The Dead Man's Charge
I pulled the Death Knights back for the moment. The knights looked puzzled by the sudden move, yet they seemed inwardly relieved to have a brief respite. In this situation, they were the ones at a disadvantage when it came to stamina.
A few seconds. After giving them just enough time to prepare, I set the Death Knights in motion once more. This time, however, both of them targeted Mornt instead of maintaining the strict one-on-one engagements from before.
“……!”
Mornt hurriedly swung his sword in surprise, but facing two opponents at once was too much. Ranit quickly grasped the situation and rushed in, yet the distance between the two knights left Mornt with no choice but to dodge as best he could.
The two knights, now standing close together, glanced my way with a hint of anger. Of course, expecting them to immediately understand my intent was asking too much. They were not my comrades, after all.
“Please don’t look at me like that. I never said this was a one-on-one duel. Why do you think I’ve been facing both of you at the same time from the start?”
As the Death Knights once again assumed positions to coordinate their assault, the two knights finally exchanged glances. They hadn’t grasped my full intention, but they had at least found a way to respond.
Their movements changed. Instead of each trying to suppress the Death Knight in front of them, they began working together, and the effect was immediate.
They had held the advantage in speed and skill from the beginning. Even with the two Death Knights combining their strength, once the pressure on one side increased, creating an opening was only a matter of time.
While parrying the Death Knights’ attacks, the knights focused relentlessly on one target. Eventually, Ranit’s sword, wreathed in Sword Qi, pierced through a Death Knight’s chest. Normally the pain would have been shared through soul synchronization, but since it was an undead, that was irrelevant. The necromantic energy animating the body scattered, and the Death Knight collapsed to the floor. The connection severed, and the creature lay still, returning to its proper state as a corpse.
“Waaah!”
Cheers erupted from the stands and across the arena. Relief and pride shone in the eyes of the knights, the young women who had been holding their breath, and the older nobles who still remembered the heat of battle.
‘Good. Now for the finishing touch……’
Ending it here would have been fine. I had already built enough tension, and the outcome was decided. There was no reason to drag things out further. Yet after experiencing this rare, pure form of entertainment and the uncommon opportunity to control a single summon so directly, I felt a small, uncharacteristic spark of interest.
“…No harm in it.”
I raised the synchronization rate once more and focused my will. With one Death Knight down, there was no longer any need to divide my consciousness. My mind and senses now flowed entirely into the remaining Death Knight as I stood facing the two knights.
- All Legbar Viabe Ars Magna.
Following my will, a voice like wind whispering through cracked gravestones emerged from the withered mouth of the Death Knight. It was the opening line of an ancient prayer expressing reverence for death and what lay beyond—an incantation now used by necromancers.
With the incantation, black runes rose around the Death Knight’s body in response to its hand gestures. Necromantic energy poured through its form and mind, as though plunging into an icy glacier.
“……!”
“What?”
The knights were startled by the sudden change, but they did not immediately attack. This was, after all, only a sparring match, so I held no grudge for their restraint. Thanks to it, I was able to complete the necessary preparations.
- El Anunnaki. Pel, Acap. Sibalbe, Duat. Duat. Webwaweb.
When the prayer ended, the necromantic energy flowing through the Death Knight had grown far denser and stronger. Paradoxically, despite the heavy chill and dark stillness, the body now overflowed with power, as though life itself had returned to it.
I adjusted my grip on the sword. The black aura coiling around the blade had grown sharper, and I knew this Death Knight’s body would now obey my will far more faithfully than my own ever could.
The knights exchanged cautious glances, clearly noticing both the surge in black energy and the shift in the Death Knight’s swordsmanship. Yes. This was now my sword. Unlike moments ago, when I had merely issued commands through a shared consciousness, I had become the Death Knight itself, blade raised and ready.
- Here I come.
I launched myself at the knights. The necromantic energy filling the body let me match their speed, while the power and sharpness infused in the sword far surpassed what it had possessed before.
Watching Ranit stagger backward after blocking my strike, I quickly parried Mornt’s blade as it came for my lower body. The movement itself was not particularly natural, but raw speed and power compensated.
I swung wide to drive the two knights apart, then thrust toward Mornt. The moment my blade was blocked, I spun and swept low. As Mornt retreated, I completed the turn and knocked aside Ranit’s incoming strike from behind.
Yet instead of being pushed back as I had intended, Ranit deflected my sword and closed the distance. His swordsmanship was impressive, but I had no time to admire it. Mornt’s blade was already cutting off my escape route.
I slipped past Ranit and repositioned. Mornt’s attack lost its meaning, but the fight was far from over. I had avoided their pincer, yet the follow-up coordination proved far more troublesome. Their figures vanished from my field of vision as our blades clashed dozens of times.
Though only a few minutes had passed, if this body had not belonged to a Death Knight, I would surely have been gasping for breath by now.
No. Enduring even this much would have been impossible otherwise.
“…Haa.”
While the knights caught their breath, I consciously suppressed the instinctive urge to maintain distance and raised my sword once more.
Compared to theirs, my swordplay was somewhat monotonous—movements drawn from training manuals mixed with the improvisation of real combat. Even compared to the Death Knight’s earlier performance, aside from the enhanced speed and power granted by the increased necromantic energy, there was little difference.
Our exchanges had begun to fall into a predictable pattern, and with each repetition the knights’ attacks grew sharper while mine remained unchanged. Without the strength and speed granted by this body, the match would have ended long ago.
Of course, strictly speaking, the outcome had been decided from the very beginning.
‘Time to end this.’
I no longer wished to prolong the fight unnecessarily. Entertainment should remain entertainment. I lunged toward Mornt.
There was no special reason for choosing him; he simply happened to be closer. I saw Ranit’s blade intercept mine. Already accustomed to my movements, he skillfully avoided the strike and deliberately drew me in so that Mornt could take my back.
Indeed, Mornt’s sword was already flying toward my chest from the side, while Ranit pulled his blade back in preparation for his signature thrust, anticipating my dodge.
Their strategy was sound. They had failed several similar coordinated attacks before, but after repeating the attempt, they had finally found the right approach.
In this formation, whether I blocked or evaded, the two knights would end up surrounding me from front and back. Now that they had grown familiar with my movements and blade, raw power and speed alone would no longer suffice to stop them.
- You’ve grown complacent.
But that was only if events had unfolded as they expected.
“……!”
Instead, I drove straight toward Ranit. Mornt’s blade grazed my ribs, but the heightened necromantic energy let me ignore the wound for the moment. Ranit’s desperate thrust aimed for my chest, yet I ignored that as well. I released the necromantic energy wrapped around my sword and concentrated it in my upper body.
Ranit’s blade pierced through the body. I felt the necromantic energy scatter beneath his Sword Qi. Yet the connection remained unbroken, and the Death Knight’s body did not stop moving.
With the sword still embedded in its chest, the Death Knight charged forward. Ranit hastily released his weapon and retreated, but the momentary confusion cost him half a step. Meeting his gaze filled with dismay, I extended my empty left hand and pressed its edge against his throat.
Had this been a real battle and my hand a sword, Ranit would be dead. The realization froze him in place like stone. A moment later, Mornt’s blade struck the Death Knight’s neck, severing the connection, but it no longer mattered.
“…….”
The Death Knight’s head rolled across the floor with a loud clatter, yet no cheers rose from the crowd. The two knights stood motionless, staring at each other with bitter expressions. Silence settled over the training ground, as though time itself had stopped.
The spectators glanced at one another uncertainly, unsure how to react, while the two knights simply breathed heavily, their faces grim.
“As the old stories say, the sword of one who has resolved to die is far more dangerous than that of one who has not. How much more so when the wielder is already dead? Such tactics are all too easy.”
At my voice, the two knights finally remembered my presence and turned toward me. They reflexively offered a salute, as though only now recalling that this had been a sparring match and that it was now over. I approached them, summoning blue runes above the fallen Death Knights.
“During the last great war, even the most skilled warriors fell to this exact tactic of the necromantic legions. There is no need to feel too disappointed or blame yourselves. To be honest, I may have gone a bit too far at the end.”
“…Not at all. Rather, we are grateful for the lesson.”
“As expected of Anak’s Death Knight.”
“I’m glad you think so. Both of you possess exceptional skill. I hope this experience proves useful. As you felt, what decides life and death in real combat is not simply ability alone.”
While I shook hands with the two knights, cracks opened along the runes and small gray furballs the size of a child’s fist floated out—Mins Dogape.
The Mins Dogape gathered above the Death Knights, and the absolute cold of Niflheim enveloped them. Their black armor and severed heads turned into clear, pure ice.
“Waaah……!”
Though unintentional, the strange sight eased the heavy atmosphere among the spectators.
“Now then, let us applaud Anak, Ranit, and Mornt for their splendid match.”
Seizing the moment, Ed rose and began clapping, his voice carrying across the arena. The crowd followed suit, offering their respect for the duel.
“You three did well. Though the burden on the remaining knights hasn’t lessened at all.”
At the queen’s words, I could only smile. Many knights remained, but drawing the crowd’s interest would be difficult for various reasons.
“I told you to participate yourself. It was quite fun after so long, wasn’t it?”
Returning to my seat, I found myself unable to either agree or disagree with Rowell’s question.