"No, Why Are They Chasing Us After Sending Scouts?"
"No, why the hell are they chasing us after I sent out scouts?"
The news from here couldn't have reached Levia Castle already. But thanks to the spy planted at Gate 12, they already knew about the movements from Haellagoria.
If two unfamiliar cavalrymen were prowling around the castle, even the dimmest guard would have a rough idea that something was up. That's why they sent pursuers.
To check on the vanguard unit he'd dispatched, the status of each village, and how far the enemy had advanced.
"Fuck, can we hold them off?"
Considering Leon's skills, it was unlikely he'd screwed up and gotten spotted. There must have been someone over there with detection abilities beyond what he'd expected.
Either way, the priority now was stopping the enemy. They'd carved a path all the way here—if they lost this village, all their efforts so far would be for nothing.
They're already onto us, no helping that. The problem is the enemy's caliber.
The pursuers from Levia Castle were all cavalry. Not just any cavalry, but riders on phantom horses.
Can we hold them?
The enemy numbered around twenty riders. Far from negligible. If those weren't ordinary horses but phantom steeds charging at once, the repaired wooden palisade would shatter like glass.
The most effective counter to cavalry is a phalanx.
If the spearmen held formation properly, the cavalry couldn't charge recklessly. They'd end up skewered on a forest of spears.
But we don't have any spearmen.
All they had were skeleton warriors, zombies, and ghouls.
Skeleton warriors won't cut it.
Skeleton warriors were bottom-tier undead. A charge from phantom horse riders would smash them to bits. Yoahim pictured them crumbling like cookies.
Zombies and ghouls could handle it somewhat, but only once. They lacked the stopping power of spears. After blocking the first charge, the cavalry would wheel around for another.
And we'd have nothing left to stop them.
They had one shot. Crush the enemy completely on the first clash or inflict damage so severe they couldn't regroup.
Did he have confidence they could hold? Honestly, probably not.
Phantom horses weren't for just anyone. The steeds alone were powerful undead—the riders atop them had to be even stronger.
Yoahim imagined death knights rampaging through the village.
"Apostle!"
Sasha's shout snapped Yoahim's head up. After confirming the enemies' positions, he gestured to reposition the troops.
Ghouls and zombies that could withstand a cavalry charge went up front, skeleton warriors behind them. Skeleton mages and archers in the rear, safe from the rush.
Preparations complete. Win or lose, they had to fight.
Yoahim spotted Leon and Sasha racing toward the village and opened the palisade gate. They slipped through swiftly; the gate slammed shut behind them.
Any moment now, the enemy charge would begin. Shattering the palisade, shredding zombie and ghoul flesh, splintering skeleton bones.
"Hm?"
That was the plan, anyway.
"What the fuck are those bastards doing?"
For some reason, no charge came. The pursuers who'd chased Leon and Sasha weren't storming the palisade. They just hung back at a distance, silently staring at the village.
All cloaked in black mantles, hoods shadowing their faces—they looked like grim reapers, chilling to behold.
Yoahim swallowed hard, watching their movements. Were they hesitating because the enemy force was larger than expected? Or turning back now that they'd confirmed the village was taken?
He didn't know. Yoahim kept his guard up, eyes tracking the pursuers.
"I was planning to strike first."
The voice cut clearly through the wind. The apparent leader of the pursuers slowly rode toward the village.
"But it seems we've been outmaneuvered. Haellagos must have a capable commander beyond what we anticipated."
The rider came alone, no subordinates, no weapon drawn—seemingly vulnerable to a surprise attack. He was already within range of bows and spells. Yoahim could turn him into a pincushion or blast him to mist.
But.
I'll die.
Yoahim couldn't issue the order. Cold sweat trickled down his back unbidden.
Move, and I'm dead.
It was absolute certainty. If Yoahim twitched, the rider would kill him instantly. This wasn't some mere pursuit captain.
"You."
Purple eyes gleamed from the shadowed hood.
"You're Kakali's apostle."
The rider chuckled softly to himself. He'd seen through Yoahim's identity at a glance, stopping just paces from the palisade.
He hadn't given his name, but Yoahim had a good guess. Only one in the area radiated this presence.
"Before we talk, we should introduce ourselves. Apostle of Kakali, hear my name. I am Hallidery, lord of Levia Castle, walker of death's path."
Necromancer Hallidery. Lord of Levia Castle, now one of Yoahim's major foes to topple.
This is ridiculous.
Yoahim nearly laughed in disbelief. He'd figured the pursuit captain was skilled for tracking Leon and Sasha's stealthy recon. But there were limits. You don't use a cattle butcher's cleaver on a chicken.
The castle lord personally leading a chase? What the hell? Could he just abandon his castle like that?
Yoahim swallowed the words rising in his throat.
"Apostle, what is your name?"
Hallidery's gaze was serene, his voice flat. Yoahim had no choice but to answer.
"Yoahim."
"Yes, Apostle Yoahim. I sensed Haellagos that coward stirring unusually—it was because he trusts you. That foolish demon must have deluded himself that righteousness and the gods were on his side."
Hallidery wasn't wrong. Haellagos committing to all-out war was all because of Yoahim.
Yoahim swallowed again as Hallidery spoke. The calm gaze and eerie aura wrapped around him.
"I came to grant rest to insolent intruders. But now that I know who you are, I'm conflicted."
If Kakali's apostle was a powerful asset for Haellagos, he could be one for Alzahar too. That's what Hallidery was weighing: kill Yoahim here or recruit him?
"I trust you're not as foolish as Haellagos. Choose, apostle. Die here? Or come with me?"
Hallidery's presence was terrifying. Voiceless tone, emotionless eyes—enough to squeeze Yoahim's heart.
This guy's dangerous.
Not just strong—dangerous. Yoahim sensed it from the scent wafting off Hallidery. Thick, acrid, impossible to mask.
Blood reek. Hallidery stank of it, overpowering.
Like Alkados. The madman who'd single-handedly razed a castle and butchered countless lives.
"...Do you think you can kill me? I'm Kakali's apostle. You really believe you can?"
Pure bluff. Pathetic, even. Yoahim knew it.
But Hallidery didn't mock him. He just added flatly,
"Of course, you're Kakali's apostle. Far nobler than the likes of me."
But.
"Right now, I'm stronger. That's all."
"...Ha. Fine, you're stronger now. But I have hordes of subordinates. You? Just twenty riders."
The riders meant nothing. Hallidery alone could wipe Yoahim's forces without them.
Yoahim knew, but spat it anyway—buying time, instinct to survive a bit longer.
"I am Necromancer Hallidery."
Hallidery stated it dryly. As the words ended, the ground trembled faintly.
At first, a mere illusion. Then it shook the palisade.
Leon and Sasha glanced startled at Yoahim. But not from the quake.
The real reason: choking stench of death.
The earth split. Eerie smoke rose. From the cracks: heads, shoulders, hands emerged.
Death rose.
"Do you understand what that means?"
Hallidery hadn't brought just twenty riders.
He—Necromancer Hallidery—
"It means I'm enough alone."
Was a legion himself.
"Do you want to see my true power? My legions sweeping away your rabble? Speak your wish. You have the right to choose your death."
Yoahim looked up quietly at Hallidery's head.
Three digits. The implication was clear.
Fight, and die. Here. Inevitably.
"Choose, apostle."
Undead were rising slowly from the earth. First one or two, then dozens, then hundreds. The wraiths outnumbered Yoahim's forces steadily.
...Hoo, fuck.
He knew. Fighting was a dog's death.
Yet Yoahim didn't turn tail. No orders to sacrifice subordinates in his place.
He just sighed, eyeing the swelling enemy numbers.
Retreat. But no reason to.
"Be―hold!"
A soul-shaking roar. Faint hoofbeats approaching. Steady footsteps in formation.
Glancing back.
There.
"Al―jes―has―ar―rived!"
The death knight stood.