2-62 Night’s end II

2-62 Night’s end II

Prior to the death of the Necromancer at his own hands and the sudden quietus of the Razor Grizzly, the west gate wasn’t the only side that was caught in a plight. The other gates had its fair shares of troubles.

These were the circumstances of the north gate.

A Wight with a flaming axe, devastated the entire group of defenders, leaving only the Blackwood twins to defend the gate all by themselves. The Dire Wolves and Serks were no more but most of the numbers weren’t quelled by the twins but at the burning edge of the indiscriminating Wight. It had no regard for its own allies and its objective wasn’t the town but seemingly whoever came to fight it. The Wight had every opportunity to ignore the twins and went straight for the gate and no one could have stopped it. But it did none of those. Its entire attention was focused on the twins.

“Wrev, can you still fight?” Siv asked.

“You jest, sister,” Wrev answered with a ragged voice. “Of course, I can. This much is nothing.” Though he said that, the wounds on him couldn’t be considered as shallow. He underestimated the Wight. Everything that he knew about a Wight could not be applied to the one he was facing. It was faster and stronger, and most of all, more tenacious.

Though the Wight was faster and stronger, it still wasn’t faster than the Blackwood siblings. It had received plenty of their attacks from their claws and weapons but none of those could be considered significant. It had a hole through its chest but that wound showed no sign of weakening it. Couple with the fact that an Undead had no need for rest, the Wight eventually overwhelmed the two siblings in battle. It had done quite a bit of damage unto the two.

The silver lining was that the two didn’t need to worry about bleeding out as a cut from the Wight’s flaming axe instantly cauterized the wound.

Siv looked at her brother with a narrowed gaze. “You’re missing two fingers and your ribs are broken.”

“I have been worse, sister,” Wrev said, forcing a smile.

“You have but that was a proper duel with rules and such.”

“I can still fight, Siv.” He tried to stand but his foot could barely find its balance.

Siv sighed. “No,” she said. “Stay and recover. I will handle the Wight.”

“But Siv—”

Siv did not listen anymore and charged right at the slowly approaching Wight. She was still in her Beast Form. A murky black aura coated her. Her nails became claws. Her teeth became fangs. Her hair grew past her knees. A dark grey painted her eyes. Aside from the obvious increment to her strength, speed, and senses, Beast Form allowed her to use what was commonly known as Mystic Arts. It was still unclear as to the differences between Magic Arts and Mystic Arts. Some had said Mystic Arts to be a raw form of Magic Arts. Some believed Mystic Arts to be the origin of Magic Arts. Then again, the differences mattered none to Siv.

Siv swiped her claws, sending out waves of Aura Shots at the Wight. It made no effort to dodge or defend and straight-up received the attacks. The attacks pushed it back considerably but it showed no sign of being hurt in its rotten deadpan expression.

Siv moved in and dodged under its flaming axe. She swung her polearm with an axe-blade head and only then did the Wight bothered to block the attack. Siv retreated away from the Wight’s reach and shot out a beam of black energy with a shout. The beam tossed the Wight further away from the gate but it was back to its feet within seconds. It showed no response to its seared flesh from the attack.

When the Wight looked like it was making a retaliation move, Siv closed in and aimed for its head. The Wight’s gaze was straight but it knew of Siv’s intent even though she was in its blind spot. It lazily slanted its head and her attack missed its neck. This was how the battle had been going. The Wight allowed attacks to harm him but any attacks that could threaten to dismember him, only then it would defend itself. The Wight did get decapitated but it was still moving. Yet, it avoided having its body parts cut off despite being able to survive the process. Siv came to the conclusion; there was a limit to how many times it could survive being dismembered or decapitated.

Still, reality was often harsher than what was depicted in one’s thoughts. The Wight only had its head lopped off twice and its right arm cut off once. Despite having a body of rotting flesh, the skin and flesh were harder than one would expect. Siv had managed to take a swipe at its back but all that did was leaving a shallow scratch that the Wight merely shrugged it off.

“Gotta take this Wight down fast… Beast Form wouldn’t last forever...”

In addition, Siv was losing her speed and strength to her building exhaustion but an Undead had no such concerns. The longer the fight went on, the higher the chance of her loss. With every second that passed, the Wight’s swings only seemed heavier and faster. In the midst of her exhaustion and her injuries, a mistake was bound to be made.

And it happened. She took a wrong step. Her balance was thrown off by her own misstep. Even the Wight could tell this was an opportunity and it took it. With its flaming axe raised, it swung with intensity. Siv could only watch as her demise greeted her one-sidedly.

“Siv!” a shouted came from none other than her brother, Wrev. In his Beast Form, he shortened the distance between him and the battle in seconds. He arrived in between the Wight and Siv. He brought his sword up to block the flaming axe. As he expected, the blade shattered like glass in the face of the Wight’s strength and flaming axe. However, the Wight’s attack trajectory was veered ever so slightly. Instead of his face, the flaming axe claimed his right arm.

“Wrev!” Siv shouted.

Wrev cried out his pain and battle spirit. He knew his end was decided at that moment but he refused to let fate claim him without any struggle. Gathering all his strength into his fist, he sent a straight punch with his left fist into the Wight’s face. The punch was so strong that it tore the Wight’s head off from its neck and broke almost all of Wrev’s knuckles. “I’m not done yet!” He roared and bit down on the Wight’s right arm. With all his might, he tore its right arm off its shoulder. He finished with a straight kick that sent the Wight stumbling away from them. The corpses strewn aroung the battlefield tripped the Wight’s balance and to the soil it fell on.

Having exhausted his last ounce of strength and vigour, Wrev collapsed to the ground.

Siv wanted to rush to her brother and treat his wounds but the Wight was already back on its feet and slowly limping towards them. The loss of its head and right arm had only raised its ire. Siv didn’t think Undeads were capable of emotion but the Wight in front of her was clenching its fist, trembling.

But in the next moment, the Wight stopped moving and fell face-first into the ground.

“Wh-what?” Siv blurted out in confusion.

She did not let her guard down immediately. She traced her gaze on the unmoving Wight. After a few minutes had passed, only then she heaved a long sigh. Relief swept over and she fell to her knees.

“We won, Wrev,” she muttered. “Wrev?” She looked over her shoulder after receiving no response from her brother.

Wrev was still just laying on the ground but his eyes were closed and there was no rise and fall of his chest.

“W-Wrev…” Siv’s voice shook.

****

The north, west, and south gate was holding strong. Though the defenders were losing, they managed to prevent the monsters from reaching the gate despite crossing the second line of defence. However, the same couldn’t be said for the east gate. Goblins were at the front of the gate, swinging their weapons wildly in hopes to broke the large obstacle down. At the helm of the Goblin horde, was a Goblin Warlock.

“Edmund!!” Velrin shouted. It was not a cry of despair but one of indignance and rage. Surrounded on all sides by Goblins, she fought desperately while she seethed with a vengeful fury. As if responding to her wrath, her Abyss Magic moved like a raging fire in the wind. Exhausting the last bit of her mana, she culled the Goblin horde into half of the original amount.

Right from the start, Velrin had known this was in all likelihood, a suicide task. Without knowing the extent of the enemy’s capabilities, many outlaws with unknown levels of abilities were gathered as the defence force. If the survival rate was high, it would mean the court would have to pardon not a small number of criminals. No way the court would allow something along those lines to happen. Still, this was their chance at a fresh beginning.

However, everything fell apart with the appearance of a rare variant of Goblins, a Goblin Warlock. It wielded magic like no monsters Velrin had ever come across. In fact, the magic it used resembled was much too refined for a monster. There was precision in its attacks. It didn’t even fell for the feints Velrin had set up.

The Goblin Warlock wasn’t a problem by itself. Even though it was a formidable fighter by itself, it still possessed the weakness of all spell casters. Casters were at their most vulnerable when they were casting spells. That said, the problem was the Goblin army it commanded. It had dozens at its beckon.

But the cause of the defeat of the east gate was the cowardice of one person, Edmund. Velrin had a plan. She was sure that with the abilities of her allies, the plan wouldn’t be difficult to execute. However, she trusted the wrong person. Witnessing the power of the Goblin Warlock, he instead used his own allies as bait while he ran from the battlefield.

The plan fell apart and so did the defence. The soldiers from inside the walls quickly ordered the gate to be shut. The criminals pleaded but the fear drowned out the soldiers’ mercy. The confusion allowed the Goblin Warlock to overwhelm them and slaughter them all. Only Velrin survived but even she wondered how long she would last in this despairing situation. Even if she had Abyss Magic, her Mana and stamina weren’t bottomless.

At present, Velrin was making her last stand with a short sword in her trembling right hand. Blood was trickling down all over her body. The Goblins’ attacks were weak and shallow but with their numbers, her small wounds eventually accumulated into a dire state. Even if she successfully repel all the Goblins, she had lost too much blood.

The Goblins were staying their distance. It was unlike them to be cautious but they had a leader now and their leader ordered them to be vigilant. They had seen what Velrin was capable of. Even without her magic, she had managed to take the lives of a few Goblins. It was due to her level increments that she lasted this long by herself. This was why the Goblins did not carelessly approach Velrin. They had the number advantage but their numbers were only a few. They weren’t complete Undeads. They died the moment they were turned into the Necromancers’ thralls. They weren’t raised from their graves like normal Undeads. Therefore, they still retained their own senses. Fear and survival were still primal factors in their veins.

“Curse you, Edmund… Curse you...”

The Goblins took a step away when they saw the fire in her eyes and the contorted expression she painted on her face.

At her dying breaths, the promise of vengeance dominated her mind but there was still room for the light of her life, her brother. “Velkan… I’m sorry… I couldn’t… fulfil my promise...”

The Goblin Warlock had long turned its attention to the gate, leaving Velrin to its minions. It understood there was nothing more that Velrin could do before she bled out. It knew this much of human anatomy even though it was just a Goblin. This was possible because of its master, the Necromancer. The Goblin Warlock was a mere Goblin at the beginning. In exchange for becoming the Necromancer’s thrall, it became a Goblin Warlock. And it was further promised that if the siege of Quinteburgh was successful, it would be given knowledge and more power. It was simply more than what a simple monster, a Goblin, could ever dream of.

But everything came to an end in an instance. The Goblin Warlock felt the blessings from its master were all drained from its body. Disbelief dyed its face but its gaze turned hollow as its life departed along with the Necromancer’s spell.

“I’ll be damned...” Velrin exclaimed with the remaining strength within her. She couldn’t believe her eyes as all the Goblins surrounding her instantly fell to the ground and they just stopped moving, as if their souls were sucked out of their bodies.

She wanted to celebrate but the loss of her blood did not allow her such luxury. She could only sit down and wait for her time to come.