Chapter 53: "Good! Everyone, Shoot Arrows! Pour the Water!"
At the knights' command, the soldiers sprang into action. They loosed arrows at the Wights relentlessly slamming into the walls, sneering in the certainty of victory, and poured boiling water down upon them.
"Haha! You idiots!"
"They're dooming themselves!"
Ash breathed a sigh of relief at the soldiers' shouts. Having experienced the Wights' power firsthand, he knew full well that if even one had breached the walls, the fortress would have fallen in minutes. But against enemies who couldn't even attack, there was nothing to fear. At this rate, victory was certain!
"See? Staying here was the right call! Nords! I was right all along!"
Ash spoke to Loki, seeking validation for his correctness, but Loki merely shook his head as he watched the defense unfold, then turned toward the stairs leading down from the ramparts.
"Where are you going?"
"To the rear of the territory. There shouldn't be any Wights there yet."
"W-we've practically won already. Wouldn't it be better to stay here? Admit it now. I was right!"
Ash trailed after Loki, subtly trying to undermine him even as he followed—eager to repay even a fraction of the humiliations he'd endured. Loki glanced at him and said,
"You lack observation. Whatever title you hold, it seems you have reason to lose it."
"W-what?!"
Ash was about to retort when—
"What the—! Why aren't they dying?!"
Ash whipped his head around in shock. The Wights were still battering the walls relentlessly. At a glance, it looked like futile thrashing—soldiers above raining arrows and scalding water upon them. But the Wights ignored it all, arrows piercing their flesh or not, boiling water blistering their skin or not. They focused solely on smashing the walls. Even with dozens of arrows embedded in their bodies, skin bubbling from the heat, they refused to die and kept pounding away. Some even lifted their heads, glaring up at the soldiers with feral snarls, as if vowing to devour them all. The commanding knight, voice trembling in terror, shouted,
"R-right! Oil! Pour oil and set it ablaze! Burn the bastards!"
The soldiers hurriedly fetched Harma Territory's scant reserves of oil and dumped it over the walls. The scorching oil had no effect. Seeing this, the knight desperately hurled a torch. Flames erupted, engulfing the Wights in fire.
"Got 'em!"
The knight's face lit up, but a soldier beside him grimaced and muttered,
"...Got 'em? That?"
The knight peered back into the blaze. A few Wights had collapsed, charred—but those only partially aflame kept moving. Refusing to accept reality, the knight shook his head and staggered back.
"Impossible..."
Only a tiny fraction of the horde had perished despite the onslaught. They were truly a legion of demons. With supplies already dwindling, sustaining the defense was impossible. Worse, if surrounded, escape would be cut off, leaving them isolated to die. Hopes of victory faded. Staring at Wights that writhed even while ablaze, the soldiers forgot to fight, gaping in stunned horror. Untouched by direct assault, their will to battle had already crumbled.
"How do we beat things like this...?!"
"He was right... Only the Holy Church's Holy Knights could win!"
"Win? With Holy Knights? Be serious! Even the Holy Church couldn't handle thousands of Wights!"
Chaos spread. No deaths yet, but ranks broke, weapons were abandoned, soldiers fled. The knight in command stood frozen, lost in shock. Ash sensed the tide turning inexplicably sour. The Wights hadn't scaled the walls, yet morale had collapsed already? As Loki descended the stairs, he wrinkled his nose at the acrid smoke wafting toward him.
"A needless blunder."
"...What do you mean?"
Ash's blood ran cold at Loki's ominous words. Was there something even worse coming?
"It'll breach."
Breach? The walls? In panic, Ash leaned over the jagged ramparts. It was a bold move, but terror—not courage—stained his face. Each impact chipped away at the stone. That alone wouldn't matter; they could hold for days. The problem was the fire now licking the gates. Already weakened by the Wights' brute charges, the gates caught flame as a burning Wight slammed into them.
"Run...! We have to run! Nord! The back gate, quick...!"
Loki scowled beneath his crow helm.
"...Too late."
As if on cue, the gates shattered under a Wight's charge.
"...No matter how you look at it, they don't seem like mere mercenaries, do they?"
Kudan called out to Aum Linia as he passed the driver's seat, then glanced back awkwardly. Kudan drove a wagon pulled by horses from the front bench, trailed by a dozen more wagons drawn by horses. Aum's personal unit—the Berserk Warriors—rode atop them. To Kudan's eyes, they looked far too suspicious to pass as the "modest mercenary band" Aum had described.
They wore helmets shaped like beast skulls: wolf, bear, lion, tiger. Crafted not from bone, but a dark bronze metal. Their armor was equally ominous. Mantles of fur and leather from hunted monsters draped their shoulders. The only thing mercenary-like was their mismatched weapons: longswords and round shields, morningstars, warhammers, bastard swords—a varied arsenal. Though each dwarfed continental norms in size. Clad in such heavy plate that even trained warriors might falter, they chatted leisurely. Any onlooker would evoke tales of evil knights from bard songs or fairy tales.
"Didn't I say? No need to hide it."
Aum flashed a sly smile at his Berserk Warriors. Forged from unique metal produced only in Loki's Valhalla Palace, every suit and weapon had been handcrafted by Dwarf leader Reran. Such masterwork gear was rare continent-wide, and prohibitively expensive even if found. One hundred fully equipped Divine Gift users? No nation would ignore them—they'd avoid conflict at all costs. That was Aum's gambit.
The Holy Church's influence dominates the continent. Even emperors bow. But if a small nation has zealous protectors, they won't risk invasion. They'll just vie for control.
And what such powers craved was usually gold. The simplest fuel for human greed, mover of continents. Asgard's wealth surpassed any kingdom's. It could safeguard the woman Loki sought—"Helga"—and aid negotiations with the Church.
"Wights are beyond human foes. But we have the power to slay them."
The Wights' terror lay in infection. Aum had prepared: full-body armor lined with monster hide, spare purification and healing potions distributed. Even if infected by Worm Pest or mortally wounded, they'd return to peak condition for the fight's end. Wights could upend the continent—but eradicate them, and...
"Defeat the Wight legion, and rumors will spread. Use them right, and the Holy Church can't ignore us. They won't dare label us heretics without backlash—other nations will defend us, seek alliance to escape Church oppression."
Aum crossed his arms, smirking.
"The Worm Pest plague is our opportunity."
Kudan offered a wry smile.
"...But can Berserk Warriors alone handle such monsters?"
"Enough?" Aum eyed him incredulously. "...You could take half by yourself and have breath left."
"You're overestimating me."
"You're the one who broke through the death legion to swing at Lord Loki?"
Aum meant the battle against elite undead: Death Knights and Liches. Kudan had pierced them; Wights would be no match. Though as a human, disease posed risk.
"I've never faced Wights. And it's a plague—infection would overwhelm even me."
"True. But purification potions exist. Plus that..."
Aum nodded at the cloth-shrouded weight on Kudan's back.
"A gift from Lord Loki, right? They say it amplifies your fearsome strength."
"No chance to test it in real combat yet..."
Aum grinned.
"You worry too much. And our ace isn't just you—there's another."
Kudan glanced back.
"Hm~ Hm~"
At the column's rear rode a woman on horseback. Blue hair and eyes, elegant yet beautiful armor. Kankun hummed cheerfully, thrilled at the thought of reuniting with Loki.
"We have a shrine maiden to smite the wicked horde."
Asgard's shrine maiden aiding Loki, second only to Kudan among female warriors: Kankun.
"With you and her, we can rout them."
"Report!"
Mid-conversation, a Berserk scout reined in, dismounting fluidly to kneel before Aum with calm report.
"Harma Territory is currently engaging the plague horde."
"Hm? Earlier than expected. But they're no fools—bar the gates, hold a few days easy."
Aum shrugged. They were nearly there. Seal the gates, prevent "breeding," no headache.
Then a voice struck like a slap:
"And the gates are breached."
Aum's eyes widened.
"...What? Breached? No, why? Harma's low on supplies, but desperate defense should hold."
"They... set it on fire."
"...?"
"The gates."
"The Wights?"
"Seems the wall soldiers did."
Aum pinched his brow.
"Idiots... Ha! They didn't pour oil on the gates and ignite, right? No, impossible. Even a seven-year-old wouldn't. So how'd it catch?"
"......"
The scout's silence left Aum dumbfounded. They'd torched the gates on orders? Such folly!
Too long in peace? Lacking basic sense? Or pure panic?
Aum Linia, once great chieftain expanding Linia Tribe, had prepared for southern incursions to preserve his people. This report shattered his worries as baseless.
"I've feared fools like these? No, travelers I met were sharp. Just a Nord-level idiot in command this time."
"......"
Kudan beside him smacked his lips, unable to deny.
"...Increase speed. No sense letting the plague spread and multiplying our kills."
Aum addressed the Berserk Warriors behind.
"Time to debut on the continent. Exterminate the Wights... and cling to Lord Loki's coattails!"
Aum Linia grinned wickedly.
"Lord Loki will handle Asgard's remaining duties diligently!"