Zombie Apocalypse 6
Zombie Apocalypse 6
The monster-men scattered throughout the village were lured by the noise of battle and smashed to pieces.
Their vitality was so tenacious that even when incapacitated by stone-throwing, they did not fully die.
Even with one part of their heads caved in like the Collapse Mercenary Company's banner, they crawled like earthworms, squirming.
"Normally they ought to die by this point. Their durability exceeds that of wights."
Rampage clicked his tongue.
"Those creatures are many bodies with one will."
"Pardon?"
"I can see it. Their bodies are separate, but they share a single will."
To Eugene, each of the monster-men looked like the tiny bulbs decorating a tree. A single will imbued with mystery coursed among them like an electric current.
It went beyond simply issuing commands; they pulled and supported one another. Unless a wound was severe enough to smash the head, nearby entities shared senses and thought, keeping them moving.
That could be considered the great difference from low-grade undead hordes like wights. Silver and holy water did not work on them, and they were harder to neutralize.
"Is such a thing possible? By any monster manual's measure, a blow to the head should make them topple right over."
"As expected, the Castle Lord can see it too."
Unlike the startled Rampage, Cassandra wore a pleased expression. As a witch, she too could sense the peculiar traits of the monster-men.
A commander who could pierce through mystery on the battlefield was a reassuring presence to subordinates.
Even when facing unpredictable situations, he would respond more efficiently, and he would identify the moment to retreat faster than other commanders.
"Honey mushrooms, coral reefs, aspen trees... In this world, there are organisms that form colonies spanning several kilometers from a single root. Those creatures belong to that category as well. Do not mistake them for animals just because they scream and move their limbs."
Yet even Cassandra's eyes widened when he shared such remarkable knowledge.
-That smells savory.
-Ah! Captain Cassandra. You've come. Today's lunch was made by the Castle Lord.
-Again? He truly is an unusual man.
-Well, we get to eat delicious food, so it's good for us.
It had been the same when stationed at the Wandering Castle. Though a knight and the castle lord, he would visit the mess whenever bored and direct the women in cooking.
Whenever he did, a new menu would appear, delivering a unique and stimulating taste none of them had ever experienced.
'But... he grew up in a rural village, and in an ascetic monastery at that. How does he know all these things?'
He was a strange man in more ways than one.
"This far. Archers, fall back. We finish this in close combat."
The warrior women who had been using the dwarves' shoulders as firing platforms leapt gracefully to the rear.
Even they, who had traded insults with the dwarves and remained arrogant the entire time, obeyed the Castle Lord's commands with exacting discipline.
The dwarves, formed in ranks, strode forward and delivered finishing blows to the crawling monster-men.
"Grant rest to those whose skulls remain unshattered!"
"Khazad ai-menu! (The dwarves have come!)"
The dwarf warriors, whose hands had been itching to do more than just watch, swung their hammers.
Crunch!
The unique vibration that rushed through the grip the moment a skull shattered. It was the sensation the Hammer Brotherhood dwarves loved most in the world.
"This is what we live for! Gahahaha!"
A thirst that even the most delicious mushroom liquor could never quench. A delight that could only be tasted on the battlefield.
"I get that you're excited, but don't step on the stones! You idiots!"
"They get stuck in the ground and are a pain to dig out. The stumpy things weigh so much, too."
A few dwarves who got too carried away received a slap on the back from the dark elf warrior women.
Collecting the stones scattered across the battlefield was one of their key tasks. It was a simple matter of picking them up, but when dwarves trampled over them, it turned into a chore like harvesting potatoes.
"Dwarves don't look where they're stepping!"
"What does it matter whether you lower your gaze or not? At your height, the ground's already in your line of sight anyway."
"Harsh words!"
Crack!
Even amid their squabbling, the dwarves tirelessly dispatched the monster-men. But after being nagged at, none of them stepped on the stones in their path.
Watching them, Eugene nodded.
"I see. So as long as they keep winning, they can maintain combat effectiveness indefinitely, can they?"
"Some shatter or fall where they cannot be retrieved, but usually over eighty percent are recovered."
"I ought to increase your numbers. I shall speak with Chieftain Alessa about reinforcing the unit."
"Truly?"
Color rose to Cassandra's face.
She commanded the guerrilla unit of the Black Hand Mercenary Company. If the unit's authorized strength increased, it would directly strengthen her position.
"I favor how versatile they are and that they can sustain combat power for long periods with minimal supply. The fact that they can damage enemies impervious to arrows is also good."
Already, the warrior women's sling containers were near full. They held a quantity of stones barely different from before the battle began.
In contrast, once arrows were loosed, a considerable number had to be written off. Their durability was weak, and monsters often snapped them while thrashing about after being hit.
Just then, Might turned his head in one direction.
Grrrrr!
He bared teeth like a crocodile's and let out a sound like boiling lava.
"Something's coming."
Since his reincarnation as a World Charger, Might had become a predator. His sense of smell had been enhanced accordingly, and he reacted especially sharply when a being of strength comparable to his own appeared nearby.
He was a beast who wouldn't even respond to the likes of the dire wolves they'd caught at the slave trader's outpost. A dangerous foe had surely appeared.
Homi too stood upright atop Sandy's back, gazing toward the forest. Her downy fur and tail were bristling.
"Do you know what it is?"
Shake shake.
Homi's body always reacted a beat faster than conscious recognition. But her experience was still insufficient to identify what it was.
"Knights, prepare for battle! Guerrilla unit, withdraw behind the allied lines!"
Though Eugene's shout came suddenly, his subordinates reacted sharply. They all cast aside the spoils in their hands and fell back to form ranks.
"What is the matter?"
"It looks like the real threat has appeared now that we've been stirring things up all over. Varda-nim, please move to the rear."
With those words, Eugene turned his horse toward a small church nearby.
"Might. Give me a wider view. Let us see the face of the foe we shall fight."
Inky-black legs kicked against the earth, and knight and steed soared into the air. They landed right atop the roof of a wagon standing before the church.
Crash!
Might launched himself higher from the splintering fragments of wood and leapt onto the roof of the church building.
"..."
"..."
At that sight, the subordinates were left speechless. It was not simply because it felt unreal.
Flap, flap!
The caparison draped over Might and the warg cloak billowed together as one. The black wave they created was beautiful, like a scene from a painting.
A unified will waited to see what enemy their lord had found and what orders he would give. Eugene felt the surging morale of his troops at his back.
'Something is indeed approaching from beyond the forest.'
It was far away, and the trees obstructed his view. Perhaps the steed had sensed its master's intent?
Might's eyes blazed fiercely like purple lanterns. At the same time, a violet luminescence settled in Eugene's brown eyes as well.
"Oh ho."
A new vista unfolded before Eugene's eyes. The eyes of a World Charger, which pierced through the world, were now granted to Eugene himself.
"Might. I hope we can remain together until the day the time permitted to us comes to its end."
The loyal steed quietly accepted his master's hand stroking his neck.
From the forest, a massive presence and a smaller presence were drawing near.
'A dryad and a spirit mage?'
The architects of this anachronistic zombie apocalypse had revealed themselves.
The pair was utterly different from Grace and Varda, who were etched in Eugene's memory as sublime recollections. Their appearance was twisted and menacing in the extreme.
* * *
Balthazar, born and raised in a mountain village in the Apen Mountains, earned his living as a woodcutter.
While other woodcutters swung their axes thoughtlessly and mercilessly, Balthazar ventured deep into the forest.
"Respect the forest. If you first lend your ear to the forest, she will answer you in kind."
It was to follow his late mother's teaching. It was also the teaching of the witch who served the forest.
"It hurts to wound the skin, but cutting nails or hair does not hurt. Listen to the voice of the forest and take only what they permit. Then you can become their friend."
His fellow woodcutters mocked and ostracized Balthazar for this.
They found it pathetic that he left the abundant trees around them and trekked far off, dripping sweat, to bring back lumber.
And yet, they could not stomach the sight of him making money by finding rare medicinal herbs and ingredients. He seemed a stark contrast to their own impoverished lives.
When they asked him his secret for finding them, he would only say, 'The forest gifted them to me.' The notion that he was lying to monopolize the profits only deepened the woodcutters' hatred.
Thus, when pirates of an unprecedented scale landed and ransacked the Apen Peninsula, Balthazar received an ugly payback.
When the villagers evacuated to the lord's manor, Balthazar alone was turned away.
"That wretch is in league with the pirates!"
"He's the one who told them the village's location!"
The woodcutters had framed Balthazar. When the church priest, who already disdained the bloodline of witches, joined in, there was nothing he could do.
Cast out into the forest, he abandoned hope and cried himself to sleep, terrified the pirates would come to kill him, all alone as he was.
What woke Balthazar from his slumber was the most powerful voice of the forest he had ever heard.
[I have waited for an immeasurably long time. For the world to brim with nutrients and for a child as lovely as you to appear.]
A spiritual tide, and a man who possessed the qualities of a spirit mage.
Timing, and a medium. Two things that rarely coexisted had converged in one place. It was the moment the forest spirit who had long lain dormant would descend into the mortal realm.
The forest, which had only ever offered its helpless inner flesh to the axes of men, began its revenge for thousands of years of accumulated pain.
Balthazar happily became her friend and her tool.
If there was one thing he realized after befriending the forest spirit...
It was that he felt nothing at the sight of human death or screams.
Aside from his ability to communicate with the forest spirit, it was the perfect proof that Balthazar was qualified to be a spirit mage.
* * *
"A dryad?!"
As expected, the first to react was Varda.
When Eugene's legs nudged Might's flank, the beast cleverly grasped his master's intent. It ran down the steep slope of the church roof and wall as if sprinting across flat ground, then leaped and landed before Varda.
Thud!
An ordinary horse would have broken its legs outright, but Might seemed to feel almost no impact at all.
Haind felt a pang of jealousy. It was an emotion he ought not to harbor toward his lord, but as a knight, the desire for a great steed was impossible to shake.
"It is no noble figure like Lady Grace. But the sheer size, the distinctive bearing, the air about it... one cannot imagine it being any other kind."
"It likely borrowed the shape of a dryad. For a spirit of that level to continuously dwell in the physical world, it absolutely needs something to possess."
Was it because this seemed to defile her precious memories? Varda's face was filled with fury.
"Was it not the spirit mage who performs that role?"
"Impossible. If one were to accept such immense mystery into their body, even a spirit mage would shrivel into a husk in an instant. But the presence of a spirit mage is indeed essential. If we strike down the spirit mage alone, the forest spirit will also be banished from this world."
That was the answer Eugene had wanted.
"But Castle Lord. If the Forest Spirit has any sense at all, it will fight desperately to protect the spirit mage."
Cassandra spoke with an anxious face.
As both a warrior and a witch, she could already feel how dangerous the approaching entity was.
"Whether we like it or not, we'll have to settle this with them one way or another. With those creatures dominating the whole area, it will be difficult to search for the missing tribesmen otherwise."
Eugene folded his flail and tossed it back, then drew Last Autumn. For cleaving magical beings, it was always the best tool.
Until now, Eugene had to dismount and fight depending on the type of enemy. But there was no longer any need for that.
Might's legs would never break, and the steed would trample even the seemingly unassailable, leading his master to an advantageous position.
"It's coming!"
"Do not shoot."
The warriors swallowed hard at the sight of the great dryad and the spirit mage silently approaching.
The danger signals their entire bodies were sending made the hands gripping their weapons tremble. Yet holding their ground was not difficult.
A knight aiming a silver blade ahead of them. A great steed baring its savage fangs and exuding an overwhelming pressure.
Just a single horse and rider standing at the front were cleaving the supernatural enemy's menacing aura like a retreating tide.
"I am Eugene, knight of House Meyer. Are you the ones at the center of this calamity?"
As they were intelligent beings, unlike monsters, Eugene wished to settle this through negotiation rather than fighting outright.
But it seemed that would be difficult.
The dryad that fully revealed itself before them had human corpses wrapped around its twisted body, as if it were draining them of nutrients.
Among them was a dark elf with long ears and dark skin.
'It's not a question of whether I can negotiate or not.'
The Black Hand House always exacted a blood price for its kin. That rule now applied equally to Eugene, who had grown to love them.