Volume 1 Chapter 21 When Comparing New And Old Models, The New Model Is Stronger, But When Comparing 'Ancient' And 'Modern', The Ancient Model Seems Stronger
Wishes like that always sounded casual when they came out of Lich's hollow jaw, but this time it wasn't casual at all. He wanted Leila dead. Dead, but not wasted. To him, death was too valuable to just throw away.
Her body mattered—but her soul was even rarer, worth more than gold. If he handled it right, both flesh and spirit could fuel the deepest layers of necromancy.
That was why her death needed to happen under his eye, in his hands. A battlefield kill was too messy, too many risks. Better if she fell where he could collect everything himself.
When he heard she was headed to the cratered plains where the Giant Warlord stood, he followed. Alice had told him to bring an army of undead, but that would be too slow. He needed speed. So he went alone.
The closer he came, the more the ground shook under his steps. A steady thud-thud, like a giant's heartbeat.
Even before the earth trembled, the air was already alive with noise—giant voices rolling like thunder. Loud enough to rattle the sky. For giantkin, this was normal. Their voices were their vows. Louder meant stronger, louder meant truer. A strange culture where honesty was measured in volume.
By the time Lich reached the crater's edge, the fight had started. For humans and giants, war meant a duel, not armies. One-on-one, winner takes all.
Down below, Leila swung a giant's sword ten times her size. Despite its weight, she moved fast, golden fur-lined form darting with deadly ease. That was her gift and her curse: speed mixed with brute force.
Her opponent looked like a priest. Bald head shining, robes heavy, face carved with age. He held a spear as long as a tree. Next to her weapon it looked small, but he held his ground. That meant he was strong.
"Ingie," Lich muttered, spotting a black-skinned giant woman whose voice had been shaking the horizon. She turned at once, kneeling to lower herself, though she was still towering above him.
"Who's the bald one?"
"Lich-sama!" she boomed. "You've come to cheer us on?"
"Not really. I came for Leila. Her death is my job."
"Ah, then you are rivals!" Ingie's eyes gleamed.
"Hardly. She drains my research funds. That's all."
"Then rivals indeed!"
Lich sighed. "Fine. Now, about the bald one?"
"Watch. He'll say his name soon."
Sure enough, after trading blows with Leila, the man leapt back and roared:
"Ha-ha-ha! Well struck, Giant Slayer Leila! But now, I—Yung, 'Thousand-Year Impaler'—stand before you! I am of the new Hero's Party! Soldiers, remember my name! Remember Yung!"
Lich tilted his skull. Ingie leaned closer. "That's the seventh time. He does it every pause."
"A hard name to remember, then."
She chuckled. "On the battlefield, shouting names is normal. Fame grows fast that way."
"Strange custom," Lich said flatly.
As the duel dragged on, Lich grew bored. Yung shouted slogans about elections, votes, and faith while fighting. Leila seemed to be defending, and if she was losing, that suited Lich fine. So long as she died here.
But it was taking too long.
So Lich leaned forward and called out:
"Leila! Dinner's ready when you're done!"
She froze, eyes snapping toward him. In that instant, her back was open.
"Your rear is mine!" Yung bellowed, lunging—
But Leila's sword swept first. One lazy arc, and the "Thousand-Year Impaler" was thrown aside like a rag doll, cut down instantly.
"Yaaay, food!" she chirped, bouncing with joy, golden tail jingling.
Lich stared. "Leila. Weren't you about to lose?"
"Huh? Why would I?"
"You were on the defensive."
"Oh, that? He looked the strongest. I just dragged it out. Ending it fast would've been boring."
Lich groaned. "If you can finish quick, then do it. Wasting time is foolish."
"Lich," she said with a grin, "fighting isn't the waste. The waste comes after."
She explained that giants fought one-on-one. If the strongest was already gone, then the rest would just be weaklings. Crushing them would be dull. That was the real waste.
"...Let me know when you're done," Lich muttered.
"Okay! You're not joining?"
"That would truly be a waste."
His mind was already drifting back to his lab, to the Hero's corpse waiting for dissection. Life was precious, yes—but in his hands, it was just a resource. The only thing that mattered was time. His time. Research. That was the only war worth fighting.