It was a figure even more battered than Nolan. A youth, drenched in blood. His armor had been corroded beyond recognition, and blood had soaked nearly half his body.
It was Little Donnie. During the charge, he had lost control of his horse while dodging a Bone Spear and fallen behind. At a loss, he suddenly recalled Nolan’s words before they set out—
“If you’re afraid or don’t know what to do, follow me!”
So he chased after the only thing he could see clearly in the darkness—the red banner with the golden lion—and plunged headlong into the Deathly Miasma. He was weaker than Nolan. By the time he burst through the fog, the corrosive agony had nearly knocked him unconscious. But the moment he saw the great lich-corpse’s back turned toward him, he stopped caring about anything else. He remembered his parents, slaughtered beneath undead blades.
Had Nolan truly made a reckless mistake in his haste? No. As a seasoned fighter, he knew exactly how to counter a mage.
He had seen Little Donnie. That was why he deliberately feigned a desperate, suicidal charge, drawing the great lich-corpse’s full attention onto himself.
Two riders closed in from front and rear at the same time, and the thunder of Nolan’s galloping horse masked Little Donnie perfectly.
With a roar filled with fury and resolve, the youth swung his longsword. Borrowing the momentum of his mount, he carved a swift and unstoppable arc, cleanly severing the great lich-corpse’s unguarded right arm. The explosion triggered by the backlash of the magic sent a violent shockwave outward, nearly knocking Little Donnie off his horse at such close range.
The great-lich corpse was blasted away, crashing heavily to the ground.
Propping himself up with his remaining left hand, he stared in disbelief at the youth, then in terror at the other side—where Nolan had already turned his horse and was charging straight at him once more.
What this high-ranking undead saw was no longer a rider, but the shadow of eternal death.
On horseback, Nolan reached back with his free left hand and seized the tattered battle flag strapped behind him.
“For Elfin!!”
With a furious roar, he drove the hardened flagpole forward like a thrown spear. The pole pierced straight through the great lich-corpse’s gaping mouth and nailed his entire skull to the ground.
“Kh… kh…”
With a shrill wail, the great lich-corpse’s soul fled from the shattered skull, spiraling back toward the bone staff lying nearby. At its tip was embedded his phylactery.
As long as the phylactery remained intact, he—
Neigh! Nolan’s warhorse reared high, its front hooves lifting into the air. Then, they came crashing down.
Crack! The bone staff, along with the phylactery at its tip, was crushed into fragments beneath that tremendous force.
“No!!”
The shriek that followed was filled with utter disbelief. He could not accept that he, a powerful Silver-rank caster, the deputy of Lord “Gangrene,” would fall in this nameless backwater at the hands of what he had seen as mere livestock.
***
After Nolan charged into the Deathly Miasma, Hank led the remaining cavalry in a continuous maneuver toward the right flank under the lich coven’s spellfire. Ahead, two skeleton warrior units had already completed their turn. A deadly encirclement was about to close.
Everyone’s heart sank.
As the noose tightened, Hank prepared to unleash Blood Lion’s Fang for a final, desperate push when suddenly, among the light infantry unit charging toward them, the soul flames within hundreds of skeletal eye sockets went out all at once, without warning.
Clatter!
Like puppets with their strings cut, hundreds of skeleton warriors collapsed mid-march, scattering into piles of useless bones. The sight was both eerie and magnificent.
Hank did not slow. He stared at the suddenly cleared space, stunned for a brief instant before elation surged through him. He understood immediately what had happened.
“It’s Nolan… he did it!!”
“The great lich-corpse is dead!!”
With all his strength, the iron-blooded captain raised his longsword and pointed it at the now-disordered lesser liches ahead. “Charge through! For Elfin!”
“RAAAAAAHH—!!”
The wild joy of surviving the brink of death transformed into a blazing battle cry. Fewer than twenty surviving riders surged with renewed morale, howling as they followed Hank straight into the lich formation.
The lesser liches, already drained of mana from their reckless casting of Bone Spears, lost all cohesion with the death of their leader. With the cavalry upon them, what followed was a one-sided slaughter.
Five minutes later, when the last lesser lich had its bone staff shattered by Hank’s blade, every skeleton still entangled with the main force of the guard fell silent as the soul flames in their eyes went out.
Clatter… clatter…
Only the sound of bones collapsing remained, followed by a deathly stillness.
All the surviving guards stood frozen, staring at the scene before them, at the enemy that had suddenly disintegrated, unable to react.
Klose leaned on his sword, gasping for breath, his lips trembling as he took it all in. Then, gathering every ounce of strength, he raised his sword high and shouted hoarsely, “We… won!!”
That single shout was like a massive stone cast into a still lake.
“We won!”
“Elfin forever!”
“Waaah… we survived…”
After a brief, stunned silence, the entire position erupted into thunderous cheers. Some wept with joy, some collapsed to their knees in exhaustion, and others threw their arms around their comrades. In a moment of victory, no one cared how undignified they looked. Because this was a miraculous triumph—two hundred against two thousand.
Nolan panted heavily as well, glancing at his health bar.
【HP: 49 / 540】
That was close. Even he felt a lingering chill. The great lich-corpse’s Dark Torrent, though mostly deflected by his blade—impressive as it had looked—had still dealt over two hundred damage from the overflowing energy. Now that the adrenaline was fading, pain flared across his entire body, making him grimace. His warhorse was covered in wounds too, yet the sturdy southern Elfin breed, known for its endurance and resilience, had not lost control even while injured.
“Thank you for your hard work. Sorry you had to suffer. When we get back, I’ll have Hank prepare the best feed and medicine for you.” He gently patted the horse’s neck, and it flicked its head as if in response.
With the battle over, Nolan idly searched the ground with his sword and actually found a piece of equipment that still retained some residual magic.
【Lich Signet Ring】
【Quality: Faint Glow】
【Effect: +25 Maximum MP】
【A ring symbolizing status, still faintly carrying lingering resentment.】
A typical mage’s item, but for Nolan it conveniently compensated for his lack of mana. Not bad at all. He slipped it on casually, then glanced at the experience bar on his interface…and froze.
That long string of numbers nearly blinded him. Before he could examine it more closely—
“Mr. Nolan!”
Little Donnie rode up to him. The boy was soaked in blood, his injuries no lighter than Nolan’s. Tear tracks still clung to the corners of his eyes, yet his face bore a bright, radiant smile.
“Adjutant Nolan, I did it…! Father, Mother… did you see?”
By the end, he couldn’t hold back anymore, breaking into loud sobs even as he laughed.
Nolan looked at him, smiling as well, and nodded firmly. “We won. Well done.”
Their horses stood side by side. Beneath the moonlight, their swords lightly crossed.
Clink.
The crisp sound marked the end of the bloody battle.
***
When Nolan and Little Donnie returned to the ranks, the gates of Rosenberg had already been thrown open. Faint cheers drifted from within the city as civilians rushed out carrying stretchers, hurrying toward the battlefield to aid the wounded.
Klose had finished tallying the aftermath. He walked up to Hank to report, his voice thick with emotion. “Captain… in this battle, the guard deployed 280 men. Fifty-two were killed, thirty-one severely wounded, the rest… lightly injured. We lost six horses. Most of the fallen were from the main formation. The detachment… lost nine men. Two of them… we haven’t found their bodies yet…”
Hank listened in silence. He looked toward the fifty-odd bodies laid out in the distance, covered in white cloth, and closed his eyes. He nodded, then patted Klose’s shoulder, his voice hoarse, “You’ve done well. Bring our brothers… home.”
Nolan dismounted and stood nearby, looking at those white-covered forms.
In the game, players felt little about death. Whether it was their own or an NPC’s, casualties were just numbers. For players, death meant losing some experience and being weakened for twelve hours, then starting again as if nothing had happened. But now, facing these once-living comrades, he truly felt the weight of lives lost—and behind each one, how many shattered families. If before he had fought to save the nation to ease his own regrets, now he wanted to save more lives.
Hank seemed to sense his thoughts and walked over, placing a heavy, calloused hand on his shoulder. “Don’t grieve for them. They’ve merely returned to the embrace of the Mother Goddess Sethis before us. The battlefield is an honorable end. A warrior’s sacrifice ensures the survival of others. This is our fate—and our duty.”
Nolan paused, then realized— Hank was… comforting him? What kind of comfort was that? Brutal, but sincere. He couldn’t help but smile wryly to himself. Hank was no eloquent speaker, but there was a steadfast strength and calm acceptance in his words that eased Nolan’s heart.
He nodded. “Thank you, Captain Hank. They… died well.”
Hank said nothing more, only patted his shoulder again.
The citizens poured out, cheering as they welcomed the heroes of the battle and celebrated this miraculous victory. The wounded were given the highest care, while the rest received simple treatment before returning to the guard’s barracks.
Nolan himself was injured, wrapped in several layers of bandages. The young, pretty acolyte from the temple blushed faintly as she tended his wounds, softly calling him “the Hero of Rosenberg.” He had no idea who had started that rumor.
After the great battle, everyone was utterly exhausted and fell asleep almost instantly.
The next day—
At the first light of dawn, Nolan’s eyes snapped open, having finally remembered something important. He flipped upright, and opened the interface!
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