Chapter 2: New Century (Epilogue)
The skeletal greatsword smashed down. Fortunately, the Skeleton Titan, forcibly awakened, had long lost its former might. This earth-shattering sword strike was blocked by Duke North Wind Ongel.
He raised his great hammer, and the blade of the skeletal greatsword pressed against his hammer’s handle. The immense power caused the ground within a dozen or so meters around Ongel to sink abruptly. With a roar, the battlefield’s dust was kicked up, resembling a rising gray mist.
“Pfft—” Ongel spat out a mouthful of blood. The blood trickled down his gray-blond beard onto the ground. His eyes were bloodshot, and the bark-like muscles on his face twitched.
“So damn… invigorating!”
He roared, using his knees buried in the soil to push himself up, bearing the Skeleton Titan’s greatsword as he slowly stood.
“Charge through!” he shouted, turning his head to the players who stood frozen in place.
The swirling dust obscured his features, leaving only the black of his armor and the red of his blood. But his rough voice, like desert sand, pierced through the Undead Legion’s war drums and reached every player’s ears.
“Let’s go!” Nobody Does Human Things (M) roared.
“Don’t waste the opportunity Duke North Wind created for us!”
Two Skeletal Mammoths were dead, and the city wall-like greatsword was held back by Duke North Wind. The path had been opened. The players, under the sky Duke North Wind held open, passed by the Skeleton Titan’s feet and continued towards the Great Mausoleum.
However, the surrounding undead would not relent; they continued to pounce on the players, wave after wave, fearless.
“Mages, advance and self-destruct the path!”
As soon as Players issued the command, mages who were ready were tossed high by warrior players, crashing into the tide of undead and detonating.
Things were different today. The tide of undead now surged from all directions, far more troublesome than facing the undead from one direction in Karari Royal Capital previously. Not to mention the greatly increased quantity of undead now. While the mages’ self-destruction did inflict damage on the undead, it couldn’t clear the path any faster.
“Kill—!”
Suddenly, shouts of battle came from behind.
The players turned to look.
They saw Clemon leading the army of Winter City charging fiercely into the encirclement of undead.
The outermost rank of soldiers wore black heavy armor, wielding long spears and tower shields. Their cold helmets obscured their faces, revealing only sharp, cold eyes.
The middle rank of soldiers held long swords and round shields, clad in silver chainmail. They looked solemn, their momentum surging under the command of the Crusaders.
These soldiers were genuine veterans of Winter City, each a hero forged in the crucible of death. Their combat effectiveness was perhaps no weaker than that of ordinary Crusaders.
“Boom boom boom!” Lightning flashed, exceptionally bright in the dim night.
The players knew that was the Priests wielding their lightning hammers.
“Help the Foreigner Legion (Organization) clear the way!”
General Clemon commanded, and the Crusaders, holding tower shields and long spears, quickly pushed away the undead attacking the players. They formed a continuous line, like a mobile wall of bronze.
Although they didn’t kill as many undead as the mages’ self-destruction, they effectively carved out a path for the players.
“Release arrows!”
“Swish swish swish—”
Arrows flew like locusts, obscuring the sky.
The arrows shot by the Sharpshooters had limited lethality against the undead, but they could suppress the undead’s advance.
The two armies met.
“Clang—!”
Shields and weapons collided.
The Sword Shield Soldiers followed behind the Crusaders, pushing forward with their shields, and took the opportunity to swing their long swords at the skeletal warriors.
Only a pair of eyes filled with killing intent were visible from behind their shields.
“Roar—!”
Their powerful roars seemed to overwhelm the undead’s momentum.
They were once ordinary civilians of Winter City.
Perhaps farmers tending their fields, hunters roaming the mountains, or perhaps a simple father.
They had never imagined in their lives that they would be fighting terrifying undead at Emerald Fortress, hundreds of thousands of miles from their homes.
But following the command of the King of Winter (Xi Wei), and trailing their admired monarch, they had come to the battlefield without hesitation.
Brothers, fathers, friends, and even sons, setting off on the journey together.
They had been filled with passion when they departed.
They had heard stories in taverns of heroes achieving great deeds, earning titles, and being rewarded. They were ambitious and believed that by following the King of Winter, they would be invincible.
But that was merely a beautiful fantasy.
War was, after all, cruel.
Especially when they faced the savage undead.
Dasvid watched as the Karari soldiers marching alongside him were disemboweled by shrieking Ghouls. He tried to stuff his intestines back in, but a Skeletal Warrior had already raised its axe and severed his head.
He wanted to go to their rescue, but was tackled from the side by a Ghoul. He quickly raised his shield to block.
The Ghoul was crazed, its sharp claws striking the shield like a storm, splashing sparks. Gritting his teeth, he held his shield, barely holding on.
The bearded Bart, following the Crusaders, arrayed his group of New Recruits.
They held shields and spears, holding their ground.
But the heavily armored Skeleton Knights of the undead came charging one after another.
They were clad in heavy, pale bone armor, their heads covered by rusty steel helmets, with only the ghost fire in their eye sockets flickering with the wind. The thunder of steel during their charge filled the entire world.
In a chaotic corner of the battlefield.
Heavy breathing sounded like bellows.
Mikeen sobbed hysterically, holding the half-corpse of his younger brother.
The brave Gorod had killed dozens of Walking Corpses, but more undead surrounded him.
He panted like a wounded hyena, sweat soaking the meticulously styled hair he had groomed that morning. His golden curly hair had completely turned into a clump of sticky, comical dough.
“Come on! Damn undead!”
“You won’t get past me! I won’t let you!”
Gorod muttered to himself, his sore arm raising a mace.
He loved this weapon.
It only took one blow to smash the damn undead’s head to bits!
Behind him was the defending line.
That was the path they had carved out for the Foreigner Legion (Organization).
General Clemon had said it himself.
Only the Foreigners had the ability to destroy those tombstones. If the tombstones were not destroyed, Emerald Fortress would fall, they would die, the King would die, and their relatives in Winter City would also be killed by the undead.
Ultimately, Gorod was pounced on and pinned to the ground by the undead. A Skeleton Knight picked up Gorod’s mace and, just as Gorod had smashed the undead’s heads, cracked Gorod’s skull open. A Crusader then filled Gorod’s spot, their tower shield standing there like a solid wall.
Sacrifice was everywhere, and fear spread unrestrained.
But the army of Winter City had ultimately used their flesh and blood to carve out a path to the Great Mausoleum for the Players. The undead were held back, and the Players moved unimpeded.
“We’re here!”
Nobody Does Human Things (M), with red eyes, took a Temporary Resurrection Crystal from his backpack and placed it directly on the soil of the Great Mausoleum, which was emitting necromantic energy.
By this time, the tombstone had grown two-thirds of the way out, almost about to break through the soil.
