Chapter 288
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 288
Chapter Title: Joining (3)
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"Huff... huff...!"
"Damn these corpse bastards...!"
Another round of battle had come to an end.
"Let me take a quick look at that wound."
"Ah, yeah. Thanks."
"This one's pretty deep."
"Nngh... They popped out from underground right when I was dealing with two of them."
"No need to rush killing them. I've got your back anyway."
"That gives me some real reassurance! Hahaha!"
He examined the injured survivor's wound and poured a mid-grade potion over it.
Thanks to Eleanor's holy water, the injuries hadn't gotten any worse than this.
If the holy water hadn't protected their bodies, the aura of the God of Death would have rotted their flesh on contact.
And once that happened, no potion could heal it.
[Purification]
After disinfecting the wound once and confirming it was closing up, Jun reflected on the recent battlefield.
'Yeah, I can see now why the Sun Cult got crushed so badly in the game.'
It had been four days since they started heading toward Mellen Castle.
In that time, they'd encountered a total of thirteen undead armies.
Facing those things three or four times a day had left exhaustion etched on everyone's faces.
'At least we've got some manpower on our side.'
Among the survivors, the ones wielding spears knew how to protect themselves, at least somewhat.
If even one undead broke through the lines, three or four soldiers would hold it off.
Fortunately, no one had died yet.
'But this can't go on forever.'
His comrades, staying in touch moment by moment through the World Tree's essence, were holding up well against their own situations... but not without losses.
"Damn. We've lost about ten over here."
"Our side... is about the same."
"A survivor died here."
Not all the news was good.
Even his comrades, who knew the situation and shared information, were suffering these kinds of losses.
The others without that advantage must be faring even worse.
'How many people are out there leading survivors like we are?'
Half? No, that was too optimistic.
Probably much less.
He hadn't been expecting much anyway.
'Time to get moving.'
Judging they'd rested enough, he urged the group onward.
There, in the distance, Mellen Castle came into view.
The promised rendezvous point, just a few more days away.
And about three hours later.
When they ran into another horde of undead, Jun looked up at the sky and let out a deep sigh.
"Of course."
Up until now, the undead numbers had topped out at a few thousand.
But now, they stretched endlessly beyond the black mist, nearly reaching 10,000.
And there was only one reason for such a massive surge in undead.
The survivors had been absorbed by the God of Death.
It happened in the blink of an eye.
The undead, who had numbered only a few hundred before, swelled to nearly a thousand.
No matter how much they relied on Eleanor's holy water, Jun's potions, and enchanted scrolls, the less than ten survivors couldn't hold them all back.
"Th-this...!"
Aiden, swinging his sword in a trance, heard Fermond's groan.
And with that, as Fermond's presence vanished in the direction free of black mist, the surviving reality-dwellers began scattering in all directions.
Each fleeing for their own survival.
Still, three adventurers remained by Aiden's side.
"Damn bastards."
"They ran off to save their own skins."
"...Aiden. Can we break through this?"
"Honestly, I'm not confident."
Only four remained—half the original number.
And even Fermond, the sole level 7 besides Aiden, was gone.
A hole had opened in their defenses, and many survivors lost their lives to the undead.
Their screams still echoed in his ears.
They'd barely scraped by this time, but could they hold in the next fight?
"Whew. Let's push to the end anyway. That's the best we can do right now."
Despite Aiden's uncertain words, the three adventurers stuck with him to the finish.
In a situation where hordes that size could appear anytime, going solo didn't offer great odds anyway.
Either way, they had to reach Mellen Castle, where the Saintess was.
About three hours later, the black mist returned.
"The numbers..."
"Seem fewer than before?"
"No, wait. Something's visible beyond them."
Roughly two hundred undead.
And among them, a figure on a spectral horse overlooked the survivors and victims.
"...Dullahan."
The same one he'd seen during the defense of Merdein—a foe Aiden could barely block at full strength.
The one Jun and Maya had teamed up to kill, now leading a massive undead force.
'It looks... stronger than before.'
Unlike the previous Dullahan infused with the lich's dark magic, this one was wreathed in ominous energy, as if blessed by the God of Death itself.
Could even Eleanor's divine power handle that aura?
No certainty, but what had to be done was clear.
"I'll take it on. You three protect the civilians as best you can."
"...Good luck."
"We'll try to save as many as we can."
"Almost miss those cowards now."
And so, the battle began.
Before reaching level 7.
Aiden had died countless times in the other dimension set up in the Ariya Plains.
The founding emperor's haughty gaze. And thousands of soldiers standing guard around his throne.
Each exuding an extraordinary presence, the spearmen charged first.
For a full week, he'd died dozens of times to them.
Without the repeated deaths at Bern's hands in the Ariklotos Cult's holy site, even Aiden might not have endured the agony.
But within that hell, Aiden extended his survival time second by second, minute by minute.
At first taking one or two spearmen with him, he eventually felled hundreds.
An achievement earned over two weeks of dying in that other dimension.
Next came dozens of swordsmen—elite soldiers unlike the spearmen.
Their blades chased Aiden's shadow, honed by endless experience; any gap meant losing a limb.
Another total wipeout. Like with the spearmen, Aiden died before he could do much.
But it took less time to strike back this round.
Two days.
In two days, he cut down one swordsman; on the third, half; in a week, all of them.
"..."
Then the pattern repeated.
A squad of knights would appear, sometimes mixed with spearmen and swordsmen, or all three together.
Endless trial and error through death, but Aiden eventually cut down every foe and stood before the founding emperor's throne.
Then, the emperor's hitherto closed mouth opened.
-Is this a human's struggling?
Even an 8th-level swordsman would have been impressed by Aiden's fights, but to the emperor, it was mere flailing.
Aiden didn't mind.
"Yes. Struggling."
It was spot on.
A desperate thrashing with nothing but grit to change that arrogant gaze.
But that's how he'd reached this point.
"And I'll keep struggling."
-I see.
With that, the founding emperor closed his eyes.
His body dissolved like mist, replaced by the black other dimension filling the world densely.
Thus, Aiden reached level 7.
Why did those memories flash by now?
Probably because, right before the emperor vanished like mist, he'd given Aiden a look of pity somewhere in his eyes.
A ridiculous miracle, a desperate flail borrowed from the other dimension's power.
But this was reality.
One mistake meant death, turning all his journey to nothing irreversible.
Aiden hadn't overcome the fear of death back then.
He'd just borrowed the other dimension's power to challenge again and again.
The emperor must have known Aiden's future.
That's why he'd looked at him that way.
Kyaaahhh-!
Undead swarmed from all sides.
Empowered by the God of Death, they were far more ferocious and swift, lunging to tear Aiden apart at every opening.
Severing his neck, slashing his upper body—then focusing on one point to rot everything ahead into putrid flesh.
Yet more undead poured in relentlessly.
Even Aiden's seemingly endless aura began to dim.
Still blazing for now, but time would snuff it like a spent torch.
He pulled an enchanted scroll from his pouch.
Flash-!
Whoosh-!
A bit of mana activated Jun's spell within, unleashing a fireball that scorched the front lines.
A brief gap created.
He quickly downed a mana fluid vial.
In his haste, glass shards cut his mouth, filling it with a metallic tang.
"Whew..."
Only then could he face forward.
There, like the emperor, the Dullahan on horseback looked down at him.
Then, it drew its sword.
Like prey surrounded by hunters.
Chains woven into nets hurled from all sides.
Shells raining from above.
In this hopeless situation, Aiden chuckled like some mage's habit.
"Still struggling, huh."
But that's how he'd gotten here.
If he'd feared taking this step, he never would have left the imperial exile grounds.
His muscles twitched throughout his body.
Mana surging from his lower abdomen—domineering like the emperor's, yet somehow warm—raced through his muscles.
The wind spirit whipped up fiercely at Aiden's will.
As if reveling in the chaos, its roaring laughter seemed to mix with the gale.
-Master! Wind can slip into any crack, but it's not just gentle! It rules space, twists it effortlessly—that's its softness!
The wind spirit, now speaking more clearly than before, shouted in Aiden's mind.
Aiden knew it too.
Something tickling his senses lately blossomed, merging with the mana coursing through him.
Vwooom-!
At his will, mana flowed from his body, forming wind that filled the surroundings.
One undead, blind to the danger, entered his domain—and was instantly shredded, spraying rotten blood into the air.
Kyark?
This scene unfolded simultaneously around Aiden.
A barrier of wind blades had formed a domain.
Through countless deaths and facing crisis anew, Aiden's new skill began dominating space.
[Wind Flow, Cloud Scatter]
A single slash.
But the blazing aura riding his body and sword tip danced like fine threads, weaving spiderwebs on the wind to envelop Aiden's surroundings.
Neighhh-!
The Dullahan's eyes gleamed; unable to watch longer, it spurred its spectral horse forward.
Sword met sword.
Yet the Dullahan's death-reeking blade was visible, while Aiden's was not.
Only its blood-red aura haze marked its presence.
Level 7 versus 8.
The unbridgeable gap closed in a moment of enlightenment—a miracle.
'I cut it down.'
He couldn't see ahead properly.
Not because of the aura haze filling his vision.
His hypersensitive senses outpaced his eyes, which only hindered.
So it felt natural; even now blocking the Dullahan's sword, he sensed undead lunging from all sides.
Farther out, the dazed adventurers watching him.
Every gust in this space linked to his mind, expanding his perception.
Seeing what he could ignore, perceiving the unseen.
A new realm shimmered before him.
Out of reach for now, but his mind had brushed it.
One step.
The desire to take it boiled over—
"Aiden!!"
A familiar voice snapped his ears; his vision cleared.
Bern.
The Ariklotos holy knight, sweating bullets, shielded Aiden with his own body.
Amid piles of fallen undead corpses.
Aiden exhaled deeply.
"Good work."
With those words, Aiden's mind went blank.