238. Throwing Sparks (4)
The sand clawed at their cheeks as the horses galloped. The sound of sand hitting their armor was deafening. Thanks to Fernandez and Kirhas’s seasoned horsemanship, their horses barely managed to stay upright.
Fernandez couldn’t see a thing. Relying solely on Diemonica’s instinctive sense of direction, he was galloping in a straight line, retracing their initial entry point and the location of the royal castle on the map.
Through the thick sandstorm, Kirhas’s figure, keeping pace with him, was faintly visible.
-AAAHHH!!
A scream scattered into the sandstorm. It was a sunny late spring noon. Beyond the yellow curtain created by the sunlight and sandstorm, countless silhouettes were thrashing about.
A terrified horse bucked. Fernandez soothed it by stroking its cheek. Battles—no, massacres—were raging all around. This place, the City of the Dead, had literally become a space overflowing with death.
The complexity of urban warfare, the sudden attacks of wraiths appearing out of obstructed vision, and the chaos of the military encampment struck by a sudden disaster. The battle was now rushing toward its climax.
But not yet. It wasn’t time for the end yet. So that the Imperial Army preparing for rescue operations in the rear could all see. So that a hero could be born.
The climax of this performance was still to come.
-SWISH!
Fernandez dodging the arrow flying toward him was purely instinctive. A rusty arrow flew in like a flash, striking his helmet and bouncing off. The helmet strap snapped, sending the helmet flying behind him.
-SLASH.
He drew his sword. He couldn’t determine the direction of the attack or the enemies’ positions. The swirling sandstorm around him seemed to carry illusions, distorting his senses. On the blurred boundary where direction and sensation faded—
-CLANG!
He parried. The attack came from the right, a spearhead.
“Tch…!”
Fernandez quickly spurred his horse and leaned to the side. Another spear flew in, piercing the horse’s skull. Had he remained seated, it would have been a fierce blow that would have pierced his body as well.
-THUD!
As the horse collapsed, he rolled forward, bracing against the ground. The momentum from the gallop made it hard to regain balance. But it was a perfect landing. He spun his sword halfway in the same stance he landed in, blocking the next assault.
-CLANG! CRASH! THUD!
A figure emerged from the sand. It was a stone structure with a crocodile head. The stiffly moving structure repeatedly slammed its spear down at him.
Another spear came down. He struck the shaft, cleanly breaking it in half. The arm of the creature beyond the gap shattered and flew into the air. He adjusted his stance and spun once more.
-CLANG!
Even as he slashed at its torso, the sound and impact felt like striking solid rock. The statue crumbled into pieces. Lavirata’s main force… Were the skeletons on the city walls just decoys?
As he had expected, the city area must have turned into a zombie-infested zone. If these creatures were swarming, the scattered ordinary soldiers would stand no chance. He looked around. Screams and silhouettes were scattering in the sand.
“Kirhas!!”
“Y-Your Excellency!”
-TAP!
A light footstep sounded. Fernandez sighed softly, gripping his sword hilt, and looked ahead. Soon, Kirhas appeared. She too seemed to have lost her horse.
She was panting heavily, tightly gripping her sword. Blood was smeared all over her arms and lower body.
“Are you hurt?”
“My horse is dead!”
“As long as you’re unharmed, that’s enough.”
Fernandez ruffled Kirhas’s hair once. Thank goodness. That was all he could think of right now.
“How far is it?”
“The royal castle is still far… but the path I see isn’t too long.”
“So the royal castle isn’t the destination. Does that mean Lavirata has taken the field herself?”
“I’m not sure. But the path isn’t far…”
“Alright. Let’s go.”
Fernandez spun his sword and slung it over his shoulder. The two of them walked slowly, sticking close together, into the sandstorm.
* * *
A hand suddenly burst out from the sandy ground. After fumbling alone for a while, the hand suddenly tensed with strength. Soon, a burly man emerged from the sand, spitting and gasping for breath.
It was Borua. He had been swept under the debris while building a position over the city wall. In the process, he had lost all his weapons, and now this place was a zombie-infested wasteland. But such things weren’t even on his mind.
“Your Highness!! Your Highness!! Where are you? Your Highness!!”
Borua shouted at the top of his lungs, scattering the sand around him. In the process, whenever he grabbed something and pulled with all his might, the body of a soldier, crushed by the pressure and impact of the sand, would often appear.
“Your Highness!!”
Blood gushed from his left eye, injured by the debris. He shouted almost convulsively, digging through the dirt. At that moment, something flew toward his shoulder.
“Ugh…!”
An arrow lodged into him. Pain surged like an electric current. Borua bit his lip and snapped the arrowhead off. Glaring in the direction the arrow came from, something pale shimmered beyond the sand.
“Damn… it!”
He had no weapons, and his vision was blocked. Unlike humans, wraiths didn’t rely on sight to locate their enemies. So, for them, this city was hardly a challenging environment. Borua hastily ducked.
At this point, with the Duke’s location unknown, perhaps even buried right beneath his feet in this place. He could never flee. He had to hold this position, secure safety, and gather any surviving subordinates for the future.
“Damn it, Borua!!”
A voice struggled to escape from his throat, choked with sand. It felt as though the presence beyond was mocking him, even though wraiths shouldn’t have emotions. Borua rolled his eyes, searching for a weapon and scanning his surroundings.
-Whirr! Bang!
Something flew and stuck into the ground near his feet. It was a half-broken standard longsword. Slowly, he looked in the direction the weapon had come from. The sand dust scattered in the wind, briefly revealing the surroundings.
“……!!”
A knight had fallen. Over there, and nearby too. The knight who had thrown the weapon at Borua was gasping, his lower body crushed, leaning against a sand pit.
Such figures were scattered everywhere. And approaching silently were wraiths, skeletons, and massive stone statues of unknown origin.
“Damn it……”
He wasn’t attacked because he had risen before others. Rather, it was because others had risked their lives to hold this position that he could climb up. It was thanks to the knights who had cleared the dirt before him and fought bravely.
“You, what’s your name?”
“Is that really what you’re curious about right now, Captain?”
The knight with a crushed lower body coughed and spoke. Borua wanted to open the helmet to see his face, but the knight weakly gestured.
“His Highness’s location is still unconfirmed. There are countless soldiers still alive and struggling beneath this sand, and the enemies are close. Captain Borua. Do your duty as a knight.”
“How many troops are left……?”
“Before I fell, there were about a dozen knights nearby. Now, all I see is one captain.”
“No. Two. Including you.”
Borua lifted the broken longsword and looked ahead. The wraiths stood dazed, then attacked in the direction of movement or noise before stopping again.
Even during the height of the battle on the city walls, they weren’t particularly active, but this behavior was clearly abnormal.
“Hey, you.”
Borua turned to ask the knight, but he closed his eyes and lowered his head. The knight who had handed him the sword was no longer breathing.
-Pssst……!
The sand pile twitched, and a hand emerged. It was the hand of a living human.
“Save me…… please save me…… save me.”
It wasn’t the Duke’s voice. Probably the voice of another soldier who had joined the battle. An unfamiliar voice. But it was the plea of a living human. A plea from his people, from Ribue.
And in that direction, the wraiths’ heads turned. One wraith nocked an arrow and drew it back.
‘My knights.’
At that moment. The last words Duke Erbe had spoken before the battle rushed through his mind.
‘Do not fear death.’
‘Only fear your own cowardice in watching the weak die.’
Borua muttered the Duke’s words softly and gripped the sword hilt. His wounded body, obstructed vision, and unbalanced senses from the shock. All conditions were at their worst, and he was isolated, unable to even grasp the enemies’ positions or numbers.
But behind him were living soldiers. Beneath this sand, the people of Ribue writhing for life.
“I am Borua of Ribue!!”
-Whizz!
An arrow flew in with a tearing sound. Borua quickly twisted the hilt to deflect it and shouted. In the same way the other knights who had emerged from the sand before him would have.
“I am Borua of Ribue!!”
Deflecting an arrow in such poor visibility was almost a miracle. There wouldn’t be a second chance. But he had to buy time for the other soldiers, for as many as possible to retreat.
-Whizz!
The sound of death rushing in. Borua swung his sword, half-resigned.
-Clang!
There was no sensation of the arrow bouncing off the hilt. But neither did the enemy’s arrow pierce his body. Borua stared blankly at the shield that had appeared beside his shoulder.
“Who’s going to hear you if you shout like that?”
A knight laughed, shaking sand off his helmet. Soon.
“Who’d be happy to hear our captain’s loud voice? Just let it be.”
“What, you’re not dead yet?”
“Can’t die before nailing your coffin shut.”
“Tch. Only your mouth’s alive.”
Other knights gathered around him, one by one. Shields assembled. Cavalry shields lined up beside him, forming a wall. Borua hesitated for a moment, observing them.
None were without wounds, big or small. Strictly speaking, they were all injured soldiers who should have been evacuated. Borua wiped his torn left eye and spoke.
“They seem to react to noise.”
“Then let’s make some noise.”
Not many knights had emerged from the sand. About ten, maybe fewer. Borua laughed shortly. What did it matter?
“I am Borua of Ribue!”
“I am Palento of Ribue!”
“I am Carmel of Ribue!”
The knights began shouting at the top of their lungs. To draw the wraiths’ attention. To secure even one more survivor.
Toward the wraiths’ forces, they began charging, shields raised.
“Glory to His Highness the Duke! For Ribue!!”
Since these knights were children, before they could even walk. Since their fathers roamed the battlefield. Duke Erbe had been their lord, their commander.
Children born in the 50-year war, who lost their fathers to war, inherited their titles and swords, and grew up to plunge back into war. Toward the battlefield that killed their fathers.
Even then, Duke Erbe was their lord, commander, guardian, and teacher. A field commander who always led from the front, and the great Elector who oversaw the entire 50-year war.
His direct subordinates. The Greatsword Nobles who had roamed the battlefield with him. Their gaze toward the Duke was exactly that. Father, guardian, godfather, lord, commander…… The great sovereign who had protected their families for generations.
Such a man was behind them, somewhere beneath the sand. Such a man, whose last command was ‘Protect the people.’
And so, it shall be.
![[TS] Obsessed Gamer: The Ultimate Return](https://i3.wp.com/novelhitam.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/TS-Obsessed-Gamer-The-Ultimate-Return2.png?resize=85,105 "[TS] Obsessed Gamer: The Ultimate Return")
