Chapter 63
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: 14. Crisis, and Cooperation. (2)
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The reddish sunset painted the entire world in a blood-like crimson. Normally, Allen would have admired it like a work of art, thinking, What beautiful nature, but today, the glow of the sunset felt eerily chilling for some inexplicable reason. ...As if it were foretelling the grim future that lay ahead.
"Leader, you should rest now too. You've been at it nonstop since earlier."
The veteran Kallisman urged Allen, who had been gripping the rudder from afternoon until now, to take a break, but Allen smiled faintly and waved it off.
"This is the only thing I can do. I can't even help out directly in a fight. So I have to put my all into this at least."
"If you collapse on us, what are we supposed to do?"
"I won't collapse. Don't worry. You think I don't know my own condition? ......Alright, alright. Hey, you're up next—!"
In the end, Allen couldn't withstand Kallisman's intense gaze and relinquished the rudder.
Around that time, the rowing came to a halt, and the people finally earned themselves a long rest. They sprawled out anywhere there was even a scrap of space on the deck or below, shoving whatever they could find into their mouths and chewing it down.
The night they had desperately hoped would hold off arrived right on cue, as always. The crimson that had blanketed everything faded away, and the world slipped slowly into sleep beneath a black shroud.
With the rowing stopped, the boat drifted lazily along the river current. People took turns at the rudder. They had to steer carefully to keep from scraping the riverbank sands...
If there were no threats, they would have pulled ashore and slept on dry land, but with necromancers holding sway, they had no such luxury. No matter how uncomfortable, they had no choice but to live aboard until they reached the city.
When the distorted moon cast its light upon the gently rippling water,
Arnold, the tattooed mercenary standing watch at the bow railing, spotted something wriggling far off on the riverbank. He let out a startled "Ah" and bolted straight to the leader. Allen, who had tossed and turned sleeplessly for ages before finally drifting into a light doze, snapped his eyes open at the summons.
"What... is it?"
Allen shook his weary head and rasped the question.
"You need to see this, Leader...!"
The tattooed man's frantic voice stabbed into Allen's ears. At that, the leader's foggy mind cleared in an instant, his vision sharpening. Something was wrong.
Allen rushed with Arnold to the bow railing, turning his head toward where the man pointed. Narrowing his eyes and straining his sight, he peered intently at the distant shape.
......Ah......
Far off on the riverbank, swarming like ants, was unmistakably a horde of ghouls.
Such bullshit—!
"Wake everyone, quick! Ring the bell. Ring it fucking loud—! Loud enough for front and back to hear—!"
The tattooed Arnold sprinted to the alarm bell and hammered it like he was smashing in a ghoul's skull.
- Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding
The deafening clamor yanked everyone from deep sleep. Parents scooped up their wailing children and hustled below deck.
The mercenaries and young men who came rushing clung to the railings and laid eyes on the ghoul horde crawling over the riverbank and shore.
"Fucking hell, looks like they really can't come into the water—!"
Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. Then, the Blind Saintess, who had been staring at the ghouls alongside them, suddenly freaked out and dashed to Allen, jabbing her finger at something.
"Leader, there—something's there. Something powerful......!!"
Everyone turned to where the Blind Saintess's finger pointed. Allen, recalling how she had taken down a necromancer single-handedly, tensed up wondering if it was a lich—but there was nothing but empty riverbank.
"...I don't see a damn thing."
"There's definitely something there—!"
The very moment the mercenaries shook their heads saying they saw nothing, something began slowly rising onto the riverbank.
......Ah...!
It was the form of a giant. A corpse giant, stitched together from masses of bodies—
"Fuck."
Everyone instinctively knew they were in deep shit. Allen bellowed at the top of his lungs, veins bulging in his neck: Row those oars—! Getting away was the top priority.
"Row, quick! Everyone to the oars—row—!"
Allen figured they were probably the same necromancer crew that had devoured Hegel.
The corpse giant stood about seven or eight meters tall with an enormously fat body. Its movements seemed sluggish, but it looked brimming with raw power and toughness. ...And there were eight of the damn things.
Everyone drew their weapons and gathered near the railings, watching intently to see what the things would do.
The corpse giant that had climbed the bank spread its massive hands wide toward the sky. Then the ghouls swarmed up its body in a rush, clumping together on its palms like spherical masses.
—!!
Only then did Allen catch on to their plan and scream himself hoarse.
"They're throwing ghouls—! Block them—! Block the flying fuckers—!!"
At his cry, the giants began hurling the ghoul clumps toward the boat.
As expected, their strength matched their bulk; the packed ghoul masses sailed straight across the broad river in one go. Midway, they broke apart into chunks and rained down like hail.
Thud thud thud thud.
A few unlucky ones smacked the boat's side or splashed into the water, but most crashed onto the deck. The mercenary corps swung desperately at the incoming ghouls mid-air to block as many as they could, but there were just too many.
Fucking hell—!
Seeing them command corpse giants—creatures that demanded exceptional skill—pretty much confirmed there was a lich on the enemy side.
He hadn't even dreamed of corpse giants showing up, let alone them lobbing ghouls aboard. ...Fucking bastards, same as ever—!
Still, silver lining: the ghouls weren't charging all at once but coming in scattered waves, making them somewhat manageable. And on their side, they had the Blind Saintess Odd-Eye, who could handle ghouls like they were nothing—!
...And Allen had no intention of just sitting there taking it. He prepared to strike the corpse giants. To deal as much damage as possible to these things that would surely be a pain going forward. Fortunately, they moved slow as hell, so if the magic flew true, they wouldn't dodge.
"Elena, blast those fuckers with magic—!"
The red-robed mage, her left hand clutching a brightly glowing magic wand while gathering mana in her right for an elemental spell, locked onto one of the corpse giants on the bank and thrust her arm forward.
And the blazing magic shot forth—striking dead-center on the corpse giant's left flank.
Boom—a massive explosion ripped through, and the giant's body toppled sideways. Allen whooped in triumph, but then he saw ghouls swarming the blasted-open flesh, patching it back together, and he couldn't hold back the curses.
No, what the fuck..., fucking hell...!
This was exactly why Allen despised necromancers so much. As long as ghouls kept coming, they pulled off utterly absurd feats of endurance. Truly fucking shitty opponents.
In the game, corpse giants hadn't regenerated that fast... but reality was even more broken.
The red-robed mage fired off a few more spells after that, but each time, the corpse giant recovered good as new. Sure, it guzzled a bunch of ghouls to do it, but they still couldn't bring it down.
Ghouls kept raining down on the boat. Casualties mounted as time dragged on. The mercenaries scurried about defending as best they could, but there were physical limits.
Everyone with any real strength was up on deck fighting, so the rowing was half-assed. Still, they rowed like mad somehow, and before long, the boat had pulled ahead of the corpse giants. Only then did the ghoul barrages finally stop.
"Fuuuuck...."
With the assault over, the exhausted survivors flopped down right where they were.
"Those fuckers are completely insane.... Fucking bastards...."
The bald one-eyed Bilring panted like he was dying, cursing the necromancers who had unleashed this nightmare. Who the hell could've imagined them hurling ghouls onto the boat?
"Everyone, great job. Now eat something and recover your stamina. Stuff it down even if you don't feel like it."
Allen made sure they replenished their spent energy. The members forced strips of jerky into their foul-smelling mouths and chewed them down grudgingly.
They had just barely caught their breath when a young man clinging to the railing, scanning the outside, bellowed for the leader.
"L-Leader, ghouls! Ghouls coming from over there—!"
...Fuck...?
Everyone shot to their feet and mobbed the railing where the youth stood, spotting the ghoul horde sprinting along the riverbank. Far faster than the boat lazily drifting with the sluggish current, the ghouls quickly overtook them, arriving ahead and taking position far off.
No way.
The ghouls climbed the bank and began clumping together, soon transforming one by one into corpse giants.
"No, fuuuck...! What the hell...!"
Tattooed Arnold spat a long string of curses in utter disbelief at the horrifying sight. ...And everyone felt exactly the same.
At least the enemy necromancers seemed to have burned through a ton of dark mana too—the number of corpse giants was down to half. But that was still plenty threatening. And they resumed chucking ghoul masses at the boat.
Another brutal defense ensued. ...In the end, one of the trailing boats couldn't withstand the onslaught and gradually veered from the line before slamming into the bank.
The group that barely escaped rowed like hell to put distance, eyes peeled for pursuit. Thankfully, none came this time.
Wretched wails of "Waaah" filled the gaps between ragged breaths. Allen's boat had lost quite a few to death or injury.
The survivors dumped the dead into the river. Left alone, they'd surely turn into ghouls and turn on them... It was harsh, but that was reality.
"Sleep. Stock up stamina however you can."
Allen, manning the rudder, sent his crew to rest. The red-robed mage gazed pityingly at their lone leader's back before exhaustion claimed her too, eyes closing like she'd fainted.
It was a tragic night.