Chapter 211: The Undead Hordes (6)
Diocan Talvas, Lord of Ordfall Castle, recalled a distant memory.
Diocan was sixteen when he took his first life. He had not yet become the lord he is now, nor was he even old enough to consider becoming one. He had only been involved in a minor tavern brawl.
It didn’t matter much whether the man who started the fight had harassed the barmaid or if he was a notorious thug.
After a few rounds of insults and shouts, the scene after someone threw the first punch is not vivid. He could only remember the coppery taste of blood in his tongue and the pounding of his pulse.
When the noisy tavern suddenly fell silent, Diocan was standing there, gasping for breath with a broken bottle in his hand. A man lay at his feet, his neck slashed open and blood streaming from his severed carotid artery.
Diocan wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the adrenaline, but he stomped on the man’s chest and pressed down. The man’s neck gurgled as the flow of blood was reduced.
The man’s pitiful attempts to struggle quickly came to an end, and his eyes died. It was Diocan’s first kill. He had not experienced delight, but horror.
However, regardless of his feelings, Diocan raised his hand without showing fear. The people in the tavern cheered.
Diocan has no regrets about his conduct that day. The barmaid he had defended had slept with him that night, and the next day, she had introduced him to a knight’s squire who taught him the art of killing.
Though he had never regretted that day, Diocan could still sense the dread he had experienced.
Beneath the castle wall, corpses stood in neat rows. It was a sight he had never imagined, even in his dreams.
The sight of just skeletons was the least unsettling. Most of them contained rotting innards on top of their pelvic bones or inside their ribs, and some were wearing their flayed skin.
His subordinate muttered with chattering teeth.
“My, My Lord… they are… undead… W, What should we do?”
The moment he heard the subordinate’s sobbing words, Diocan chose the orders he had to give. But instead of speaking immediately, he showed them the corpses, carefully inspecting them. Then he stared at his subordinate with a harsh gaze.
To his amazement, the subordinate’s shaking gradually subsided. He continued to hiccup, as if about to sob, but Diocan gave his orders.
“Prepare for battle.”
The subordinate bowed and dashed off, his footsteps echoing as he entered the room. Soon, the sound of shouting filled the air as the keep descended into anarchy.
Soldiers hustled to put on their armor and run to their designated positions. Torches were lit, and the flames flickered.
However, the brightness of the torches lining the ramparts and walls only illuminated the front of the undead horde standing in formation below the walls.
The skeletons standing outside the light source did not even emit an inner light, and they were as still as endlessly similar carved statues.
However, it was an undeniable fact that a horde of living corpses, which had definitely not been there the day before, had marched before the walls.
Diocan couldn’t fathom how they’d arrived so quietly. Even in the dark, their vast numbers should have made it hard for them to mask the sounds of their footfall.
The sight of larger undead, such as trolls or manticores with their massive bones, made it much more perplexing.
Diocan’s hand shook as he grabbed for the belt. The hilt of his trusted blade was still there, as comfortable as always. Diocan, however, felt no relief.
He had come up at the urgent shout of his subordinate, so he was only armed with a sword, without proper armor. But even if he had come out fully armed in armor, he wouldn’t have been able to hide his trembling legs.
A soldier brought up his personal armor and quickly put it on him. The feeling of the straps tightening and being tied was unfamiliar.
━Open the gate.
As Diocan put on his armor and the soldiers who had been awakened in the middle of the night lined up on the wall with their eyes bloodshot red, a large, low voice boomed through the air.
The soldiers on the battlements gasped. Some of the knights almost pulled their swords. The swords slid out of their sheaths with a terrifying sound before becoming silent.
The torches they were holding also seemed startled by the voice, swaying wildly and casting shadows in every direction. The dancing shadows moved frantically, more agitated than their owners.
Diocan tilted his head, looking for the source of the voice. When he couldn’t, he gave in and spoke.
“Who are you?!”
━Open the gate. Do so, and you will be richly rewarded.
The voice was deep and evil, bringing a chill with it. The wind howled, and murmurs of ghostly screams and laughter rang through the darkness.
Hehehe, hoohoohoo, the strange laughter seemed to say, and the warriors appeared ready to run.
Despite the horror that racked his body, Diocan asked a question as a lord would.
“What, what kind of reward?”
━Freedom from the fear of death.
Diocan and his warriors became pale. It was not difficult to deduce the objectives of someone who spoke of liberation from fear of death in front of an army of the undead, beings who had rejected death and returned to life.
Diocan declined, as any lord should.
“The gate will not be opened, demon! Begone!”
“Begone, foul creatures!”
Diocan found the person whose voice had echoed his own. Diocan, a fervent Lutheonist, recognized the voice of Cheph, the temple priest, immediately.
Cheph, with his bald head dyed bright red, was yelling at the top of his lungs.
“You who break the Great Cycle and trample on the ground with your vile feet! How dare you come here! There will be no gate opened for you! Begone!”
A deep voice said again.
━You refuse to open it?
“You foul creatures who cannot even accept the grace of sunlight.”
━So be it.
Fwoosh━
When Cheph finished speaking, a loud wind blew. The torches flickered as if they were ready to go out, and the troops drew together to preserve the flames.
━You will regret not opening the gate yourself.
The voice was gone. There was no trace of it, but the people sensed it. They gazed down.
One after another, the hollow eye sockets of the undead, standing like dead men, began to glow. It was a green light.
The dead, who moved their flickering green lights, like pupils in empty sockets, soon roared at the sky, as if in a race.
Kyaaaaaa━
Kiiiii━
The unified cries, unlike their roars, flew on the winter wind to Ordfall Castle. Those with weak spirit fainted, clutching their chests at the sudden halt of their hearts. Even those stronger than them could not stop their trembling bodies.
And then the onslaught began.
Lord Diocan fought with all of his might. He battled recklessly, utilizing the swordsmanship and magic he’d practiced since he was seventeen, his bones cracking and his flesh tearing.
The castle’s troops fought back with every resource at their disposal. However, the majority of their resistance was only effective when their opponents were alive.
Ordfall Castle was large enough to house and manage 2,000 troops, so it was well prepared for potential enemies who might try to capture the castle.
The castle’s location on a hill so huge that it might be mistaken for a mountain provided a significant elevation advantage. The gentle slope was coated in gravel, dirt, and sharp, broken stones, making it difficult to traverse.
With an abundance of arrows, oil, boulders, and catapults to launch the boulders, the lords, who had held Ordfall Castle for generations, knew they had an impregnable castle.
But on this day, Diocan had a strong suspicion that he would shatter the record during his reign.
The sharp arrows had little effect on the decayed flesh or exposed bones. The same was true for the boiling oil and hot water. The undead did not feel pain.
The only thing that worked was the stones fired from the catapults, which crushed or pulverized the running corpses. But even then, the green lights flickered and they reassembled and got up again.
The persistently crawling corpses finally grabbed onto the protrusions and stones on the parapet and climbed up the wall.
Zombies with rotting skin, skeletons with nothing but bones, ghouls with portions of flesh hanging off them, and ghouls with extended limbs and massive bodies climbed the walls, rolling their white eyeballs.
Diocan and the knights moved between the towers and urged the soldiers, but it was too much. Beneath the wall, a wave of corpses surged, easily exceeding thousands.
“Aaaagh!”
“G, Get off! Take off, uhh, uhh!”
The soldiers did their best. However, it was evident that their best wasn’t enough.
The live corpses climbed over the castle walls to engage in close battle. Their slow motions didn’t matter. The enormous number of undead outnumbered the military.
Despite coming from below, the flow of dead poured down on the warriors. Among the gray and black waves, knights periodically fought back with flashes of blue, but only for a short time.
Priests who had stood beside the warriors, waving swords or maces, were ripped apart by the corpses one by one.
Neigh!
A loud neigh from a horse was heard. The troops and knights, who had subconsciously looked up, noticed something in the air.
A knight in jet-black armor was flying through the air, riding a skeletal horse. One knight among the dozens who had smashed the corpses with a single blow gasped in horror at the knight in black armor.
“D, Death Knight…!”
The Death Knight dismounted from his horse and landed on the castle wall. The shockwave blew away the nearby corpses and soldiers.
The Death Knight, who had slowly climbed to his feet, raised his blade, which was black like his armor. The massacre started.
Screams echoed, blood and innards splattered, staining the ground black. The elegant blade sliced through the hard stone floor and the towers, producing corpses in one go.
The corpses had dozens of holes in their foreheads, necks, hearts, and bellies. It was the apex of killing skills, polished to perfection, and aimed to eliminate one’s opponent.
“D, Damn you, demon!”
Cheph yelled as he saw his fellow priests and warriors fall one by one. His eyes, nose, ears, and lips all sent forth a dazzling glow.
As if he had become a god of light, the priest Cheph, burning his holy power from within his body, stood on the parapet. His body began to burn from the holy power flowing out of his body.
“I have no regrets in sacrificing this body. Oh, Light, consume my flesh━”
The praying priest charged toward the Death Knight. It was a charge full of determination to die beside the Death Knight.
The Death Knight did not directly confront the charge. A clump of magical energy, condensed from the sword, shot out like a whip and grabbed the priest who was about to sacrifice himself.
“Aaagh!”
The priest, screaming, flew through the air and fell outside the wall, onto the slope. As Cheph, blazing white, touched the horde of the dead that was surging up, the surrounding corpses melted away in an instant.
Then his body burst into a blast of light.
Kwaang!
For a brief while, the light was bright enough to illuminate the night sky and castle. At least a few hundred undead were carried away by the explosion.
The piles of bones and rotting flesh burned when they came into contact with the holy power, transforming into ash that was scattered in the wind. However, the soldiers did not react positively to the priest’s sacrifice.
The short illumination showed the surroundings. More zombies than ever before swarmed in. In that dark, sea-like landscape, the green spots of will-o’-wisps glowed ominously.
The living had lost hope. Diocan made a decision.
“Retreat, retreat! It’s a death sentence to stay here! Retreat━!”
As the lord, it was a great shame and a betrayal of his nobility to abandon the castle, but Diocan did not hesitate.
Soldiers, with sweat-soaked faces, obeyed his orders, ran down, woke the people up, and gave the evacuation order. But the speed of the undead climbing over the wall was faster than the speed at which the orders were transmitted.
A tidal wave of death enveloped Ordfall Castle. Fewer than a thousand people were able to flee the castle alive. It had only taken 2 hours.
The advance of the corpse army, carried out under the cover of night and darkness, destroyed three castles, six villages, and one city in five days.
Those who barely escaped scattered to the west, center, and east. And they said that the cursed army of the dead was coming down from the northwest. Some even said that the Death Knight was leading the vanguard.
The rumor flew like a winged horse across the empire. The undead left no troops behind in the cities, villages, or castles they had conquered. The only thing left was death.
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