Chapter 104
Chapter 104
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 104
Chapter Title: 33. The Left Behind, The Forgotten, and the Returned (1)
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Night after night, without fail, the wraiths came to Winter Castle.
And the soldiers of Winter Castle had to endure the voices of beloved ones whispering through the darkness all through the night.
The first night, only a few soldiers who fell for the subtle temptations caused a minor uproar. The second night was the same.
I stood firm atop the battlements every night, snarling fiercely into the gloom. Whenever I did, the darkness would stop its taunting whispers, glare at me silently, and then vanish.
The third night and the fourth passed the same way.
And when the morning of the fifth day arrived, the boundary between night and day began to crumble.
In the afternoon, with the sun high in the sky and not a wraith in sight, sobs leaked out from every corner of the castle.
The grief sown by the wraiths over the nights was now truly taking hold of the soldiers.
Day and night, the soldiers were tormented by longing and sorrow for those they would never see again.
I could only stand on the battlements and watch them weep.
Though the wraiths had reopened old wounds, the sense of loss and grief they now felt was like scars etched deep in their souls—something no outsider could dare touch. There was nothing I could do.
For now, all I could do was suppress the wraiths from rampaging even more fiercely at night.
Another day passed.
In the castle's pervasive gloom, even the knights—who had been holding out on the energy they'd built up in their bodies—began to waver.
"Your Highness, we should open the gates and fight them."
Even the resolute castellan’s face was clouded with melancholy.
"Impossible."
Vincent poured out his impassioned plea about how dire the soldiers' condition was.
"Day and night, sunk in grief—the soldiers might snap into some extreme action at any moment! Asking them to endure more is too cruel!"
"Better than letting those specters possess them."
"Your Highness, if we wait just a little longer like this, they'll lose even the strength to hold their swords! Better to open the gates now and find a way out..."
"That's exactly what they want."
I repeated it firmly, time and again.
Because that was precisely what the wraiths desired.
The wraiths were waiting for the castle gates to open of their own accord.
Waiting to seize the living flesh beyond and claim its blood and meat.
"Can't we just charge out and wipe them before they swarm us?"
"How do you wipe out specters without form?"
If I could have cut them down with a sword, I would have done so long ago. But specters were like insubstantial illusions—no sword could touch them.
At least, not while they lurked formless in the darkness.
"The soldiers' patience has reached its limit."
Vincent informed me gravely of just how mentally frayed they were.
I already knew.
The rangers wandering the castle with downcast faces, the wails echoing from every corner—they all signaled how little patience remained.
"Ballerhard's soldiers are strong. They won't break."
Yet all I could tell Vincent was to hold on.
Because the moment would come soon enough.
I quietly awaited that impending instant.
And on the eighth night, the moment I'd been waiting for arrived.
Kyaaaaaaaah!
For the first time, the wraiths who had pitched camp below the battlements every night—whispering through borrowed voices—let out their true shrieks.
Kyaaaaaaaah!
Thousands of resentful spirits unleashed a horrific roar in unison, black masses spreading wide across the snowfield before sinking into the earth.
Watching this, I bellowed with all the intensity I could muster.
"All hands, battle stations!"
At that instant, the knights spun their rings furiously and echoed my cry.
"All rangers, to your positions!"
The rangers, slumped listlessly below the battlements in their depressive stupor, jolted awake at the majestic roar and leaped to their feet.
Pwooooooo!
The horn blared, resounding throughout the castle.
"Unlock the armory, grab your weapons, and get to the battlements!"
"What are you idiots waiting for?!"
The knights guarding the gates kicked the rangers' rears, creating a frenzy.
Rangers surged up to the battlements in a chaotic rush, scrambling to their posts.
"What happened to your bow?!"
"I-I forgot it, sir!"
Some had even forgotten their weapons and arrived empty-handed.
Watching the absurd comedy unfold atop the battlements, I furrowed my brow.
There had never been such pandemonium.
But I didn't reprimand them.
They'd endured the wraiths for a full week. Any ordinary soldier would have broken long ago.
The fact that they could still follow orders amid this fluster was impressive.
"All hands battle-ready!"
After an eternity of chaos, the rangers finally settled into position, and the knights reported in succession.
That was when the ground began to quake.
Thud.
A pale blue hand burst through the pristine snow. A frozen arm followed, then a pallid head.
Corpses erupted from the snowfield everywhere.
I watched with a hardened expression.
I hadn't thought the wraiths would wait forever for Winter Castle's gates to open on their own.
A wraith's hunger never patiently abides a feast.
I'd predicted they would soon claim the corpses scattered about as vessels and assault the gates themselves.
But even I hadn't foreseen this.
I never imagined the corpses they'd use as vessels—instead of the living—would be so perfectly preserved.
The Ballerhard soldiers and knights who had fallen across generations battling the harsh winter,
Those whose bodies went unrecovered had slumbered frozen for ages untold—and now they awoke.
Though hacked