59 The_________ (1/2)
”Ho....Ho...How many are there????!!!!!!!!!”
Even the violent fervor inspired by group holy magic was useless against the endless tides of undead which pulsated unendingly from the distant trees. The burnt field below the walls, full of scattered bones, was soon filled with multiples more very much animated skeletons. Archers continued to fire, fingers burning, and several bowstrings snapped under the strain as arrows were poured down to the plains.
Twang! Twang! Twang!
Pucha! Pucha! Klang!
It was pointless however, for every arrow that hit and caused an undead to stumble or totter over, two more would push up from behind. Then four. Then eight. These kinds of overwhelming numbers were not only strategically devastating, but destructive to morale. Across the line, gazes once burning for battle dulled and were replaced by a glossy eyed look of hopelessness. Under this pressure...the faiths of Lightholme's defenders was unable to hold. This early stage of the battle was not even physical, the undead had yet to scale the walls, but mental. If their morale broke here, it would be over in a flash. The undead would ascend the walls unmolested, and when they came, the defenders would simply be crushed underfoot. Only if they could continue to hold back and delay, slow the stream of undead to the top, might the battle continue for some time longer. However, a long battle was not in their favor. The undead do not tire, they do not flinch at losses, and they do not contemplate retreat.
The human defenders on the other hand... archer's once nimble fingers become clumsy and slow, occasionally slipping slightly with each shot, not that it mattered, the amount of undead below meant virtually any shot was a hit. The paladins above were forced to slow down their chants for the use of Judgement as their minds seemed to lose track of the words caught in a thick fog of despair. As each wave of undead drew ever closer, the regular soldiers of Lightholme began to grimly mutter and make strange faces. This devastating mental domination was precisely the advantage to necromancy. With their mind's unsettled, and their hand's unsteady, the flow of the battle slowly slips away before the undead even get close.
”Kiddo, now you see right? As I said, this position is untenable, this city is in deep trouble. Avoid any major Qi usage, while the chances are slim, provided you are in top condition, even if the city falls, there is still a way out for you...” Mei grimly advised Lineir to conserve his energy.
”Master... I don't have wings, there's no way out unless... No! You can't be serious?” Lineir flinched a little as he realized what Mei was suggesting as his ”escape”.
”Yes disciple, that is exactly what I expect from you. To be frank, the undead below, while difficult to eliminate, are individually fairly weak, and possess minimal intelligence. If you truly had to, you could wade through their rotting ranks and possibly escape untouched with the movement skills I've taught you.” Mei was cold and frank about this plan. She didn't sound particularly confident, but she absolutely considered it a viable final resort.
”But still... so many... no matter how much I've trained...” Lineir was imagining an endless walk, dead bodies hoping to drag him to hell every step. The strain on his mind would be enormous as one mistake and he would find himself alone and helpless in one of the most terrible situations he could imagine.
”Of course kiddo, it is true, while you have grown a little stronger, you are still nowhere near the stage where you can wade through armies intact, but... I expect you to try! If you have to. Who knows, with your destiny anything is possible. Keep your eyes and ears open, and feel the world move around you. Opportunity is almost always there, it is simply a matter of seizing it.”
Clack! Clack! Thump! Rattle!
”They've reached the walls!” Suddenly, the raging tides of flesh smacked against the wall, and above, the defenders felt vibrations as even the thick stone was gently moved.
”Engage traps!” The head commander of the paladins in blessed silver white armor screamed out, and suddenly, defenders were pouring streams of liquid down the walls. Below, the ranks of the undead rippled as the liquid hit and dismantled the dark Qi holding their bones together.
”Smart. See that kiddo, somebody has been planning ahead. Those buckets of holy water will not only deal direct damage to the undead now, but will delay their ascent by coating the walls. Eventually however... the undead will not be climbing the walls so much as the corpses of their fallen. When that happens, these walls will simply be a dam, holding back the waters until they break and surge across this city. I'm quite curious. That presence still hasn't done anything after sending that message. What is it waiting for?” Mei analyzed the battle, imparting useful tips and pointing out key details. While Lineir lived a nomadic cultivator's life at the moment, the finer intricacies of group battle would certainly not hurt him. Suddenly a booming insidious dark voice covered the entire city.
”Lightholme! The City of Light, will meet the dark tonight! As those serving a useless master, be sure to bring your grievances to him in the Hells!” A massive turbulent whirlpool of black death Qi opened up in the plains. Below, the undead armor hoisted their weapons high and saluted their creator and only master. From this doorway of darkness, a resplendent figure clad in ebony gilded bone hung in their air, long unfurling wings seeming to drift in defiance of life. From these rich dark purple wings, strands of death Qi spiraled around endlessly, leaving trails of torrid power, as if his simply presence was in defiance of nature. This was no ordinary cultivator. This was one who had left the bounds of mortality long ago. A true cultivator, an immortal! This death angel raised a hand, and from below, countless undead which had disintegrated under the valiant efforts of the defenders reformed from ground dust and broken pieces to raise their weapons once more.
Shua! Shua! Shua! Clack Clack!
”What an amateur, letting his Qi trail behind him all day, its a wonder he managed to cultivate to Immortality. Actually, he was probably born with it, spoiled brats angels always are.” Mei disdained this immortal angel, even as she warned Lineir,