The formation of horsemen racing through the forest could by no means be described as perfectly aligned.
Still, it was manageable. The forest, having been maintained for forestry purposes, featured a relatively flat terrain and the spacing between trees was sparse enough to allow passage, thus enabling us to keep moving forward. Considering that none of us are professional cavalry, this is as good as it gets.
With me leading the charge, the five cavalry riders following a little distance apart formed a line, relying on the light from the lanterns tied to their waists and the torches they held to maintain formation. While they might find it peculiar that I appear not to concern myself with the darkness, I had assured them at the outset that everything would be explained once the task is complete. To their credit, they swallowed their questions and followed obediently.
I’ve been truly fortunate with the people around me. If this were a poorly made foreign film, we’d have had some fool demanding immediate answers and wasting valuable time with tantrums right about now.
“Rorotto, where’s the place?”
“Hmm, over there… and it’s moving a bit~”
With my helmet removed to improve visibility, Rorotto, who seemed rather pleased to be nestled in my hair, pointed out the location from time to time as we proceeded. It appears the enemy has begun their final preparations. But we still need you, so we’ll ask you to delay your “closing time” just a little longer.
Fortunately, we haven’t encountered any undead lurking in the woods to obstruct our path. It’s proving advantageous that they seem to have followed the straightforward strategy of dealing with everything at once, rather than positioning reserves to counteract our actions.
Concentrating all forces can deliver great power with little waste, but when defeated, it’s incredibly difficult to regroup. It can be obscured in a large army, but for a smaller force like this – one numbering beyond a hundred enemies – the story changes entirely.
They might have kept a few guards around, but that wouldn’t be enough to turn the tide.
“I feel someone watching us,” Ursula whispers close to my ear.
“Wha!?”
Is she implying they’ve stationed opponents to detain us at this late stage?
“They’re using animals to observe us.”
“Aah, damn, that’s it,”
Perhaps akin to a necromancer’s familiar. While breeding living creatures as familiars requires multiple generations to adapt to magical energy, it’s much simpler to manipulate and enhance dead bodies. By skipping the challenging part of overcoming resistance to foreign magic power, this method can easily be scaled up with decent performance. It’s really only reputationally unpleasant, otherwise it’s an impressive but exasperating technique.
“Ah, it seems it’s already blind.”
“Much appreciated.”
The chilling laughter of the dangerous fairy reassures me. Her wordless work possesses great power, interfering with any puppet animated by magic. I could see a bird making a peculiar move before plummeting; it seems its sudden loss of vision caused it to drop.
Fairies, driven by their whims, can easily overstep human comprehension, wielding destructive powers that are both alarming and impressive. As long as they’re favorably inclined toward us, they are truly dependable allies.
“…I see them! Combat readiness!”
Following Rorotto’s direction, after riding for a bit, I spot human figures among the trees. Their coats obscure their outlines, but two-legged shadows in a forest like this stand out dreadfully.
“We don’t want them using obstacles to our disadvantage! Forget about trampling with horses! Dismount right before engaging!”
I transmit the command to everyone’s ears using the voice transmission technique. Unaccustomed, some confusion arises from behind, likely because the noise of galloping horses masked my message. They must have been thoroughly shocked as this was their first exposure to thought-transmission magic.
I’m glad no one fell off their horse in surprise. I too had my share of nausea after starting to serve Lady Agrippina, after all.
The distant enemy silhouette numbers five. Their sizes are within the range of humans, but the situation is still unclear.
Lifting myself slightly, I simultaneously activate the “Invisible Hand.” Though I’ve expended magic power handling the knights earlier, I’ve enough left for combat.
While Siegfried and the subsequent riders slow down, I deliberately accelerate, guiding my horse on a trajectory to graze past the enemy.
Upon noticing my approach, the enemies have seemingly given up on fleeing, turning to create some semblance of formation, but it’s far too late. Had they known we were seizing horses to chase them, they should have either stood their ground or chosen to stall for time. Preparing a defensive position by finding hard-to-attack terrain beforehand would have been an effective way to hinder us.
Rising from my seat, I unlace my stirrups and leap into the air with a single motion. What seems from afar like an unnatural jump, akin to a scene from a Chinese movie, is indeed a magical feat achieved with “Invisible Hand.”
Originally from Japan, I liken myself to one of those miserably stubborn ghosts who see no reason to dismount leisurely, especially when horses grant such excellent momentum that I cannot afford to waste.
Taking my sword of desire, I raise it into a grand overhead strike – typically a risky move as it exposes vulnerabilities, but not today. The sword quivers intensely, sensing the thrill of swinging with lethal intent, emitting a cacophony that echoes like a mixture of clashing bells and shattering glass.
Yes, I wield this sword intending to kill.
Over the years, I’ve indirectly caused countless deaths. I’ve seen captured bandits hung or their heads displayed as macabre spectacles. Yet, I’ve always tempered my sword’s edge, believing “capturing them alive makes them more valuable.”
Despite that, perhaps deep down, I wished not to kill. Surrendering their ultimate fate to someone else’s hands was an easier escape for me. While there was an allure to disabling them non-lethally, such restraint has ultimately proven to be counterproductive.
But now, I can’t bear for you to live anymore. The tongues and heads that might bring profit have been sufficiently secured.
Therefore, die. And therefore, I shall kill you.
You’ve come to kill us; surely, you must be prepared for this?
After the high leap, the sword of desire met light resistance upon striking, but then halted without properly embedding in the ground.
“Wha…? Ah…?”
The severed right hand flailed ineffectually as a shield before falling, followed shortly by a gush of blood. A vertical line was cleaved from the shoulder, splitting the body into two as it collapsed into the ground.
Ignoring the knee’s futile attempts to remain upright as the situation dawned on the enemy, I swiftly swung the sword to sever the head before the body fully fell.
While cutting a person into halves might be considered flashy and embarrassing for a swordsman, necromancers are known to manipulate body parts for efficiency. With some races, like those resilient beings we battled near the water reservoir, destruction beyond a standard cut is necessary to ensure they don’t rise again.
Thus, doubly cautious…
Thinking this as one of my multi-layered thoughts, I set a thermite spell into effect, igniting both the flying head and the remaining torso. The combined actions flowed continuously, giving the impression to onlookers that the enemy was instantly sliced and engulfed in flames as soon as I landed.
The heat-treated bodies crumbled into charcoal, and the scorched head shattered upon impact. At this point, no amount of physical alteration could ensure their revival. Fire purifies everything in this world.
Ah, this might be considered a displaced anger, I won’t deny that.
I’m so infuriated that I can’t stop killing with excessive force.
On regular days, I would have perhaps exchanged a few words or asked them something, but even that seems wasteful now.
No, I didn’t feel like speaking with them to begin with.
“You bastard! You’ll pay for that!!”
A single figure charges at me with explosive speed. The distance and velocity achieved with a single step was astonishing, closing the gap in a blink. In terms of pure speed, I don’t think I could compete.
But his movements were rather crude. The trajectory of the swinging arm was fully visible, straightforward enough to position my blade in response…
“Wha!?”
The extraordinary hardness stopped the sword, renowned for its supernatural sharpness! At the halfway point of cutting through the arm, an unusual resistance made my arm tremble.
The acrid smell was alarming. I let go of the sword just in time to avoid being drenched, as a huge leg pierced where I had rolled.
Rolling a few times to create space, I caught the stench of burning leather. Glancing down, I realized the chest armor that had been splashed with his bodily fluids was starting to burn.
This body secretes strong acid, how much alteration has this thing undergone?
No… this could be a necromantic construct, heavily modified for combat. They must have kept a strong ace in their back pocket for protection.
“Ooooh… ooooh… oooaaaahh…”
Ready for a counterattack, the enemy’s posture suggested pursuit, yet he turned his back to me and crouched, collecting something… or rather, remnants of what was once a person.
What? Mourning… death?
At the sight, my anger involuntarily surged, but I couldn’t bring myself to strike the back full of openings. What now? Who gave him the authority? Haven’t you forgotten what you came here to do?
Gathering the ash, the enemy, to my astonishment, shoved it into his mouth before turning around and re-entering combat with unrestrained killing intent.
I’ll put contemplations and anger aside. Extending my hand, the sword of desire that was embedded in the enemy’s arm reappeared in my hand without warning, without even seeing it return – very convenient indeed.
Being able to relinquish weapons during evasion is genuinely powerful. If it had been a sending wolf instead of this sword, I might have been crying my eyes out by now.
“So, can’t you take it, huh?”
While dodging the immediate assault, I teased, feeling a sweet wave of reproachful emotions. This sentient sword is known for its fluctuating sharpness depending on the wielder’s mood. It appears I let my guard down with a bit too much ease.
However, the sweet reproach rapidly transitioned into a scream slicing through the night. It seems it has finally committed to killing seriously.
Along with the outburst, the figure transformed. From a curve-bladed sword convenient for horseback use, the weapon transmuted into a two-handed blade better suited to close combat. Against an opponent with broad and powerful attacks, a more nimble weapon is indeed more effective.
From a low stance, aiming upward toward the jaw, followed by an overhead strike from the left, and finally, a sweeping cut against an incoming leg sweep. The slightly enlarged blade of the sword easily sheathed the knee joint, cutting through the black robes effortlessly. Navigating the acidic blood, it severed the ligaments and continued, shattering the kneecap from the rear.
But from the severed ends of the leg, tumors emerged and intertwined, quickly regenerating. What, don’t you think this regeneration is a bit excessive? You can’t cancel movement-impairing debuffs without spending any of my actions, you know.
For a moment, checking the battlefield with a far-sight, it brought some relief to see our general advantage held.
While our companions have their hands full with undead that endure many blows, the dismantling process is definite and it’s only a matter of time until they’re defeated.
Next, against a foe whose cloak bursts with the emergence of six additional arms, Siegfried fights without retreating. A short blade is already cleanly sliced off from the multiple extending hands.
Praise worthy indeed, it appears the peculiar ones are confined to this one.
Then, I must thoroughly dismantle this.
“Kehaaaaa!!”
Dodging the fists and legs extended with a shriek reminiscent of monstrous birds, I probe while taking opportunities to strike, evaluating the enemy. The wounds from the center of the fist healed instantly, and though I severed his left wrist, it regrew the same way the legs had.
Attempting to pierce deeply into the abdomen resulted in none of the expected spillage of intestines, but instead a torrent of blood that scorched the surface of the cloak.
They’re impressively durable. Invalidating physical attacks and reflexively retaliating makes this a possibly excessive counter to any swordsman. Had it not been the sword of desire in my hand, I don’t know how many weapons I would have lost.
That said, for something this robust, emitting acidic fluids, the knights’ order wouldn’t suffice. Their approach could stop movement but offers an inefficient cost-to-effect ratio.
Then, shall we resort to the previous enemy once more, wouldn’t we?
Dodging a flurry of tightly-packed punches, I slipped through their defenses and launched a vertical strike upward from the side, cutting across the abdomen to split the chin into two, removing the cowl covering the face.
“Ge…”
Upon seeing the unveiled face, an involuntary groan escaped me.
I didn’t expect anything aesthetically pleasing, but the grotesque visage that invaded my vision far exceeded expectations.
The entity was fundamentally of the human race, but the most noticeable feature were the six eyes. The original eye positions had been shifted, each color differing, arranged in a triangular pattern that darted independently and unsettlingly.
The nose is absent, and what should be the mouth is deformed into a large diamond shape, connecting the main opening with a grotesquely large cavity. Inside are uneven-length teeth that densely thrashed about, resembling the grinding structure aimed at pulverizing rather than simply cutting weapons.
Crowning the elongated skull, numerous fine engravings adorned metallic rivets, possibly aiding some control mechanism, adding further unsettling grotesqueness.
A construction that outright insults humanity, even amidst combat, this sight made my hair stand on end. Was this designed to intimidate opponents, or simply the eccentric whim of its creator? In any case, it’s far from favorable.
“This… something’s amiss here, isn’t it?”
Creating space and dripping cold sweat, I’m thankful I stayed away from necromancy.
Being strong is one thing, but this is far from the realm of a hero…
### Tips:
Exceptional necromancers sometimes piece together corpses to fabricate potent undead as powerful trump cards. Though both creation and maintenance are labor-intensive, their operational effectiveness justifies the effort.
Sometimes, the GM’s enemy descriptions get so intense that the players inadvertently receive a real SANity check.
A long-time DMing memory involves a junior player who left midway due to becoming overly affected by a detailed necromantic battle.
