a low growl, deep and guttural, followed by a roar that tore through the forest.

“Barrier!” Erza shouted.

Christine clasped her hands, light flaring between them. A radiant dome formed around the group, sealing them inside just as hell itself descended. Fire ripped through the air, washing over the barrier. Heat exploded outward, suffocating and violent. Allison reacted instantly, unleashing bursts of ice to slow the blaze, but the dome trembled, cracking like glass under pressure.

“Shit! We’ll be roasted alive if we stay here!” Evangeline shouted.