Forsaken Priest of the Hero's Party-Chapter 62: Harmael Rising

The Legion of Corpses was a force capable of thriving anywhere.

They had no armor or weapons. They carried no swords and wore no clothing. Yet, they were tough enough to march forward blindly, unfazed by pain even when their arms were severed. They advanced fearlessly, even when surrounded by fallen comrades.

Albatross might have believed his army had immense strategic value, but if it were that simple, the Flesh Underground Castle would have already formed a nation and unified the continent.

The dead cannot grow. Only the living have that privilege.

If the Empire suddenly went mad, it could conscript people from every corner of its lands and raise an army that was a million strong, but such a force would consume grain and money at an unsustainable rate while offering little practical utility.

With a fraction of that cost, they could just bribe a master-level powerhouse—a transcendent being to join them. Such methods were far more flexible, effective, and economical. While in practicality, the Empire could not completely disband its army, there was no need to invest that heavily in maintaining a million-strong military force.

“Who dares to set foot on the land where the goddess resides? Even a single wildflower blooming in the wasteland is a tribute to her, but there is not a single patch of ground for you vile beings to stand upon!”

Aridel erupted in anger upon seeing the army of corpses. Her divine power, unlike Kyle’s, did not instantly annihilate the army before her.

Instead, a sacred space enveloped the entire battlefield that swallowed all evil like water drowning mosquitoes. The Legion of Corpses did not get annihilated immediately, but it began to slowly weaken.

From afar, Albatross stomped his feet in frustration.

“Always a priest, even this time! Do the gods have nothing better to do than interfere with everything we attempt to do?”

“Should we continue the advance? Prolonged exposure to divine power will only lead to complete destruction.”

“There will be no retreat. Continue the advance. This force was nothing but a discarded hand anyway.”

While it was true that the forces were considered expendable, the idea of being able to discard them and the reality of actually doing so were entirely different matters.

As Albatross drove his own forces into a corner, his expression grew grim. He glanced over at the woman seated in the chair, calmly watching the battlefield, but he dared not voice his frustrations.

Harmael. What on earth are you thinking? Are you trying to use this opportunity to destroy us along with the Hero’s Party?

She held a fan over her face, revealing only her eyes, and smiled sweetly.

The Demon King, Harmael, observed the Hero’s Party with her crimson gaze. Indeed, while Aridel and Renheim themselves were formidable, none of the three could be underestimated either.

“Let’s finish this quickly. I want to eat meat for dinner.”

The hero, Yurinel Lakponcia, didn’t even release her mana. When the Legion of Corpses brushed against the Holy Sword, they fell like wheat to steel, piling up on the hill. Harmael’s expression shifted slightly. Indeed, if she had tried to confront the Hero’s Party directly, it would have been a grave mistake.

The power of the Holy Sword lies beyond my expectations.

If she had faced the Hero Party directly, the outcome would have been uncertain. Even if she did manage to win, it would be a hard-fought victory at best, leaving her badly wounded. The Hero’s abilities were on a level she couldn’t easily measure.

It was usually not that difficult to gauge the strength of another. After all, who would hold back in a fight where their lives are on the line?

But someone like Yurinel, who fought while conserving her energy, was a different story.

Even Harmael, with all her skill, couldn’t determine the full extent of Yurinel’s strength.

You are indeed worthy of being called a Hero. I acknowledge you. You could have been a rival worthy of my respect.

The Demon King, idly toying with a black orb, continued to observe the scene.

Her gaze shifted to the woman wielding a whip and her expression darkened at the sight of the weapon.

Vindication—a cursed tool forged out of hatred for demons—filled her with unease.

That weapon was almost like an evil god in itself, its power drawn from the resentment and screams of those slain by demons. In another sense, it could be considered a holy relic, only lacking divinity.

For demons, it was a terrifying weapon. The people from the Western Clan who used it were also mentally unstable. When the Vindication lashed out, it destroyed flesh and bone completely. The sight of the rotting corpses it left behind made Harmael shake her head in discomfort.

Is that girl a descendant of the Western Clan? They awakened the Slumbering One in the Arctic, bringing about the downfall of their entire Clan.

The Western Clan was a group of lunatics who dared to launch a preemptive strike against the Ancient Demon King.

Harmael, who prided herself on being rational, couldn’t fathom such recklessness.

Even among demon hunters, Lucia was considered the most twisted, her power rooted not in holiness but in madness and deep resentment.

Yet, it was precisely that unholy power that made her a terrifying force.

Parnell Cidatel too, the former princess of the Cidatel Kingdom.

The Cidatel Royal Family had long been a lineage of powerful sorcerers, and Parnell, the genius mage who inherited their bloodline, stood at the very pinnacle of magic.

Their strength was so great that the Duke of the current Cidatel Republic was unable to overthrow the monarchy through any means, ultimately resorting to Grimudo’s power to bring down the kingdom.

Both the commoners and nobles dared not rebel except for a few, which necessitated such drastic measures. Parnell was the legitimate heir of such a family.

Along with her exceptional talent, she possessed the Royal Family’s hidden treasures, placing her near the pinnacle of magical power.

Indeed, they are all worthy of their names.

Her  Main-Auxiliary Core Architecture was also an innovative concept, even for the demon race who prided themselves on their magic. It was created by the Cidatel Royal Family and today, it was clear that their reputation was well-earned.

Even now, Parnell was solely relying on her Auxiliary Cores, unleashing small-scale spells in rapid succession, but her attacks were so swift that the advancing corpses couldn’t even come close to her.

“Your Majesty. Do you intend to just watch like this?”

Albatross, the Lord of the Underground Flesh Castle, could no longer hide his frustration. Was this really the cooperation they had agreed upon? The formidable Demon King Harmael had done nothing but recline in her chair, calmly observing the battle.

If she had sent even one subordinate to attack, her actions might have been excusable. Instead, Albatross was left to act alone, sending corpses into battle while she remained motionless in the distant rear.

He had become a lich to escape death.

Would he be insane enough to throw himself in front of the holy sword, the Vindication, and Parnell’s magic? Yet, Harmael had come alone without a single soldier and was behaving this way, so it was only natural for him to feel a surge of anger.

Harmael glanced at him and yawned, as if uninterested.

“I do not understand your intention in asking me that.”

She gestured toward the Hero’s Party.

Only then did Albatross realize something and flinch in surprise. He had been so overwhelmed by how quickly the corpses were being slaughtered that he had lost track of their original plan.

“Lord, when do you plan to begin? Those are your forces, so it doesn’t matter to me how many of them you want to lose, but how much longer must I wait? This is boring.”

“The plan has already been implemented...”

“Implemented, you say? Are you saying the Hydra’s poison has infected them?”

Harmael’s expression turned cold as she observed the Hero’s Party, who were still standing and slaughtering the corpses. Albatross fidgeted nervously.

The werewolf corpses, infused with Hydra’s poison, had approached the Hero’s Party as planned, and as expected, they expelled their bodily fluids. Some died and splattered their fluids onto the Hero Party.

The Hydra’s Poison was a potent toxin that worked even without direct contact or absorption.

Even if the Hero’s Party, unwilling to come into contact with the corpses’ bodily fluids, used magic to repel them, they could not prevent the fluids from touching the ground and causing contamination.

The area was becoming a highly toxic zone where no living beings could survive, but who could have known that?

“It seems nothing is happening. Are you really saying they’re already poisoned?”

To Harmael’s eyes, there was no visible change. Albatross, seeing the same thing, merely moved his lips.

Despite being struck by the infamous Hydra’s poison, the Hero’s Party remained unscathed. Albatross felt a strong urge to question Harmael. Did you not give me pure water from the start?

“Then are they fighting with their last ounce of spirit? They don’t seem that desperate, do they? Albatross, you must provide a proper answer.”

As Harmael’s gaze grew colder, descending into an extreme chill, the Hero’s Party also began to sense something was wrong.

“What the hell?”

The Hero, Yurinel Lakponcia, was the first to notice the anomaly. Seeing the blue smoke rising from her bosom, she quickly pulled out the Blue Bird’s Feather with her left hand and was taken aback. The feather was already starting to vaporize from the tip, disappearing at a rate faster than normal.

“It’s a trap. What on earth have we been caught in?”

They knew something was wrong, but they couldn’t pinpoint the source of the problem. The Blue Bird’s Feather wasn’t corroding on its own. It was clearly being consumed to protect them from something invisible.

Poison...? But it didn’t even touch me. Even if the bodily fluids touched me, I repelled them all with magical energy.

When magical energy lightly envelops the body, even flies fall before they can land. Raindrops are easily repelled and hail cannot penetrate.

So, even after fighting like that, not a single stain appeared on their skin or clothes. Therefore, the only possible explanation was that the poison was entering through their breaths.

Yurinel and Lucia reached the same conclusion simultaneously and they exchanged confused glances.

As Parnell waved her hand, a gust of wind swirled from above, sweeping away the smell of blood and the air from the ground. Yet, the corrosion of the feather did not slow down. The Hydra’s poison had already spread into the very earth itself.

“Ugh... Archbishop, is it just me, or is my head suddenly hurting? Is it because I’ve inhaled too much of the rotten smell?”

“This... we must retreat immediately. If we escape quickly, it may not be too late.

”

Aridel, who had been supporting everyone from the center without coming into contact with the corpses, suddenly complained of a throbbing headache. What began as a mild ache gradually intensified.

She and Renheim didn’t have the Blue Bird’s Feathers, meaning the radiation properly invaded their bodies. As a metallic taste began to fill his mouth, Renheim’s expression froze.

This... this is Hydra’s poison!

This terrible poison had no antidote—death was the only escape. Among the few toxins that cannot be healed even with divine power, it was the most notorious.

When the blueprint of life—DNA—is shattered by radiation, applying divine power only triggers a regenerative process that causes necrosis.

Cells can no longer replicate and instead of healing, regeneration only caused the skin to melt away and diarrhea to occur. The cells with the shortest lifespan, such as skin and mucosal cells, die first.

From the moment of exposure, divine power acts as poison rather than medicine.

I can’t feel my teeth... I’m already properly poisoned.

Once poisoned, the signs become clear through several symptoms, but until then, this colorless and odorless poison remains undetectable.

Realizing Aridel was poisoned, Renheim stopped infusing divine energy inside her body.

The dizziness had worsened as soon as the divine energy touched her and she felt no sensation—as though her mouth had gone numb.

She lightly bit her tongue but felt no pain. No, even the sensation of biting it was gone. Only a strange feeling remained as if a powerful anesthetic had completely numbed her mouth.

Even the intelligent and cold-headed Renheim momentarily went blank.

This is bad. To think the Underground Flesh Castle prepared such a method...!

Hydras were difficult to find and even harder to see. Extracting poison from their venom glands was as challenging as climbing the highest mountain in the Kalkamir Mountain Range bare-handed.

Even if someone subdued a Hydra by force and extracted the poison, their body would not last long due to the venom salts and the radiation emitted from the venom glands. The Slime Demon Lord, Marmanum, had played a significant role there.

Normally, people collect water from ponds where Hydras have drunk or sand from places they’ve passed, using that as “Hydra’s Poison.” Even that was powerful enough to kill someone easily.

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But the power of real Hydra’s Poison, directly extracted from the venom glands, was known only to the gods.

A single drop could contaminate an entire pond and Marmanum had extracted several bottles of it to offer to Harmael.

Its potency was unimaginable.

Where and how did they obtain this much poison? It’s impossible, unless Grimudo, the master of the Monster Corps...

Of course, hydra’s poison didn’t affect the undead, but Hydras were powerful enough even without their venom. Did the Underground Flesh Castle really subdue the massive monster and extract the poison?

There was no time to think further. Renheim embraced the Saintess and soared into the air. Moving away from the ground weakened the power received from the Goddess, but that wasn’t important right now.

“Ar– Archbishop? What’s happening?”

“Everyone, escape upwards! This is Hydra’s Poison!”

There wasn’t even time to answer the Holy Saint properly. After hearing those words, the other three below also shot upwards.

Yurinel and Lucia used their mana reinforcement techniques, while Parnell levitated to evacuate. The corpse army, now with less than half its original size, could only stare blankly at the sky like dogs that had lost their prey.

“But hasn’t it taken effect already? Look. They’ve given up on fighting and are running away. Their bodies must be having problems.”

“They shouldn’t just be having problems. They should already be dead! If things had gone right, those guys would have already collapsed!”

Seeing the Hero’s Party soar into the air, Harmael stood up with her fan, looking at them with disdain.

As expected, just when she thought things might go smoothly, nothing moved forward unless she took action herself. It was a mistake to expect anything from a group of corpses whose brains and minds had already rotted.

“But still...”

Before he could even finish his words, Harmael surged forward. A buzzing sound and shockwave split the ground in a fan shape, immediately drawing the Hero Party’s attention.

Yurinel quickly drew her holy sword and her divine reinforcement flared, making the sword shine brightly.

Clang!

When the sword and fan collided, a dull noise rang out, like steel striking steel—or more like two iron balls colliding—followed by lightning scattering in all directions as the two opposing forces repelled each other.

Several corpse soldiers below were well-roasted and the smell of cooked meat filled the air. Yurinel’s eyes widened as she recognized the source of the power—one that was by no means inferior to her own.

“You are...”

“Harmael!”

Lucia exclaimed in shock, brandishing her Vindication. The blazing aura, shaped like a corrupted white dragon, was unmistakable. A Sword Master’s aura reflected their life’s journey.

While it could be similar between individuals, it was never exactly the same.

How could anyone fail to recognize who this woman was after seeing such a distinctive aura?

Aura is one of the most reliable forms of identification. Even through her dizziness, Aridel’s expression changed completely when she saw the dragon-shaped aura.

It reminded her of the one used by Princess Ardein that she had seen as a child.

This one was like a twin to it.

The famous Immortal Demon Lord—or rather, the one who should now be called the Demon King, had appeared before them.

The Holy Saint clung to her fading sanity amidst the nausea, uncertain if it would make any difference at all.