Chapter 58
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: 13. The Black Mages' Festival. (3)
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The group occasionally ran into refugee processions. Each time, Rudra the Mercenary Leader halted the wagons briefly, gathered the other leaders, and gleaned the latest information from them. After all, the intel they'd heard at the conference hall over a fortnight ago was already more than two weeks out of date.
In that way, Rudra marked the gathered intel on the map, slowly tracking the black mages' positions.
"How many black mages do you think there are right now?"
One of the mercenary leaders asked Rudra while eyeing the dots marked on the map. Even judging by those alone, it was clear there was more than one. No matter how fast they moved, the dots were pinpointed in positions that defied logic.
Rudra glanced over them swiftly and gave her answer.
"In this area alone, at least two, I'd say. ...But right now, the exact number isn't what's important. This crisis isn't hitting just one spot. It's happening almost simultaneously in multiple places. ...The numbers are probably higher than we think."
Everyone nodded. She roughly predicted the paths the black mages would take based on the clustered dots.
"We can't just keep chasing their tails forever. We'll get ahead and lie in wait. The moment they hit the village, we'll turn the tables and wipe them all out."
Rudra's finger jabbed at one spot. A village that hadn't been attacked yet. But it wasn't far from the most recent dot.
"Necromancers need corpses, no question. They definitely won't pass by a nearby village."
With that, she roughly gauged the distance between their current position and the village. If they hurried, they might just barely arrive ahead of the enemy.
"Any other ideas? Anything I might have missed?"
Rudra's gaze swept over the leaders before stopping dead on Allen. The others followed her look and turned to him as well.
Allen grinned slyly and even gave a light clap.
"No disagreements with Rudra the Mercenary Leader's plan."
"...Good. Then let's move out now. Time's tight. We'll rest just enough to keep rumors from spreading."
"Understood."
The gathered leaders dispersed back to their wagons.
The mercenaries, who had been cracking jokes and relaxing with the tension lifted, spotted Allen climbing aboard and asked how it went.
"We're heading to the village. We'll make it by tonight at the latest."
"...Lying in wait for them ahead of time?"
"Yeah. ...So everyone, get some sleep now. Rest stops will be minimal. And even after we arrive, there won't be much time to sleep."
At those words, they all immediately struck rough sleeping poses. The halted wagons rolled forward again.
True to form as mercenaries who could sleep anywhere with their head down, the crew was soon snoring away in seconds.
Catching the contagious drowsiness like a plague, Allen yawned widely a few times before starting to nod off.
Eventually, he slumped his head onto the shoulder of the red-haired mage beside him and fell asleep.
The red-haired mage glanced around, confirmed everyone was out, and planted a light kiss on his leaning head.
......Sweet dreams, Leader.
She leaned her head against his and drifted off too.
The group arrived near the village around sunset. Surrounded by a low stone wall built from stacked rocks, the village was larger than expected. Roughly a hundred households. Factoring in the usual seven or eight per home, that made about seven or eight hundred residents.
Having heard news of nearby villages falling, a strange tension hung over the place. Able-bodied men patrolled with whatever they could swing—farm tools and the like.
The worried village chief welcomed the mercenaries like saviors. He told the leaders to have their units rest briefly, then gathered them in his main room. A few survivors from neighboring villages had fled there too.
"It was a sudden night raid, so we couldn't see much. But we could tell there were a lot of them. ......We were powerless. Running was all we could do."
A small sob escaped. It was the guilt and grief of survivors who had lost most of their families and villagers, barely escaping with their lives.
The elderly chief asked Rudra with a troubled look.
"...Do you really think they'll come here?"
"Other black mages, maybe not. But these are vile necromancers. Corpses are their power source, so they won't skip this place. ...Soonest tonight, latest tomorrow night."
At her near-certain declaration, the chief let out a groan.
"Don't worry too much. We've got your back."
These weren't hastily armed farmers—they were nearly a hundred battle-hardened pros with over a decade of swordplay. No black mage could take them down with mere walking corpses. ...That was Rudra's conviction.
She asked the chief for a rough village map, then assigned each leader a sector based on it. Allen drew the area near the east gate.
"As I said, they might raid tonight. No slacking off."
"Got it."
"Aim for the head if you can. Smash it, and the corpse stops moving. Burn the bodies too. Necromancers weaken without corpses. So let's end this before they grow any stronger."
Rudra rattled off ghoul countermeasures, clearly having researched necromancy.
Smashing the head and burning were spot-on, but the idea that they weaken without corpses was a misconception. Necromancy used corpses as mediums, but there were spells that didn't require them. ...Though their power varied greatly with the necromancer's skill.
Anyway, the meeting broke up, and Allen returned to his crew. They sat roughly on the ground, eating food the villagers had brought, waiting for him.
"Our sector's set. Let's move."
Including Allen, the ten grabbed their gear and headed to the east gate. Grandly called a gate, it was just a crude patch of wooden planks. Even a noble house's privy door looked sturdier.
Truth be told, with the stone wall barely reaching a grown man's chin, the gate's strength hardly mattered. Even weak ghouls could hop it easily.
"Damn..., never fought corpses or that stuff before. Hope it'll be fine."
Even veteran Kallisman had no necromancer experience, so he had nothing to say.
Of course, the suspiciously knowledgeable Allen spoke up instead.
"Don't underestimate corpses. It varies by the necromancer's skill, but they'll be way nimbler than you think. Enough to clear that stone wall no problem."
"...Any weaknesses besides headshots? ...They're corpses, so no balls to crush."
Allen nodded and tapped his head and waist twice each.
"Like I said before, head's most effective. Next is the waist. Shatter the spine, and it can't move. Crushing the chest works too, but it's inefficient—not recommended. ...Enemies are numerous. Fight with max stamina efficiency."
"Yes, Leader."
"Remember that formation we drilled? No matter what, never fall behind alone. Stick to at least pairs or trios, backs together. No eyes in the back of your head. You can't see rear attacks. Get it?"
He spoke like a battle-hardened veteran.
"The more enemies, the more vital protecting your back becomes. That's how you overcome numbers. We're not fighting solo. We're a team. One plus one is just two apart, but together, it's more than three. That's tactics, that's combat. Clear?"
"Yessir."
"...Good. Take shifts resting. Tired ones, catch a quick nap. But keep your gear on. Fight could start any second."
Night had fully fallen, pitch black. The mercenaries and villagers lit fires along the wall, standing vigil.
......The black mages surely knew by now that a mercenary force had joined the village. They'd know tonight was prime for attack. They'd come. No doubt...
Yet they didn't show, even as night deepened. Allen wondered if they were bypassing the village. Even necromancers might balk at this many mercenaries...
With tension easing, drowsiness hit Allen. He leaned against a building wall, arms on his raised knees, head carefully atop them.
Intending just a brief shut-eye, he closed his eyes.
......And fell deeply asleep like that.
The Blind Saintess, sleeping prayer-like, suddenly jerked her head up. Some ominous aura pricked at her senses.
As Odd-Eyes rose, Kallisman on watch by the wall glanced her way. Figured she needed to pee or something trivial— but she headed not to the outhouse, but toward the wall.
"Still time left. And isn't your shift later?"
"...No, just a moment...."
The Blind Saintess stared into the pitch darkness. Kallisman peered too, wondering if something was there, but saw nothing. The moonlit sands looked utterly peaceful. Hard to believe black mages were even coming.
"...Nothing visible. All clear."
"No. It's there. Something, definitely...."
What is it? That aura...!
Black energy crept in from all sides. It had nearly reached the wall.
......Ah......!
Finally grasping the situation, the Blind Saintess bolted to the alarm bell and pounded it furiously.
The enemy wasn't coming from above,
but crawling up from beneath the sand.