Chapter 1014: Act 185 – The Battle of the White Lions VIII
The land was covered in ice and snow, devoid of all life, and a sense of desolation pervaded the darkness, broken only by the occasional flash of distant lightning, as purple electric arcs meandered through the thick clouds, bringing a glimmer of light to this pitch-black world. In the moment the lightning illuminated the world, one could see the skeletal undead shambling through the gray snowfield, advancing from afar, covering the entire expanse of the snowfield. The lightning quickly extinguished, leaving only the faint glow of flickering souls in the darkness, as if a mirage lingering in one’s sight.
On the coach, Juliette silently witnessed this scene as the undead army passed by them—a fleeting encounter with the fifth such force she had seen in a short period. This army, however, was larger than any of the previous ones, seemingly abundant, numbering in the tens of thousands on the snowfield. There were strange noises in the sky. This sound might escape others’ notice, but not hers; it was the sound of bone vultures flapping their wings, a dense swarm that she could almost imagine blocking out the sun as they flew overhead.
The vast expanse of the undead army resembled a torrent capable of swallowing all living beings in its path, yet their small detachment, wading upstream against the tide, attracted no attention amidst this deluge. The necromancers among the undead didn’t spare them a glance.
During a moment when lightning briefly illuminated the ground, Juliette spotted one necromancer who looked no different from the lower-ranked ones they had encountered during the Black Rose War; the only distinction was the bone staff in his hand, which was particularly unusual—these staffs appeared to be crafted from the bones of demons, each identical to the one in the hands of the decayed knight Crote beside Brendel.
Juliette quietly assessed the situation and noted that the necromancers among the undead were far fewer than expected. She keenly connected the control of this vast army to those strange bone staffs.
Of course, Juliette had no idea that she was almost onto the truth—
Brendel was simultaneously evaluating the staff in Crote’s hands, which should be a replica of the dark treasure. If his guess was correct, the original in Duke Ambronner’s possession should resemble this one perfectly. According to Bai’s explanation, the dark treasure was made using the power of dark pearls, and he could sense the cold power emanating from the staff in Crote’s hands, a force that clashed starkly with the breath of the living. He had felt this strongly when he held the staff, and he was surprised that even now, after the staff had moved away from him, he could still feel its resonance.
Furrowing his brow slightly, Brendel was obviously not undead, but he knew that blood of a high concentration of dark god flowed through his veins. Now he understood that this dark blood was the so-called power of the dark pearl, and the power of the dark treasure had also originated from this. Did it mean that the replica in the necromancer’s hands was not merely a fake but rather a fragment of the dark treasure, thus resonating with the dark god blood within him?
He was very doubtful about this, but there was no opportunity to verify it for now. The staff was firmly held in the hands of the decayed knight, Crote, who used its unique power to shield the presence of all living beings around it. If not for this, the undead army nearby would have discovered their presence long ago.
Brendel himself could touch the realm of elements to isolate his own aura at any time, but Juliette and her young subordinates remained completely exposed.
“They’re heading towards Fatan Port, my Lord,” Juliette observed the undead army for a while before weakly speaking to him.
Brendel nodded in acknowledgment.
“Shouldn’t we do something?”
“Even if we wanted to intervene, we couldn’t. There are at least thirty or forty thousand skeletons here, and there are likely more behind,” Brendel replied.
“True… The fleet at Fatan Port would be enough to annihilate them. But where are we going, my Lord?”
Brendel thought she might not know yet that Fatan Port no longer had a fleet; Duke Toniger’s ship had already left the port before the Eternal Night. However, he did not intend to reveal the truth, fearing it would cause unnecessary worry; after all, disclosing it would serve no purpose and would only burdens their minds unnecessarily.
He simply replied lightly, “You’ll know soon.”
After a brief dialogue, the coach fell into silence again. This coach was, in fact, also an undead, with its cabin constructed from skeletal remains, and it was pulled by four undead warhorses. It originally belonged to the necromancer, but now it benefitted them. The undead coach moved slowly through the snow, and time seemed meaningless in this dark world. Mel held a silver pocket watch, its hands speeding up and slowing down, sometimes even reversing.
They witnessed a dead pine tree in the snow, which had gone through the entire cycle from seedling to towering tree to its current lifeless state. Such scenes gradually became ordinary in this dark world.
At this moment, Juliette and the others finally understood the true meaning of what Brendel had said about time being meaningless in this world.
Half an hour later, they encountered the fourth group of undead, which was comparable in scale to the third group.
Fifteen minutes after that, they came across the fifth group of undead, which was slightly smaller than the previous two, yet still numbered in the tens of thousands. No more undead were encountered thereafter, but as they approached the coast of Silver Valley, Crote’s undead army met a Crusian army head-on. Brendel discerned the banners from a distance—it was indeed the White Army of the Crusian, appearing to be the vanguard. This Crusian army consisted of about three to four thousand men, lesser in numbers compared to any previous undead army, but significantly stronger.
Leading the Crusian forces were the earth-dragoon knights, followed by heavily armored guard infantry. The long spears held by these infantrymen were three to four meters long, their black steel tips gleaming under the torchlight, fully armored, even their faces concealed. The guard infantry served as the backbone of the White Army, with individual combat capabilities averaging between lower and mid-silver. Once formed into a spear formation, even golden-standard cavalry regiments found it difficult to break through them head-on.
Behind them were the ranged units, mostly crossbowmen and longbowmen recruited from the Eastern Meze region. Though lacking any special abilities, their average standards were at least at the lower silver level.
This was the strength of a frontline army of the Crusian Empire. Despite Valhalla currently flourishing, Brendel never believed that his subordinates were strong enough to face any frontline army of the Empire head-on. Even facing a secondary army directly would pose great difficulty in achieving victory in a siege. Perhaps Juliette and her team had little concept of this, but Brendel had witnessed the Empire’s might in his previous life.
He could easily dispatch a squad of earth-dragoon knights, as could the Gray Saint Mephistopheles, and likely do so even better. But what was the result? In fact, that renowned teacher of his had been relentlessly pursued by the Empire, nearly left with nowhere to hide.
Reaching the pinnacle of the rules and even stepping into the realm of extremes, an individual’s power can reach a terrifying level, capable of influencing the battlefield and becoming a strategic force for a nation. However, this does not imply that once that level is attained, an individual can compete with a nation, let alone a powerful state like the Crusian Empire—after all, though few had stepped into those extremes, there were still several within the Empire.
Watching this Crusian army approach quietly, Juliette and the others on the coach fell silent. The disparity between the White Lion Guard and this formidable legion was evident. For the current White Lion Guard, the average level of the officers and elites barely reached the silver standard, while most soldiers lingered around the pinnacle of black iron. Compared to the average level of the White Army, which was in the lower silver tier, with officers and knights above the golden standard, they were a full tier behind.
And this was still the White Lion Guard. If one were to compare the Northern White Lion Legion and other kingdom forces with the White Army, the disparity would be even more pronounced. If the current White Lion Guard and the White Army were akin to the difference between reserves and regular troops, then other legions were hardly even comparable; they resembled crude bandits or mountain thieves, not even reaching the level of militia or garrison forces.
Faced with such a legion, even with the addition of Bud’s fleet, the outcome would be a mere fifty-fifty, given that the fleet was still manipulated by the relatively weak Erluin people. The fleet had far too few high-level wizards, and as Juliette and her team were aware, the Empire’s four major legions each had their own dedicated air force.
Brendel glanced at the silent mercenary commander Juliette and her young subordinates and surmised their thoughts. However, he did not intend to offer words of comfort. Sometimes, allowing them to recognize the gap could be beneficial. The tide of magic was affecting this world, and from this moment, everyone had the same opportunity. Realizing the disparity would drive the motivation to catch up.
The vanguard of the White Army quickly approached, with the earth-dragoon knights spotting the undead army first. They promptly veered away from their ranks, heading in this direction.
Once within a short distance, the earth-dragoon knights halted and loudly questioned Crote.
Crote, the decayed knight, immediately intended to respond, but Brendel quickly stopped him, saying, “Don’t reply.” He whispered, “And don’t expose our presence.”
“Y-yes, understood?” Crote stuttered. Although he was undead, he was not brainless and knew very well the qualitative disparity between the two armies. Despite having several thousand skeletal warriors under his command, he realized that the small squad of earth-dragoon knights could easily slaughter them if a genuine confrontation arose.
The power of the Black Rose from Broamente was not built upon millions of skeletal soldiers. In the external wars of the undead, true dominators were the powerful undead—like black knights, skeletal dragons, and liches.
Brendel nodded slowly.
He had observed that the previous undead armies seemed to be directly controlled by the dark treasure. If Crote displayed too much autonomy, it might raise the other side’s suspicion. For now, the best course of action was to advance quietly. These Crusian knights were likely headed towards the front lines; their inquiries were mere routine. As long as Crote did not engage in any threatening behavior, the other side would not react significantly.
After all, who would expect that, at this moment, an undead army not under Duke Ambronner’s control was moving towards Owesen? It was important to note that in this plan, the Erluin people at Fatan Port should have been completely unaware of the undead’s presence.
Juliette and Mel shrank back into the coach. The undead carriage was cloaked in a thick aura of death, and given the distance, they had no concerns about being discovered; the interior contained secrets of its own. Crote complied with Brendel’s orders and remained silent, maneuvering the undead army to bypass the vanguard of the White Army. The earth-dragoon knights followed the undead army from a distance, maintaining a safe distance, and indeed did not make further inquiries until the two armies had passed, at which point they turned back.
It was only at this moment that everyone in the carriage let out a sigh of relief.
Juliette could not help but admire Brendel, mistaking his composure for a display of his grandfather’s demeanor, unaware of the secret of the staff.
Not long after, they encountered two main forces of the White Army in succession, yet the circumstances were not significantly different. After all, no one would expect a ‘traitor’ within the undead army. The Crusian assumed that this undead army was merely one of many roaming near Owesen. Humanity was not accustomed to dealing with the undead. In fact, most officers of the White Army were unclear about the specific details of Queen’s transaction with Madara, thus completely unaware of the role these undead played in the overall plan.
Especially for the upper echelons of the White Army, there was an instinctive belief that conducting business with Madara was not something to be brought to light. Consequently, this plan itself was shrouded in secrecy, and ultimately, even most officers of the White Army could not ascertain where these undead were deployed; they only knew they would cooperate in the ambush at Fatan Port.
This greatly facilitated Brendel and his associates’ operations. Within two hours, Crote and his undead had already crossed several fortifications and reached near Owesen.
At that moment, the entire world was engulfed in darkness, yet lights still shone brightly in Owesen, and from the nearby Silver Valley coast, the port appeared like a brilliant star embedded in the black horizon.
