Dracotitán

With a sword, a blade, and a halberd floating behind him, and surrounded by lightning and flames, Muria, the young man with black hair and golden eyes, looked down at the undead swarming around the holy warriors.

Because the liches that had left their mark on these souls had been slain, the undead lost their restraint. Some, unable to resist the lure of killing holy spirits, charged at the holy warriors, while others, with higher intelligence, fled frantically upon witnessing their masters being effortlessly killed by Muria.

Regardless of their choice, their fate was the same. Muria, standing in mid-air, pressed down with his hand, and his three signature weapons, engulfed in lightning and flames, followed his gesture and thunderously struck down at the undead surrounding the holy warriors.

Where the weapons landed, the liches' mid- and high-level undead minions like gargoyles, dark knights, and abominations wailed in terror before turning to ash. Then, lightning, dragon flames, and whirlwinds erupted from the weapons, sweeping over the remaining undead.

The holy warriors gazed in astonishment at the young man in the sky. In less than ten breaths since the appearance of the liches, everything threatening them had been cleared by this youth.

"Thank you for your assistance!" When Muria descended from the sky, the leader of the holy warriors bowed slightly in gratitude. Though they did not know who he was, he had indeed saved them from certain annihilation.

"You're welcome," Muria replied, retrieving his weapons, then turned to the seven emaciated holy warriors being protected in the middle of the group. Among them, three were holding infants in one arm while gripping their swords with the other.

Seeing the seven heavily wounded holy warriors, Muria took a deep breath, his mood heavy, and asked, "What about the rest of your team?"

"They all died in battle," replied a holy warrior with a withered face and dry muscles.

"These are the ones you managed to save?" Muria gestured to the children in their arms.

"Yes. We were too weak. We sacrificed so many comrades just to save three children. We originally brought over a hundred people from the city, but we couldn't protect them," the holy warrior replied bitterly, filled with guilt. "We couldn't save them."

Muria fell silent, his gaze sweeping over the scattered remains and fragmented bodies. Among them were the bodies of dozens of holy warriors, along with bloodstained cloth and limbs, telling a silent tale of tragedy.

"It's not your fault," Muria said, looking at a severed arm clutching a sword, its flesh torn by ghouls. "You did your best."

"I wish I was stronger, at the Gold rank at least," another holy warrior lamented, "I could have killed more undead and even burned my soul to save maybe one or two more people."

Muria silently watched the holy warriors who had just entered Bavaria dismount to gather their comrades' remains or cut open ghouls and abominations in search of their companions' limbs, trying to piece together complete bodies...

"Muria, may we request something of you?" Soon, several Gold rank holy warriors approached Muria.

"What is it?"

"Could you please take these three children and the seven comrades with you to safety?"

"Just like that?" Muria was slightly startled, expecting them to ask him to join their team, but instead, it was such a simple request.

"If it's not too much trouble, could you also take the remains of our comrades?"

"What will you do then?" Muria couldn't help but ask.

"Of course, we'll keep moving forward," the leader replied matter-of-factly. "Their team saved three children; we can't do any less!"

"To save three children at the cost of three hundred of our best holy warriors," Muria pondered in silence, contemplating the cost...

"Muria?" A holy warrior tentatively called out, seeing Muria lost in thought.

"You don't have to call me 'sir'; just Muria is fine."

"Muria, what about our request?"

"Why not ask me to join you?" Muria looked at the three holy warriors shrouded in divine light, their faces obscured.

"You're not human, are you?"

"No."

"Entering Bavaria to rescue our kin, we wouldn't ask for help from any other race."

"Because it's a suicide mission!" another holy warrior interjected. "Plus, there's the risk of soul corruption. Many holy warriors are reluctant to enter, so how could we ask others?"

"I will fulfill your request. I'll ensure their safety and take your comrades' remains out," Muria agreed, moved by their response.

Despite his formidable power, none of the holy warriors had asked him to join them, nor did anyone say anything about greater power bringing greater responsibility.

How many people would be willing to do good if they couldn't guarantee their own safety? And if doing good meant certain death, would anyone still be willing? And what if, in addition to death, they had to endure the torment of falling into hell? Muria wondered if there were such people in his previous world.

But in the world of Aeloria, in Eorzea, he could say with certainty: yes! Because before him stood a group willing to endure the greatest pain in the eyes of mortals for their beliefs.

…

"What's happening?"

"The undead are rushing deeper into the fog, as if something is attracting them."

"Someone just followed the holy warriors into the undead fog from the sky, at least a Gold rank."

…As Muria followed the team of holy warriors into the undead fog, the crowd that had been seeing them off was in uproar, and the kingdom's army on the fortress walls finally reacted.

The divine barrier specifically against the undead was activated, ballistae were loaded, magic cannons charged and ready to fire...

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