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.
