Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Episode 5.
As divine power surged, the bushes that had concealed his body disintegrated from the recoil.
At least a hundred undead fixed their lifeless eyes upon him with predatory intensity.
The recruits had fallen into a lion's den naked, yet they gripped their swords rather than fleeing.
They fought by borrowing the divine power radiating from the paladin. Though incapable of manifesting holy energy themselves, they demonstrated remarkable skill with the paladin's support.
Yet Aiden found them unreliable. Just as he considered ordering them to fall back, Zeras spoke.
"You can't always fight alone. Learn to utilize whatever forces you have."
As he chanted a spell, the undead corpses began bubbling grotesquely.
Their bodies swelled, pus and viscous fluids oozing from rotting flesh.
"I couldn't undo the necromancy, but I prepared countermeasures."
After repeated expansion, they exploded violently. Chunks of flesh and bone fragments sprayed outward as liquefied entrails rained down like a morbid shower.
The stench of death blanketed the graveyard. Acrid fumes corroded the surroundings. 'When he's on your side, he's undoubtedly reliable.' The same man became an infuriating opponent—the type requiring a dedicated strategy guide.
Zeras furrowed his brow.
"Quite the opponent."
The gases from the exploded corpses completely obscured vision.
Aiden waited silently, watching the front for movement.
"Stay alert. This isn't some ragtag mob."
"Save your concern. Just focus on providing rear support."
"Haha! Not a trace of tension. Very well. Leave just one recruit with me."
Aiden's face twitched slightly as he looked at Zeras. He'd intended to leave all recruits under Zeras' protection.
"Give them a chance. Who starts as a veteran? Unless they're monsters like you."
The recruits gripped their swords until their hands trembled. Fear was present, but so was iron resolve.
Aiden scanned them briefly before exhaling sharply.
"Remember—once battle begins, I can't protect you. Understood?"
Yuron gritted his teeth in response.
"Yes, sir!"
The others echoed his fierce cry.
"We'll die fighting heretics!"
"We offer our lives for the faith!"
Aiden briefly questioned the concept of divinity but dismissed the thought.
They'd chosen to fight, staking their lives. He wouldn't disrespect that resolve. He decided to trust them with his back.
Approaching the recruits, he tapped their shoulders.
"Relax. Tension slows your reflexes. When battle starts, form a wedge—two on each flank behind me. Maintain formation and stay close. Understood?"
"Understood!"
The gas gradually cleared. Dozens had returned to nature, but they remained vastly outnumbered.
A frigid aura seeped from the undead's mouths—envy of the living urging death forward.
"The heretics you despise stand before you!"
Aiden drew his holy sword. The blade pulsed blue, having absorbed moonlight and divinity.
"Grant these dead salvation! Execute divine judgment!"
His halo exploded, illuminating the night like a second sun.
The recruits began chanting. They layered Aiden's radiance onto their weapons, reciting a short prayer: "We sing of evil's end, executing holy wrath. Fear is luxury, death our glory."
Aiden roared like a beast and charged into the undead horde.
His horizontal slash carved a luminous arc—a crescent moon severing rotting waists.
At full sprint, he cleaved through all obstacles. The wedge formation's core was momentum and mobility.
Once surrounded and stalled, morale would plummet rapidly. Annihilation would follow.
He'd noted the necromancer's position—the graveyard's edge where a human had suddenly descended earlier.
Undead remnants erupted around him. Everything blocking his path was instantly swept aside. Light devoured darkness, forging a path.
The recruits acutely realized the paladin before them was a monster. Even sprinting in heavy armor while swinging a sword, matching his pace was grueling.
Yet they summoned every ounce of strength, cutting down undead flanking them while clinging to Aiden's back.
Flames erupted at the rear—Zeras' holy magic. Aiden could focus forward. 'Serviceable.' Zeras was dependable, and the recruits played their part. They needed to grow accustomed to such battles.
"Increasing speed!"
The high ground approached. Aiden plowed through the graveyard with gathering momentum.
Like a tank, he crushed and trampled all obstacles.
His halo burned brighter. Heat haze trailed like a comet's tail.
The recruits grew intoxicated. Muscles screamed and lungs threatened to burst, but nothing mattered now.
That former washouts from the seminary could fight like this—that alone overwhelmed them.
And Aiden led the charge.
"Final push! Endure!"
The miasma thickened. Just beyond these undead lay the necromancer.
Capture him, and this ends. The undead would break free from control and return to rest.
The key was handling the necromancer.
Aiden crouched, then kicked off the ground to vault forward—
His face twisted in shock.
"A Dark Warrior...?"
A spectral warrior wreathed in black mist stared at the recruits, crimson eyes pulsing.
The Dark Warrior gripped its sword.
"Duck!"
A sinister blade swept forward indiscriminately, decapitating one recruit while cleaving undead.
Aiden never learned his name.
"Fuck!"
He brought his sword down vertically with full weight. Blades collided with a thunderous clang.
The Dark Warrior slid back, absorbing impact. 'Damn it, why now?' The specter chuckled darkly.
"How delightful."
A reedy voice. A black-robed priest emerged behind the Dark Warrior.
"My warrior acknowledges you as worthy."
Protruding cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and hollow eyes—no longer human in appearance.
Yet Aiden recalled no such figure.
Any necromancer controlling a Dark Warrior would be notable, and that appearance was unforgettable.
"Goddamn it."
This could only be the result of selecting hellish difficulty.
Dizziness struck. Before him stood a Dark Warrior—a life-or-death struggle—while undead closed in from behind.
Two years in this game world. He'd survived countless battles, yet another crisis arrived. 'Too complacent.' Aiden bit his lip.
"Sir Aiden!"
The three remaining recruits held back the undead tide.
Their formation had lost momentum, gradually retreating until their backs would meet Aiden's—game over.
Surrounded and slaughtered.
Yet he couldn't turn back. The instant his focus left the Dark Warrior, he'd die.
Attrition warfare against undead was futile. Only Zeras remained reliable. He prayed they shared the same thought.
"Zeras!"
Simultaneously, colossal flames engulfed the graveyard's rear, consuming undead.
They'd bought precious seconds.
"Aiden, how long can you hold?"
"As long as needed!"
"Good! I'll exert myself further."
Zeras began circling the graveyard, pursued by undead.
He erected fiery barriers around the recruits. Aiden noticed Zeras' strained expression. 'He's pushing his limits.' They had to maximize this borrowed time.
"Aiden, target the control core! I'll capture the necromancer!"
The necromancer fled upon spotting Zeras.
Yuron and the recruits faced undead across flames, shoulders trembling.
Aiden shouted:
"I leave our rear to you!"
"Y-yes sir!"
Aiden refocused on the Dark Warrior. 'Can't just wait for Zeras.' Eliminating the necromancer would dispel the specter, but he prepared for worst-case scenarios.
He fought to destroy it.
Closing distance, Aiden thrust toward its heart. The specter allowed the strike.
Black mist bled like ichor, yet the specter remained unharmed. A mocking chuckle followed. 'Wrong guess.' Without destroying its core, the Dark Warrior regenerated infinitely.
That was its weakness.
This slaughter-machine—devoid of pain or fear—only defended one area: where its core resided.
Locations varied by individual. Aiden had to find it now.
The Dark Warrior gripped the holy sword embedded in its chest.
Divine power scorched its hand and flesh, yet it didn't flinch.
Aiden channeled maximum holy energy. The stench of burning filled the air. He slashed diagonally, rending its torso open. 'Not lower right abdomen.' Simultaneously, its blade descended. Aiden rolled aside, slicing its thigh.
The specter wobbled off-balance—briefly.
Its regenerated leg instantly kicked Aiden's abdomen.
Force magnified several-fold sent him crashing into a tree. Without holy armor, his organs would've ruptured.
"S-sir, are you—?"
"Focus on your duty!"
A breakthrough here meant certain defeat. The specter dragged its sword closer. 'Remaining options: head, left leg, or arm...?' Without systematically testing each, pinpointing was impossible.
Suddenly upon him, the specter raised its sword two-handed. A sharp whistle. Aiden swiftly raised his sword horizontally to block.
Blades sparked on impact. A dull shockwave traveled through his arms. 'Wait.' This was their second blade clash. During Aiden's initial charge, it had actively defended. 'The head.' Using the tree for leverage, Aiden strained every muscle—trapezius, biceps, triceps, forearms—until his armor seams seemed to scream.
A contest of strength. Aiden gained slight advantage, forcing the specter's blade aside.
Simultaneously, he twisted his torso, swinging his leg in an arc. His shin shattered the specter's skull.
Black mist dispersed. The headless warrior stood frozen. 'Done?' Aiden retreated several steps. Something felt off. It hadn't resisted... Sure enough, mist began reforming where its head had been.
"Damn it!"
Initially, it had raised its sword to block—to protect its head, no?
Aiden recalled his first strike's trajectory—cleaving through skull, neck, torso, then bisecting through the groin.
Not neck or head. Torso was tested. One location remained.
He drew his lance. Lightning split darkness as it pierced toward the specter's groin.
Clang! The deflected lance embedded in mud. The specter reacted more desperately than ever.
The answer lay in the last place one would look—right where it mattered. No more laughter. It seemed enraged.
Aiden grinned savagely.
"There you are."
The specter shrieked and charged. Its relentless assault gave no respite.
Prolonged undead battles favored the tireless.
Meanwhile, Aiden's stamina waned. He needed to end this.
"Yuron! Don't look back—focus!"
This was no longer a paladin's battle. Witnesses might question his honor.
"Y-yes sir!"
Aiden shifted from defense to offense, relentlessly targeting its groin.
Ducking low, he stabbed and slashed, occasionally kicking without hesitation. No direct hits yet.
Creating distance, he threw a dagger from his coat at its lower body.
When blocked, he charged again, deflecting its blade and using his weight to topple it.
Mounting the specter, he pinned one arm with his elbow and reached into its groin with his free hand.
Its crimson eyes flickered wildly.
Horrific strength penetrated its pelvis, ravaging innards. The specter convulsed and wailed, but Aiden persisted. 'Found it.' He grasped a small sphere and tore it free, trailing rotten flesh.
Only then did the specter still. Its crimson eyes faded as the trapped soul dissipated like smoke.
The colossal warrior rapidly withered into a desiccated corpse.
A tidal wave of experience points flooded in.
No time to savor victory—Aiden moved immediately.
Retrieving his lance, he hurled it at the undead, shattering one's skull as it grappled Yuron.
"S-sir Aiden!"
Their struggle showed—drenched in gore, viscera, and bone dust.
"The specter—"
"Handled."
Relief washed over the recruits. This first battle would be unforgettable.
Yet no time to rest.
"Move."
Time to judge the necromancer and end this.