For a moment, he didn’t respond, his gaze drifting toward the carnage surrounding them. “No,” he said finally, his tone flat. He didn’t tell her that he had found their mutilated bodies earlier—ripped apart by undead far stronger than anything they could have handled. He didn’t tell her because he knew it wouldn’t help. They had been human, and in this world, humans were little more than fodder. He had seen it too many times to care.

Eliza felt the weight of his words but didn’t have time to process them before a small group of villagers peeked out from a nearby alleyway. A woman clutched a child to her chest, her eyes wide with terror. Others huddled behind her, their faces pale and gaunt.

Ten’s eyes flicked toward them briefly before returning to Eliza. “It’s time to go,” he said, his voice low and firm.

The villagers whimpered, one of them crying out, “We can’t leave! We’re trapped!”

But Ten wasn’t speaking to them. He was speaking to her. And she knew it.

He was more than capable of escaping this place unscathed. That was his plan, she realized, and it made her heart sink.

“No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tenebrae turned to her, his glowing eyes narrowing. “What did you say?”

“I said no,” she repeated, louder this time. Her voice trembled, but there was steel in it. “You can’t just leave them here. Please, you have to do something.”

His silence was deafening, the weight of his gaze pressing down on her like a boulder. “It’s not our problem,” he said finally. “The quest is over. This isn’t part of our primary objective, and we gain nothing from saving them.”

Eliza felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She stared at him, her heart breaking a little more with every second. “This is what we are to you, then?” she said, her voice cracking. “Just… corpses? Annoyances?”

Ten tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Hmm?”

Her tears returned, her voice growing louder, filled with hurt and disbelief. “This is what we are to you! Children, families, people—you see us as nothing more than…"

He remained silent, his glowing eyes fixed on her.

She choked on a sob, her voice breaking. “I thought… I thought I was starting to mean something to you. I thought maybe…” Her words trailed off as her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground again, staring at the dirt as tears streamed down her face.

Tenebrae remained motionless, watching her. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but he couldn’t. Deep down, he knew she was right. This world had long since hardened him, stripped him of whatever humanity he had once clung to. These people—these humans—were nothing to him. But when he looked at her, something stirred. Something he hadn’t felt in centuries. And it terrified him.

“Insects. That’s all you are, my dear insects—ammunition for my army.” The voice echoed across the battlefield, cold and condescending. A group of robed figures emerged from the shadows, their leader standing at the center. His crimson robes billowed unnaturally, as though moved by an invisible wind. He carried an ancient wooden spear, its surface covered in dark, pulsing runes. The man’s decayed face twisted into a cruel smile.

“You will all become part of my undead legion,” he declared, his voice filled with malice.

Tenebrae, standing tall in his dark armor, turned his glowing green eyes toward the group. His grip on his sword tightened as he stepped forward. “You’re the summoner of this army?”

The necromancer chuckled, his expression dripping with mockery. “Indeed, I am. But you’ll find it doesn’t matter. You’ll all join them soon enough.” He tapped the butt of his spear against the ground, and a wave of dark energy pulsed outward, spreading like a vile fog. The corpses strewn across the battlefield began to stir. Limbs twisted unnaturally as fallen humans rose again, their eyes lifeless and glowing with necromantic energy. Even the corpses of Eliza’s former party began to shamble toward the remaining villagers, now fully part of the undead horde.

Eliza’s breathing quickened as panic set in. Her hands trembled as she notched an arrow, her eyes darting between the approaching undead and the terrified villagers she had sworn to protect. When one of the undead lunged for a child, her instincts kicked in. She loosed an arrow, striking the creature in the head and dropping it instantly.

But before she could catch her breath, another figure stumbled into view. Her heart stopped. It was Lady Carina, or what remained of her. The zombified healer dragged her broken body forward, her glowing eyes locked onto Eliza.

“C-Carina…” Eliza whispered, her voice cracking as tears welled in her eyes. Memories of their short but cherished friendship flooded her mind. The laughter they had shared, the moments of camaraderie—it all came rushing back. She raised her bow but hesitated, her hands shaking violently. She couldn’t do it.

The undead Carina lunged, her jaws snapping inches from Eliza’s throat. But before the blow could land, a blade sliced through the air. Tenebrae’s massive sword cleaved through Carina’s torso with brutal efficiency, cutting her down in a single swing.

Eliza stumbled back, falling to the ground as she stared at the motionless remains of her friend. Her breath hitched as she fought back sobs, her mind racing with guilt and horror.

The necromancer laughed, his voice booming across the battlefield. “You’re stronger than you look, knight, but one undead is nothing compared to the army I’m growing. Soon, this entire town will join my ranks!”

Tenebrae remained silent, his steps deliberate as he walked toward the necromancer.

“Were those other adventurers friends of yours?” the necromancer taunted, a cruel grin spreading across his decayed face. “Are you thinking you and that weak archer are going to avenge them?”

Ten finally responded, his voice cold and detached. “I barely knew them.”

The necromancer frowned, pulling back his hood to reveal his half-decayed face. “That’s boring. I was hoping for a big speech about vengeance, how they were your comrades, how you’ll make me pay.”

Tenebrae stopped a few paces away, his glowing eyes fixed on the necromancer. His voice was low and steady, devoid of any emotion. “This isn’t vengeance. These humans are valuable assets, vital components in any necromancer’s or lich’s plans. I would be a hypocrite to kill you for being what you are. That would be the pot calling the kettle black.”

The necromancer’s group exchanged confused glances, their confidence wavering.

One of the robed figures turned to their leader, whispering urgently. “Master Urg… Why aren’t the undead attacking him? It’s like he isn’t even there.”

The necromancer froze, his eyes narrowing as he studied Tenebrae more closely. The realization hit him like a thunderclap. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke. “The only thing the undead don’t attack… is other undead.”

Tenebrae’s lip curled into a smirk beneath his helm, the faintest flicker of satisfaction in his glowing eyes. “Now you understand,” he said, his voice laced with quiet menace. “I am not like you. I am more than you. And now…” He raised his sword, its dark edge glinting in the moonlight. “You are going to learn what that means.”

The necromancer took a step back, his confidence evaporating as the towering figure of Tenebrae closed the distance. The undead continued to swarm the villagers and Eliza, but the necromancer’s attention was now entirely on the black-armored knight.

For the first time, he felt fear.