Dungeon of Pride, Laplace

Chapter 955- Seventh Trial (3)

Reports described their march as an endless, suffocating swarm—soldiers in jagged black armor stained with ichor, twisted beasts dragging along war engines as large as castles, and demons whose forms defied nature, slithering, crawling, and flying in unnatural movements.

Their advance was like a relentless flood, armor clattering and monstrous roars resonating like thunder. Their footsteps shook the land like a drum beating growing louder and louder, each beat as if heralding their obliteration.

Dravik and Rothgard were both clear of one thing, this was not a fight, but a one sided slaughter. Whether it be number or level of their soldier they were completely outmatched.

This was nothing short of marching towards their death. These serfs and peasants turned into soldiers would not even last long and will be trampled underneath and eaten alive by even the lowest ranking monsters.

In front of an army that even veteran and elite soldiers would find themselves cold feet and backing down against, how in the hell are they supposed to hold the enemy down until help arrives?

That said, this was a matter of their survival, backing down was not an option. Even if the order was no different than suicide, even if it meant scarping for a single second by piling bodies, they had to keep marching.

Dravik knew his mission very well; however, just that when he glanced at the exhausted soldiers, lying down in the middle of the field, he could not help but wonder if this was truly the right choice and if there was no other way.

All of these people had families and loved ones who were waiting for them. Sending them to their deaths was something that even he a battle hardened warrior felt regret for.

Seeing him make that kind of expression, Rothgard spoke with a grim voice.

"If we don't make a stand here—if we don't delay them long enough for the realm's knights and heroes to arrive—there's no hope left. The capital will fall within days, and then… it's over. You should know that"…

Dravik chuckled bitterly sipping down his tea in one gulp.

"I Dravik am loyal to Her Majesty and will follow her orders till my last breath, you should already know that. What I wanted to remind you is that we already lost most of our best men to that cursed horde. You should not expect much from these farmers" He gestured vaguely toward the training ground outside the tent.

"I've done my damned best with them, but they're still lacking—lacking in skill, lacking in levels, lacking in numbers. You can't train a soldier in a week. Once the monsters hit us, they'll be swallowed whole within minutes."

Rothgard leaned heavily on his chair with an exhausted look on his face.

"There's nothing to be done. We had no choice. Most of our elite warriors are fighting the Legions of the Demon Lord of Greed on the western front. If we don't hold him off there, his alliance will push straight into the heart of our kingdom. And if that happens—well, you might as well start writing your will."

"So in the end there is no other way, it's all on us to stop this horde, huh?"

Dravik grunted, suddenly he paused for a moment thinking about something before asking "What about the Angel of Principality and Dominion? Can we get any assistance from Valhalla's armies?"

"Unlikely" Rothgard shook his head "The angels of Dominions and Principality from Three Star scripture are locked in battle with Greed's forces and his damned Sea Tribes. That winged lot wouldn't lift a finger if their feathers are too ruffled, especially not while they're knee-deep in another war."

"As for the north..." Rothgard's expression darkened further. "The Three ancient Demon Archdukes—Zantheros the Plague-Caller, Khaveth the Iron Maw and another mysterious ancient archduke—are leading their own invasion with millions of monsters and numerous Demon Dukes from there. No one's heard from our northern legions in weeks. If those two beasts get a foothold, we're finished."

"And the east..." He trailed off, his expression bleak.

"Already gone" Dravik finished the thought for him.

"Vael'Zoth's forces swept through the eastern provinces like wildfire. What's left of the survivors are either refugees… or corpses."… The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of reality pressing down on both men.

Rothgard's voice was grim when he spoke again. "No matter how we look at it—if we don't hold the line here, if we let the Black Army push through—it's game over"…

"I understand, I will relay the orders. They'll fight because they have no other choice. But if you're expecting knight-level precision from a bunch of farmhands, you're setting yourself up for disappointment. Still… they've got heart. Sometimes, the heart is all you need to survive." n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Rothgard gave a slow nod at Dravik's reply "Knight level precision huh. That reminds me, how are the mercenaries we hired? Although I didn't pay much attention, there seems to be one or two who stand out from the crowd. Especially that guy with crimson eyes. What was his name again? Ce…"…

"Simon," Dravik didn't need a moment to think—he knew exactly who Rothgard meant.

"That guy... he's in a league of his own. Head and shoulders above the others. His swordsmanship is not just refined—it's masterful, surpassing even seasoned knights. The first time I watched him fight, I was stunned. His swings... there's a precision, but also a ferocity, that makes you stare in awe."

Rothgard raised an eyebrow in surprise. For Dravik, who was notoriously famous for being harsh in his judgments, to praise someone was very rare.

"That good, huh?"

"Good doesn't even describe it. I've seen knights train all my life, but that guy… his technique is refined, razor-sharp. There's no wasted movement, no hesitation. Every swing feels like it's meant to end something. it's like watching a predator, tearing through his enemies"

"He fights with a bloodlust you only see in someone who's seen a lifetime of battles... and survived them all. If I had to compare, his skill would be well beyond a knight captain, bordering on the strength of a Grand Knight."