The Night Welcomes the Dawn
Where did the righteous cause lie?
The spectacle unfolding before their eyes was deeply troubling.
It was a difficult question, both for the ordinary citizens watching from beyond the wall of fire raised by the royal army, and for the residents of the pleasure district who huddled in hiding, trembling with fear.
In the end, the royal army succeeded in dealing with the corpses that had breached their camp.
To fill the gaps left by the wounded, they had to tighten their formation, and that slight adjustment brought about a massive difference.
"Fire!"
The decurion, who had taken the reins of the unit after Calian, barked the order.
But no matter how experienced the archers were, they could not gauge the situation beyond the constantly shifting wall of shields. In the end, they failed to inflict any significant damage on the corpses.
The gaps between the corpses crashing against the formation grew even tighter.
They tried to endure by slamming their shields into the ground, but a shield weighed down by the sheer mass of bodies was never going to get lighter. The heavy infantrymen began to tire rapidly.
They also had to watch out for the rebel arrows flying in from time to time.
Yet, they couldn't even mount a proper response.
For the rebels were far more terrifying after death than they had ever been alive.
"Thrust! Aim for the head! Anywhere else is useless!"
The royal soldiers silently obeyed the decurion's orders, but they could all feel the shadow of defeat looming over them.
The enemy kept coming, wave after wave.
Even with limbs severed, arrows bristling from their flesh, and spears impaling their midsections, they swung their swords and charged relentlessly.
Compared to them, our side was in a much better position.
Under Gyal's flames, which burned far more intensely than before, the corpses charred to ash, unable to move another inch.
Even so, it wasn't the most efficient method in such a pressing situation, but none of the enemies posed a real threat to us.
All they could do was block our path with their immortal bodies.
But as they were sliced and scorched the moment they reached out, even that delay didn't last long.
The problem was that there were countless numbers of them.
Without the royal army keeping them at bay, it was impossible to move forward quickly, no matter how hard we tried.
It felt like being stuck in a shallow swamp.
This stifling frustration only intensified after the rebels joined the fray.
The rebel leader, Taren Mors, was not a great commander.
Even with the support of the beast that targeted only the royal army and us, he was struggling to breach the defensive line.
However, he was a born demagogue, possessing a silver tongue that easily overshadowed all his shortcomings.
A tongue more slippery than a serpent, and a lineage that could not be ignored.
And a unique aura that dominated the battlefield.
These three elements had aligned perfectly, allowing this monster in human skin to lead the people straight into hell.
Seeing their dead comrades rise again to fight, some of his followers began to worship him like a god. Meanwhile, rumors had spread so far that even those who had fled to the coast on fishing boats were returning to join the march.
Conversely, the royal army was facing the worst possible scenario.
With the loss of the commander who had led them so capably, their morale had plummeted, and reinforcements from other units seemed highly unlikely.
The flames spreading from the collapsed stems of the tumor were cutting off their supply lines.
They had effectively trapped themselves.
"Thrust! Spears!"
And now.
The royal army's attempt to target the heads of the corpses failed miserably.
The physical act itself succeeded, but they were plunged into despair the moment they realized it didn't produce the desired result.
A corpse with a fist-sized hole running from its nose to the back of its skull was charging at them as if nothing had happened.
The soldiers seemed utterly shocked to see a corpse with its head split in half, let alone missing its eyes, locking onto them with clear intent.
But they were no longer individual entities; they were merely puppets controlled by a single beast—the tumor.
By the time a corpse with its jaw and tongue sliced off thrust its spear and head forward, the first curses finally erupted from the royal army's ranks.
"God, that racket is getting on my nerves. Is it really that hard to just live quietly and die quietly without making life miserable for innocent people? You're not a child."
At that familiar, sarcastic drawl, my gaze naturally drifted toward the royal army's camp.
Amidst the arrows falling like a drizzle, a single line flew along a completely different trajectory.
The arrow was aimed straight at Taren Mors, who was busy rallying the rebels, and his voice was abruptly cut off by someone's death rattle.
The corpse of a mercenary who had been shouting just moments ago about capturing Calian fell from a building, landing with a sickening crack.
"...How dare you."
Taren Mors emerged from the shadows, radiating a murderous aura.
Standing on the railing with the dead mercenary's bow in hand, Taren Mors immediately loosed an arrow in the direction of the attack.
"Whoops. Done a bit of hunting in your time, have you?"
"How dare an infidel target the blood of the rightful king."
"Look, I don't even want your filthy blood. I'm already busy enough as it is, and listening to a hairy man squawk is draining my energy. So shut your mouth and just stick to shooting arrows."
"Impudent wretch... Your tongue is foul."
"Not as foul as yours."
I didn't even need to look to know who it was.
It was definitely Luke.
I had wondered where he had vanished to, but it seemed he had managed to escape safely, just as the knight had said.
After a few more releases of his bowstring yielded no results, Taren Mors, his face twisted in fury, drew the sword at his waist and barked an order to the rebels.
"All forces! Charge!"
With a slightly delayed battle cry, the rebels began pouring out from the alleys.
I locked eyes with Gyal.
"Regroup over there."
"I'll be right back."
Kamil kicked off the withered, carpet-like vines of the tumor and leaped into the air.
He aimed his sword and slammed down into the midst of the corpses surrounding the royal army. With a deafening crash, severed limbs shattered and scattered into the air.
Taking advantage of the rebels' momentary hesitation at his sudden appearance, Kamil discarded his bent sword and grabbed a broken spear shaft.
The glowing red spearhead carved a wide arc through the air, tearing through the corpses and clearing a space.
"Make way!"
At Luke's shout, the heavy infantry parted their shields to open a path.
Kamil threw himself through the gap just as the shields closed behind him to form a wall once more. There, he met Luke, who was struggling to contain his excitement.
"Seeing you again like this brings a tear to my eye."
"Talk later. They're coming."
Buying time was easy enough.
Gyal was steadily advancing, swinging his greatsword without a care in the world. Perhaps unnerved by his relentless approach, the corpses that had been pressing toward the royal army began to cluster back toward the tumor.
"We need to tighten the perimeter."
"Well, you heard him, didn't you?"
Perhaps because he had already proven himself, the royal soldiers followed Kamil's instructions without any resistance.
The heavy infantry blocking the flanks moved forward in unison, while the spearmen and archers followed closely behind, creating openings.
"Clear the way!"
"Ha!"
When their advance finally ground to a halt, they parted their shields and thrust their spears.
Kamil sliced through the enemies' waists with a sword borrowed from a heavy infantryman's belt, allowing the soldiers to push the halved torsos away with their shields.
Clang!
Just then, an arrow shot from afar grazed past his eyes.
Taren Mors was already nocking another arrow.
As if that were a signal, attacks began raining down from all directions. The shield of a heavy infantryman who had quickly stepped in to block the path shook violently.
"Protect him! Hold the line, no matter what!"
The decurion, who had been watching blankly, roared his orders to the soldiers.
At this rate, the hard-won formation would collapse.
If that happened, the tide of battle would turn, and they would find themselves surrounded instead.
I couldn't just sit back and watch that happen.
I pulled my spear hand back behind my head, arched my back, and aimed at the corner of a building with my left hand.
And then—
BOOM!
The spear flew like a bolt of lightning, completely obliterating one of the pillars supporting the building.
Taren Mors, who had been sneering from above, lost his footing and was swept down along with the collapsing debris.
A agonizing scream echoed through the air.
Feeling as though a nagging thorn had finally been removed, I was about to plunge back into the sea of corpses when a tentacle suddenly erupted from the tumor, which had formed a dome-like barrier.
As the thick cloud of dust settled, Taren Mors was revealed.
...His lower back impaled by the tumor's tentacle, dangling limply in midair.
"How... dare you..."
His initial, imposing presence was completely gone, leaving him in a wretched state.
Sensing danger, Gyal tried to sever the tentacle, but the corpses seized the opportunity to pile onto him, thwarting his attempt.
In that moment, I realized it.
There was a completely different reason why the tumor had burst from the earth.
The tentacle squirmed, and Taren Mors's body began to bloat grotesquely.
His joints popped and twisted into unnatural angles.
A black, viscous fluid oozed from the orifices of his body, coating him entirely.
"..."
As the tentacle whipped him through the air, a tremendous crash kicked up a cloud of dust over the royal army's camp.
Screams. The clashing of steel. The sickening sound of flesh being torn apart. As the dust settled, a grotesque, black humanoid figure straightened its back and arrogantly tilted its chin upward.
A sharp, white protrusion sprouted from his outstretched right hand.
The blade began to stain black, and he brought it down directly upon a heavy infantryman cowering behind a shattered shield.
...The thick armor split open without a sound, spilling blood and entrails onto the ground.
"Fall back!"
"All forces, retreat! Run as fast as you can!"
The faces of the soldiers, who had been staring blankly at the surreal sight, began to pale with sheer terror.
But their attempt to flee was quickly thwarted.
The debris of collapsed buildings and the fires they had set blocked their escape route, while hordes of rebels and corpses closed in from all sides.
Taren Mors grabbed them and began tearing them apart, devouring them.
A rebel soldier, still squirming frantically despite having half of his upper body blown away, vanished into his maw in an instant.
As he fed, the veins across his entire body bulged, radiating an even more menacing aura.
It was a roar like that of a wild beast.
Connected to the tumor by a squirming tentacle that resembled an infant's umbilical cord, Taren Mors swung his blade.
The sweeping blade impaled everyone in its path, showing no distinction between royal soldiers, corpses, or rebels.
Rebels screamed as they died, their bodies writhing beneath the limp corpses of the royal soldiers.
"Why does he have that?"
Luke asked.
In Taren Mors's hand was a sword crafted from the bones of a red wolf—a weapon that had been forgotten.
I had wondered where it had gone, but it seemed it had been in his possession from the very beginning.
What drew my attention most was the pitch-black glow of the blade.
His blade sliced through shields and steel armor, taking what lay within.
And beyond any shadow of a doubt, he was wielding the power of the beast.