volume 2 - Chapter 155 (1/2)
Chapter 155 – Breaking Dawn (8)
============== Raban’s POV ==============
A bright light shot straight into the air and illuminated the vast land, originating from the ruins near the southern inner gate. The varying intensity of the light made it appear ethereal.
Raban, the commander of the Firebrand Mercenaries, wore an aloof expression. His rippling muscles gave him a hard rigid outline that kept dancing from the light. He was a ma.s.sive man who wielded a greatsword with a carved devil for a hilt, standing motionlessly in the night. His gaze was not on the light but the scenery outside the city.
The darkness seemed to form a black line over the horizon, and the night fog had created a thin mist in between the city and the forest. It seemed like nothing was out of the ordinary, but there was a constant shuffling sound of leaves being swept up by thousands of footsteps moving rhythmically.
The oddity of the inhuman noises was terrifying enough for one to feel like they came from h.e.l.l.
A large army was moving towards the city.
Raban was not Aouine’s knight. He was formerly part of Karsuk’s forces; a retired cavalryman who had fought against Madara, but he acted like a knight to gain an advantage over the other mercenaries.
When he listened to the sounds with his eyes closed, he was almost certain they were Madara’s army. An endless amount of skeletons like a sea, shuffling across the ground row after row. The noise wormed into his ears and heart.
Fire torches began to emerge in the darkness like stars coming out during the night. They s.h.i.+mmered in the fog like ghost-fire, causing the mercenaries to grip their weapons subconsciously with solemn expressions.
They got into a formation and stood atop the city walls in silence, and held their breaths as the skeletons’ shuffling noises became louder.
Madara’s undead army finally appeared one by one, emerging past the swirling fog.
A few of Raban’s close subordinates stood behind him, including a few wizards. They were the ‘brains’ of the mercenaries, in charge of handling the strategies and tactics used. They were hesitant whether this battle was worth fighting for. The largest reason was not to offend the young n.o.ble, but when they saw the skeletons appearing like a tidal wave, they drew in a cold breath.
Madara. A blooming rose with all its brilliance and thorns in the darkness. It was an irresistible aura like the scent of death visiting upon one’s eventual demise—
“Commander?” A wizard with a pale-looking face asked quietly under his hood.
Raban did not answer.
“Commander, the number of undead enemies appears to be at least a few thousands,” He said: “Our total numbers with the stray sellswords around us are less than two hundred. These sellswords are also men who can hardly be trusted, even more so for that n.o.ble. Are we truly going to fight to our deaths for a single promise made to him? Even if all our brothers are to meet their demise?”
“And where are we to run to if we flee?” Raban turned around and glanced coolly at him: “I am far more familiar with the undead than you are. This city is already beset with the undead. I have learned my lesson in Karsuk. Never guess how many undead there are because their numbers far surpa.s.s your imagination.”
His eyes went back to the scenery: “However, while their numbers are indeed numerous, they are skeletons which are raised from the graves recently. If we hold our position till daylight comes they will fall back.”
“But—”
Raban raised his hand and interrupted the wizard: “Our only hope lies with that young n.o.ble. Two Gold-ranked fighters are enough to lead us out of this siege. Prepare your magic signals. Tell him he has two hours, the Firebrand mercenaries will not retreat even unto our deaths—”
He yelled to another person: “Raise our Warflags, even if we are going to face death itself, I want to see them flying in the dawn—”
He spat onto the ground. He was confident of what he knew about Brendel’s plan: “Since that young n.o.ble wants me to defend this position till dawn breaks, it means that he has a miracle up his sleeves. I want to see how the first light of dawn breaks this impossible darkness.”
[If he’s capable of doing it I don’t even mind giving up my position.]
The wizards glanced at each other with troubled looks. There were two hours left before dawn broke.
============ Medissa’s POV ===========
[Ancestral Citizen?]
Medissa’s movements have stopped moving. Her brows were knitted together as she s.h.i.+fted the lance in her hands. Every nerve in her body was on alert as she glared at the undead general. There was a pair of silver-colored scales woven onto his black robes, and his body gave out a chilling dread about him.
She did not know what he meant exactly by the two words. Before the Wise Kings ruled in the old eras, there was a mythical legend of a heroic knight leading a group of men and women out of Mother Marsha’s protection, defeated the ent.i.ty known as the ‘Final Calamity,’ The Twilight Dragon, which marked the beginning of the Era of Chaos.
Ancestral Citizens— this t.i.tle was given to the men and women of varying races who fought the Twilight Dragon.
The Golden Lineage had all but died out, with the exception of the Dragon race, becoming mere legends. The Silver Lineage was the proud existences in the Era of Chaos, but they were nearly wiped out in the battle against the the Dragon of Darkness. Most of these races had already disappeared or became obscure existences.
How could an Ancestral Citizen, an existence as old as the Golden Lineage still be around?
[Unless my Lord is a dragon.]
The Elven Princess immediately shook her head. Even a new-born dragon would not be as weak as her Lord, she thought, before she suddenly blushed and felt as though she had slighted him. She quickly apologized in her heart and refuted his words: “What nonsense are you spouting?”