Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 408 - 408 - Ten Thousand Ghosts
Chapter 408 - Ten Thousand Ghosts
Count Molsan was not a genius in strategy or tactics, but his thinking was broad.
He moved outside the opponent's expectations.
When the battle began, some of his troops broke formation.
They appeared to be fleeing during the fight.
The kingdom's commander decided it was unnecessary to chase them. It was common to see deserters when the tide of battle turned, and they were already outnumbered.
It was actually a good thing if they ran away.
In other words, they had become a small force that no one cared about.
They grouped in twos or threes, then scattered, and followed the command ringing in their heads to regroup once more.
"Find the source of mana."
It was no surprise that their destination was in front of Andrew. Seeing a group of soldiers, now turned ambushers, Andrew calmly spoke.
"Do I just cut them down?"
Despite Andrew's words, Esther remained motionless.
Instead, blood flowed down from her lips.
It was proof that Esther was still fighting.
Andrew sighed deeply.
The situation was eerily similar to that of the dog.
The fighting on the battlefield ceased, and suddenly, wild-eyed men jumped out.
"Where the hell did these guys come from?"
It was an unexpected ambush.
"Of all places, here?"
It wasn't a supply line, nor was it where Krang was. Why here?
From a tactical standpoint, there was no meaningful reason to be here.
It was obviously because of Esther. Andrew had figured that much out.
They were a group of over fifty infantry. Every one of them looked formidable.
It would have been better if there were fifty ghouls instead.
"Master, look at their eyes."
A freckled apprentice took a step back, speaking out. Andrew had noticed it too.
Blood was dripping from the eyes of most of them, as though their capillaries had burst. It was hard to even find the whites of their eyes in the few that seemed less affected.
Their eyes were bright red, and their pupils were black.
It was only a change in their pupils, but they no longer looked human.
Just their appearance alone was intimidating. Andrew gritted his teeth.
"Should we retreat?"
They had formed a defensive line with five apprentices and Esther, but fighting here would be a suicide mission.
What about running away while carrying Esther?
The men with bloodshot eyes were all wielding swords and showing off their bulging thigh muscles.
What had they done to get thighs that thick?
"It seems like running would be out of the question."
Even if he ran alone, it would be a close call, so carrying someone with him didn't make sense.
It was broad daylight, but it felt like the sky was gradually darkening. He should be feeling the heat of battle, but instead, there was a strange chill.
No, earlier it had been hot, but now it felt suddenly cold.
They were approaching without any formation.
In old legends, there was a story about angels who fought while shedding blood tears. It was said that they fought on the command of the gods, shedding blood tears because they didn't want to kill.
Of course, these men were the opposite of those legends.
They had taken drugs to maximize their physical abilities.
"A, a, a wizard, tear, tear, kill, kill."
His speech was frustrating to listen to, but his intent was clear. They were targeting the mage.
Why had the main forces just sent these guys?
Did their commander even know about the situation here?
Andrew felt frustrated.
"Master."
One of the apprentices called to him. There was still a reasonable option left. If they ran, they could survive. There was no duty to protect Esther.
"How can I live with myself, unable to protect the person behind me?"
He remembered something the commander had once said. Andrew reflected on the time he had spent with Enkrid since the first time they had met, facing danger together.
What had he learned from him?
"If I run away and can't protect a single woman, how can I preserve my honor? If I survive like that, I will cast away the name Gardener from today onwards."
Rather than run, he'd rather die here.
"Get, get, get out."
"Shut up, you."
Andrew cut off the stammering man's words.
"Let's die together, then."
The freckled apprentice said, and they positioned themselves.
Andrew stood in the center and swung his sword vertically once.
It was a downward strike. A declaration of will.
The enemy's detachment rushed at them with blood tears, dripping from their eyes and mouths.
"GUAAAAH!"
It was unclear whether it was a battle cry or a scream.
They were just as difficult to deal with as their appearance. They swung their lowered swords quickly and forcefully, extending their legs and claws.
Were they even human?
It felt like a joke; was their mother really a ghoul?
Half-human, half-ghoul? It seemed absurd, but there they were, right in front of him.
"You bastard, bring it on!"
Andrew shouted. He had already been stabbed in the thigh, and his leg wasn't functioning properly, but what did that matter?
It was a moment of holding on.
Bang!
Andrew thought a stone was being thrown at him.
Blood poured from the torn scalp, blurring his vision, and the world turned red.
He saw something charging from one side. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't a chariot, but a person.
In their left hand, they wielded a flat cudgel, smashing the enemy, and in their right hand, a broad sword crushed foes.
"Red potato."
Andrew thought that to himself, seeing the crushed enemies.
He was at his limit, almost dying, but help had arrived.
It was the half-giant warrior Teresa.
Beside her was Dunbakel. Holding sickles in both hands, Dunbakel fought like a mad shaman.
She swung her sickles, cutting, thrusting, and slashing through enemies.
With a deadly fury, she reached Andrew's side, massacring the detachment.
"Hey, you okay?"
"You're starting to look good to me."
Wiping the blood from his eyes, Andrew spoke.
"I've always been pretty."
"The one over there is looking prettier."
Andrew winked at Dunbakel's shoulder.
Teresa's shield and sword were like a grinding machine, smashing through enemies without mercy.
Her immense size distorted the sense of distance as she crushed and broke enemies in seconds.
It was far from the "pretty" he had said, but Andrew meant it with sincerity.
They were the ones who had saved him. He could say far more than that.
Andrew collapsed to the ground.
Before Enkrid moved toward the Count, he had sent Dunbakel and Teresa to protect Esther.
The fact that Esther had sent something that seemed to be her body meant she couldn't come herself.
It was evidence of a dangerous situation.
It wasn't a hunch; it was a rational judgment.
That was why Dunbakel and Teresa had come here.
Of course, during this time, Dunbakel had felt fear and shame at the sight of the Count.
Teresa, on the other hand, was irritated because she felt inadequate.
The two felt a sense of relief as they looked at Andrew.
"Cough!"
Just before Teresa and Dunbakel wiped out the surprise attack from the enemy soldiers, Andrew noticed Esther coughing.
She briefly opened her eyes.
"Witch?"
Andrew called to her, but Esther didn't respond and closed her eyes again.
Something was definitely wrong.
Esther had rejected the Count's magic that pushed her away and opened her eyes once more in the alternate world.
She could see a black soot-like substance spreading from around the Count.
'It happened.'
To put it simply, it wasn't that she was caught off guard, but rather that it couldn't be helped.
The opponent was a prepared magician, and Esther had yet to fully recover all of her magic.
Had her spell world been intact, she would not have fallen for it.
'So?'
Esther looked at the man who never gave up, and she had learned something from him.
Moreover, Esther was well aware of her own proud sense of self-worth.
Her nearly arrogant self-esteem would not allow her to retreat like this.
That was why.
'Do you think I'll retreat?'
That so-called Count or whatever magic-wielding bastard had laid the groundwork, and she wouldn't let it stand unless she overturned the situation.
If facing it head-on was difficult, she would use another method.
'The alternative.'
Of course, there were several things she needed to prepare for.
First, she had to half-kill or outright kill the source of that soot, the one controlling the magic.
'Enkrid will do it.'
A magician's prediction is essentially an educated guess. It's a conclusion drawn after weighing the surrounding circumstances.
But what Esther said in her mind wasn't a prediction.
It wasn't a wind either.
It was faith.
It was the trust shown by a person throughout their life.
Enkrid was someone who would do what he set his mind to.
Esther trusted that and began preparing her alternative plan.
The Count did not erupt in anger. To throw a tantrum over everything not going according to plan would be no different than a seven-year-old child.
'Is this something I cannot handle?'
I can handle it.
'Has my plan gone terribly wrong?'
It's not that bad.
The cold-headed thoughts quickly calmed his irritation.
It was frustrating that the prepared magic circle had been distorted, but it was still enough.
He couldn't swallow the entire kingdom in one go, but he could end this battlefield.
'But wasn't I always aiming for a stable kingdom?'
This was something that had started out of greed for power. As he tried to recall his past self, another voice within him asked.
'Is that really important?'
The Count answered.
'No.'
Whether it's a sword or a staff, the throne is still the throne.
Expand your followers. Take over the world.
After whispering those thoughts, the Count began reciting the spell based on the prepared magic circle.
In fact, this was the same spell that another version of himself had been reciting since the beginning of the battle.
It seemed that the magician who had interrupted his spell world was unharmed, but that was a problem for later.
For now, it was more important to reap the souls of those advancing toward him.
The Count raised his hand, holding his staff.
Pointing the staff forward, a black soot-like substance began to spread from the tip of the staff.
Even though the sky was still bright, it grew darker as the black substance spread.
From behind the Count, dark clouds began to gather, resembling the chair he was sitting in.
The heavy clouds, devoid of thunder, looked ominous.
The dark sky covered the sunlight.
Everything seemed to be painted black.
"What... what's going on?"
One of the kingdom's soldiers looked up in shock at the strange sight.
The black sky gradually expanded, touching the ground. Some of the soot slowly crawled toward the soldier's arm.
It seemed like the cloud had gotten so thick that this had happened. That's what made sense. But without sunlight, how could such a shadow be cast?
The soldier's rational mind said one thing, but his instincts disagreed.
As the soot touched his arm, the soldier tried to shake it off, but it kept spreading, soon holding him by his limbs.
"Ugh."
Soon, the soldier felt something else invading his body.
It wasn't physical.
Give me your body.
It was the presence of a spirit invading his mind.
The soldier's eyes glazed over, leaving only the whites. He began drooling uncontrollably.
The Count laughed as he saw the result.
"Try handling the specters of ten thousand!"
His voice echoed across the battlefield. His confidence was overwhelming, and the combined voices shook the minds of ordinary humans without mercy.
The soot itself was a specter that drained the life force of humans.
The strongest of them reached the five approaching the Count.
Enkrid heard a murmur near him.
Give me your body.
Before he could even respond, his Will instinctively rejected it. The soot could not taint his resolve. The specter was thrown back by his Will.
...Give me your body.
Thunk.
...
The specter ignored Enkrid.
Rem also faced the specter, but he knew how to deal with these kinds of things.
That said, he didn't want to touch something so unpleasant. It was like not wanting to touch rotten eggs on a hot summer day.
And yet, it was only natural for humans to want to pinch their nose at such a foul smell.
So Rem swung his axe.
Whoosh.
Following the vertical path of the axe blade, the specter's will scattered.
With the power he had gained from the undying madman, cutting through the specters was nothing extraordinary.
Even without the magic, it was still something he could do with a trick or two.
Ragna ignored it.
The specter stuck to Ragna but he could hear no reaction.
Give me your body, can't you hear me? Give me your body.
Ragna remained unmoved, and the specter gave up. It wouldn't do any good to respond if no one listened.
No specter could pierce Ragna's will, as solid as a rock.
Jaxen, trailing a little behind the group, sensed the specter approaching and avoided it.
The soot seemed to spread seamlessly, but if you looked closely and felt it, there were plenty of places to avoid.
It wasn't that hard. Even if he couldn't avoid it, it didn't matter. If things went wrong, he could always use a straw doll artifact.
Jaxen had a few things prepared just in case.
Audin welcomed the specter. Only he showed compassion and generosity.
"Come forth, for the Lord awaits."
What a pitiful soul, he thought. He would embrace it. How could it not find peace after death?
Tears almost welled up in his eyes. In fact, a small dew gathered at the corner of his eyes.
Within Audin was hidden divinity. It was only sealed by a golden bond. The specter eagerly dove into him and met the divine mass sealed by the bond.
There was no time for it to scream. It was erased and went to the Lord's side.
This was the most terrifying death for a specter.
It's no wonder that divinity is the arch-nemesis of undead and beasts.
Divine power inflicted excruciating pain upon them.
Of course, Audin knew this well.
'Endure the pain, for the path to the Lord is not without its trials.'
He did it knowingly. Truly, with a heart full of compassion for the specter.
The Count frowned as he saw the momentum of the five approaching him showing no signs of slowing down.
Not only that, but he also saw others resisting his 'sooty specters.'
There were some near Crang and a few others.
"Presumptuous fools?"
The Count muttered as he waved his staff. If he couldn't break their resolve, he would tear their bodies apart.
"Let's see if you can block this too."
He commanded, and from the floor beneath his chair, those who had become the very soot he had spread began to rise.
Specter soldiers.
He had summoned ten thousand of them from his spell world into reality.
A black wave suddenly rose in front of Enkrid and the Madmen unit.
Enkrid didn't hesitate, even as he saw the endless wave.
Who was the best suited for this kind of battle?
"Rem."
The mad axe master.
"...I'm not thrilled about it."
Rem saw the approaching wave of specters and realized they had to break through.
Although he didn't like it, he understood what needed to be done.
"We need to form a battle formation."
It was a request to line up for a specific purpose. It seemed out of place for the Madmen unit, but it was necessary.

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