Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 409 - 409 - Siege on the Black Wave
Chapter 409 - Siege on the Black Wave
It is said that one knight can replace a thousand soldiers.
But what if the enemy numbered ten thousand?
The Count thought of his opponents as knights and resolved to kill them. Thus, the army of ten thousand became spirits.
"Die."
Become fertilizer.
Become nourishment.
Become prey.
Become part of me.
The effect of the Count's magic circle was one: to bring his spell world into reality.
As a result, the spirits gained a physical form, becoming spectral soldiers.
They were waves moving forward, based on bodies made of black soot.
The spirits, now black waves, stood back up when they fell, pushed back, and surged forward.
Groooooo...
They were horrendous, occasionally letting out terrifying shrieks.
They moved randomly, without any formation, just rushing forward in a disorganized mass.
Because of this, they were not fast.
It was like a chaotic mass rolling in, rather than an orderly military advance.
Enkrid thought that they resembled a swarm of ants.
But these "ants" were each the size of a human, and if one got caught in them, they would die.
Would it just be him dying?
The soldier scratching at his own arm from behind would also die.
"Mother! Mother! Where are you going?!"
The soldier suddenly screamed into the air, seeing things that weren't there, and he too would die.
"Majenda, I too shall join you."
A soldier, overwhelmed by sudden despair, pretended to strangle himself, and he too would die.
It was a mess. Whether the Count had cast magic or some kind of curse, whatever the case, his strange spell was effective.
But not all soldiers had lost their minds. Some remained normal.
"Hey, where do you think you're going, idiot? Majenda is my sister. She hasn't done anything with you, and she's doing fine."
A normal soldier slapped the hand of another soldier trying to strangle himself.
"What? What are you talking about?"
The soldier looked around in confusion, his voice full of bewilderment.
He was probably wondering why everyone else was acting so strange when he was still fine.
Enkrid didn't know the exact nature of the Count's spell, but he understood the general situation.
Though it covered the entire battlefield, it seemed that areas outside the soot's reach wouldn't be affected.
The longer one stayed here, the more influence they would experience.
With this kind of range and scale, would the spell disappear if the caster were killed?
It was a gut feeling.
The solution wasn't to break through and kill the caster directly, but that was the only other solution that came to mind.
And so, they had to move forward.
When he saw the army of spirits, he instructed them to form a unit.
"I refuse."
Rem was the first to respond. As he spoke, he stumbled slightly, almost losing his balance.
Ragna's condition wasn't normal either. Using Will recklessly took a toll on both mind and body.
"Brother, has something inauspicious gotten to your head? Should I remove it?"
"It or my head?"
Audin, noticing Rem's state, expressed concern.
It seemed Rem had fallen for some sort of trick by the mage ahead, and Audin was kindly offering his help.
Audin's own body had sustained significant injuries too.
He had suffered after failing to ambush the Count earlier, resulting in a small wound in his abdomen. He hastily applied ointment and wrapped it with a specially made bandage, but it wasn't a wound that could handle prolonged battle.
The injury wasn't looking good. Moreover, a cold feeling rose from his stomach.
Rem, too, was suffering. The price for using someone else's magic was evident, as he felt nauseous.
But Enkrid had it the worst.
Although there was no damage from Will, his body had been pushed to its limits.
It was inevitable.
Rievart had taken on monster muscle to become a knight.
To handle that, Enkrid had squeezed every bit of power from himself.
He thought himself lucky, as he had been able to implement the technique based on Will, which was named for its ability to see a step ahead. If he hadn't managed it, he would probably have been stuck repeating the same routine every day.
While thinking this, the black waves continued to creep forward.
It was as if the black, oily seawater was a rising tide, coming closer. It was an unpleasant sight, and the very sight of it made one want to flee.
Some of the spirit soldiers that had become part of the wave rolled on the ground but still tried to crawl forward, even scratching the ground with their fingers.
They were out for blood. Their intent to kill was palpable.
Amidst this, Enkrid saw twisted shapes of spirits, limbs tangled together, creating a nauseating scene.
Though they had all declined, the situation left no room for refusal.
"Let's take the shortcut."
So, Enkrid didn't say more, and Rem, with a calm demeanor, continued.
"The captain leads, I follow, and the lazy ones holds up the rear."
His tone was matter-of-fact. Although Rem's explanation wasn't very detailed, Enkrid understood.
The days of learning from him had not been in vain.
"Three-pronged formation?"
Enkrid asked again, and Rem nodded.
It was the name of a tactical formation they had once used.
It was a combination of centaurs and war beasts' tactics.
The first wave would draw attention, the second would strike, and the third would break through.
The waves got stronger. What Rem planned to do now was to repeat the three-pronged formation, constantly changing positions.
"Let's go."
Enkrid didn't hesitate. There was no time to explain or practice here.
Besides, hadn't the wave of spirits nearly reached them?
GROOOO!
It was the kind of sound a ghoul would make from deep within a well.
'Combat is the best training.'
Enkrid recalled Rem's words from before and swung his sword down. His left foot grounded as he executed a cleaving strike with his greatsword.
Whoosh.
The blade sliced through the air and fell.
"Ease up!"
Rem shouted from behind, but the strike had already been made.
Thud! The first spirit's head was cleaved in two as it rushed forward.
It had arms and legs, but no eyes, nose, or mouth. It was a monstrous black mass.
As Enkrid's sword cut through the spirit's head, black mist poured out from within.
It was dead. He could sense it.
Then, the spirit behind it rushed forward again. They wouldn't stop, no matter if the one in front died.
"Left!"
Rem shouted. Enkrid saw a spirit before him wielding something like a sword.
It wasn't an angle where he could dodge by moving sideways.
Yet, Enkrid moved anyway. With enough confidence to do so, he moved aside without hesitation.
Then, a light-like mass dropped from his right side.
Bang! Crunch!
Rem's hammer smashed the spirit's skull with a sickening sound.
Immediately after, Rem drew his axe, keeping it level with the ground, and made a consistent, horizontal slash.
Thud! Rrrr.
Rather than a sharp strike, it was a pushing motion that cleaved the spirit with each contact.
One could tell just by glancing that Rem wasn't a beginner at this.
His balance, arm strength, core, and even his footwork all contributed to the powerful, continuous strikes.
After two slashes, Rem also pulled back to the right.
The space Rem vacated was immediately filled by another wave of spirits.
GROOOO!
Amidst the bloodlust-filled shrieks, a jagged blade fell.
It was, of course, Ragna's sword.
Whoosh.
The vertical sword split the air, severing three spirits tangled together.
One of them reached out, trying to grab Ragna's clothes, but failed. Ragna, with a swift movement, retreated.
"Again!"
Before Rem could shout, Enkrid had already taken the necessary position and understood what was happening.
He had fought with these people countless times.
Hundreds of times, at least.
So, he filled in the gaps, blocking the front.
"Ease up," they had said. That meant to absorb, not to strike.
It was more important to retreat than to attack.
Having grasped the essence of the tactic, Enkrid followed through. He gripped his sword lightly, using its shape to slash through the spirit's head and push them back.
One of the undead leapt upwards, but from somewhere, a long bat flew through the air.
Whoosh, thud!
The bat struck the undead, sending it flying backward.
It seemed someone had thrown a spear. In fact, it was a spear that had been picked up from the ground and thrown.
"Move with the lord, brother."
It was Audin's skill.
From behind to the left, Jaxen's hands moved continuously.
Gripping a longsword, he stabbed and slashed through the encircling undead one by one.
The roles were clear.
Enkrid and Rem were holding the front, while Ragna in the center was cutting them down.
Audin was the foundation that supported all of this. Jaxen moved to fill any gaps when they appeared.
With Audin and Jaxen blocking the rear, the three of them only needed to charge forward.
The undead surrounded Enkrid and his group, attacking them.
The world turned black. The sky disappeared, and only darkness filled the air, but their sharp senses clearly detected the positions of their comrades.
Enkrid relied on his senses like this.
The others did the same. There was no chance of betraying each other's backs at this point.
Unless it was intentional.
The undead's claws dropped. Their long claws curled as they stuck out their tongues, which were sharp like a spear. This was a peculiar form of undead.
It was cut down by Rem's axe.
The axe, flying diagonally, slashed through its skull.
Watching the severed head, Enkrid drew his gladius and struck another undead's hand.
Thud!
It felt like striking heavy mud, not iron.
The hand caught by the gladius sank deeply.
No further attack was needed. Turning sideways, Ragna's sword moved.
Enkrid forgot to think. He just moved forward.
The five moved as one, cutting through the waves of undead.
The most exhausted were Rem and Audin.
One was playing the supporting role, and the other maintained balance in the middle.
The five had fought each other furiously in the past, though they had often clashed. The outcome of those clashes was training and fighting, which helped them learn each other's habits.
Without understanding the rhythm of each other, they would lose. So, they had all worked hard to understand one another.
The five moved naturally as if they had been fighting together for decades, like a knight order that had been training together for years.
KranG and Marcus saw it, as did Fel and Aishia, who were filled with a sense of foreboding.
The black undead, the soot, and the sky covered in dark clouds made anyone feel a sense of dread.
Especially when they saw the waves of undead crashing over Enkrid and his group.
It seemed like Enkrid and his mad unit were doomed.
On the surface, it seemed that way.
"It's a spell. It won't last long!"
Aishia shouted coldly, though it was a reminder to herself.
She was a semi-knight of the order.
Though she didn't wield spells, she had enough experience dealing with mages.
She forced herself to focus, continuing to think.
How long could such a large-scale spell be sustained?
Not long, probably.
And she was right. If the spell lasted even as long as a candle burns, the army would take a devastating blow, and those soldiers possessed by the undead would most likely no longer be human.
But Aishia couldn't foresee just how far that would go.
"We need to break through and retreat."
She said it out loud.
Krang had been watching the spot where Enkrid had disappeared.
Was he really dead?
"Damn it, Your Majesty!" Marcus shouted. The battlefield was spinning out of control.
The Count must have been bewitched. Could even a mage do something like this?
Should they have called for the knight order?
Fel gripped his idol-slayer tightly.
"Shall we enter the fray?"
He thought, watching the waves of undead. It seemed possible.
No. For now, holding out was the best answer.
The undead still surrounded Enkrid and his group.
Pell had cut down a couple, and any undead charging at him would have been dealt with by his idol-slayer's immunity. It was a matter of cutting them down one by one.
Aishia had her squires gather together and then stepped forward herself.
She slashed left, spun around, and thrust right. Two slashes killed two undead. Without even a moment to see the fog-breathing undead, Aishia flipped backward in the air.
It wasn't a trick one could perform in full plate armor, but since she wore partial armor, Aishia managed a near-acrobatic flip.
After landing, she struck an undead soldier who was leaping at her.
Thud!
It felt like hitting a rock. The undead's body was stiff and unyielding.
She used that momentum to bring her sword down again, vertically, and another undead was cleaved.
Aishia felt a sense of dizziness.
"How long can I keep this up?"
If it's a battle against time, would holding out be the answer?
If Krang's surroundings could hold out...
They weren't ordinary soldiers.
"Save me!"
"Ahhh!"
An undead soldier, with a physical form, lunged at a normal soldier.
When it came to pure skill, the undead soldier wasn't too impressive, but the real problem was the numbers.
They didn't stop. They kept coming.
The undead soldier knew no fear.
It was a crisis that bred opportunities.
Heroes arose across the battlefield.
Those who displayed their abilities in the face of danger.
The experienced commander, though old, was one of them.
A young, brave soldier was another.
They gathered their comrades and held the line.
But how long could they hold out?
How long before they could survive?
A curtain of despair descended. The dark clouds overhead seemed to speak of their tomorrow.
They would either die trapped by the undead or be torn apart and stabbed to death by the undead soldiers.
Enkrid, lost in the darkness, forgot himself and his situation, swinging his sword relentlessly.
"It's hard."
The words came out naturally, how exhausting it was.
But it wasn't enough to break him. He found a rhythm. He wasn't just using brute force but conserving energy, twisting and deflecting blows.
If something was lacking, Rem filled it in.
If that wasn't enough, Ragna covered it.
Though there were moments when they had to retreat two or three steps, in the end, they moved forward.
Two steps back, then three forward.
Three steps back, then four forward.
The most important part was the balance maintained by Rem in the middle.
Enkrid didn't dodge the falling undead's claws; he deflected them with his sword, and then cut them down.
While undead weren't typically harmed by regular metal, their physical form had its weaknesses.
With a normal sword, they could still be killed.
Enkrid continued to stab and slash, enduring through the darkness.
All around him, there was only blackness.
Black soot, waves of undead soldiers, darkness, and the murderous hands reaching out in all directions.
The world was filled with such things.
And yet.
"Hahahah."
A sigh of pleasure escaped him. He was satisfied just to be able to swing his sword again and again.
"Are you crazy?"
Amidst it all, Rem's voice could be heard. He must have seen his face.
"You're laughing in a situation like this?"
Even as he fought on, Enkrid didn't stop advancing, and the darkness around them slowly cleared.
He swung his sword once in the air and stopped.
There were no more undead.
No, they were there. The countless undead soldiers, their bodies sprawled in a fog-like pool of blood, lay behind them.
Enkrid then realized he had pierced the heart of the undead wave and looked up.
There, seated on a black chair, was the Count.
The Count glared at Enkrid with wide eyes.
The battle was silent and calm on that side.
Enkrid merely caught his breath and stared back.
But the look from the other side was full of confusion.
When something incomprehensible happens, humans generally respond in a similar way.
"How?"
The Count was no different.
It was because something had happened that he couldn't understand.

Comments

Loading...