Chapter 835: Act 15 – The River Valley
The Xilmann River Valley had turned into an ash-covered land. The night was still dark, and under the moonlight, the Undead Army advanced in several lines along the rolling hills. Looking down towards the riverbank, the remnants of Owl Town were reduced to scattered ruins, with countless skeletal remains winding around both sides of the town, echoing the synchronized crackling sounds in the wilderness. Between the long lines of troops, heaps of corpses rose high, and Necromancers selected intact remains from the piles, resurrecting them as warriors. The cold night wind swept in from the pass, seemingly carrying with it the eerie incantations they chanted, making the atmosphere of the entire valley even creepier.
The Bloodstaff stood alone in the night wind, still tugged at by the cold breeze at the hem of its ghoulish robe. It glanced at a partially dismembered body not far away, that of a human militia man. Judging by the wounds, it seemed he had died at the hands of a Wraith, reduced to half a body, with one hand still tightly clutching a sharp rock on the ground. The Bloodstaff could imagine he must have desperately tried to break free before his death, only for the Wraith to tear apart his body with its sharp claws. It raised its head again, gazing at the valley. The battle within the valley had long since ended, and there were no living beings left in sight, only an eerie silence.
This was a perfect victory.
As if witnessing the prophecy in the Book of Black Prophecies, a kingdom would surely rise from the darkness in the east.
“Those pitiful hybrid Alorze must not understand why they lost so miserably,” a pale-faced young man, seemingly as dead as a corpse, laughed, revealing his snow-white teeth. He had no fangs, nor did he have the ghostly fire in his eyes like a Black Knight, and he bore no necromancer insignia. Dressed in a neat black suit, he appeared to have just returned from a funeral. He took a deep breath. “The taste of magic in the land is truly fragrant. Such territory could only be possessed by a true Great Lord, if it were in the Sea of Undying Moons.”
He glanced at the Bloodstaff and shook his head in pity: “I really don’t understand why you can’t defeat such a weak opponent. Such a humble fellow doesn’t deserve to occupy such good land. This kingdom will be left with only tombstones and graveyards.”
The Bloodstaff coldly snorted. These Dark Lords hailed from the Sea of Undying Moons, where it was said that Necromancers and other Necromancers were even more ruthless in their infighting in the barren magical lands of the east, known as the Warlands. However, these unruly figures were indeed quite formidable; the Necromancers there invented spells to extract half-physical, half-ghostly Wraiths from the bodies of Wyverns, as well as methods for corpse commanders to lead skeletal knights. Their addition considerably bolstered his forces, and Alorze no longer held any allure for him. In his eyes, whether it was the Southern Army or the Faunmil Army, both were easily crushable; only the Highland Knights were still worthy of a battle.
“I’ve heard there is still a White Lion Army in the northern part of the human kingdom. I wonder how their combat strength is?” the young man asked, turning back.
“There used to be, but they have already been defeated by the Southern Army. I heard that the little princess dismantled her brother’s army. The current division has already become a mere name for this kingdom.” Alorze’s civil war had ended less than four months ago, and the Bloodstaff wasn’t very clear on the battle’s details. Even so, many rumors and accounts from those who experienced that battle had flowed into the Dark Lands, and he chose to believe the prevailing narrative accepted by most Dark Lords.
“Then it’s not worth mentioning.”
The young man’s contemptuous tone carried far on the night wind. Above, under the starry sky, a Wraith shrieked as it sped past the night, followed by dozens of the same winged monsters, each like a floating shadow, sweeping across the entire region of the valley. From the sky, phosphorescent dots dotted the earth, forming three orderly dragon-shaped lines whose heads were passing through the Golan-Elsen Pass, entering the region of Slothovan, while ahead of them lay the endless lowlands.
That was the direction of the provincial capital, Cru.
But in the more distant, undulating eastern hills, at the edge of the forest stood a small party of travelers. “One, two, three, four…” A thin, waxy-faced boy with a pale complexion counted lowly among his fourteen comrades, watching the fires in the valley below. The nearest flame looked no bigger than a fingernail at this distance, while farther ones resembled embers from a campfire, these fire clusters were scattered throughout the Xilmann River Valley like strings of pearls in the night. The boy’s face turned somewhat grim as he completed his counting and turned back to the others, saying, “The White Wing Cavalry must be completely wiped out. Owl Town, Roden, and Mo Town, all gone. I don’t know how many survived, but I estimate not many. Thumb just returned from Roden a few days ago, and he said there were hardly any escapees. They are all finished.”
“Can you stop saying ‘completely wiped out’? It sounds really grating,” a young man still on his horse replied unhappily. In the past, hearing that the White Wing Cavalry had been completely annihilated would have made them rejoice, but witnessing such a scene left everyone present unable to muster a smile. Each flickering fire in the dark represented countless lives, prompting them to remember their homeland. If what the Lord had said were true, perhaps one day all of Alorze would become like this, sending shivers down their spines.
At that moment, everyone shared a similar thought and turned to look at the last one, a young man in a waistcoat shirt. Carglis had just lowered his brass spyglass, handing it to a young officer from the White Lion Guard beside him. After the battle of Ampere Seale, he and the young men around him had long lost the naïveté they once displayed in Toniger; every action had now grown more composed, resembling that of true soldiers. He observed these boys who dressed like peasants, among them were likely those whom the Lord had saved from the Schafflund mines. Brendel had once told him these people were destined to achieve something great. He had been skeptical, but now, it seemed the Lord’s words were indeed prescient.
The young man named Kewen had led their group out of Schafflund, directly crossing Graham’s Mountain, attacking the mineral site south of Duskwood Forest as the Southern Army retreated. There, they dragged out a large number of condemned prisoners and headed east into the hilly regions of Xilmann, establishing their own domain. Though they still bore the air of bandits, they were gradually gaining a foothold. The key was that the batch of prisoners chosen by the young man had mostly offended the nobility and were thus exiled, while those truly fierce and unruly characters had been excluded. This seemed unwise at first glance, but upon closer examination, it held a deeper meaning. That young man was anything but ordinary, Carglis silently thought. “Mr. Carglis, what shall we do now? Should we return?” the young man atop his horse asked.
“Shh—” Carglis raised a finger, signaling for silence.
“Is something wrong?”
Carglis nodded.
“Quick, hide!”
The group quickly retreated from the open area at the hilltop back into the surrounding forest. About a minute later, a rushing sound of wind swept over their heads. The young men hiding in the bushes watched the shadows flying overhead with pale faces. There were seven of them, flying in sequence. Carglis was the first to lead his horse up from the ground. The officer beside him shook his head, saying, “That’s not a Bone Vulture. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“Is it a Bone Dragon?” the young men chattered.
But Carglis pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not a Bone Dragon. A Bone Dragon carries the innate fear aura of high-level undead beings. I’ve seen Alorze at Valhalla, and I understand the aura of dragon-like creatures. When those things swept over our heads just now, I didn’t feel that deep-rooted terror at all. Moreover, those things were far too small to be Bone Dragons.”
“Mr. Carglis?”
“It seems they are searching for something,” Carglis replied. “Let’s wait and see. In the hills, they won’t easily find us. When daylight comes, the undead will tighten their defenses. At that time, we can return.”
…
A dozen skeletal knights rode swiftly along the mountain path, the metallic chainmail on their warhorses clattering in the night. The sound of their hooves striking the ground was far from the solid heaviness of ordinary warhorses; it sounded hollow, like the echoes from the underworld. With their gazes fixed downward into the valley, the burning soul fire within their eye sockets soon reflected two fleeing human cavalrymen, who had been fleeing in this direction for half an hour, their mounts already on the verge of collapse.
The leading skeletal knight pointed his darksteel curved blade downward, and the dozen undead riders immediately turned, charging into the forest, pursuing up the hill. In this territory, the forest was still somewhat sparse, but even so, skeletal knights occasionally crashed into trees, shattering into pieces. The remaining undead didn’t even glance at their fallen comrades; after passing through nearly a hundred meters of woods, they suddenly burst out from the grassland. When Aifan looked back, he happened to see this scene: under the bright moonlight, eleven skeletal knights with flickering turquoise phosphorescence in their eyes burst forth from the dark, dense forest, their bare arms raised high with long spears and curved blades reflecting cold light in the moonlight. He couldn’t help but feel a wave of fear wash over him.
“Shanali, we are done for!”
“Shut up!” Shanali replied sharply. Yet deep down, he knew this time they were likely doomed. Those damned bones didn’t know what endurance was; they would probably keep chasing until dawn, and with dawn still a long way off, their mounts, already exhausted after such a long flight, wouldn’t last much longer.
“Hey, kid,” he suddenly called out.
“What?” Aifan gasped, his complexion pale and covered in cold sweat, as though he had fallen seriously ill. His equestrian skills were only average, limited to simply being able to ride, but pressed by the pressure of survival, he was miraculously managing to gallop through the mountains. However, everything they had encountered thus far had terrified him to the core. If not for a stroke of luck, he would have long since fallen off into a ravine or crashed into a tree, meeting a tragic end.
“I’ll draw them away. You head east and flee into the densest part of the woods. Once you get there, you’ll be safe,” Shanali panted.
The boy’s heart skipped a beat, and looking at the figure of the old cavalryman, he nearly broke into tears, quickly shaking his head resolutely. “No, we go together! You rescued me; how can I leave you behind to escape? I can’t do it!”
“Then we both die together, fool,” Shanali scolded.
“Die together, then!” Aifan insisted.
“Don’t be foolish. We don’t need to give them double the glory,” Shanali admonished loudly, then muttered to himself, “Though glory may not mean much to them.”
“Then I’ll draw them away. You saved me once; I’ll save you once in return. We’ll call it even.” Aifan replied. Shanali shot him a look, unable to suppress a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. With your clumsy riding, you’re lucky you’re not already dead. You think you can draw them away? The end result will be the same; we’ll both end up dead.” Aifan felt his face burn, knowing Shanali spoke the truth, unable to utter a word.
“Alright, you still have a fiancée to meet. I have nothing holding me back. I’ll go draw some to make a cushion for you. You can carry my share of survival with you,” the old cavalryman shook his head. “Listen well, rookie. Don’t be so coy, like a woman. I’ve owed more lives on the battlefield than you’ve eaten meals. Now it’s my turn to repay my old comrades. Go ahead and live well.”
Aifan stared at him, knowing he had made up his mind. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to cry, but was unable to speak, only nodding helplessly. “That’s more like it.” Shanali muttered, suddenly drawing his longsword, shouting, and pulling tightly on the reins to charge into the fray among the skeletal knights. The boy seemed to hear what he shouted—”For Alorze.” But carried on the wind, it vaguely sounded like a beast’s wail.
He turned back, madly spurring his horse forward, but watched as Shanali’s figure grew smaller behind him. He charged into the enemy ranks, cutting down a skeletal knight with a single swing, then cutting through between them. Those simple-minded bone frames were clearly stunned, quickly turning around to chase after Shanali, soon, both sides disappeared from view.
But just a few seconds later, he heard a loud cry faintly coming from the forest over there:
“Damn bone frames, go to hell!”
“Rosa—!”
Aifan coughed loudly, feeling a pungent taste fill his lungs, but he understood Shanali had not left him much time; those bone frames would catch up again soon. He raised his head, trying to find the forest Shanali had told him about. But his vision only revealed clear grassland at the mountain waist, a flat area, and there were some sparse woods nearby. However, that kind of forest was nowhere near enough to evade the pursuit of the Madara undead.
He anxiously urged his steed onward, rounding a large area of woods. A wider patch of grassland appeared behind the shrubs, but at the far end of the grassland, he discerned something resembling a black carpet lying ahead.
It was the forest!
Aifan’s heart leaped with joy, but he suddenly felt a bitterness in his mouth. It was too far, at least several miles away, and he did not even know if his steed could hold out that long. Suddenly, a hollow sound of hooves echoed behind him. Feeling a sensation, he looked back and indeed saw several skeletal knights emerging from the edge of the woods—seven in total. Shanali had already taken down four skeletal knights alone—but regrettably, the remaining ones were not something he could handle. “No, I must survive!” Aifan gritted his teeth inwardly. At this moment, his life belonged not just to himself but also to his fiancée and Shanali. No matter what, he must give his all.
He tightened his thighs, urging the horse to move faster by driving the spurs deep into its side. But those creatures were as swift as floating phantoms, maintaining a distance for a few minutes until the forest was nearly upon him. Just then, Aifan felt a sudden lightness in his body, as if a mighty force had come from behind him, lifting him off the ground and crashing him heavily onto the grass. He fell disoriented, his arms and skin burning from the abrasions, but his mind was exceptionally clear, understanding what had happened. He scrambled to get up and looked back, seeing his mount down on the ground, frothing at the mouth, unable to continue. Aifan couldn’t help but scream as the forest was merely a hundred meters away. Yet at the last moment, he had fallen short. He tried to stand up and run forward, but barely managed to rise before tumbling down again.
He writhed on the ground in pain, only to find that his leg had been fractured.
It was over.
Aifan’s heart sank into despair; the terrifying riders and their skeletal steeds were drawing closer, but he could only close his eyes and await death.
Just at that moment, a flash of silver light suddenly darted through the forest ahead. This silver light startled Aifan, and before he could react, he saw the leading skeletal knight suddenly topple from its mount, a quivering feathered arrow still embedded in its bare skull. The cold light from the forest was just the beginning, as if suddenly, dozens of shadows leapt out from the woods; they were cavalry, but absolutely not of the White Wing Cavalry, for Aifan had seen the faintly glimmering armor of the approaching cavalry under the moonlight, the shining lion heads on the armor radiating brilliance.
The cavalry surged past him, hooves crashing like rain. The boy remained in a daze; he vaguely remembered he had heard of such an army somewhere.
“Soldiers, charge with me, trample these scraps!”
Carglis’s roar echoed throughout the valley at that moment.
