Episode 69
This wasn’t the kind of fear that made you think you might be next. No, it wasn’t even fear to begin with.
It wasn’t a metaphor; death was literally raining down, unavoidable and all-consuming.
A “Gatling-type,” “20mm.”
Dale, shielded by his subordinates, focused his mind on the incantation, unleashing the essence of slaughter.
The Gatling gun. The first weapon of mass destruction.
In some ways, it surpassed what the people of this world imagined as “mass destruction magic.”
Countless black barrels spewed endless streams of dark bullets—Shadow Bullets. The number of bullets didn’t matter. Shadows swirled around Dale’s feet, crafted into hundreds of bullets that rained down relentlessly.
A barrage of 20mm shadow bullets.
“Aaaah!”
“It hurts, it hurts!”
Gunfire echoed, screams followed. Skulls shattered, brains splattered, bones broke, armor crumbled. Intestines spilled out, and a bloody rain poured down.
For those who died instantly without a scream, it was almost a mercy.
Some dragged themselves along the ground, legs gone. Others clutched at their guts spilling through holes in their armor. Some cried out for their mothers.
A river of blood.
The cavalry, arranged in a wedge formation to break through the Black Armor Company’s tight ranks, had instead made themselves perfect targets for Dale.
And when the shooting stopped, none of the 2,000 enemy soldiers dared to approach the Black Armor Company.
It was over in a flash.
In the time it took the cavalry to close a few hundred meters, the entire unit was wiped out.
What else could you call this but “mass destruction magic”?
“How can this be mass destruction magic…?”
“The Imperial Court said it! The eldest son of the Saxon family has three circles, three!”
“Don’t be ridiculous! How is that a three-circle mage?”
It should have been. But what stood before them was a high-circle mage unleashing mass destruction magic on the battlefield.
Silence fell. But the exploits of the Black Armor Company’s captain, the “Black Prince,” were far from over. In fact, they hadn’t even begun.
Dale snapped his fingers. Toward the shadowy cloak fluttering at his feet.
“Rise, my children.”
The 20mm bullets scattered across the field, the “Shadow Bullets,” began to stir.
「Kieeeek!」
At Dale’s command, the Shadow Bullets lodged in the cavalrymen’s bodies began to writhe. They weren’t mere bullets. They were a horde of living shadows with malevolent intent.
The living darkness began to rampage within the cavalrymen’s bodies.
The second form of the shadow cloak. Shadow Parasite.
The dead were the lucky ones. The living had to writhe in agony as their insides were devoured.
“Hungry, hungry, hungry!”
“So hungry!”
The corpses of the cavalry, which should have been dead, rose with inhuman screams.
The shadows parasitized the bodies riddled with Shadow Bullets, taking root in the darkness, turning them into puppets of endless hunger.
Dale’s shadow cloak fluttered in the still air.
‘Even at this distance, I can control them well enough.’
He observed the hosts of the Shadow Parasites rising all around.
Without a hint of emotion, Dale assessed his capabilities.
‘Can I add more formulas to this?’
He focused his mind to guide the “character and form of magic” that suited his purpose.
Even with the distance, there were about a hundred hosts of Shadow Parasites. Dale concentrated on them once more.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The corpses twisted grotesquely, like something out of a horror movie. The dead had no need to protect their organs, so ribs were moved on the spot.
Crack!
From the arms of the dead, sharp bone swords emerged.
By erecting bone armor on their bodies and promoting rigor mortis where flexibility wasn’t needed, he formed “biological armor” on the spot.
And he didn’t need to give them individual orders. The “living shadows” already resided in their throats and hearts.
Shadow Parasites. As hosts to these parasites, the dead began to move.
“Hungry, hungry, hungry!”
The army of the dead. Starving in endless hunger, they craved prey.
Even if the opponent was a comrade they had joked with moments ago, there were no exceptions.
Dale’s “weapon of mass destruction” had wiped out the cavalry… and the shadow bullets that rained down on their bodies had become parasites, controlling the corpses.
‘How far can I take this?’
Dale calmly calculated as he watched.
‘How much influence can I exert on the battlefield through them?’
Within the Black Armor Company’s tight formation, focusing solely on magic. Comparable to the scale of necromancy of an elder of the Black Tower.
Dale knew. And the enemies here were merely sacrifices to test his capabilities.
Subjects of experimentation. The shadow of the Red Cult’s darkness came to mind.
”…”
He shook his head. This was a battlefield. Kill or be killed.
Facing war without accepting death was absurd.
Thus, Dale’s undead charged forward, undeterred. Though not as formidable as “Death Knights,” how many soldiers would it take to handle just one of these undead?
“Hold the line, don’t let the formation break!”
“Aaaah, it’s biting my neck! My neck! Aaaah!”
Watching the clash between the living and the dead, Dale coldly assessed the tactical value of his undead.
‘One armored undead requires seven soldiers.’
‘One unarmored undead requires three soldiers.’
‘Piercing armor with bone swords is still impossible.’
Without a trace of emotion, as if gathering experimental data. As a mage, he evaluated his abilities, honing them to reach the next level.
It was then.
“I don’t want to die…”
“I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!”
“We can’t win! Everyone, we have to run!”
“Get out of the way!”
Amidst the endless swarm of undead, another plague began to spread. The same plague Dale’s sniper rifle had once scattered.
Fear. The fear of not wanting to die spread like a disease. Even with twice the number of undead, the soldiers turned and fled.
“Don’t run!”
“Maintain the line! Don’t turn your backs!”
“Deserters will be executed on the spot!”
As morale plummeted and discipline crumbled, only one thing awaited.
Desertion.
The execution squad swung their swords to cut down deserters, but the broken morale couldn’t be restored. Even the mercenaries who had vowed to crush the Black Armor Company were no exception.
Everyone turned and ran, desperate to survive.
But when an entire unit turns and moves, it requires more effort than expected… and in the process, they exposed their backs to the enemy.
As the unit’s center of gravity shifted and they stumbled in confusion, the undead charged.
By then, it wasn’t even a fight. It was a massacre.
The Viper Mercenaries, the Golden Lion Mercenaries, the Brotherhood Mercenaries. Their names and reputations meant nothing as they fled.
‘They were never a threat to begin with.’
The two organizations that formed the twin peaks of the Empire’s top mercenaries…
‘Landsknecht’ and ‘Reisläufer’ remained silent, proof enough.
Symbols of trust that never retreat until the last one falls.
They, too, were surely watching the Black Armor Company’s actions, but at least what stood before Dale now couldn’t be called a threat.
“We won.”
Dale murmured quietly. But even at those words, no one dared to raise their voice.
Swallowed by the overwhelming presence of an extraordinary being, they could only remain silent in shock.
Dale snapped his fingers again. The Shadow Parasites halted their pursuit of the fleeing soldiers.
They turned their heads toward him.
Toward the walls of Hamburg and the heavily armored infantry of the Black Armor Company.
Everyone held their breath, watching the silent undead.
“We won, indeed.”
Dale muttered as if it were someone else’s business, and the undead knelt in unison. Only then did the fear dissipate.
“We have won!”
A belated roar of cheers erupted.
“Victory for the Black Armor Company!”
“The captain has wiped out the enemies!”
“That’s our Lord Dale for you!”
The deafening cheers seemed to tear through the air as the people of the city raised their voices in unison, celebrating Dale’s triumph.
A mere hundred heavily armored infantry had defeated an enemy force nearly twenty times their size. And it was all thanks to an extraordinary power that could single-handedly turn the tide of battle.
Victory was theirs.
It was undeniably a triumph for Dale and the Black Armor Company, and the tales of the “Black Prince’s” infamy and ruthlessness would soon spread from the lips of the people.
Around the same time, the Britannian Independence Army began reclaiming the kingdom’s former territories with unstoppable momentum.
Under the leadership of the “Holy Maiden Aurelia,” the savior of the nation, they overcame overwhelming odds and secured countless victories.
The morale of the independence forces against the Empire was indescribably high.
Soon after, the Holy Maiden Aurelia proclaimed Charles VII, the legitimate heir of the Britannian royal family, as king. With the restoration of the monarchy, they launched a campaign to expel the Empire’s forces from the Britannian Isles.
They reclaimed fortresses, cities, and lands from the Empire, officially marking the “Kingdom’s Territory” on the map.
It was the first successful territorial reclamation since the Empire’s unification, a feat no one had dared to achieve.
News spread that, stung by this bitter defeat, the Empire was preparing an unprecedented large-scale deployment.
They knew all too well the repercussions that would follow if one independence movement succeeded.