Eljudnir.
The name of the mansion where the secret society Helheim makes its base.
A place beyond the world’s reckoning, hidden even from perception by unfathomable magic—where none but Hel, the Corpse King, and his eight elite officers, the [Eight Precepts], are permitted to tread.
A woman with pale, bluish-white hair walks down the mansion’s halls, her beautiful features twisted darkly as she exhales a long sigh.
One hundred eighty years have passed since the Corpse King vanished.
Though his appearances were always erratic, he was never one to neglect regular contact. A silence this prolonged was unthinkable.
The death of the Corpse King.
Though rumors whispered of it as fact, not a single soul in Helheim believed them…
…or so it should have been.
Now, with nameless grunts claiming allegiance to Helheim on the rise, certainty is hard to come by. But at the very least, none among the original eight—those personally recruited by the Corpse King—ever gave it credence.
Helheim threw everything into the search for their king, scouring the world in desperation.
The result? Not a single lead. Only despair.
Then, exactly three years ago—
“[The Corpse King… is dead.]”
One of the officers muttered those words.
That was the tipping point. The search was called off.
Even those who had searched the hardest, who had believed in his survival the most—their hearts shattered under the weight of his loss.
The officers who had gathered under the Corpse King scattered to the winds. With no one to hold them together, the magnitude of what they’d lost broke them.
Now, only one remains in Eljudnir.
Nifl, the [Unwavering], self-proclaimed right hand of Hel, the Corpse King.
A half-angel, half-demon outcast—the brains behind Helheim.
Believing unshakably that the Corpse King would one day return, she visits the mansion daily, playing the part of a housekeeper.
However, her hope was already as fragile as a candle in the wind.
Recently, the name “Helheim” had been spreading across the world. But it wasn’t fame—it was infamy.
Was it the work of impostors abusing Helheim’s name…? Or perhaps one of the executives had gone rogue?
The executives didn’t seem willing to abandon the [Eight Precepts] bestowed upon them by the Corpse King. There was a chance they were the ones attacking humanity under that banner.
And yet, he still hadn’t appeared.
Even though the name of Helheim—which he had cherished so deeply—was being tainted.
“Corpse King Hel… Shiou…”
She whispered his name as if cradling something precious.
Futile. Calling his name here wouldn’t change a thing.
“…Has the time finally come…?”
It would be easier if she could just scream and wail like the other executives.
Would lashing out at the Holy Kingdom—where he had last vanished—ease her frustration?
But even that was impossible. A tiny shred of pride, the pride of being his right hand, stood in her way.
[“The fact that you—the brain—remain calm is what holds this organization together. Thank you, Nifl. Truly, you are my right arm.”]
“…Tch…!”
She clenched her teeth, tears streaming down.
Don’t cry. Stay composed…
Just a little longer. She had to keep waiting.
If she gave up now, she might never see him again.
Even if—
“Please… just be alive. Even if we never meet again… As long as you live, I…—”
Knock knock knock!
“—?!”
A sharp knocking echoed from the mansion’s entrance.
Nifl’s breath caught.
Only nine people in the world knew of this place.
The executives… and the Corpse King.
Hiding her reddened eyes, she steadied her trembling voice.
It had to be one of the executives. She couldn’t show weakness.
But if… if it wasn’t an executive…
She couldn’t let him see her like this.
Driven by a sliver of hope, she hurried to the door and quietly—opened it.
“NIFLUUUUUU—!!”
“G-Garm…?”
The moment the door opened, a red-haired wolf-eared girl crashed into Nifl’s ample chest.
[The Indomitable] Garm.
One of Helheim’s fiercest executives.
Nifl sighed faintly as her hope flickered out, but she forced herself to remain calm and steady Garm.
Garm was panting, sobbing, tears flooding down her face.
Seeing the usually fearless and lively Garm in this state made Nifl’s stomach twist.
Had something catastrophic happened to Helheim?
Had they found definitive proof of the Corpse King’s death?
Either way, Nifl wasn’t sure she could bear it in her current state.
With a voice thick with exhaustion and resignation, she asked:
“Garm… what’s wrong?”
“Uu… Hic… Uhh… W-well, you see…!”
Garm lifted her face. Her expression didn’t match any of Nifl’s grim expectations—
Tear-streaked, but radiant with joy.
“I smell the King…! The King… he’s come back!”
“…Nn.”
The rustling of leaves. The sound of wind. Sunlight filtering through the trees, birds singing.
Blinking against the unfamiliar brightness, I confirmed my surroundings—a forest. No signs of life nearby.
Seems my teleportation worked.
Sitting up, I channeled [Mana] through my body in a long-practiced motion.
Most creatures in this world have [Mana Pathways], organs running alongside blood vessels that circulate mana—though the amount varies by individual.
There are ways to increase it… but right now, I had more pressing matters.
As the mana flowed, information poured into my mind:
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Shiou Hizaki
Usable Magic:
[Ice Magic] Lv. 1
Abilities:
[Blessing of Death]
Unlock powers based on total lives taken. 0/100
Gain abilities based on deaths of friendly entities. 0/1
Titles:
[Corpse King]
Proof of divine recognition.
Grants massive magic growth boost.
This was it.
This ability was the root of everything.
The worst—and strongest—weapon, one that had ignited the chuunibyou in my past self.
[Blessing of Death].
The first condition was simple enough:
the more lives I took, the more power I unlocked.
“Lives” could mean demons infesting this world… or even humans. A brutally straightforward, overpowered ability.
But the second condition…
Gaining new abilities based on the deaths of friendly entities. The absolute worst ability.
“Friendly entities”… for me, that meant my classmates.
The moment a classmate died, their ability flowed into me. I nearly lost it back then.
This time, I wouldn’t let the second condition trigger.
“Now then… where the hell am I?”
Nothing but trees in sight.
No choice but to move forward.
“Let’s see… [Ice Blade: Gram].”
Mana condensed into frost, and a sword of ice materialized in my palm.
A test swing confirmed its balance.
“Alright, time to explore!”
Trying to act calm, but my heart was already racing—just like back then. This otherworld still thrilled me.
Griffil Holy Kingdom,
Fifth Princess Asha El Griffil.
Brilliant, beautiful, virtuous—the picture-perfect princess.
Despite being the fifth in line, she held the adoration of both royalty and commoners alike. At just twelve years old, her sharp eyes glared at the desk before her.
The [Griffil Magic Map] lay atop it.
A national treasure, this magical artifact received real-time data from [Heaven’s Eye], a grand spell surveilling the Holy Kingdom from above.
Asha’s worried gaze was fixed on the [Griffil Sea of Trees] marked on the map.
A labyrinthine forest in the middle of nowhere, known as the “Lost Forest” and nicknamed the “The Explorer’s Grave”.
Once you enter the forest, it is impossible to get out unless you know the exact geography. ────
“Asha-sama… what is this…?”
“…I… do not know.”
—was now frozen.
Coated in frost, glittering white, the once-deep green abyss had transformed beyond recognition.
Just yesterday, it had been normal. No reports of anomalies.
And yet, this was the result.
Asha turned to her knight attendant.
“Mark, I’m heading to the Sea of Trees. Inform my father.”
“P-Princess! It’s too dangerous!”
“—A Greater Demon may have appeared. As a member of the royal family, I must act. To do otherwise would disgrace the Griffil name.”
“…Understood! I’ll mobilize the knights at once! Until then… please wait here!”
“…Thank you, Mark.”
Watching Mark salute and leave, Asha whispered, “…Forgive me,” and sped off, sword at her hip.
This was an emergency. Every second counted.
“As a protector of the people, I cannot simply wait.”
Her overwhelming patriotism and pride had led her to this reckless choice.
“With the blood of the royal family that felled the Demon King… I will—!”
Stepping into the Griffil Sea of Trees, Asha winced at the crunch of frost underfoot.
Even in winter, the forest had never changed this drastically. Had such an anomaly ever occurred before?
“…It’s cold.”
The northern-like chill made her pull her coat tighter. But she stayed alert, her grip never leaving her sword’s hilt.
Never leaving… or so she intended.
“…There’s no… presence of life?”
The normally vibrant forest felt devoid of all living traces.
This wasn’t natural. Someone had cast a spell.
“Then… a Greater Demon must be…”
Her voice trembled—from cold or fear, she wasn’t sure.
But she steadied her breathing. The pride of royalty kept her standing tall.
She couldn’t falter.
Then—
“…Ugh… ah… aah…”
“—?!”
A moan.
A sound like a strangled groan, something unnatural, struck Asha’s eardrums.
Instinctively, she turned toward the noise, sword ready. Hands shaking, she exhaled deeply.
But no further movement came. Cautiously, she inched forward.
Step. Step.
Each footfall felt heavier than the last as she approached the source.
Then, she saw—
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