Chapter 52: I Shall Teach You the True Terror of Dark Magic (1)
Chapter 52: I Shall Teach You the True Terror of Dark Magic (1)
From just behind the vanguard, Patrick watched the antics of the three idiots up front who possessed nothing but reckless bravery.
He approached the only one among the three who seemed capable of listening to reason.
“Viscount Frace. May I have a word?”
“Hmm? And you are?”
“Patrick Schneider, son of Baron Schneider.”
“Ah, I know you. You’re the lad from back then.”
Patrick had made quite an impression on the Eastern nobles at the previous banquet.
He had originally intended to keep a low profile, but after being forced to act to save the Count’s daughter from a crisis—not for the reward, of course—the Eastern nobility had come to recognize that ‘the son of the Schneider family knows his way around a blade.’
Viscount Frace, in particular, had looked upon Patrick with great interest.
Having personally led troops through several territorial wars in his youth, the Viscount could see that Patrick’s skill was far beyond merely ‘knowing his way around a blade.’
The Viscount himself was at the 3-Star level, yet he hadn't even been able to see what this young man had done or how he had moved.
‘He must be at least a 5-Star.’
Believing the young man to be a genius among geniuses, Viscount Frace spoke to Patrick with a softened expression.
“Hahaha. I think I know why you’ve come.”
“A-Are you sure?”
“Indeed. You’re itching for a fight, aren’t you?”
“……”
“It’s only natural at your age. If you wish, you may take a position at the very front of our forces.”
‘Yeah, no. That’s not it, old man.’
Patrick let out a sigh and spoke.
“For now, please slow the pace of the march. The damage from traps is steadily mounting.”
“But if we do that…”
Won’t the other two houses seize the vanguard?
He couldn't bring himself to say those words aloud. Even if that was his true motivation, it was shameful to openly admit to sacrificing soldiers for the sake of glory.
Patrick said to Viscount Frace, “The role of the vanguard isn't to move quickly. It’s to secure a safe path for the rear guard.”
“Mmm…”
“Pull back for a moment and reorganize your ranks. If my guess is correct, a bandit ambush is imminent.”
“An ambush?”
“The path is narrowing the further we go. If I were the bandits, I would station archers to target our troops.”
“To resort to such cowardly tactics…”
“What do you expect from bandits?”
Patrick bit back the urge to ask, ‘Since when is an ambush cowardly?’
Viscount Frace took a calm look around.
Indeed, as the competition for the lead intensified, the formation of the troops had become severely disorganized. If the enemy were to rain down arrows in this state…
“Hmm. Sir Terius!”
“Yes, my lord. You called?”
“We will reorganize the ranks before resuming the march. Tend to the soldiers.”
“Understood, my lord.”
After giving the order to his knight, Viscount Frace turned back to Patrick.
“Is that satisfactory?”
“Yes. Thank you for listening to my advice.”
“No, it’s quite alright. It’s been a while since I’ve seen actual combat, and I suppose I got a bit too excited. I didn't even realize the formation had fallen into such disarray.”
Seeing that Viscount Frace recognized the problem, Patrick thought to himself:
‘I guess his experience from his younger days wasn't for show. This old man is definitely the best of the lot.’
Patrick then looked toward the other two houses.
They were charging forward with a reckless ignorance that reminded him of the Orcs back at the territory.
“Advance! Keep advancing!”
“Ignore the traps! Prove that their cowardly tricks cannot stop us!”
Those guys are hopeless.
Patrick shook his head as he watched the leaders, blinded by the prospect of merit, failing to even look at the expressions on their soldiers' faces while they pushed them ruthlessly from the rear.
He never thought he’d have to witness such a pathetic sight again, even after dying and being reborn.
As House Frace pulled back slightly, House Haspear and House Byson pushed their soldiers even harder.
It seemed they thought that with one competitor falling behind, they could monopolize the vanguard if they could just beat the other.
They had to reach the bandit camp first, no matter what.
Only then could they claim the credit for leading the charge and receive the subsequent rewards. If they retreated now, they would be nothing more than fools who sacrificed their soldiers for nothing.
And so…
‘We’re almost there. Just a little further.’
‘We can’t turn back now.’
The heads of the two houses, charging with the typical mindset of a failing gambler, failed to grasp the situation entirely. They didn't notice that the traps were becoming more frequent, nor that the path was growing narrower.
Then…
“There! That’s the bandits’ stronghold!”
“Charge!”
The objective finally came into view.
They could see a wooden barricade that looked like it had been hastily constructed by bandits.
The moment they spotted the target, the commanders ordered a charge, and the soldiers, relieved to finally see their destination, rushed forward heedlessly.
However…
“Fire!”
A command rang out from somewhere.
The clear sound of bowstrings snapping echoed from all directions. And then…
“Agh!”
“Gah!”
“Urgh… gurgle…”
The soldiers of the two houses began to fall, struck by a rain of arrows pouring in from every side.
“Raise your shields!”
“Block the arrows! I said block them!”
“Form a tight formation and use your shields… Gack!”
The bows used by the bandits weren't particularly high-quality weapons.
They could have been easily blocked by the knights’ plate mail or even the soldiers’ wooden shields. Had they maintained their formation at a normal marching speed, they could have easily withstood such an arrow volley.
But…
“Aaaargh!”
“No! Gwaaah!”
“Run away!”
A troop that doesn't follow orders is nothing more than a large target.
A few soldiers tried to raise their shields as commanded, but without a proper tight formation, they couldn't block the rain of arrows.
The soldiers of the two houses fell helplessly.
Watching the scene, the faces of the two lords turned pale.
“Dammit! Sir Carlson!”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Leave the soldiers and have the knights alone break through that barricade!”
“Understood.”
Viscount Byson sent his prized knight order forward.
The bandits’ crude arrows couldn't pierce a knight’s plate mail. And a flimsy wooden barricade wouldn't be enough to stop Sir Carlson Mayer, a 4-Star Knight he took great pride in.
If they could just tear down that barricade, they could claim they had fulfilled their minimum role as the vanguard. He was betting everything on that.
“I am Carlson of Byson!”
As if to prove his 4-Star status was no lie, the knight galloped at the front, wielding a bastard sword shimmering with Aura.
His horse, also clad in thick armor, charged toward the barricade, unfazed by the bandits’ arrows.
The moment he reached the barricade…
CRASH!
Aura exploded against the wooden structure.
The barricade, struck by the Aura of a 4-Star Knight, shattered into splinters.
“Sir Carlson of the Byson Territory! I have reached the front!”
Understanding his lord’s intent, the knight announced his name in a booming voice.
With this, the role of the vanguard was more than—
“Gasp!”
As Carlson stepped past the broken barricade and into the camp, he instinctively covered his mouth.
The stench of rot.
The place that was supposed to be the bandits’ stronghold was filled with the overwhelming, nauseating smell of decaying corpses.
There wasn't a single living soul; it was filled only with the dead.
From corpses that looked like commoners to those presumed to be from previous subjugation forces or even bandits themselves—half-rotted bodies had been piled up in this spot.
The moment he saw the mounds of rotting corpses filling the base, a chill ran down his spine.
Bandits, a Dark Mage, and corpses.
What did this combination imply?
“Re… Retreat!”
As he shouted at the top of his lungs, the rotting corpses lying on the ground began to twitch and haul themselves upright.
“Groaaaaan…”
“Gurgle…”
Zombies rose in massive numbers.
Zombies are peculiar monsters.
They are the lowest tier of Undead, and as long as one keeps their wits, even a well-equipped common soldier can defeat one.
However, the story changes when their numbers swell.
They are slow and dull, but they know no pain and will not fall from ordinary wounds. Furthermore, they possess an endless obsession and madness for the blood and flesh of the living.
When dozens or hundreds of such zombies swarm together, it is nothing short of a calamity.
Against a wall of flesh that keeps coming no matter how many times you hack at it, neither armed soldiers nor trained knights are of much use.
Those zombies poured out from the bandits’ base and fell upon the subjugation force.
“Gwaaaaah…”
“Uuuurgh…”
A vague obsession and hatred for the living.
Whether they were good or evil in life, they were all the same once reborn as moving corpses under the baptism of dark energy.
Even with their hearts pierced by swords or their limbs severed, the zombies pushed forward just to bite into the flesh of the living, tearing into the soldiers of the subjugation force.
“Aaaaah!”
“No! Stay back!”
“Agh! Gaaaaah!”
Some swung their weapons wildly in a fit of terror, while others collapsed on the spot, surrounded and eaten alive by the zombies.
A scene straight out of hell unfolded before them.
And the one who had orchestrated this massacre was watching from not far away.
A thin, cruel smile played on his lips as he watched the carnage.
“Heh heh heh… Yes. Let it flow. Scream. Your blood and bitter shrieks shall be my nourishment.”
Wrapped in a black robe and holding a staff topped with a skull emitting an ominous energy, this man was the Dark Mage lending his strength to the bandits.
No, strictly speaking, saying he was ‘lending his strength’ was incorrect.
One could tell by listening to what another bandit beside him said.
“What shall we do now?”
That was right—this Dark Mage was the leader of the bandits.
To be precise, there had been a different leader originally. But the Dark Mage had appeared out of nowhere one day, killed the leader, brainwashed the rest, and taken over the entire group.
He had seized the bandit group because he needed a force that would move according to his whims—all to efficiently carry out the orders given to him by his cult.
Attacking the roads around Mount Pils and raiding the neighboring territories had all been done under the Dark Mage’s direction.
He stared intently at the subjugation force being unilaterally slaughtered by the zombies and spoke.
“The rate at which the corpses are piling up is too slow. I’ll need to take more decisive measures if I’m to deal with the ones coming up behind them. Fire arrows at them.”
“Yes, sir.”
With a vacant expression, the bandit relayed the Dark Mage’s order to his subordinates.
Immediately, a fierce volley of arrows flew toward the enemies who were already in chaos because of the zombies.
“Fire! Show no mercy!”
“Yes!”
Firing arrows into a chaotic melee where allies and enemies are mixed is usually ill-advised.
But when those ‘allies’ are zombies, the situation is different.
The zombies didn't feel pain or even an itch when struck by arrows. But for the soldiers, having arrows rain down on their heads while they were already struggling against zombies was a living nightmare.
Furthermore, their fallen comrades were beginning to rise again as zombies.
While the number of allies dwindled, the number of enemies only continued to grow.
“Hyaaaah!”
Amidst the chaos, the knight named Carlson from the Byson territory was doing his best to cut down the zombies.
Cleaving through the undead with his vibrant Aura, he proved that his status as a 4-Star Knight was well-earned.
“Do not be afraid! If you stay calm, zombies are no great threat!”
As he cut down the zombies and encouraged the soldiers, the men around him began to slowly regain their morale.
“So, there was someone useful among them.”
The Dark Mage muttered as he watched from afar.
He had expected someone like that to appear, given that the subjugation force included several knights.
Naturally, he had a countermeasure ready.
“I shall teach you the true terror of dark magic.”
An incantation began to spill from the Dark Mage’s lips, and an ominous energy gathered at the tip of his crystal skull staff.
“Curse of Confusion.”
The dark energy gathered at his staff began to crawl and spread across the battlefield.