Chapter 450 What Actually Happened? (1/2)

Between hills and mountain forests shrouded in darkness and thin vapor, countless bones and remains long decomposed were buried amongst the dirt under the leaves. Stones tainted by blood and damaged metallic weapons were spread over every corner of the woods. Broken body armor, blades with split ends and spears without tips stood aloft amidst the cold winds, as if telling the tale of what once transpired here.

It was already evening. The dim sun was slowly rising over the west as the night breeze grew more chilling by every passing moment, as if capable of seeping into marrow and freezing blood.

But a little light suddenly ignited within the thin vapor.

The illumination was weak and dim, but immeasurably solid. Under its shimmering, the vapor dispersed and the darkness retreated while it advanced, and soon a convoy of carriages came into view, hurrying across a small forest path as if avoiding something terrible.

”Quick, faster!”

At the fore was a middle-aged woman riding a draft horse, chiding with a husky voice that did not fit with her gender. There were scars scattered across her face and throat, seemingly the reason for her voice. Nonetheless, hearing the urging of their leader, every carriage and rider accelerated immediately towards their heading.

There were almost thirty people in this convoy, most of them horse riders. The five carriages in the convoy were stuffed full of materials, traversing swiftly in the rugged forest route as the horses pulled them along laboriously. Every rider was armed with longswords flails, as well as exquisitely prepared chainmail—their equipment was excellent and definitely did not lose out to the standard army of a nation.

Even if that were so, the riders still acted as if they were running away as they dashed forward with their lives.

As for the leader—Darwion, her heart was sinking like a stone within a deep sea.

—The sun has set; night would soon arrive.

Unsheathing her saber from her hip frustratedly and briskly unleashing an air strike to cut down a huge tree was blocking the road, the female knight displayed prowess that should never be underestimated.

Nonetheless, she was mumbling in fear.

”No good, can't reach the village in time—the monsters are appearing soon…”

”I'll fight if it really won't do!” A male knight with a thick helmet who was riding right behind her exclaimed. ”Sister Darwion, when the time comes, you'll lead the convoy back to the village while I lead them away!”

”Fool, depending on you bunch of ascended to stop the 'Death Shade'?” Darwion mercilessly scolded him, but she could not think of a solution for the time being, and so was only able to seethe. ”Damn it, can't care that much. Everyone, hurry!”

”Yes, ma'am!” the riders replied in unison.

Death Shade was, as the name suggests, the shadow of the dead.

The world had changed entirely since the Cataclysm twenty-seven years ago. Where there was death, Death Shades would appear come night after sunset. The monsters, resembling dark shadows, were bizarre, terrifying, and possessed part of the powers they had in life. They fed upon living flesh, attacking all life indiscriminately.

And how many living things had died in this world? It would probably be dozens or hundredfold the amount of the living. Furthermore, with every corner of this world having been tread upon, the Death Shades were omnipresent, unavoidable.

”Just hope that the Death Shade we run into this time are weaker, allowing us to charge through and escape.”

Many ideas flashed urgently through Darwion's mind. It was not the first time she led the team on an excursion or fighting against the Death Shade, but there were many reasons that would prolong the traveling time back to the village. Her scarred body was a sign of the many battles she had gone through.

Her logic was sound too—there was level of abilities even amongst the Death Shade. If they were mere peasants or beasts in life, they would be feeble abominations that could be blown away by the wind after they turned. Although they would still be many, it did not mean that they could not just charge through.

Still, the Autumn Waters Forest where the carriages were now running upon was an ancient battlefield. Beneath it was innumerable corpses of elite warriors from two great former Empires.

If they met those Imperial elites…

Darwion did not keep thinking, because night had arrived.

The rays of the sun had now completely vanished from this world, and dark fog began to engulf the forest. Even the many torches held by the carriages that burned with warm gleam was the same—their vision had shrunk to just ten meters in front of them, while the convoy slowed down immediately.

”Do not slow down!” Darwion bellowed. ”Falling means being torn apart by those monsters anyway. Sons of Astoria, draw your weapons!”

Against the countless obscure shadows that were spawning within the dark fog, the female rider roared with a hoarse but immeasurably firm voice.

”Light of the blade, glory never-ending!”

”Never ending!” The riders sonorously chorused.

”Charge!”

Specks of radiances were appearing over the riders' bodies. The radiances had different colors, but have the same effect—under its drive, wind flowed faster, and every warhorse started to regain their spirit one after the other. Neighing, they strode ahead, while the convoy was now more than a notch faster than before, as if about to turn into a gale amidst the mountain forest.

Meanwhile, the shadows in the darkness formed a complete shape.

They were dark human silhouettes that were spread out in every corner of the forest; tired knights and warriors wearing broken armor and damage blades. Warhorses that were disemboweled or had limbs dismembered appeared indistinctly within the fog. These slain, reluctant to die, awakened within the darkness, opening their sanguine gaze that followed the carriages hurrying away, and then began to unleashed enraged roars.

Whoosh—

Amongst the departed, poles of broken flags were raised while shrill horns reverberated through the night sky amidst the chilling winds. Then, they too began to charge under the guidance of the banners and the commands of the horns.

The gully between life and death across centuries.

A robust but quiet knight behind the carriage noticed the undead armies darting towards them at a speed that escaped human comprehension. The man spat at the sight, and unsheathed a great sword from the flank of his warhorse. His powerful arm muscles knotted and directed the war horse to change directions, dashing towards the enemy like a streak of gale.

Klang—

Steel cried as blades clashed. The rider dashed into the rank of the enemies alone, his body cascading with soft blue light that was distinct even in the dark fog. Relying on the power of that glow, the warrior slew several Death Shades at the front, and a dozen more with another flurry of swings.

But how many Death Shades were there? In mere seconds, the rider's silhouette was utterly flooded—though the pale-blue spark was visible, it too, swiftly disappeared as the sounds of flesh being pierced resounded.

Even so, the armies of the dead were held off for seconds, and the convoy pulled away.

Darwion noticed the sacrifice, but her heart was cold as steel stone, unruffled. She could only hate her own inability—and only that.

Meanwhile, Death Shades were appearing ahead of the party too. Still, those were the Death Shades of some peasants or some scattered adventurers. Darwion pulled out her saber, striking through the wind and vanquishing the obstructing monsters with an unhindered air blade.

”We're almost at the village protection zone!” The knight bellowed loudly after completely expelling the Death Shades ahead. ”Don't let Handel's sacrifice go to waste!”

The convoy did not say a thing, but their speed went up a notch.

Then, another horn resounded shrilly.

In front of the convoy, banners broken began to rise as raving howls of wolves could be heard indistinctly.

Three hundred and eighty-two years ago, Bohar the Steel Cutter and Suen the Wolf Shepherd met in the Autumn Waters Forest. Two champions with equal power led armies of equal ability as they began a skirmish of life-and-death. It ended with the blades of the Steel Cutter being broken and the flock of Wolf Shepherd wiped out—not a single soul in both camps survived, every single one of them dying at this very forest.

Now, 380 years later, their shades awakened in the lightless thin fog. The general whose flesh had been completely devoured and the headless rider stood off against each other at the center of their respective factions. Their armies, too, faced off against each other, sanguine radiance almost brightening the forest.

Without a word, the war between the dead restarted in the very next moment.

With the convoy who were at wits' end in the middle.

—We're dead!