Chapter 149: Chapter 149: Iron Wall Formation

Then, the body twitched, and dark energy gathered.

Flesh and bone pulled together unnaturally, the wounds closing, the broken parts reforming as if time itself was reversing.

The soldier holding the sword froze.

“…What?”

The creature’s head snapped back into place.

Its eyes locked onto him.

And it stood.

“No way…” another whispered.

“It’s… regenerating…”

The summoned undead moved again.

As if nothing had happened.

Panic spread faster this time.

“They don’t die!” someone shouted. “Some of them don’t die!”

Voss saw it.

And his expression darkened.

“…That’s bad,” he muttered.

Behind the front lines, Vermis watched.

Her smile was calm.

Satisfied.

Her fingers twitched once more.

And then, the ground near the battlefield began to stir.

The real slaughter was only just beginning.

The moment the ground began to stir, the pressure on the battlefield shifted again.

Voss felt it before he saw it.

“…Something’s coming,” he muttered.

Then the front line broke apart slightly as two figures stepped forward from the undead ranks.

Carrion.

Vermis.

They didn’t rush.

They didn’t need to.

Just their presence alone made the air feel heavier, like the battlefield itself was reacting to them.

Vermis tilted her head slightly as she looked at the fighting humans, her eyes moving from one group to another, almost as if she were studying them instead of fighting.

“…They’re holding better than I thought,” she said softly.

Carrion didn’t respond.

His gaze was already locked onto the front line.

Then he moved.

Not fast.

But the moment he stepped in, everything around him changed.

A soldier lunged at him with a spear, shouting as he thrust forward with all his strength.

Carrion didn’t dodge.

He caught the spear with one hand.

Stopped it completely.

The soldier’s eyes widened.

“What—”

Carrion pulled.

The man stumbled forward.

And in the next second, Carrion’s blade moved. Clean, and precise.

The soldier’s body dropped before he even realized what had happened.

“Fall back!” someone shouted. “That one’s too strong!”

Too late.

Carrion was already inside their formation.

Every step he took broke something.

A shield shattered.

A blade snapped.

A man was thrown aside like he weighed nothing.

Where he moved, the line collapsed.

On the other side, Vermis stepped into the fight.

And the moment she did, it turned worse.

She didn’t strike immediately.

Instead, her fingers lifted slightly.

Then, the ground erupted.

From beneath the dirt, from cracks between stones, from places no one had been watching, insects burst out in swarms, black and writhing, pouring across the battlefield like a living tide.

“Watch your feet!” a soldier shouted.

Too late.

The swarm reached them.

They crawled over boots, up legs, slipping into gaps in armor, biting, burrowing, tearing at flesh wherever they could reach.

“Agh—get them off!”

“Get them off me!”

One man dropped his weapon, clawing at his armor as the swarm crawled inside, his screams cutting through the noise of battle.

One man dropped his weapon, clawing at his armor as the swarm crawled inside, his screams cutting through the noise of battle.

Vermis smiled.

Now she moved.

She stepped lightly between the chaos, her body weaving through the battlefield as if it belonged to her, her movements smooth and effortless as she struck, each motion guided by the distraction her swarm created.

A soldier turned to face her.

He barely had time to raise his weapon.

She was already past him.

He froze for a second.

Then collapsed.

Elsewhere, Voss saw it all unfold.

“…Damn it,” he muttered.

“Lost Bears!” he shouted. “Iron Wall Formation, now!”

The mercenaries moved instantly. This formation stand shoulder to shoulder, forming a tight defensive line. It greatly increases defense, and reduces impact of incoming attacks.

They regrouped in clusters of five, then ten, forming tight formations with shields overlapping and weapons ready, each man watching not just his own front, but the sides of his companions as well.

“Left side!” one of them shouted.

“I see it!”

A body tempering undead charged toward them.

They held.

Two men stepped forward with shields, bracing themselves as the impact came, their bodies shaking from the force but not breaking, while the others moved at the same time, striking from the sides, aiming for joints, for weak points, for anything that would slow it down.

“Again!”

They hit it together.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The undead staggered, not dead.

But pushed back.

“We can handle them!” one of the mercenaries said through clenched teeth.

“Stay together!”

Another group nearby did the same.

Working as one, and moving as one.

Even when one of the stronger undead struck, they absorbed the impact together, spreading the force, countering from multiple angles, forcing even the stronger enemies to slow down.

Voss cut his way toward them, his blade flashing as he dropped another skeleton, then stepped into position with one of the groups.

“Don’t get isolated!” he said. “You fight alone, you die!”

A mercenary beside him grinned tightly.

“Then don’t let me die, captain.”

Voss snorted.

“Same to you.”

Across the battlefield, the Lost Bears held their ground.

Even against enemies that matched body tempering, their coordination let them defend, let them strike, let them survive longer than anyone else on that field.

But even then, Carrion was still advancing.

Vermis was still spreading chaos.

And the undead kept coming.

Time dragged on.

It didn’t feel like minutes.

It felt like something heavier, like every second had weight, pressing down on the people still standing.

The battlefield had already changed beyond recognition.

What used to be the town’s outer streets were now covered in broken weapons, shattered shields, and bodies. Some still moving. Some not. Blood mixed with dirt, turning the ground dark and slick, making every step harder, slower, more dangerous.

The humans were still holding.

Barely.

“Hold the line!” a captain shouted, his voice already hoarse.

Another skeleton lunged forward, its arm half gone, jaw hanging loose, yet still swinging a rusted blade with enough force to kill. A soldier blocked it, his shield cracking under the impact.

“Damn it!” he grunted. “Why won’t these things stay down?!”

“Stop complaining and smash the head!” someone yelled back.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep