After munching on the soggy bread soaked by the river to regain some stamina, we stepped into the interior of Banafitza, crossing over broken bridges and crumbled walls.

Rustle.

The frozen weeds crunched underfoot, and tiny pebbles or ice shards bounced off my toes like ding ding.

As the flying pebbles clanked against the rubble of rusted and broken armor, the cold wind whipped through the debris, echoing with a sound similar to a mournful cry.

Definitely fitting for a place called ruins, eh? The sight of Banafitza up close felt far more eerie and chilling compared to its grandeur from afar.

Honestly, it looked just perfect for creepy ghost vibes. If only we had a camera, we could totally plug it into a horror film set.

Of course, if we actually brought a camera crew, it would be less of a horror movie set and more like a scene of a horrific disaster.

“…….”

Friede, following my advice, drew her Holy Sword and tensed up, while I pulled out a vial of holy oil from my waist pouch and applied it to the blade.

Like holy water, it’s a consumable bearing the goddess’s blessing, effective against evil beings.

While holy water is overwhelmingly effective for resisting curses or using as a throwing weapon, in terms of applying something to a weapon, one ought to use holy oil instead.

I mean, that’s common sense. It’s like the difference between water and oil.

Inexperienced newbie adventurers often dump holy water on their blades, but I’ve never seen one of those idiots stick around for long.

Common sense says if you splash water on a blade and swing it, what’s left of that water? It gets flicked off and splattered everywhere, splash splash.

What you should apply to a weapon is oil, not water.

Of course, oil can dull a blade a bit, but when you’re at a point where you need to apply holy oil, worrying about sharpness is the least of your concerns.

Anyway, after thoroughly applying the holy oil to my blade, we walked down a desolate path for about five minutes when—

“Ah…! Hilde-san!”

Friede, startled like a rabbit meeting its predator, jumped and wildly swung her great sword.

There! Behind my head, a crimson arc cutting through the empty air.

Clang!

In the next moment, her blade, which should’ve sliced through nothing but air, collided with something, producing a crisp echo.

“Wh-what…?! The strength…!”

Friede, surprised by the sheer strength of the opponent, grunted as she was sent flying. I quickly turned and caught her, craning my neck to glare into the air.

“Lifandi…manneskju….”

Just a moment ago, there had been absolutely nothing. Now, a blackish-blue entity was floating right in front of us, looking down.

A woman in armor with translucent hair cascading down. Or rather, should I say what once was a woman?

She might’ve been a beauty in life, but no one could call her a person after seeing her like this.

Just her lower jaw visible beneath a helmet adorned with spectacular wing-like decorations made from iron plates gave it away.

“Huhhhh….”

She opened her mouth and exhaled a faint breath. Grayish fog seeped out from her translucent jaw made of ice, right from the exposed skull within.

Yep, the enemy in front of us looked like a human skeleton, overlaid with flesh made of ice.

So, even if the ice part looked like a beautiful woman, how could one find that appealing? The ice was so clear you could see right through it—no, right to the bones.

Unless you’re a bone freak, there’s no way you’d feel attraction or excitement seeing something like that.

Ah, well, excitement might be felt—though not the fun kind, but more like a sense of dread or crisis.

“…As expected, there it is.”

Not taking my eyes off the creature, I stood Friede up straight.

“Um, th-thank you for catching me, Hilde-san.”

“No, I should be thanking you. I totally didn’t notice it at all.”

I was sincere.

Had it not been for Friede’s [Battle Instinct] that almost gave her precognitive awareness regarding combat situations, I would’ve been caught off guard and had my head pierced through.

By the spear that ice creature was holding.

“Endalaus…kuldi….”

The undead frost knight floating in the air aimed its spear at us and muttered something.

Thanks to Brunhilde’s brain, I could grasp the meaning, even though it wasn’t in our kingdom’s common language.

At first, it clearly said “I am one of the living.” Now it muttered something about “endless cold,” didn’t it?

Given how it lacked coherence and couldn’t say more than two words, I thought, “Ah, undead really do have pitiful vocabulary.” I wondered if there was even a brain left in that helmet.

Or rather, being closer to a wraith than a corporeal entity, it was unlikely any brain remained.

“Hilde-san, that thing is….”

Friede readied her Holy Sword and quietly asked.

“Yeah, that’s what I mentioned earlier. The guardian of this fortress… No, guardians.”

Nodding in agreement, I raised my holy oil-coated sword, never taking my eyes off the perplexed undead knight clutching its spear.

Wearing a winged helmet that covered above the nose and an intricately designed plate armor, that armor looked stunningly extravagant, almost overly so, tailored potentially just for women.

With its breastplate emphasizing the curves of the waist and chest, two capes fluttering behind like wings, the center of the protruding chest area housed a strange emblem, an ominous humming triangular metal plate.

The chilling power emanating from that crimson metal plate mixed with icy energy.

What was that again? Oh right, a rune-engraved concentration circuit board, right?

In terms of design, it was likely similar to a wizard’s grimoire, generating its own magical power serving as a power source for the armor itself.

Yep, back when it was alive, that’s probably what it was for. Now, it just served as a chain binding their souls to this ruin.

“Controlling the souls of the dead as wraiths… that’s horrifically vile.”

Friede grimaced, displaying her disgusted feelings, looking as if someone was trying to insult Hilde’s lineage.

“Ah, uh, I didn’t mean to insult Hilde-san’s family, um…!”

I realized that framing it like that would indirectly insult my ancestors and staggered, trying to explain myself frantically.

“No need to retract. I think the same. With stuff like this, there’s no way it didn’t go down. They really are fiendish.”

I slightly shook my head, signaling not to apologize. From my perspective, those old Eisenstein folks were indeed some of the worst.

Just seeing that they were destroyed by a Hero of that time made them no different than the Abyss Priest or Demons.

Sure, nowadays heroes besides Friede are all trashy and insane, but the Heroes back then were genuinely true heroes regarding their deeds and character.

“So, we just need to take that thing down, right?”

“To be precise, those things. That undead—there should be more than one.”

While my memory was a bit hazy, I thought there should be around ten of them altogether. Or was it twenty?

The original didn’t bother with many intricate details, making me a bit unsure.

Well, whether it’s ten or twenty doesn’t matter. Either way, we’ll have to scour through this fortress, dispatching them all as they come.

Ignoring Valfreya, who we couldn’t even touch, we must simply exterminate all those and collect our loot to make our escape.

That’d be the proper way to utilize this hidden piece.

Unlike Valfreya, those weren’t sealed; they’re remnants that became wraiths upon death! Hence they’d be significantly weaker than in life.

As long as we exclude Valfreya, everything else can be taken down by just myself and Friede.

According to the reincarnated person from the original novel, this dungeon was designed with exactly that intent.

It was a trap dungeon, combining mediocre foes and nonsensical monster bosses to ruin players who mistakenly woke the bosses due to underestimating the dungeon’s difficulty.

Whoever drew that setup really had a sadistic streak. I mean, they seemed to worship the idea of “if you don’t know, you die!” way too much.

“So what was the name again? Valky? Something like that….”

“Valkyrie (valkyrja). Or rather, it should be called an undead Valkyrie. They were the knights of my family, like me.”

The Valkyries of Eisenstein, the battle maidens led by Valfreya.

Knights of the Ice Heart.

“Hatursfull hetja, Kvenhetja (Hateful, Hero)…!”

After looking down at us silently for a while, the Valkyrie finally decided to act, revealing intense hatred, and raised her spear above her shoulder.

Like the spear techniques of Eisenstein, her grip on it charged with a surge of strength.

What I said about us being alike was not a metaphor but a plain fact. Valkyries, just like Brunhilde, were knights imbued with Ice Hearts and tremendous power.

Or rather, if we’re dissecting it, they should be the original while Brunhilde inherited their traits with a sort of generational twist.

“Watch out! It’s coming!”

In the next moment, an ice spear shot towards us like a flash, blasting the ground with an explosion.

With a booming bang, shattered ice shards swept through, completely razing everything. It was literally like artillery—no, it was artillery!