Chapter 98
Chapter 98
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 98
Chapter Title: Chapter 33: Night Enforcer (3)
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A blue vortex slammed into the orcs' rear guard. It was a high-level spell completed by the Azure Tower Lord, Risefield.
Desia followed up by casting her own high-level magic. Two consecutive advanced spells claimed the lives of hundreds of orcs.
"Advance! Push the enemy back!"
At Cassius's shout, the heavily armored Imperial Army of the Philius Empire surged forward, swinging spears and swords.
The orcs resisted desperately, their faces twisted in terror. But the thick aura of fear dominating them wasn't from the Imperial Army before their eyes.
"There's something beyond them..."
Sylvia's face had gone pale as well.
"Something? A monster?"
Ronald posed the question, and Sylvia slowly shook her head before speaking.
"I don't know. I sent a wind spirit to scout, but it got shot down."
"The wind spirit was taken out?"
"Yes... even though it wasn't materialized..."
Attacking a non-materialized spirit was virtually impossible—virtually the only way was extremely limited.
'They have a way to strike at non-materialized spirits? What the hell is it?'
Ronald narrowed his eyes and peered toward the orcs' rear. It was still too early for full nightfall, but a faint darkness lingered beyond them.
'This isn't good.'
Something unknown lurked there. Even his senses as a master swordsman, honed to a razor's edge, couldn't pierce the thick gloom.
"Mage unit! Cease fire support!"
Ronald raised his left hand and shouted. The mage unit's commander looked baffled but relayed the order to halt as per the Emperor's command.
"Your Majesty, shouldn't we maintain the magical barrage?"
One of the Imperial Army commanders at his side asked cautiously.
"The orcs' rear lines are already shattered. Conserving the mages' mana is far better than wasting it on more spells."
"Are you considering reinforcements for the orcs, sire?"
"No."
He shook his head firmly.
"It's something on a whole different level from the orcs."
He spoke in a low voice. There was something out there. His instincts screamed warnings, and his master swordsman's senses rang alarm bells in his mind.
With the Sword Saint Gestain intervening, the orc horde posed no threat. Even the handful of great warriors—considered knight-level among orcs—stood no chance against him.
"Kieeeek!"
"Kraaaak!"
Every swing of Gestain's blade drew hideous screams from the orcs as they spilled red blood.
Soon, the orcs' formation collapsed entirely. As the Sword Saint plunged deep into the broken lines, scattering aura blades with each strike, the enemies' chaos intensified.
Even belligerent orcs should have lost the will to fight and retreated by now. Yet they battled the Sword Saint to the end, refusing to fall back. But the expressions on their faces weren't resolve for a last stand—it was fear of whatever lay beyond.
In the end, not a single one survived; they were annihilated fighting the Imperial Army.
Gestain stood atop a small hill of orc corpses. His gaze pierced the forest beyond, landing on something.
"My God..."
Gestain, who rarely showed emotion, let out a trembling sigh. Something had shaken him deeply.
"Entire army! Reform ranks!"
Gestain raised his voice. Maintaining his aura blade, he took position at the vanguard of the Imperial Army.
What could unsettle a man as immovable as a mountain?
Ronald bit his lip, unable to contain his tension. His gaze shifted to Sylvia.
"I'll send another wind spirit."
Understanding the intent behind his look, Sylvia summoned a wind spirit and dispatched it toward the encroaching darkness.
"Sylvia..."
"No response. It was forcibly dismissed again."
The result was the same. The wind spirit was intercepted once more, and Sylvia clenched her fist in frustration. She'd never looked so powerless.
Ronald ground his teeth. Then he drew up his mana. A powerful magical gust arose in an instant, toppling the hill of orc corpses to clear their line of sight.
And there, far off, the true nature of the black darkness revealed itself.
"Damn it all..."
Spotting the army slowly marching toward them from beneath the black shroud, Ronald cursed involuntarily.
The soldiers making up that force weren't living beings—they were the undead.
Undead.
An army of the dead, denied promised rest by a necromancer, wielding swords fueled by grudges against the living.
"Hold formation! The battle isn't over yet!"
A beat late in recognizing them, Cassius bellowed at the top of his lungs and reinforced the front ranks.
"His Majesty the Emperor is there! The Imperial Army must not show fear!"
The troops wavered at the undead horde's appearance, but Cassius rallied them masterfully, bolstering morale.
Ronald quietly spurred his horse to the front. The Royal Guard swiftly flanked him.
"Your Majesty. Do you intend to join the fray?"
Marquis Blizzard asked carefully. Ronald replied with a calm expression.
"It's an undead army. Unless we kill the necromancer, the fight won't end until their mana runs dry."
He was right. Marquis Blizzard, well-versed in undead lore, nodded in agreement.
"The Royal Guard will escort you. As always."
"I appreciate it."
Ronald gave a faint smile to the ever-loyal Marquis Blizzard, then called Sylvia over to ask the necromancer's position.
"The wind spirits keep getting shot down. But I can sense the direction of that ominous mana."
Elves were acutely sensitive to mana flows. Sylvia's answer satisfied Ronald fully. He stared at the approaching undead army and spoke.
"Lead the way."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The platinum-haired high elf strode boldly toward the undead horde. Ronald didn't let her go alone.
"Royal Guard! Clear a path!"
The imperial decree echoed across the battlefield. Two of the Guard's finest marquises stepped forward.
Marquis Blizzard and Marquis Tempest.
"I'll provide cover, Marquis Tempest."
Marquis Blizzard extended his hand, unleashing a blizzard of deadly chill. The skeleton soldiers and zombies guarding the undead vanguard crumpled helplessly under the onslaught.
Then Marquis Tempest charged ahead. His sword swing birthed a storm laced with razor winds that engulfed the undead ranks.
Skeletons and zombie swarms were shredded by the bladed gales. Terrifying and grotesque as they were, their combat prowess was underwhelming.
"Not much to them."
One Imperial soldier muttered. A nearby knight shook his head and replied.
"Skeletons and zombies are the lowest tier of undead. And what makes undead truly fearsome isn't just their numbers. Look there."
A burst of eerie green mana erupted where the knight pointed. Fallen undead regenerated rapidly, rising once more.
"My God..."
"Is this what undead are like?"
The Imperial soldiers shook their heads in dismay.
To them, undead were alien and terrifying— the last necromancer had appeared a century ago.
"I've pinpointed the necromancer. Over there."
Unlike the fearful troops, Sylvia calmly identified the position.
She'd had a vague idea from the ominous mana's flow, confirmed moments ago by the dark spell's activation.
Ronald nodded slowly at Sylvia's confident declaration, channeling mana into his right hand. The Soul Sword gleamed brighter.
"Your Majesty. I'll silence those wretches."
It was the Sword Saint, Gestain. He wouldn't let the Emperor stain his hands with their rotten blood. Without orders, he'd guarded his side—now he stepped up.
"Will you?"
"I won't disappoint."
"I'll cover you."
Desia began tracing a magic circle with her staff. As Ronald nodded with a faint smile, Gestain drew his sword and rocketed toward the undead army.
Dozens of ice spears pierced the undead. Gestain's aura blade then carved through them.
"Let's go."
Ronald didn't stand idle. Gestain cleared the path, but Ronald wasn't one to watch from behind.
With the Sword Saint blazing the trail and Royal Guard at his flanks, strolling through the battlefield heart felt almost leisurely.
Ten minutes of hurried steps later, Gestain halted.
"Kuhahaha! To think the Emperor himself would grace us!"
Disheveled hair, haggard face, black robes, and blooming unholy green mana around him— all marked him as the necromancer.
"Take his head, Gestain."
"As His Majesty commands."
Gestain kicked off the ground. The distance closed in an instant. Caught off guard by the speed, the necromancer gulped and retreated; a headless knight dullahan took his place.
Boom!
Swords clashed—not with metallic scrape, but a thunderous impact like massive objects colliding. The dullahan sank deep into the earth.
Before it could recover, Gestain's second strike cleaved it in two.
"M-my dullahan...!"
Even undead couldn't fight bisected. Too close for a regeneration spell.
"Long live His Majesty the Emperor!"
"Kraaaak!"
Aura scattered through the air amid a shrill scream and spurting blood. The necromancer dodged with enhancement spells, but couldn't match Gestain's speed. His left arm severed, he staggered.
"Disarm him."
A necromancer after a century—plenty of value in interrogating a prisoner.
'The End Society?'
Watching Gestain sever the necromancer's right arm to disarm him, Ronald bit his lip.
In the Empire of the Dead novel's world, becoming a necromancer required the 'Blessing of the Black Dawn'—a lost method per the lore.
Yet here one appeared, pointing to the End Society: an irregular group tied to unfinished lore.
"Disarmed, sire."
Gestain reported. Ronald nodded and approached. Desia flicked her hand, staunching the blood from the necromancer's arms.
"Sent by the End Society?"
"Kuhaha! You already know, don't you?"
The necromancer giggled like a madman.
"The Night Enforcer has come, so the end is nigh!"
Spotting green mana gathering on him, Gestain swiftly shielded the Emperor. Desia completed her defense spell right after.
Bang!
A blue shield formed before Gestain and the Emperor just as the necromancer's body exploded.
"Suicide..."
Marquis Tempest of the Royal Guard muttered. No intent to harm others—the blast was contained, shredding only his flesh.
Chunks flew but Desia's barrier kept them from Ronald.
"Night Enforcer...?"
Ronald frowned. He knew the Empire of the Dead world and settings.
But the End Society—one of the writer's few unfinished elements—remained a blank.
"Your Majesty. It's dangerous here. Please return to camp at once."
"I don't run, Marquis Tempest."
Ronald replied coldly to the marquis's concern, then summoned Cassius.
"Your Majesty. You called?"
"Send a messenger to camp ordering the hunt suspended. Reorganize and assemble the Imperial Army and knight orders. Also, fortify defenses here against potential attacks."
"As His Majesty commands!"
Cassius moved. Messengers peeled off toward camp; the rest began erecting fortifications.
The Emperor's tent rose first. Ronald entered quietly with Desia, Gestain, Sylvia, and the Azure Tower Lord.
"Prepare yourselves."
"Prepare? For what, sire?"
With no explanation, Risefield asked cautiously. Ronald's gaze turned to him.
"We're going to the Golden Dawn Clan's city."
Ominous thoughts stirred—he intended to check it out himself.