Chapter 102: Chapter 102: The Clash Begins (part 3)

“What—?!”

“They got stronger!”

“Stay focused!”

But it wasn’t just them.

Even the nineteen skeleton archers on the walls adjusted, their next volley sharper, more coordinated.

Below, the pressure began to mount.

A practitioner blocked a strike, but the impact made his arm tremble.

“…Damn it, they’re heavier now!”

Another tried to counterattack, only to be forced back by a relentless barrage of sword strikes.

“They’re not slowing down!”

“Die you monster!”

Aiden’s fingers twitched slightly.

“Not yet.”

His gaze locked onto a cluster of soldiers trying to regroup behind a damaged shield line.

“Let’s make this messier.”

He clenched his hand.

“Corpse Explosion.”

A fallen body on the ground suddenly jerked, then.

BOOM.

Flesh and bone burst outward in a violent explosion.

The soldiers around it didn’t even have time to react.

“AAAGH—!”

“What the—?!”

Another corpse detonated seconds later.

Then another.

The battlefield descended into chaos.

“The dead are blowing up!”

“Watch the bodies!”

“Don’t stand near the fallen!”

But in the middle of battle, that was easier said than done.

Carrion didn’t wait any longer.

He stepped off the wall, and dropped.

He hit the ground like a falling boulder.

BOOM.

Carrion walked forward first, heavy steps crushing bone fragments and blood-soaked dirt beneath his boots. His presence alone felt different, denser, heavier. The cursed armor wrapped around his body seemed to breathe with a faint, dark pulse, as if something inside it was still alive.

Beside him moved something far less… human.

Graveknit.

Its body was a grotesque patchwork of bones, some too long, some too short, stitched together by thin strands of black necromantic thread. Pieces of ribs overlapped across its chest like crude armor, while jagged bone shards dangled loosely from its arms, clattering softly with every movement.

It didn’t walk normally.

It lurched.

Twitched.

Like it was being pulled together by something unseen.

Two figures stepped forward to meet them.

Caelus and Rhett.

Both stood at the peak of Body Tempering, their auras steady despite the chaos around them.

Rhett rolled his shoulders slightly, gripping his weapon tighter as his eyes locked onto Carrion.

Then, he let out a short breath.

“…So you finally came down.”

Carrion stopped a few meters away, tilting his head slightly.

Even without a face that could fully express emotion, the intent was clear.

Recognition.

Rhett smirked faintly.

“I guess…” he said, raising his blade, “…it’s round two.”

Carrion’s grip tightened around his cleaver.

“…You didn’t die last time,” he said, voice low and rough.

Rhett’s smirk widened just a little.

“Disappointed?”

For a brief moment, silence.

Then, Carrion moved.

CLANG!

Steel met cursed metal in a violent clash.

The ground beneath them cracked from the impact.

Rhett was forced half a step back, his arm tensing as he absorbed the force.

“…Still hits like a monster,” he muttered.

Carrion didn’t stop.

Another swing came immediately, faster this time, aimed straight for Rhett’s neck.

Rhett twisted, barely dodging as the blade carved through the air, the force of it sending dust and debris flying.

“Caelus!” he called out.

“I’ve got it,” Caelus replied calmly.

While Carrion pressed forward, Graveknit had already turned its attention elsewhere.

Toward Caelus.

The stitched abomination jerked forward, its mismatched limbs moving in an unnatural rhythm. One arm stretched too far, the bones grinding as it swung downward.

Caelus stepped back smoothly, avoiding the strike by a hair’s breadth.

“…You’re ugly,” he said flatly.

Graveknit didn’t respond.

Instead, its body twitched, then shifted.

The black threads binding it tightened, pulling its bones into a slightly different shape. Its arm elongated further, jagged bone shards snapping into place as it lunged again.

Caelus’s eyes narrowed.

CLANG!

He blocked the strike, but the impact made his wrist sting.

“…Stronger than it looks.”

Graveknit tilted its head at an unnatural angle.

Then both of its arms came down at once.

Across the battlefield, the clash of the four stood out even among the chaos.

Carrion and Rhett moved like two storms colliding, raw strength against refined technique. Every strike carried weight, every block sent vibrations through their bodies.

“You’re slower,” Rhett said between clashes.

Carrion’s response was another heavy swing.

“…You talk too much.”

Rhett grinned, stepping in instead of backing away this time.

“And you still hit like a brute.”

Their weapons collided again.

BOOM.

Not far from them, Caelus exhaled slowly as he deflected another strike from Graveknit.

“…Annoying thing,” he muttered.

The creature didn’t tire.

Didn’t feel pain.

A jagged bone pierced toward his side, he twisted, slicing it off.

But before it even hit the ground, thin black threads snapped out and pulled it back, reattaching it to Graveknit’s arm.

Caelus’s expression shifted slightly.

“…It regenerates?”

Graveknit lurched forward again, relentless.

—

The battle didn’t slow.

If anything, it only grew worse.

An hour had passed, yet the field still roared with steel, bone, and screams. The ground was no longer just dirt, it had turned into a churned mixture of mud, blood, and shattered remains. Bodies lay everywhere, human and undead alike, piled so thick in some places that footing became uncertain.

And still, they kept fighting.

Up on the wall, Aiden stood unmoving.

But his breathing had changed.

Subtle.

Heavier than before.

A faint stream of pale energy flowed from the fountain behind him, threading into his body like thin strands of mist. It helped, kept his mana from collapsing entirely, but even that wasn’t enough.

Not for this long.

“…Tch.”

He rubbed his temple briefly, eyes still locked on the battlefield.

“Even with the fountain…” he muttered, voice low, “…I can only keep this up for another two hours.”

His gaze swept across the field, counting, measuring, calculating.

Another bronze-grade undead was crushed under a heavy strike, its skull shattered, but he repaired it in seconds.

Aiden’s eyes flickered.

Then, his hand rose again.

“Grave Calling.”

For a brief moment, nothing happened.

Suddenly, the corpse twitched.

Not just one.

Several.

Scattered across the battlefield, fallen soldiers, humans, suddenly jerked where they lay.

“…What—?”

One of the nearby soldiers froze, staring.

“Did that body just move—?”

The corpse beside him sat up.

Its eyes were dull.

Empty.

But moving.

“I can’t anymore. This feels like hell…” the man whispered.

Then the corpse stood.

Slowly.

And picked up the weapon it had dropped.

“GET BACK!” someone shouted.

Too late.

The revived soldier swung.

CLANG!

A living soldier barely blocked the strike, eyes wide with disbelief.

“W-what are you doing?! It’s me—!”

The undead didn’t answer.

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