Chapter 67
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 067
Chapter Title: Undead and Black Mages (2)
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'The timing is impeccable.'
Thinking that, I headed to the stockade with the sturdy guards.
As I walked, I reviewed what I'd learned.
The new spells I'd acquired.
'Level Ground.'
The second spell from the Earth Dragon Grimoire.
Its name was Level Ground.
It was a technique that pressed down flat and even on the ground in a designated area.
It might seem unremarkable at first glance, but nothing could be further from the truth.
If someone was standing in the targeted spot, the spell's power could crush them flat.
Just as its power suggested, it consumed 100 mana.
Fortunately, reading the grimoire had boosted my mana by 50, so it wasn't too burdensome.
'Compared to the Earth Dragon Grimoire, the Green Thumb Grimoire feels minor.'
The Green Thumb Grimoire only raised mana by 25.
And its second spell, Rapid Growth, cost just 25 mana too.
The effect was to sprout plants from the ground.
But it probably wouldn't work on hard soil.
The plants wouldn't be able to break through the surface.
'When there's no grass around, I can use Rapid Growth first, then chain it into Green Knot.'
I had a rough idea of how to use the Rapid Growth spell.
"Lord Heros?"
That's when the guard's voice reached me.
Lost in thought about the new spells' applications, I'd already arrived at our destination.
"That's it."
The spot he pointed to was beyond the stockade gate.
Far off, objects like tiny black dots.
The undead army.
"Prepare for battle!"
Was it because the enemy had appeared?
Godfrey, captain of Chester's guards, barked orders at his men.
Knights and soldiers gathered in front of the stockade at his command.
Bear and Conal led the guards who'd been following me, taking positions under Godfrey's direction.
Gilbert, who only followed my orders, stayed behind as my escort.
"He's got guts."
As I scanned the undead army, Nina's voice suddenly came from beside me.
Wondering what she meant, I looked over, and she nodded toward Gilbert.
"Bringing an undead to fight an undead army. What if someone finds out?"
"Just pretend you don't notice."
"Of course. Still, it's wild. I can sense the undead vibe, but I don't want to believe it."
Nina examined Gilbert's face closely.
Then she turned to me.
"Fire magic, earth magic, and now necromancy. How many types do you even know? Can't you tell me?"
"No way. It's a secret."
I shot down Nina's request flat.
Better to keep my full strength hidden.
Come to think of it, how many types had I learned?
I got curious.
'Necromancy, earth magic, water magic, shadow magic, lightning magic, plant magic, fire magic. That's seven. Add in inspection magic, and it's eight. Quite the variety.'
Reading every grimoire I came across had led to this diverse arsenal.
I felt proud.
Just then, soldiers and knights murmured.
Wondering why, I looked ahead and saw the undead army had halted its advance.
Two figures emerged from their ranks and slowly approached us.
A middle-aged man on a mule, and a gloomy young man walking beside him, holding the reins.
The youth acting like a servant looked familiar.
Skinny frame, deathly pale skin.
It was Starling, the mage who'd used Nahcherer as a familiar.
The one who'd taught me magical knowledge in exchange for gear and the Damp Ground Grimoire.
'Why's he there?'
The question didn't last.
I shifted my gaze from Starling to the middle-aged man.
He seemed more important.
'Who is he?'
The man stopped between the undead horde and the stockade.
His outfit was striking.
A red tunic embroidered with gold thread, shoulders draped in luxurious purple cloak.
His short, stubby fingers were crammed with jeweled rings.
I worried he'd even bend them.
But despite the flashiness, he lacked any noble air.
'Looks like a nouveau riche.'
His height barely topped 150cm, and he was enormously fat.
Slanted eyes and patchy mustache made his face even less appealing.
But I couldn't underestimate him.
Most of what he wore or carried were magic artifacts.
"Ahem!"
As I observed him, he cleared his throat and pulled parchment from his breast pocket, tearing it.
Then he spoke.
"Greetings, Count Chester and your rabble."
Despite the distance, his voice rang clear in my ears.
Definitely magic.
Activated by tearing the parchment.
I'd sensed the mana flow.
'Wind Sending spell.'
The feel of the mana told me the spell type.
He'd used a wind artifact to project his voice here.
Clop clop.
Why try talking now?
As I pondered, hoofbeats sounded.
Count Chester rode up on his white steed.
His attire was just as ornate.
Chainmail under a white surcoat emblazoned with a bull crest.
"Who are you?!"
Arriving at the gate, Count Chester bellowed.
The man's face twisted.
"Fine voice you've got!"
Sneering, he continued.
"I'm Desmond. The new master of Chester."
Count Chester's eyes bulged at the introduction.
"Nonsense!"
"Wishful thinking, I suppose. Anyway, I've come out myself to urge your surrender. You have until tomorrow. If you don't yield, I'll slaughter everyone in the city. Choose wisely."
Desmond finished.
He raised his right hand and smacked Starling's head.
Starling yanked the reins in surprise, turning the mule around.
Then, as if remembering something, Desmond hit him again.
Starling spun the mule back to face us.
"Oh, and I hear the mage who killed Terence is here. That old coot was a crank, but skilled. Trusted him with the job, didn't expect this. As his superior, I'll avenge him. Give up on living."
Desmond spat it out fast.
He raised his hand as if to strike again.
But Starling whipped the mule around before he could.
Desmond smacked his lips and lowered his hand.
The two retreated to the undead ranks.
But their words didn't register.
Desmond's remark gnawed at me.
'Avenge Terence?'
Terence was an Eremus eastern branch executive.
Desmond spoke his name casually, even calling him "old coot."
And crucially, he called himself Terence's superior.
With all that spilled, only an idiot wouldn't figure it out.
'So it's you.'
Desmond.
Definitely the Eremus eastern branch chief.
But not a mage.
No mana at all.
That was odd.
The day after the declaration of war.
The undead army advanced at dawn.
No cheers, no drums.
Just footsteps.
The silence made it eerie.
"To your positions!"
Godfrey shouted, scanning around.
Soldiers with massive hammers gathered at the obstacles blocking the stockade.
Twenty of them.
The narrow gate meant they could hold back intruders.
The issue was if the enemy got tricky.
If they blasted the stockade with magic, we'd retreat inside the city walls.
'How will they come at us?'
As I mulled it over, time slipped by, and the undead reached us.
Thud!
Slanted stakes.
Undead trying to enter halted, impaled.
Sharpened tips pierced their bodies.
But stakes alone couldn't stop the dead.
Waiting soldiers swung hammers at them.
Splat!
Bursting sounds echoed as heads and limbs shattered.
Fallen undead vanished underfoot, replaced instantly.
A war of attrition began.
How long would this grind last?
I glanced at the gate.
Endless undead stretched out.
Fighting like this would take ages just to thin them.
'Why attack this way?'
Eremus's effort felt half-hearted.
Just shoving undead through the narrow gate.
Like discarding familiars.
Pondering the suspicion, the answer came.
'Desmond's wary of us too. Explains this otherwise senseless move.'
Why black mages treat undead as expendables.
To probe our response.
This was reconnaissance.
'Fine. I'll force your hand.'
Thinking that, I approached Count Chester.
Couldn't cast without the commander's okay.
"What is it?"
He watched the battle sternly from nearby.
Spotting me, he asked.
I stated my business.
"Count, permit me to use magic."
"Is that our counter?"
Before the war, he'd heeded my advice.
Observe the black mages first, then respond.
They'd probed with undead; time for our reply.
Now was the moment.
"Yes. Guessing they think alike. Using undead as bait to test us. This drags on too long—bad for us. I'll use magic to draw a new reaction."
"Situation's not terrible. Soldiers are holding the gate."
"It'll turn into a boring slog. Then a siege. You know sieges favor them. Food shortages hobble us. Better to trade blows and force a quick battle."
"If you put it that way, fine. Magic approved."
"Thank you."
"Don't go all out. You'll need strength if the black mages move."
"No worries. Just a light show of force."
With permission, I walked to the obstacles.
Eyes turned to me.
Expectations in their gazes.
Hoping I'd break the deadlock.
'Act confident now.'
Shoulders back, chest out.
Strolled casually.
My staff hand clenched tight from nerves, but no one noticed.
"Mage?"
At the stakes, a soldier mid-swing looked up.
A boy my age.
His face, speckled with darkened blood, showed deep fatigue.
"Yeah. I'm here."
I replied, facing forward.
Cloudy-eyed undead reached out.
If hell existed, it'd look like this.
Thinking so, I cast on the beckoning dead.
'Level Ground.'
Mana drained from me.
An invisible force spread squarely over their heads.
Then.
Boom-!
The undead before me vanished in an instant as the ground shuddered finely.
"Huh?"
The boy soldier gasped.
Couldn't make sense of it.
Neither could I.
'Level Ground packs this punch?'
The long line of undead ahead.
Gone.
Compressed, technically.
Proved by the fleshy remains smeared on the ground.
'Nice.'
Over a hundred down in one shot.
They'd clustered perfectly.
Max gain for minimal effort.
As I savored it.
"Whoa!"
Cheers erupted.
Turning, I saw stunned faces staring.
Nobles, priests, knights, soldiers—even mage Nina.
All awed.
I feigned nonchalance, eyes forward.
No time to relax.
Swish.
The gap from Level Ground.
Other undead moved to fill it.
Prepping another cast.
Suddenly, they turned their rotting bodies, retreating to base.
Soldiers raised weapons, roaring triumphantly.
"We won!"
"Sky God, bless Mage Heros!"
"For Chester!"
First clash victory.
Everyone celebrated.
But I stayed vigilant.
The real war was just starting.
'Next move?'
Undead push failed; black mages would adapt.
I braced for it.
The next day revealed their plan.
They blocked the path to Chester with the undead army, waiting.
Starve us out.
They knew our food woes.
"Why not strike first?"
In strategy meeting, I proposed to Count Chester.
Chance to seize initiative.