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What is the most important thing on the battlefield?

It’s vision.

And like always, the most crucial thing is also the hardest to maintain.

Especially when surrounded on all sides.

The irregular sounds erupting from everywhere.

A head buzzing with excitement from the adrenaline.

Shouts making it hard to distinguish between allies and enemies.

Profound fatigue compounded by visibility hampered by armor.

All of this makes it challenging to identify friend from foe.

Of course, if you’re surrounded by enemies, survival comes before visibility—especially if those enemies are a horde of undead.

But that doesn’t apply to the Special Forces right now.

With a whoosh of air, an undead mammoth charged forward. The pressure exerted was beyond anything a typical monster would dare attempt.

Thud! Thud! Thud! A spear struck repeatedly and its head exploded.

This was expected.

The significance of mass attacks lies in their immense velocity added to their weight. It’s about striking the opponent with overwhelming physical power through speed.

However, the undead right before my eyes was not doing that at all.

It couldn’t even walk fast, let alone run.

Yet, even if the enemy merely walking was the case, thousands of undead surrounded us, mixing low-level and high-level alike in a well-structured legion.

The culprit was struggling to advance even a single step, let alone break through.

Even the Special Forces, carefully selected elites, were in danger.

But the Special Forces pressed on. Leading them was the elder, Richard Felwinter, who had reigned as Iceland’s strongest for decades.

Of course, even he felt the pressure of the situation unfolding before him.

If he was alone, that is.

With a crack, Richard swung his aura-imbued hammer, shattering the upper body of an undead ogre, and hundreds of zombies, big and small, began to converge slowly on him.

Seeing this, Gordon moved two steps ahead to the vibrant tune of the bagpipes, drawing his aura-enveloped longsword back over his left shoulder as far as he could. He then swung it with all his might.

Slice—!

A blue crescent arc flew through the air, and hundreds of heads, along with various large undead limbs, dropped to the ground in unison.

“Don’t look back! They’re just a bunch of slowpokes!”

“Ugh! This damned skull is on my foot…!”

“Booming! Even louder!”

And the Special Forces’ spirited charge crushed the place.

With the lively music of the bagpipes as a backdrop, they smashed, pulverized, and crushed the undead.

The reason they were holding back inside the fortress was simple. They had people to protect. Besides them, there were relatively normal and everyday people within the fortress.

The Special Forces’ initial plan was to ensure the safety of Present.

If the supply of holy water became an issue, it would be the first place to become endangered.

The solution? Eliminate the enemies’ heads before any problems arise.

A head-hunting operation or decapitation mission.

However, the holy water issue had resolved itself.

It could have proven to be a futile struggle.

But Richard decided to charge in since the elites were gathered.

Yet, Baston had one concern.

“Richard! Are we really doing fine right now!?”

“Are you seriously asking me that now that we’ve come this far?”

“Well, all I see are corpses!”

“Don’t worry! The strongest energy is headed in one direction!”

Baston, who had pushed away the skeletal Lindblum with his stone hammer, wore a strange expression. He was acknowledged for his wild instincts, but how could he sense that here?

Gordon, unleashing his aura strike, looked perplexed, too.

“What on earth can you feel in this filthy undead wasteland? Plus, it’s still snowing!”

“Oh, I can feel it very well! It’s the rank energy of rats that have been rotting for a century!”

“What the—? What the hell is this undead horde!? What the hell is going on!?”

Gordon was shocked.

The mob of undead kept coming, with more and more emerging as they trampled over each other, forming a tide of undead.

An undead wave.

The answer to that was simple.

“The source will be addressed! Throw it all!”

“Barrel toss! Barrel toss!”

“Feel the grace of the gods!!!”

Swish—Crash—! As they crushed a few undead, a barrel filled with holy water shattered. The undead stepping on the spilled holy water began to melt from the ground up.

Thud—!!! The spot was blown apart by bolts from the ballista.

Support fire from the fortress had arrived.

The ballista bolts, followed by chunks of ice and rocks with magic, rained down onto the undead wave, creating explosions and mushroom clouds.

All of this was plainly visible and sensed by the giant.

Relaxation only went this far.

– I thought the mayflies were struggling –

With this method alone, there was no way to stop them.

Suddenly, I thought back to how they’d only come out of the tomb fortress at the risk of their lives as mayflies. Little did I know, three swordmasters had come along with that much power.

And I sensed it.

– These damned pests have used me…!!! –

And the fury erupted.

Grrr—! The slender powers reacted to the earth.

And the giant Gomot wasn’t the only one. Drew, the chief of the Grizzly Beavers who was still throwing sacrifices and contending for dominance on the magic circle, felt the same.

“Zeeeeeek!!! Zhaksh! Piiiiiik!!!”

– These filthy demon tribe scum who can only destroy and can’t create dare!!! –

The lack of cooperation from those supposed collaborators within the fortress was also part of that. From the start, there were no collaborators at all.

Three swordmasters? Prepared army?

Were they mere feints?

The chief Drew, who refused to yield to death for his kin and clan, and the revived giant Gomot, who sought vengeance for his father and to reclaim his rightful place, were furious.

What on earth were they trying to achieve to this extent?

But I could think no longer.

With support from the fortress aiding for the siege, the Special Forces were getting ever closer to Gomot and Drew.

“Peeek! Sheeeeeek! Sheeeek! Shikshiiik!!!”

Hearing these cries, Gomot turned his head back.

Now, armed Grizzly Beavers couldn’t bring themselves to approach the blood-soaked surroundings where Drew was now groaning in pain. They were pleading for him to calm down.

A relatively young Grizzly Beaver, the heir, approached Gomot.

Like many other Grizzly Beavers, the heir was armed with bronze armor and shield derived from Gomot’s powers.

However, he was different from the other Grizzly Beavers wielding bronze weapons; he was holding an obsidian sword.

“Chop! Chop! Zhak!”

If it were just the cries of a young Grizzly Beaver, Gomot wouldn’t have deemed it worthy of notice.

However, the heir possessed enough right to be respected.

He, like the chief, deserved it.

That young heir was now saying:

“Peeeeek-!!!”

He couldn’t just die quietly.

Gomot sighed deeply.

The heir had just turned five last year.

At that age to become a swordmaster was so rare, even during the time of Cogmargog’s reign.

At that time, he was simply a big kid tussling with an ogre.

With such talent, and given ten more years, he could easily unite his kin into a powerful nation.

It seemed a waste for him to die here.

“Chop! Zhak!”

Guessing Gomot’s thoughts, the heir shouted.

After all, his clan wouldn’t survive this winter, he supposed.

If that was the case, he’d give hope a chance, however slim.

Tap—Tap—Tap—Tap—

Perhaps in agreement with the heir’s words, the armed and unarmed Grizzly Beavers encircled Drew as they slowly closed in on Gomot and the heir.

Gomot looked into the hundreds of tiny eyes of the Grizzly Beavers, all brimming with determination to embrace death.

The Special Forces were right at their doorstep.

As Gomot silently turned his body, the heir and the Grizzly Beavers formed a defensive line. Under Gomot’s will, many advanced undead that had been waiting behind for the siege attack began to gather slowly.

And this was immediately sensed by Richard.

No, it was virtually impossible not to notice Gomot, a being easily exceeding four meters in size, now that they’d come this far.

“Looks like they intend to face us head-on!”

“Lord Baston speaks! The enemies are right in front of us! Focus up! No dropouts, okay!?”

At Richard’s words, Baston began checking the special forces trailing behind, fluttering his skirt dramatically.

“Hmm!?”

Richard’s face twisted.

“Your Grace the Archmage. What’s going on?”

“I thought it was only the Grand Wizard here.”

“Is there something more?”

“It’s a Swordmaster.”

“…They’ve really come prepared!”

Gordon frowned intensely and spat on the ground.

Even if the Special Forces were composed of elites, the presence of three swordmasters was nothing to scoff at.

Moreover, Gordon sensed that the giant on their side was an exceptional monster. In fact, anyone in the Special Forces could feel it.

And with the support from the fortress, the Special Forces were finally about to confront their true enemies.

“What the—”

The Special Forces were thrown into confusion.

It wasn’t the giant, nor the diverse high-level undead coming in waves.

“Peeekyaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!”

“Ahhhhhhh!!!!”

A fully armored Grizzly Beaver unit charged at them, mixed in with the high-level undead.

The Special Forces snapped back to reality and clashed with the enemy forces, diving into a fierce struggle.

Amidst the chaos of the high-level undead and the Grizzly Beaver unit, the four Swordmasters and the ancient giant gathered in an open area naturally created by Gomot’s size.

With a swift movement, Gomot transformed his arms into a long rock sword.

-Hmm!?-

Crash!

Richard lunged in, hammer swinging to cut off Gomot’s path. Gomot immediately tried to deflect it with his arm, but Richard held his ground.

“An enemy is right in front, and you’re still talking! Baston!!!”

“You don’t have this in your home!!!”

Swoosh!!! Baston launched a massive stone hammer with all his strength, the head of which was imbued with a glowing blue aura as it carved through the air.

-You worthless bastards are courting death!!!-

Gomot was enraged and swung his rock sword. The heavy weapon imbued with tremendous strength split the air.

As Richard and Baston braced themselves, the heir quickly sensed a premonition. Seeing the two elderly men braced for strength, the heir charged forth with explosive speed, hardly believable for his bulky frame.

Clang!

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going!?”

In the blink of an eye, Gordon intercepted, darting in like the wind.

Creak-! The deep blue aura-enhanced longsword met the obsidian sword, causing sparks to fly around them.

The heir was startled. It was his first true fight against a being on equal footing. He’d heard Gomot’s warnings, but never thought it would be real.

On the other hand, Gordon frowned for another reason. When it came to swordmasters, they could be considered different beings altogether compared to humans, elves, dwarves, and gnomes.

Ordinary poisons and curses wouldn’t work, for magic could withstand them due to their training and mastery.

Thus, as soon as their blades clashed, Gordon quickly realized.

The monster before him had no experience contending with equals.

‘Then…’

Gordon, with his instincts kicking in, swiftly pivoted his body and redirected his blade’s point. Zing—! The clash of their auras caused fierce sparks to scatter, obscuring the heir’s line of sight.

That left the heir unable to evade Gordon’s kick.

“Zhak-!!!”

Thud! Thud! The heir was kicked and rolled across the ground, left in disbelief. He grappled with the fact that the opponent before him was unlike anything he’d ever encountered.

“Well, this is turning out easier than I expected.”

“Get a move on and join us already!”

“Understood! You’re quite impatient, aren’t you?”

Muttering the latter parts of his words, Gordon effortlessly twirled his aura-laden longsword in the air, painting blue arcs.

“Well then, since you said so, let’s finish this quickly.”

The heir couldn’t comprehend those words.

But the meaning behind them reached him.

As the heir lay sprawled on the ground, he quickly stood, brushing away the undead remnants from his fur. The black aura surged forth, resonating with an ethereal sound.

“Aaaaaaaaaaah!!!!”

The heir locked onto the enemy, charging forward.

For the future.

 

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