Single for Eternity
Chapter 100: Weakling??

Chapter 100: Weakling??

Standing silently atop the jagged ridge, I allowed the cold wind to whip against my cloak, my gaze locked on the chaotic battlefield unfolding beneath me.

A sea of skeletal warriors, eyes glowing with an eerie, spectral light, surged like a tide of death. Their relentless march sent tremors across the ruined lands, their blackened weapons shimmering with cursed aether.

And amidst the chaos, at the heart of the battlefield, lay a lone figure—sprawled, unmoving, at the mercy of the undead tide.

My eyes narrowed as I focused on him.

The body was clad in some strange form of armor—dark and organic, like it lived and breathed around him. I had never seen anything like it.

The armor pulsed faintly, but it was cracked in multiple places, split from relentless assaults.

Through the fractures, a glimpse of his face revealed itself—obsidian black hair, disheveled and bloodied, and sharp scarlet eyes now barely open.

Recognition hit me instantly.

Einar Sanguis.

I stared, unmoving, as my thoughts raced.

That... was the boy I had been engaged to. The one the Album family had tried to chain me to. A supposed weakling. A pitiful pawn meant to bind my potential, to ensure I remained tame and obedient under their will.

And yet—

The sight before me made that narrative tremble.

He was surrounded by an army—no, not just an army. His army. Among the sea of pale, spectral skeletons, twenty darkened and crimson warriors stood their ground.

They radiated a strange, unsettling energy that reminded me not of death, but of something deeper... Living defiance.

They were not summoned through traditional necromancy. That much I could tell. Their essence didn’t simply mimic life—they resisted death itself. Like him.

"What kind of power is that?" I murmured under my breath, frowning.

My fingers unconsciously drifted toward Dissonance’s hilt strapped to my back. The sword pulsed lightly in resonance, as if it, too, was unnerved by the anomaly unfolding below.

I drew in a sharp breath, recalling the earlier message that had brought me here in the first place:

——[ Sovereign Trial ]——

Event: The Army of the Undead Lord Malthorn has been unleashed upon the realm.

Threat: Demigod

Location: Ruined Prison of Malthorn

Clear Condition: Defeat the Undead Lord and his minions.

Points: Vary based on adversaries eliminated.

Participants: Einar Sanguis (Points: 2756)

——[ Good Luck ]——

My brows furrowed.

Over two thousand points. And they weren’t slowing. His tally kept climbing even now, as his corrupted vassals fought on in his place.

That number... it wasn’t just high. It was unprecedented for someone like him. Especially someone supposedly unawakened.

That was when the realization truly struck me.

He had been fighting alone. For hours. Against an entire army. And only now had he fallen.

What sort of monster hides in plain sight like that?

I had dismissed him the moment our engagement had been announced. A leash, I thought. A decaying fruit the family had thrown at me to rein in my ambition. Someone irrelevant. Powerless. Disposable.

But the man fighting below me wasn’t weak.

No... he was terrifying.

I remembered our duel. Back then, even as a non-awakened, he had withstood my onslaught longer than he had any right to.

There was something in his eyes even then—quiet rebellion, unshakable will. I had chalked it up to stubbornness. Arrogance.

But now...

Now I wasn’t so sure.

Whatever this power was—this armor, these undead warriors, the resonance that disrupted the air itself—it wasn’t something any ordinary fighter should wield. It wasn’t even something ordinary awakened could wield.

"Top Awakened... perhaps even more," I muttered, a strange mixture of unease and intrigue coiling within me.

His energy... it scraped against my own. Alien and ancient. The very essence of it clashed with mine, like a dissonant chord played against a perfect melody.

And that made me wonder—had the Album family made a mistake?

I shook my head.

No. They didn’t make mistakes. They made moves.

And maybe... this move wasn’t about leashing me at all.

Maybe it was a test.

Or a warning.

Because if Einar Sanguis—this strange man now being devoured by a storm of spectral arrows—was truly what he seemed... then the stain on the Album name wasn’t the engagement.

It would be the moment they tried to chain a storm.

And failed.

I clenched my jaw, eyes locked on his broken form. I could feel it now—his breath was weak, his life force fading. Yet even as he lay there, unmoving, there was a strange serenity on his face.

Like he’d already accepted death.

Like he wasn’t afraid.

That settled it.

And my next words were not whispered. I said them clearly, coldly, as the wind carried the weight of my voice across the battlefield:

"You’re not dying today, Einar Sanguis."

Without even realizing it, a slow, amused smile curled up on my lips.

He didn’t need to be a Sovereign—one of the strongest of the generation. But if he could reach Archon level in his lifetime... yes, that would be more than enough.

That would suffice. As my groom.

My fingers closed around the hilt of my sword. Dissonance pulsed softly, as though it too had sensed my resolve. The blade and I had long been as one—bound by will, by blood, and by song.

I pulled it free with one smooth motion. Its unique resonance echoed faintly through the desolate air, a sharp, clear tone that rang like a tuning fork through the bones of the world.

Then I roared its name, a singular command that cracked through the stillness like thunder.

"DISSONANCE."

The battlefield froze.

It wasn’t a metaphor. It was reality.

The moment the name was spoken, every skeleton halted. Their spectral eyes dimmed slightly, flickering in confusion. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. The shifting sands stilled, the low growl of battle ceased, and the very air trembled.

Then it began.

"Sing your resonance," I whispered—softly, but with undeniable authority.

And with that, I jumped.

From the ridge’s edge, I leapt into the heart of death itself.

The descent was swift. I cut through the air with ease, and in that moment, I felt weightless—like a note suspended in a symphony.

Mid-air, I swung my blade in a wide, elegant arc.

The air shivered. White mist erupted from the motion, rippling like sound waves across the battlefield. The spectral fog enveloped the skeletal horde, swirling with ethereal beauty.

And then—

Crack.

Crack. Crack.

Bones shattered under the weight of harmonic dissonance. The mist pulsed, then detonated like a silent scream. Skeletons crumbled to dust in mid-step, their very essence unraveled by the resonance of my blade.

The world responded.

——[ Sovereign Trial ]——

[ +400 Points ]

[ +800 Points ]

[ +1000 Points ]

[ +1200 Points ]

[ +1500 Points ]

————————————

A cascade of messages buzzed through my mind like a storm of bells. The system could barely keep up.

And yet—still—the numbers did not dwindle.

Their army was endless. The Undead Lord’s curse had raised a legion beyond mortal comprehension. But in this moment, it didn’t matter. Because I was the pause in their melody. The wrong note in their song.

I landed gracefully, the ground cracking beneath my feet, and immediately turned my gaze toward him.

Einar.

He still lay on the blood-stained ground, his body half-buried under the collapsed remains of shattered skeletons. His armor—no, that living, alien thing surrounding him—was cracked and receding, barely holding itself together.

But his eyes... his eyes were open.

Scarlet and sharp, even now. Even after surviving what no man should’ve.

They locked onto mine. And what I saw in them wasn’t gratitude.

It was annoyance.

Anger.

A storm of emotion, restrained only by sheer will.

He wasn’t grateful I had come. He was furious that he needed me at all.

I stared down at him, blade still humming softly in my hand, and a quiet laugh rose in my chest.

Of course. He really was that kind of man.

Even on the brink of death, even buried beneath the corpses of thousands, he glared at me as though I had interrupted something. As though my presence was an inconvenience rather than salvation.

’Isn’t he an amusing guy?’ I thought, unable to stop the grin from forming.

He wasn’t like the others. Not like the sycophants or the pretenders. Not like the pawns my family had. No—he had something different.

And right now, lying there with defiance still burning in his eyes, Einar Sanguis was the most interesting person I had ever met.

I tightened my grip on Dissonance, the sword still singing faintly in harmony with my soul.