Chapter 21: Breaking Through the Siege (5000 Words)
The midnight aristocrats and their servants launched a fierce and swift assault.
At the command of the vampire Elector, those soulless undead creatures immediately sprung into action, their movements stiff yet synchronized. The grave guards, clad in heavy armor and wielding broadswords, marched forward in perfect unison, stepping across the blood-soaked ground, charging straight towards the altar amidst the necromancers.
The specters moved even faster, wielding sickles as they emerged from the walls, racing like galloping horses over the heads of the necromancers, converging from all directions toward the altar where the two women were. The sickles pointed directly at the chanting Jima.
As the sharp sickles of the specters lunged toward Jima, the midnight aristocrats moved a step ahead, launching their attack at her.
So fast.
Eve Frostleaf pushed with both hands, trying to gather a wall of wind to knock away the incoming midnight aristocrats.
But like a gentle breeze, the vampire Elector was not affected in the slightest. His strikes were swift, his presence overwhelming, affecting all beings around him. Among the midnight aristocrats, the only living beings, the necromancers, were no exception to this effect.
Some fumbled over their words, their incantations suddenly halting. Others stood frozen in place, their bodies completely stiffened. The chaotic sounds of chanting were temporarily suppressed by Jima’s song.
It was empty.
All empty.
Jima floated into the air like a leaf, countless strikes and slashes inexplicably missing her, as if the vampire Elector had suddenly become a novice.
But the swirling specters soon followed, bringing with them the dark magic cast by the midnight aristocrats. Their attacks were fierce and swift, layering in around the airborne succubus in tight circles.
“…Saint George the Dragon Slayer!”
As the words fell, a burst of white light erupted from the dense surrounding green specters.
A white-armored warrior with shining wings appeared in midair, holding a gigantic sword that radiated light, almost dispelling the darkness of the midnight hour.
All the necromancers raised their hands to shield their eyes.
Above George, Jima covered her eyes and shouted, “My dog eyes!”
“George?”
The vampire Elector charged forward, his wife following, as the bald-headed vampire joined the assault.
They were confident that as midnight aristocrats, their power far exceeded that of the living; even facing a warrior wielding a holy sword, they believed they would win.
The swords clashed and separated in an instant, both parties rebounding, with the Elector himself crashing backward onto a grave guard, nearly crushing that unfortunate undead in his armor, his own bones fracturing in several places.
George, in mid-air, leapt backward, flapping his wings to adjust his position, his hind legs kicking off a crumbling ancient wall to stabilize himself.
The bald-headed vampire, seeing the Elector in such a predicament, roared in anger, “Living being!”
Saying that, he charged at George. The two exchanged three strikes, and after a dazzling holy slash, a burning scar appeared on the bald-headed vampire’s scalp.
He had to retreat.
But this did not mean Jima’s side had the upper hand.
The necromancers unleashed numerous dark spells, like summer mosquitoes, entangling Eve Frostleaf and chasing after the wildly dancing Jima in the sky.
If not for the specific need to capture her alive, Eve Frostleaf, unarmed, would have long been defeated.
George and Jima, under siege, were unable to spare a hand to rescue Eve Frostleaf.
The vampire Elector raised his hand, and all the undead instantly halted, without the slightest delay.
“Hero!” the Elector shouted at George. “Stop! Do you really want to witness the destruction of the world?”
“Undead,” George replied like thunder, “I only see you murdering living beings and conducting evil rituals.”
“It’s unavoidable,” the Elector said, “We need her life to resurrect Naga the Sorcerer, the most powerful necromancer who will surely become a great asset for the Order Camp against the army of destruction.”
Eve Frostleaf had a wound on her thigh, bleeding. She trembled her long ears, focusing all her attention in George’s direction.
George’s voice boomed, “I refuse!”
“Will you watch the world be destroyed?”
George’s words were firm: “No, but that has nothing to do with murdering her!”
The vampire Elector lamented, “I’m sorry, but the Order Camp will lose a few soldiers. However, after your deaths, you will serve me.”
At this moment, though the Elector appeared very polite, he had entered a combat state, his face concealed disappearing to reveal a decayed visage. His eyes glowed red, and his nose was missing.
“Without a nose, you lament in the wrong place!” Jima cried out while flying in the sky, clapping her hands. “Come forth!”
The “corpse” of the former demon king, Bald Strong, appeared in midair. The branch axe spear lunged forward, shouting at the former demon king, “Take me away! Quickly take me away!”
But the black-armored Bald Strong paid him no heed, plunging down from hundreds of meters high like a falling crate, crashing down onto several grave guards in front of Eve Frostleaf, smashing their armor inward and causing their bones to break.
With a horizontal slash, the sword exploded forth, extending like a scythe reaping wheat, taking the lives of a whole group of grave guards, while the necromancers on the edges were affected and perished on the spot.
One necromancer nearby, under the pressure of fear, witnessed his companion die and was so frightened that his head fell off from his neck.
The terror among these beings caused Bald Strong’s body to double in size, emanating a terrifying aura as if it had substance. But the grave guards, long dead and devoid of intellect, showed no fear, their strides steady as they continued to swarm forward.
The midnight aristocrats attempted to launch a full assault on Frostleaf; this momentary halt in their offensive, however, was just temporary.
The bloodthirsty sky demons, massive flying beasts with strong wings, swarmed into the battlefield, their size akin to that of carriages, with powerful claws capable of lifting both vehicles and horses off the ground.
They beset George flying in the sky, but in such a battlefield, they could only serve as cannon fodder, blocking the blows of George’s sword and exhausting his magic.
“Master! I’m coming!”
The bald-headed vampire mounted a skeletal dragon that entered the fray, attacking George.
With their mounts, the midnight aristocrats joined the battle; the Elector’s wife, Elizabeth, rode a deceased pegasus, joining in aerial combat as she entangled George.
Now the strongest of the midnight aristocrats, the Elector, was free to leap down directly towards the fighting Bald Strong. He joined the fray, delivering several sword strikes. Bald Strong’s armor cracked and wounds opened, but he showed no blood at all.
The Elector said, “Just a puppet, lacking the true power of a demon king.”
Under his cover, the remaining necromancers retreated quickly to safety, using dark magic to enhance their undead master and army.
The scene presented a peculiar balance, but the continuous influx of the undead army tilted the scales of victory toward the midnight aristocrats.
“Is anyone else here?” Jima, flying gracefully in the air, noticed the bats pursuing her were cursed to fall to the ground. “Come on! Debtors, arsonists, the legendary witch hunters of the empire! Burn these rotting nobles!”
This was followed by an ominous magical surge.
Witch Hunter Arkanis appeared in mid-air, a confident smile on his face. Gravity pulled him down, causing his smile to fade. He held his high hat with one hand and raised his middle finger, shouting:
“Damn it, Jima! I can’t fly!”
A bloodthirsty sky demon charged at him, wings flapping aggressively.
“Burn this big bat!” he cursed angrily.
Before the attack of the bloodthirsty sky demon, he vanished beneath its claws, reappearing in an instant atop a skeletal head of a necromancer.
Witch Hunter Arkanis used his momentum to crush the necromancer, about to sit down hard on his chest.
“Thanks, necrophiliac.” Arkanis swiftly slit his throat and looked around.
What a sight, surrounded entirely by necromancers. The one on the left had just stopped breathing from the shock of seeing his witch hunter outfit. To make way for the continuous undead armies, the retreating necromancers clustered together, making it easier to protect themselves.
“Witch Hunter! Ah!!!”
The terrified scream just arose, only to be cut off by a slit throat.
Like a weasel falling into a chicken coop, Arkanis wreaked havoc, as necromancers drew their bone staves trying to catch a glimpse of Arkanis, shooting bone spikes imbued with deathly power, but only finding shadows, stabbing their comrades instead.
They tried to escape, but the undead armies reinforcing the battlefield enclosed them like a wall of bones. They bitterly regretted the lack of escape spells among deathly magic.
“Sisters! Protect the necromancers!”
On the second floor, a group of late-arriving female midnight aristocrats entered battle mode, revealing decayed, rotting faces and sharp fangs. They leapt down from the second floor, attempting to surround Arkanis.
Several smoke bombs swirled up into the air.
“Boom! Boom!”
The smoke bombs exploded, black smoke engulfing the area.
The female midnight aristocrats fell into the black smoke; they could see in the darkness, but the black smoke obscured their vision, creating more chaos.
Arkanis’s figure and shadow appeared in various locations, swiftly slicing the throats of the female midnight aristocrats. They clutched their necks, wounds spewing flames and white eyes, screaming for their sisters in hope that they could save them, preventing their eternal lives from ending there.
In the midst of fear and chaos, they swung wildly at every sudden moving shadow, cursing each suspicious figure.
A complete mess ensued as they rushed to the courtyard.
The midnight aristocrats even commanded their undead army to topple the ancient courtyard walls and surge in.
The scales of victory seemed to tilt toward the living.
With no support from the necromancers’ dark magic, George broke through the besiegement and, alongside the armed Eve Frostleaf, slowly fought his way out of the sea of bones.
They seized the moment, with Jima’s curse aiding them, leaping over the courtyard walls and leaving the cruel, bloody altar behind.
But such a grand display had drained Jima of much of her magic.
She soared like a fighter jet in the sky, glancing at her personal system. Goodness, within just a few minutes, her magic had dwindled to only 30%.
Using “Descent” to call for aid consumed a great deal, coupled with cursing and maintaining Bald Strong’s existence.
And below…
Jima suddenly performed a roll in mid-air, evading incoming bone spears, while also glancing down.
The castle was built on a mountain; if the base of the mountain was calculated as the mission success point, everyone hadn’t even gotten out of the castle yet.
To compensate for the magic drain, she had to use the power bestowed upon her by the Lord of Trickery—the Arcane Conductor.
The magical winds around her gathered into her body, blowing in from all directions. As a cost, bright blue feathers gradually grew from her wings.
“The power of the Lord of Trickery.”
The vampire Elector’s gaze sharpened instantly. If he still had a nose, he probably would be sniffing.
Surely it was the Lord of Trickery’s scheme. Although it appeared that the rescue team was far from victory, with a massive and high-quality undead army assisting, the midnight aristocrats could come and go as they pleased.
But who knows what changes may occur? Once they exited this castle, if a rift appeared unexpectedly, taking with it Eve Frostleaf of the Ainario bloodline, it would all be over.
He took another look at the three powerful beings fluttering through the sea of bones. To prevent their escape, the strong among the midnight aristocrats were almost all mounted on deathly pegasi or skeletal dragons, launching attacks from the sky in turns.
He commanded, “Attack the succubus with all your strength!”
As long as they defeated her and killed her, he believed the strong allies she brought would extinguish like candles in the wind.
And indeed, years of combat experience were not wrong.
At the moment her wings became heavier, Jima sensed she had become the focal point of the assault.
She could not stray too far from her group; otherwise, George and Arkanis, who had come through Descent, would be “returned” to their former locations.
Jima flapped her wings vigorously, weapon in hand, performing erratic maneuvers.
Most of the airborne forces of the undead army plunged toward Jima. The shrieking and swift bats were each the size of dogs. The female midnight aristocrats rode deathly pegasi that moved like the wind, while bloodthirsty sky demons flapped their wings heavily, pursuing Jima.
Under their relentless pursuit, Jima, weary, dodged and fled, miraculously avoiding several encirclements.
But her good fortune was about to run out.
The Elector’s wife, Elizabeth, skilled in black magic, held a blood cup in one hand and pointed her sword at Jima, extracting her soul. Black smoke was drawn out from Jima’s body.
Under the effects of the curse, Jima slowed down and fell into the encirclement. In desperation, she seized the oval blue ice core at her waist, the solid blue block instantly freezing her entire being in midair.
The chaotic attacks shattered against the thick ice.
Through the ice, Jima noticed she was surrounded. Ahead, the bald-headed vampire on a skeletal dragon had a prominent burning scar on his head. Lady Elizabeth held the blood golden cup, slowly sipping a mouthful of commoner’s blood.
Around her were flapping various undead creatures, far too many to count.
George and the others, seeing themselves encircled, were rushing this way.
But the strongest vampire, the Elector, was blocking them, denying them what they wished. And Arkanis? He had disappeared, perhaps fleeing at the sight of things taking a turn; a hard confrontation did not suit him either.
The “fridge” began to crack.
Jima remained calm, glancing at her remaining magic: 26%. Now that her soul wound was healed, she felt no further repercussions. She estimated the upcoming skill costs quite rationally.
The female midnight aristocrats riding the flying steeds began to wield their blood-siphoning swords, gesturing to see how to cut open her artery.
The cracks were increasing, spider web-like.
Suddenly, Eve Frostleaf drew an old bow and shot an arrow, the old bow unable to withstand the force, exploding outright.
The vampire Elector sensed the arrow headed straight for his wife and shouted in alarm, “Quick! Dodge!”
Lady Elizabeth couldn’t evade, and the arrow struck her directly in the back, ice exploding upon impact.
George and Bald Strong immediately abandoned their defenses and launched a fierce assault toward Lady Elizabeth.
The vampire Elector desperately tried to intercept.
Lady Elizabeth did not fall from her horse; she was merely wounded, but at the same time, her shadow behind her morphed, and Arkanis appeared there, stabbing her with a short sword and a curved dagger in succession.
The next second.
The fridge could no longer withstand the pressure and shattered completely.
The flying monsters around them charged in one after another, the ice breaking apart into powder, exploding and spreading ice mist.
Lady Elizabeth, riding a battered deathly pegasus, emerged from the ice mist. Her luxurious garments bore numerous wounds, emitting white smoke, but in the end, she survived the explosive onslaught from Witch Hunter Arkanis without falling.
The vampire Elector couldn’t help but relax inside.
This meant that the rescuers’ concentrated fire had completely failed, and the succubus wielding the power of the Lord of Trickery appeared to have reached her limit, likely without any chance to escape. Even if she did, she wouldn’t last long.
Jima’s unharmed figure appeared above the ice mist, the poor puppet enduring too much damage; she twirled in the air.
In order to quickly lock onto Lady Elizabeth’s back in the swirling view, she aimed to discover why George and the others were focusing on Lady Elizabeth, believing he must have had a good reason.
In a “picture” that passed by her, Lady Elizabeth’s back emerged, her snow-white hair bundled together, chin raised as she drank from the blood golden cup.
With a thought, Jima transformed her branch axe spear into an AR rifle. Before the next roll arrived, she moved her feathered wings with agility, stabilizing herself and halting her spin. She steadied the rifle against her shoulder, tilting her head slightly, the red dot of the holographic sight aiming at the mount beneath Lady Elizabeth.
Pulling the trigger.
“Tap tap tap.”
“Tap tap tap.”
Six bullets struck the injury-ridden deathly pegasus almost simultaneously.
“Ahhhh!!! Cowardly long-distance shooting!”
Amidst the rifle’s roar, the deathly pegasus lost strength, crashing down with its master into the earth, ashes billowing from its bones. The bullets relentlessly targeted her and her mount, Lady Elizabeth crashing hard to the ground alongside her steed.
It was enough distance,
George transformed into a ray of white light, charged with holy energy, crossing over the sea of bones to stand before Lady Elizabeth. She lay on the ground, the blood golden cup fallen before her as she made no effort to rise, instead reaching out for it.
The glow of the holy sword in George’s hand intensified.
The vampire Elector could not help but extend his hand, shouting, “No!” even as it allowed Bald Strong to attack him.
Simple yet divine holy slash.
It nearly cleaved Lady Elizabeth’s back in half, her dark Gothic-style dress almost tearing fully apart, as the sacred power scorched her deathly pale skin.
But she was not dead yet.
The vampire Elector charged over in a frenzy.
George pressed down sharply with his foot, crushing the blood golden cup flat. Grabbing hold of Lady Elizabeth’s white hair, he forced her to stand, placing the glaring holy sword against her collarbone.
The Elector just witnessed this scene, seeing his wife’s dress burnt and torn in many places, exposing large swathes of deathly white flesh, with bullet holes and scorching wounds visible—a ghastly sight.
George warned, “Don’t move.”
“I trust you know that placing the holy sword on her shoulder is a warning. I believe you wouldn’t want to see your wife experience another holy slash. I know of her crimes. For that golden blood cup in her hand, you destroyed two imperial towns, filling the cup with the blood of thousands.”
“Don’t worry about me, my beloved husband,” Lady Elizabeth said while clutching her chest. “He can’t kill me completely; we just need to be apart for a while.”
George said, “You can try, but guess what we brought the witch hunter for?”
The Elector gritted his teeth like a beast, emitting a low growl at George, his nails thickening and elongating. He had always emphasized civility, rarely displaying beastly tendencies; this time, however, was an exception. He wished he could tear George apart and eat his remains piece by piece.
———————
Still short a thousand words.
