The Sequel to the Romance Fantasy Was a Zombie Apocalypse – Chapter 72

1. A Tavern.

A bustling tavern.

In one corner filled with patrons trying to drown their day’s exhaustion in alcohol, a massive middle-aged man was silently chugging his drink.

The long scar running vertically by his eyes and the gigantic sword beside him hinted at countless battlefields he had traversed.

*Gulp gulp.*

After downing the strong drink from the giant wooden mug in one go, he exhaled sharply and muttered softly to himself.

“Lanit, that bastard, can’t die. If it’s you, you can survive even there. I believe that…”

He merely stared blankly at the empty cup.

—

2. A Ruin.

“…What an absurd visitor.”

The Magic Tower, an institution where renowned sorcerers from the Kingdom of Arkeisia and the entire continent of Takma gather for research.

Beyond the well-known fields of elements, body enhancement, summoning, and alchemy, there were dozens of subfields of magic that the public had never even heard of.

So tall and peculiarly structured that one couldn’t see the top even when looking up, the tower was the very foundation of magic, and the sorcerers residing there were relentless truth-seekers following an endless path of knowledge.

And the master of the tower, revered as the pinnacle of magic across the continent, was none other than Master Blion Magian.

Looking like a tidy young boy with bright blue hair, he was only in his early twenties despite being 24 years old, which explained why people were often shocked upon hearing his actual age.

Blion was now glowering at the girl before him, his brow heavily furrowed.

What would normally be a workspace for researchers in the tower was now utterly wrecked beyond recognition.

Blood was cruelly splattered across the debris.

And the gruesome corpses, presumed to be the source of the blood, wore the tower’s symbol—a tattered blue robe.

The wreckage left behind after destruction.

In the very midst of that ruin stood a young boy draped in a blue cloak, shooting sharp glances at the root of this chaos.

And there stood a girl in black dress, who appeared utterly unfazed by his gaze.

From her parasol to her boots, everything was cloaked in black, as the witch smiled at the tower master as if there were no issues with the current situation.

“I’ll ask without expecting an answer… what’s your identity, and what purpose do you have in committing such deeds?”

Harsh words poured forth from the tower master, which clashed with his youthful appearance.

“Oh my…”

The black witch playfully pretended to be startled by Blion’s threats, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Using such untamed words, for one representing the Magic Tower…”

*Peeing-*

A flash grazed the black witch’s cheek, leaving a bead of blood.

“Enough. Just shut up. I reckon it would be quicker to exclude your head and evaporate the rest of your body without a trace before analyzing your brain to figure out your identity.”

However, the black witch simply stroked the wound, which was now bleeding, with her gloved hand.

“…A correction and punishment seem necessary for one without manners.”

The pallid face of the girl, akin to that of a corpse, now tinged with a hue of rage.

—

3. A Snowfield.

The ground covered in snow, the snow falling from the air, and everything blanketed in it.

On a pure white expanse, about twenty warriors faced off against hundreds of wolves, baring their teeth at one another.

The soldiers of Count Larson, clad in black armor, weren’t frightened even in such dire straits.

Rather, they thought that there could be no greater glory than dying fighting right here, and that invigorated their spirit even more.

In a few seconds.

Moments later, blood from both man and beast would flow, mingling across this pristine snowfield.

An eternity of one second, and then another… And finally, just as one of the warriors took a deep breath to shout out the charge—

“This way!”

All eyes—beast and man alike—turned towards the source of the voice.

*Thud thud thud—*

A massive black horse over sixty size galloped across the snowfield towards the wolves.

And there rode a young giant, one hand gripping the reins and the other holding a sword, rushing forward with a black cape billowing behind him.

The warriors, who had been stiff with their great swords clutched in both hands, relaxed upon recognizing him.

“The cowardly young lord has come personally to spoil the fun.”

—

4. A Chapel.

A chapel filled with brilliantly colored stained glass on one wall.

Inside, a woman was praying.

Kneeling on the floor, her hands clasped tightly, her eyes shut, silently raising a fervent prayer suffused with an unexplainable longing.

*Screech—*

*Thud thud.*

A man entered through the door of the chapel.

Dressed as a noble, the young man walked straight towards the praying woman.

“Arit.”

Only after approaching closely and calling her name did the Saintess open her eyes and look up at him.

“…Lord Lopez.”

“It’s late. You should go to bed now.”

Lopez Terrelud, head of House Terrelud, had come to find his fiancée Arit Radain, the Saintess of the Radain Church, at the small chapel built in the mansion.

“….”

But Arit didn’t respond.

Her golden eyes were filled with anguish, sorrow, longing, and regret.

Once Lopez read that look, he lowered his body and embraced Arit, and only then did she let the tears she had been holding back flow.

“Ugh… Esmela…”

What words could Lopez possibly offer to comfort his crying fiancée?

He pondered for a moment, yet found no proper answers, so he merely patted her back in silence.

—

5. In a Log Cabin.

*Clatter!*

A bottle smashed to smithereens on the floor.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone!”

The one who hurled the bottle to the ground was Tereed Herta, the head of House Herta.

He was drunkenly shouting at someone.

Dressed in shabby clothes, much like a commoner. Dozens of broken bottles surrounded the table where he sat.

That pitiful sight bore no resemblance to the glory of the Duke and the kingdom’s prime minister he once had.

His rage was directed at Zikhaim, the head butler of House Herta.

The scrupulous old man was now dressed in farmer’s attire instead of a butler’s uniform, yet he still held himself with the demeanor of a top-tier butler.

“As a butler, how could I possibly abandon my master?”

He gazed down at the shattered bottle at his feet and spoke calmly.

And there was someone eavesdropping by the door.

“…Sigh.”

The young man, missing his right arm, let out a sigh of frustration.

Helinante felt utterly powerless in the face of such a reality, where he could do nothing but lament.

—

6. In Pedina City.

A woman was walking down the street.

“Walking” is a rather euphemistic term.

Stumbling and swaying, she managed to move slowly without collapsing. The woman with black bobbed hair struggled painfully as she moved forward.

“Young lady… must save…”

Her expression vacant, her two unfocused eyes fixated on something. The woman in the tattered black dress mumbled to herself, endlessly repeating her words.

That bizarre appearance naturally caught the eyes of passersby.

“Hey…”

A middle-aged man, unable to bear it any longer, cautiously spoke to her.


Due to her disheveled state, he wondered if she might be a noble and approached with caution.

But Elina continued swaying forward, oblivious to him.

“Such…”

The man watched her retreating figure with a troubled expression. He knew well what lay ahead of her.

“Where are you going? Heading that way only gets you to the eastern gate! Are you trying to exit the fortress? That’s dangerous! Monsters from the royal capital are swarming outside the fortress!”

The royal capital. Upon hearing that term, the woman paused.

“Did you say royal capital?”

Her silver eyes regained their light.

“Uh, uh-oh?”

The man was startled as he turned to see the woman approaching him, her heels clicking purposefully on the ground.

The staggering figure that had seemed like a madwoman was entirely gone, replaced by a poise akin to a well-trained maid in every action she took.

“Do you know the situation in the royal capital?”

“Uh, uh… I’ve heard of it vaguely. It’s been said that after the royals and survivors escaped three years ago, the capital has been completely sealed off by a barrier. Of course, ultimately it was all for nothing. Since the monsters had already spread across the kingdom by then…”

“What about after that? Any other news of the royal capital? Any survivors?”

Taken aback by her switched demeanor as she spoke clearly, the man faithfully responded with what he knew.

“To my knowledge, there isn’t any. Since that news, there’s been no word on the surroundings of the royal capital, making it a completely dead land. Well, since the entire kingdom has already fallen into their hands, it’s no surprise proper news would reach here…”

“….”

“Why do you ask about the royal capital? Do you have business there? If so, I’m afraid I must advise against it. At this point, even attempting to leave the fortress itself is…”

“Hey, miss!”

The middle-aged man had tried asking about her worries and offered words of consolation, but the woman had already turned away, seemingly finished with her inquiries and began to walk forward once more.

“The black witch… the royal family… the world’s ceiling…”

The woman with the black bobbed hair mumbled some incomprehensible monologue, swaying, yet steadily heading toward one destination as if someone precious awaited her at the end of that path.

—

7. In the Temporary Royal Palace.

Princess Yuria Arkeisia stood on the terrace, gazing up at the starry night sky.

The cold wind pleasantly seeped through the thin silver camisole she wore.

With her long black hair flowing in the night breeze, Yuria smiled.

Her long-awaited wish was about to be fulfilled.

“Miyako. I’ll come to meet you.”