Victory in Battle and a Little Undead Interlude

Seeing the sudden appearance of the skeleton horde, morlock was dumbfounded. What the hell is this!?

“Fire arrows!”

But before he could think further, the elves had already launched another attack. At some point, a row of skeleton archers clad in leather armor had positioned themselves atop the watchtower and walls.

At this point, morlock and his company had already charged out; arrows notched on their strings, no turning back. They had no choice but to grit their teeth and charge ahead.

“Don’t be afraid! Those skeletons are no threat to us—everyone, move up!”

Morlock led the charge, and once again, the White Blade Mercenary Group was locked in melee with the skeletons. But this time, things were different. After the previous battle, the mercenaries were all wounded to some extent; even with their average level of 14, they found it difficult to face skeletons averaging only level 11.

“Keep attacking!”

And their enemies were not just those skeletons. More arrows rained down. The crossfire from the elven archers and skeleton archers suppressed the mercenary archers, preventing them from mounting any effective counterattack before this concentrated volley ceased.

“Damn it, charge, get through them!”

Morlock shot several skeletons with his arrows, but at the same time, a few wounded mercenaries fell to the skeletons’ swords.

Puchi!

Blades pulled from bodies, a number of mercenaries fell to the ground with eyes filled with unwillingness and fear. The skeletons, fighting recklessly and trading life for life, kept the mercenaries pinned; not even their superior strength could break the skeletal defense line.

Although the ground was littered with skeleton corpses, their numbers did not seem to dwindle at all…

With an arrow in his side, morlock ducked behind a wooden house. Furious, he grabbed the scout who had previously reported to him.

“This is your so-called 120 or so skeletons!?”

“I—I don’t know. I counted clearly before, I swear, there couldn’t be a mistake.”

The scout was also baffled. Logically, even if there was a powerful undead mage here, the number of skeletons shouldn’t be this endless after so much slaughter…

Hearing this, morlock pushed the scout away in anger.

“Useless! Worthless!”

He cursed, but venting did nothing to solve the problem.

A skeleton fell, its soul fire in its eyes extinguishing, but immediately came a notification from Serea’s side…

System: Corpse converted to skeleton, consumes 0.5 Death Crystal.

A skeleton rose within the Plague Graveyard: Undead, casually grabbed a longsword from the weapon rack, and charged straight for the camp’s main gate.

With Serea’s current stock of Death Crystals, she could resurrect 1,200 such skeletons, and because they joined the fight immediately upon resurrection and were soon spent, she didn’t have to maintain the upkeep cost of the Plague Graveyard: Undead.

This was exactly how an undead mage should fight!

“Clack-clack-clack!”

The skeletons snapped their jaws, and a newly resurrected one got lucky, immediately encountering a severely wounded mercenary. He launched a side ambush, ran him through with a single thrust—another mercenary down!

Scenes like this unfolded over and over. In just five minutes of fighting, over twenty mercenaries had died, thirty more were seriously injured, and light injuries were countless—the numbers kept rising. But the number of ordinary skeletons never dropped.

“Something’s wrong. The number of skeletons never decreases—they’re constantly being resurrected!”

At last, morlock realized the terrifying truth. Seeing his men being decimated, he no longer dared to think about capturing some exotic race’s slaves. He had to flee this cursed place immediately.

“We’re retreating! Fall back—now!”

Morlock gave the retreat order without hesitation. After the recent fighting, the mercenaries’ morale was shattered; the brutal deaths of their comrades had worn down their will. Upon hearing the command, they immediately bolted for the breach in the wall.

“Wait, don’t leave me behind—give me a hand!”

A severely wounded mercenary pleaded, but his former companions only gave an apologetic look.

The wounded were abandoned; everyone prioritized their own lives.

Seeing the humans trying to escape, Doluka, well aware that mercy toward the enemy was cruelty toward the self, gave a cold command.

“All forces advance—not a single one escapes.”

With the order given, a fire arrow shot into the sky. The blood slave unit and skeleton warrior unit, already in hiding, sprang into action.

“The enemy is in full retreat—now it’s our turn!”

Cliff’s former guard, “Leon,” was now the temporary commander of the blood slave unit. He led the black-armored soldiers to cut off the White Blade Mercenary Group’s retreat.

Seeing over twenty fully armed skeletons and humans suddenly block their path, morlock was dumbfounded.

Why are there humans here?

“Form ranks!”

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Tower shields slammed down, blocking the mercenaries’ only avenue of escape.

“Damn it, charge! Break through them!”

Morlock needed to get his people out quickly, or greater losses would follow.

“Break through us? You’re dreaming!”

Leon spoke calmly as the skeleton warriors and blood slave unit tightened the grips on their weapons and shields. Facing the charging White Blade Mercenary Group, the two sides clashed in close-quarters combat!

Clang!

A Skeleton Heavy Warrior’s greatsword came down. Two shield-bearers were sent flying; these level 18 Skeleton Heavy Warriors were now crushing the humans.

“This—this strength… can these really be skeletons?”

The mercenaries were stunned. They had thought, like before, that these skeletons would be easy to hack apart. But in actual combat, they realized how gravely mistaken they were.

“For the Queen!”

“For Serea!”

“For the Darkmoon clan!”

Shield units charged, the spearmen closely following. Their solid shield formation became a meat grinder on the battlefield, instantly shredding the mercenary line.

With that, the job of the shield warriors and infantry was done; the enemy was thrown into disarray. Next up was…

“Wolf riders, charge!”

“For Bloodthirsty Fangs!”

Gray direwolves suddenly burst forward, each carrying a wolf rider. Their sabers and spears flashed ominously. The White Blade Mercenary Group’s formation was nonexistent by now, and the light cavalry swept through them like scythes through grass.

As expected, shield warriors blocked the front, skeletons hounded from behind, and now wolf riders swept in from the flanks. The mercenaries panicked completely; the cavalry charge dashed through, laying bodies in their wake.

Seeing this, morlock’s breathing became ragged. He knew—it was over, all over!

“Ahhhh!”

“Help… help!”

Screams echoed endlessly; the mercenaries fell one by one.

BOOM!

With a burst of flame, Dorulu descended from the sky, hurling a spear that became a trail of fire, skewering several men. A hulking armored soldier hovered protectively at his side.

“Decay!”

Decay Curse (Tier 2) was unleashed, and Leklis stacked a lethal DEF debuff on the White Blade Mercenary Group. Then Augustin, leading several trolls, charged in with warhammers and axes. Especially Augustin—on the battlefield, as a warbeast, every sweep of his executioner’s axe claimed multiple lives.

Now Morlock truly understood—this camp was no fat sheep; it was a ravening beast.

All that apparent lack of force was a façade. Any of those figures just now, taken alone, would be at least junior (level 20–29) class, and some were even intermediate (level 30–39) professionals.

And those soldiers—not only were they vastly superior, but their weapons and equipment were uniformly top-tier. Why would a tribe like this exist in the jungle? Was it possible an exotic empire from the Southern Continent had launched an invasion of the Eastern Continent!?

These thoughts ran through Morlock’s mind. In his brief daze, the White Blade Mercenary Group was utterly annihilated. Facing the combined assault, they had lost all will to resist.

“Surrender!”

It was unclear who first shouted, but soon others followed. With certain defeat before them, survival was all they could hope for.

The mercenaries dropped their weapons and knelt, hands on heads. Morlock still stood, dazed, but when Augustin and the others noticed him—still standing and about to be targeted by arrows and blades—he hurriedly dropped his bow and knelt.

“I… I surrender too.”

It was spineless, but right now, all that mattered was staying alive.

With the surrender of “Morlock,” the White Blade Mercenary Group’s invasion ended in total failure. Only thirty survivors remained, most gravely wounded.

“Clean up the battlefield. Gather all this human equipment, then lock them up and wait for the Queen to return.”

Doluka stepped out and gave the order. The skeleton warriors confiscated all the mercenaries’ weapons and equipment. Clad in only their cloth armor, the mercenaries were led by the blood slaves into a wooden cell.

Upon seeing Doluka, morlock was momentarily stunned by her beauty—a lovely elf. But when Doluka looked his way, her eyes were icy and filled with killing intent.

If not for the Queen’s orders to keep them alive, she would have executed these humans who trafficked her own kind.

“Anything left to say?”

Doluka and the others surrounded Morlock, all of them glaring at him with hatred.

“You…”

“I don’t think we need to hear his nonsense. Just lock him up and wait for the Queen for questioning,”

Leon suggested, to which Doluka nodded.

“Very well. Lock him up.”

As several “humans” moved to carry him away, morlock shouted desperately at them and at Leon.

“Hey, you’re human too—why side with these outsiders!?”

But those carrying him didn’t even pause; seeing this, he turned to Leon, who only replied coolly,

“Human? Perhaps once—but now, I no longer am.”

Morlock was dragged off to the wooden cell, and Leon led the blood slaves back to clean up the battlefield.

…

Meanwhile, Serea and the others were still making their way back to camp along the mountain path through the blizzard.

After learning the camp was unharmed, Serea breathed a sigh of relief, but her expression soon hardened. Their enemy’s ploy—to kill with a borrowed knife—had been executed beautifully.

“Did something happen?”

Celia asked, guiding her direwolf’s reins and holding Serea close in front of her. At such proximity, she naturally noticed the shift in Serea’s expression.

“There was a small issue at camp, but it’s handled now.”

“I see.”

Serea didn’t elaborate, and Celia didn’t press. They continued on through the blizzard.

Suddenly, Little White, who was scouting ahead, detected something.

“My Queen, someone’s up ahead.”

“Someone?”

Serea was puzzled. Who else would be out here in the dead of night?

Before she could think further, several dark shapes appeared in the woods. Those shapes also spotted Serea’s group.

“Aaaah!”

A beast-like howl rang out. Recognizing the sound, Serea frowned slightly—it was…

The figures entered their view. Everyone frowned in recognition—it was an old acquaintance. A pack of clawing, snarling zombies was rushing at Serea’s team.

“Where did these zombies come from?”

Serea was baffled. Seeing that they were enemies, Little Black went to the front of the group.

As Little Black prepared to charge, Serea reminded him, “Leave one alive.”

“As you command, My Queen.”

With that, Little Black leapt in. Facing four converging zombies, he swept his claws—within seconds, three zombies became corpses.

Using his bone tail to pierce through the shoulder bones of the last zombie, Little Black lugged it back. The captured zombie was still clawing and snarling. Seeing this, Serea raised her hand toward it.

Resurrect!

After resurrecting the undead, Serea felt a stabbing pain in her head; she had already reached her maximum number of undead followers, and forcing control over more would be unbearable.

But for a brief control of a zombie, she could manage for a bit.

Once controlled, the zombie calmed down. Serea used her spiritual link to extract the intelligence she wanted. Within ten seconds, she released her control, and the zombie immediately bared its claws at her again. Serea said coolly,

“Enough. End it.”

At the command, Little Black threw the zombie up and finished it with a bone tail to the head.

Afterward, Serea rubbed her aching temples.

“Did you find out anything?”

Celia asked.

“Yes, but it’s bad news. The eruption of death energy has spread to the western jungle’s fringes. It’s still some distance from us, but scattered zombies have begun to spread outward.”

“Will it affect us?”

“There will be some impact, but it shouldn’t reach us. The spread of death energy has stopped; at worst, a few stray zombies may seep through. Nothing more.”

Serea’s words brought everyone relief.

“Let’s go back. We still have matters to deal with at the camp.”

With the zombie incident behind them, the group continued on. In about an hour, they would be back at the camp.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep