Dark Fantasy: Magical Eye Knight – Chapter 12

Chapter 12: The Silver-Haired Knight

With the harpies gone, the soldiers on the ramparts could fight with more ease.

The mercenaries swung their swords and shields with renewed vigor, howling like madmen.

They stabbed the climbing goblins through the head, while the wizards cast fireballs, engulfing several monsters in each burst.

White-robed priests stood back from the fray, chanting healing prayers over the wounded. Everyone was playing their part.

Of course, two figures stood out among them all: the dark elf with the twin daggers and the great sword-wielding man.

The dark elf moved with a lightness that belied her heavy footsteps, flitting like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. With each pass of her blades, two or three goblins would crumple to the ground, their shoulders suddenly lighter.

Her white hair flowed behind her, and her red eyes burned with a magical intensity that left streaks of crimson in their wake. Her lithe, elongated limbs carried her up the battlements, where she began to run with the speed of a cheetah, leaping from one crenellation to the next with the balance of a tightrope walker.

Despite the danger below, she ignored the orc archers, who peppered her with arrows.

Her daggers flashed, and a goblin who had just scaled the wall fell with his arm severed. An orc’s skull, as well as the severed torsos and legs of several other monsters, followed.

The few arrows that did manage to reach her bounced harmlessly off the red runes etched into her skin. The mercenaries paused in their fighting to gaze at the dark elf in awe.

She was like a Valkyrie descended from the heavens—an angel of blood, a harbinger of death. It would not have seemed out of place if she had suddenly sprouted wings and taken to the skies.

The great sword was more brutal. It moved with unstoppable momentum, wielding a raging bull that crushed and shattered the monsters in its path.

“Grrrrrr!”

Russell’s eyes fell upon an orc that had seized a soldier who was just climbing the ramparts. The soldier lost his helmet, revealing a shock of brown hair, and his young face contorted in terror.

The orc was still hanging on, its hands dug into the wall, and the soldier was struggling with all his might to keep from falling.

A cruel smile spread across the orc’s face as he raised his blade to the soldier’s neck. The soldier’s skin parted, his muscles severed, and his carotid artery was about to spray hot blood.

A vice-like grip gripped the orc’s forearm.

Both the orc and the soldier looked up to see who had intervened. Russell was there.

With his free hand, Russell grabbed the soldier and threw him backward. At the same time, he hauled the orc up by its arm. The 100-kilo body rose into the air like a toy. The orc’s beady eyes widen in shock, and its limbs flail.

Russell’s right fist shot out like a cannonball, slamming into the orc’s abdomen just above its belt line.

The orc vomited black blood with a sickening thud and flew backwards, its impact crushing the monsters beneath it on the plain.

“Gulp, cough, cough. . .”

With his hands wrapped around his neck, the thrown-back soldier sat on the ground, gazing up at Russell. The tall warrior stood against the backdrop of the sky, which seemed to have lowered because of the thick clouds. His imposing figure evoked the mythical giants believed to uphold the world. Even as his life ebbed away, the soldier could not tear his eyes away from the giant.

Russell saw the blood bubbling between the soldier’s fingers and sank to one knee. He had not been a moment too soon.

Russell asked.

“What is your name?” 

The soldier looked into the violet eyes that stared down at him, his breath coming in ragged gasps. It was a strange question, but for some reason, the soldier could not disobey it.

“Cough, Zeke, Zeke is my name. . .”

Russell looked down at the dying soldier, his life slipping away from him like sand through his fingers. Russell considered cauterizing the wound with fire, but he had already lost too much blood, and the heat might stop his heart.

Just then, a familiar voice approached.

“Hold on, Russell.”

Russell turned to see the red-haired wizard kneeling beside him. Evelyn gently pushed the soldier’s hands away and placed her own white hands over his wounded neck.

As she chanted, a white light shone from beneath her hands. It was not the same as the prayers the priests offered, but it was a healing light nonetheless.

Evelyn removed her hands and found the wound gone. The soldier was still pale from the blood he had lost, but he was alive.

The brown-haired soldier looked up at Evelyn with dazed eyes, then burst into tears of relief.

“Thank you, thank you.”

“It’s all right. You go to the rear now. To where the priests are.”

The soldier named Zeke nodded repeatedly at Russell and Evelyn, then retreated.

“We can finish the greetings later.”

“Agreed.”

With a curt nod, Evelyn dashed off to another part of the battlefield. Russell watched her go, then turned his head.

While he and Evelyn had saved one soldier, countless others were dying all around them. Swords were splitting their heads open, and arrows were piercing their chests.

The guardsmen of Calisden fought valiantly, but their efforts were not enough to stem the tide. It seemed the city had not faced a monster assault in a long time.

Perhaps its geographical advantages had allowed it to grow rich through trade and harvest bountiful crops, but that did not mean the city was self-sufficient. True self-sufficiency comes from the ability to defend oneself from outside aggression. Calisden did not have such an army—yet.

Though Russell had only arrived in Calisden yesterday, it was perhaps presumptuous of him to judge the strength of its army so soon. The knights had yet to make an appearance.

In other words, where were the knights, and what were they doing?

Russell’s gaze fell upon the plumed man with the baton.

He wielded his baton like a maestro, conducting an orchestra, moving soldiers, and directing wizards. His tactical acumen was good, as evidenced by the increasing number of monster corpses at the expense of minimal casualties.

Russell looked up at the sky one last time.

The storm clouds rolling in from the mountains and forests were growing thicker, darkening the sky even more. The air was heavy with the smell of rain, which could come at any moment.

However, the sky remained silent, its face as black as ever. Only the occasional rumble of thunder hinted at what was to come.

The battle between humans and monsters was a chaotic melee from a distance, made worse by the darkening sky. Red and black blood.

Corpses piled up. Death, screams, chaos, terror, and despair hung in the air. And these miasmas of darkness flowed in two directions: one towards the monsters and one towards the city.

His eyes followed the miasma’s flow. Just then, an orc that had scaled the ramparts took advantage of Russell’s momentary distraction to leap at him, swinging its sword.

With his greatsword, Russell blocked the orc’s blade and pushed it aside, slicing through its sword, forearm, and neck in one fluid motion.

The severed blade, forearm, and neck tumbled to the ground. A faint wisp of miasma rose from the orc’s corpse and floated away, just like before. Something was happening, but what it was, Russell did not know.

Shaking off his reverie, Russell raised his sword once more and cut down a monster. The battle was far from over, and there were still plenty of monsters left.

The rain had yet to come.

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“Albert, who is that man?”

The man in the plumed helmet and fine plate armor inquired, unable to take his eyes off the greatsword-wielding warrior.

The lord’s wizard, who was standing behind him, turned his head to look at the warrior as well. He had dull blond hair, pointed ears, and handsome features.

Albert wore a long robe and carried a long staff in his typical wizardly attire.

A crystal orb spun in the center of the staff, its tip hooked like a cane.

“He is the man I mentioned before. The one I believe is the owner of the troll corpse I bought at auction.”

“I see. The monster blocked the southern gate. I’ve had my hands full with bandits up above and trolls down below.”

Even as they spoke, the warrior’s great sword continued to sweep across the ramparts. One of the last remaining harpies made a desperate suicide attack, diving at him from the sky, but he cleaved it in two from its crown to its crotch, sending its halves flying in opposite directions.

Most warriors would have been unable to react to a harpy diving at them from such a height and with such weight behind it, but the great sword-wielding warrior deflected it with ease.

He possessed the strength of a giant and the skill of a seasoned swordsman. To top it off, he kicked and punched away the goblins who rushed at his legs.

The narrow battlements were a challenge for smaller fiends, but he dispatched them just as easily as he did the harpies, his greatsword moving in a deadly arc.

The plumed man, Lord Frederick, exclaimed his admiration once more.

“Magnificent. I have never seen such prowess in battle. I wonder if even the knights of the illustrious Order of the Silver Wolves could fight like that. . . What about the troops?”

The wizard answered as before.

“They are assembled. We can send them out as soon as you give the order.”

“Very well.”

“My lord, there is something I should mention.”

“What is it?”

“Lady Zeona is accompanying the knights.”

“Zeona?”

Albert flicked his staff, and a drop of water condensed into a mirror that showed another scene.

A group of knights in plate armor were waiting on horseback in front of the city gate, and at their head was a female knight with a sword and shield. It was Lord Frederick’s eldest daughter, Zeona.

The lord sighed.

“Hah, I had a feeling her personality would not allow her to sit still. Is she well-equipped?”

By “equipped,” the lord meant all manner of magical weapons and artifacts that he had purchased with the city’s funds. It was a gift he had prepared for his daughter, who had shown a keen interest in swords and armor since she was a child, unlike other girls her age.

The finest dark elfsmith in Calisden forged her sword, while a dwarf crafted her armor. Ancient artifacts imbued her protective necklace and earrings with spells.

Albert replied,

“Yes. Her helmet, breastplate, necklace, and earrings will protect her.”

“Then it can’t be helped. She is of an age where she must experience battle.”

“But, my lord, the battlefield is a place of unpredictable events. Should she sustain injuries or, sadly, meet her demise,

“That is a reflection of her immaturity. If she were the kind of child who listened to reason, I would not have called for the master of the swordsman’s guild to teach her. Is it not the duty of a parent to allow their child to do as they wish? Let her go. She will learn that there are things one can only gain by losing.”

The Lord said it firmly.

“There are also knights by her side. And even if she is injured, isn’t there a priestess from the church present?”

The lord turned around to see a blonde priestess in breastplate and mace standing to the wizard’s left. The lord and the wizard were both watching the man with the greatsword, while her expressionless face and blue eyes remained fixed on him.

“Priestess Elenora?”

“. . .Yes.  Rest assured. I can heal her even if she loses a limb, as long as her life remains intact.

“Indeed. And you have prepared an ample supply of potions, have you not?”

Albert, an elf wizard, sighed. Lord Frederick, like his father, Patrick, often acted in ways that made it difficult to tell whether he loved his children or was merely indulging them.

Despite being Patrick’s close friend and the Lord’s wizard for many years, it was still difficult for him to get used to such a temperament.

“As you wish, my lord.”

“Good. I believe the time has come. Have the city gate opened.”

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A horn blared. Russell looked up at the horn blower; his hair was matted with blood. The horn blower exclaimed,

“The city gate will open soon! All infantry, except for the archers and wizards, prepare yourselves! We will meet them on the plains!”

Abandon the ramparts’ advantage and meet them on the plains. Had the Lord gone mad?

When Russell looked over at the distant gallery, he saw that the Lord was looking at him. As he opened his mouth to speak, a faint, spherical barrier of mist appeared around Russell, and the noise of the battlefield receded by a decibel.

The monsters’ screams and the soldiers’ shouts seemed to come from behind a wall.

━Can you hear me?

“. . .Yes.”

The wizard with the staff appeared behind the lord. It seemed the wizard had done something. Russell could hear the Lord’s voice in his ear alone.

━My name is Frederick. Once the city gate opens, my knights will ride out on horseback. They are all superhuman beings who wield magic. They will be followed by the infantry and mercenaries. I would like you to lead the mercenaries. What do you think?

So his extraordinary knights were the source of his confidence.

And the name Frederick. Russell recalled what Alicia, the woman who had forged his claymore, had said. The man in question was the son of the former Lord Patrick. The current Lord of Calisden. It was strange that he had introduced himself by his name and not his title. Nor had he spoken in a commanding tone.

━Of course, I do not mean for you to simply go out and fight. If you win this battle, I will reward you. I will reward you with gold and jewels, or with weapons that even a warrior of your caliber would covet. How does that sound?

And a clear give-and-take spirit, too. He was a man after Russell’s own heart.

Russell chuckled and nodded.

“Very well.”

━Good. Go down now.

“No. I will wait here for a moment before going down.”

━. . .As you wish. But do not tarry.

The barrier around Russell vanished. The receding noise suddenly flooded back in like a tidal wave. An ordinary person would have felt dizzy from the sudden amplification of sound. However, Russell’s trained senses absorbed the noise without a problem.

At the lord’s command, the wizards unleashed the magic they had been holding back, casting spell after spell. A wave of explosive energy erupted, forcing both the monsters on the ramparts and the monsters below to retreat.

A wave of flame swept over the monsters, incinerating them. The burning monsters screamed, rolled on the ground, or met their end at the swords or claws of other monsters.

Russell looked down at the hellish scene unfolding below and took a cigarette out of his pocket. He caught a floating ember in the air, touched it to the tip, and soon smoke was rising.

“Want one?”

He turned his head slightly to see Lexi standing there. She had appeared without him noticing, with the same agility and stealth that had fooled his senses when they first met.

“Yeah.”

“It smells.”

“Then throw it away.”

“But I don’t want to.”

What was he supposed to say to that?

Russell felt that this dark elf, with her skin and hair different from Alicia’s, was becoming more and more inscrutable.

Puff, puff.

The horn blared again, and the city gate opened. Knights charged out with a deafening cheer.

Their armored horses snorted and pawed the ground with their powerful, muscular legs. With each step, the knights pushed forward, crushing the earth beneath their hooves.

“Yaaaaaah!”

What the—?

Russell looked with an incredulous expression at the knight leading the charge. He focused his magic in his eyes, expanding his field of vision as if he were adjusting the magnification of a telescope.

The knight, clad in full silver plate armor, was wielding a longsword. Blue hair cascaded down from beneath her helmet. A slender figure distinguished herself from the other knights. The female knight raised her sword high and shouted,

“Follow me, Zeona! Chargeeeee!”