Chapter 142
-Fwooo.
A cold night so biting that your breath would freeze and fall to the ground.
A group of Watchmen marched forward, dragging their wounded bodies.
Wounds were scattered here and there, armor was torn, and even their swords were nicked and worn.
Anyone could see they looked like the dregs of defeated soldiers.
They walked across the dark snowfield, glancing nervously around.
Between the biting cold and the continued skirmishes, their morale had plummeted to rock bottom.
At that moment, the vanguard came to a halt.
"... Halt."
He drew his battered longsword and silently peered into the night. Within the darkness, a group of Watchmen were approaching them.
"S-Sergeant Ross... Can't we just run the other way?"
"... Opposite side is enemy territory, you idiot."
Ross snapped at his subordinate and kept his sword close. It was not unusual for the enemy to appear at any time in this place.
There were supposed to be many friendly outposts, but everywhere small-scale engagements had broken out, allies and enemies mixed together so that it was impossible to tell who was who.
On top of that, since everyone wore the same Watch uniform, the confusion only grew.
Within this chaos, sergeant Ross narrowed his eyes, trying to discern whether the coming group was friend or foe.
"State your affiliation!"
"... And what about you?"
A voice rang out of the darkness. At that, a few of Ross's men instinctively stepped back.
Ross muttered, "Cowardly bastards," under his breath as he moved forward.
"We're under fortress commander Daren, from the 4th Fortress."
"... We're under fortress commander Burton, from the 8th Fortress."
"Hah."
Sergeant Ross let out a sigh of relief. He sheathed his sword, stepping forward to greet the group.
The man at the forefront had a sturdy build and dark curly hair—he looked every bit the battered ragtag survivor as themselves.
Ross quietly eyed the man's insignia for a moment.
"... You're a senior Watchman. I didn't realize—my apologies."
"That's enough. Where are you all headed?"
"We just retreated from Outpost C and are returning to headquarters. What about you, sir...?"
"We're also retreating after an attack at Outpost B. Call me Aran."
Ross frowned, giving Aran a suspicious look as he glanced him up and down. His gaze radiated doubt.
"Sorry, sir, but I was under the impression our 4th Fortress was responsible for Zone B as well...."
― Whack!-
"Urgh!"
Aran's boot slammed into Ross's shin. The young senior Watchman, having taken the hit, grimaced and yelled.
"You fool! Do you even know what's your zone or mine now? We can't even get proper orders!"
"... S-sorry, sir!"
Sergeant Ross gritted his teeth and staggered. Truthfully, Aran's words weren't off the mark.
Far from getting proper deployment, when they returned to base, they just got some half-baked order to go somewhere.
With deployments all messed up like this, confusion was to be expected.
He figured the kick was payback for bothering an already upset senior Watchman after a defeat; he regretted opening his mouth in the first place.
Aran turned to Ross's subordinates.
"Anyway, if you're headed back to headquarters, let's go together."
"Y-yes, sir."
The suspicion had disappeared from Ross's eyes. Thus began their journey together with Aran and his subordinates.
But for some reason, ross found it strangely difficult to see the faces of anyone except Aran and the man beside him.
Why?
Was it the cold?
But he didn't dwell on it. He decided not to speak up again, worried he'd get hit a second time.
***
Erich, Barnes, and the Shadows had infiltrated the enemy's headquarters under the name 'Aran'.
There was hardly any inspection against them. In fact, perhaps because they were accompanied by Sergeant Ross, they weren't even questioned.
'It seems like Grant is handling things well.'
With the enemy's offensive intensifying, watchmen seeking redeployment poured into headquarters.
Amid such chaos, it was nearly impossible to spot an infiltrator.
Of course, Erich had predicted this. The Shadows had already scouted and reported on the situation, so blending in was easier than expected.
Without any real inspection, Erich's group proceeded deeper into the headquarters.
Unlike the outer soldiers fighting valiantly, those inside were in notably good condition.
"Um..."
Sergeant Ross hovered, peeking at Erich's expression. He seemed afraid to speak up again and risk another hit.
"Go ahead. Get your resupply before redeployment."
"Th-thank you, sir!"
Sergeant Ross and his subordinates quickly hurried away, almost fleeing.
Erich and his men looked at their retreating backs and chuckled softly.
Erich then quietly studied the situation inside. He didn't sense the presence of a lich, but a subtle headache had been throbbing since earlier.
Then Barnes spoke up.
"... Feels like I've caught a cold or something."
"That's the effect of psychic waves. Liches emit them naturally. They're impossible to fully conceal."
Erich narrowed his eyes.
That recent headache made it clear: there was a lich here.
In his experience, even if a lich appeared, most ordinary members wouldn't realize it.
The psychic waves they emitted would completely nullify human perception.
Because of this illusion-like power, people killed by liches often didn't even know what killed them.
Sometimes, even if a lich appeared right before their eyes, they'd interpret it as a random passerby....
'The problem now is, where is the lich?'
The spot where the psychic waves were strongest would likely be where the lich was, but he couldn't be sure.
Their specialty was manipulating those waves with cunning precision.
Erich addressed King.
"Where's the lich?"
King silently pointed somewhere. That building was about a story larger than the rest, with an inner wall within.
If they entered, there would probably be a wide open space inside. It seemed like King had seen the dead gathered there.
'Let's head there for now.'
Erich's group started walking.
Luckily, no one stopped them. Everyone was too drained and battered by battle to bother with conversation.
Moreover, the persistent pulsing headache left them with no energy to talk.
― Shuffle.-
"Hold up."
At that moment, someone called out to Erich. As Erich saw his face, he recognized him instantly.
'Burton....'
A neat, aristocratic-looking fortress commander, yet with a curious vulgarity that made him seem like a marketplace merchant.
Burton scanned Erich up and down.
"The supply unit isn't this way, is it?"
"... I must've made a mistake. My apologies, fortress commander."
"Hmm...."
Burton's gaze moved to the insignia on Erich's shoulder. The senior Watchman badge glinted—he seemed suspicious that such a ranking officer would be wandering around.
But Erich quickly added, "It's just, whenever I come here, I get such a headache I can't think straight."
"... Ah, I suppose that's true for all of us."
Burton slowly nodded. This headache was something everyone at the base experienced.
With that single sentence, Erich erased his suspicion.
"It must be the cold. Make sure to keep warm. If anyone asks, tell them I said you could take extra furs."
"Thank you, fortress commander."
With that, burton moved on. From a subordinate's perspective, fortress commander Burton didn't seem so bad.
'If not for the lich, maybe he would never have rebelled at all.'
A lich was basically a more advanced form of necromancer, yet not just a brute force monster.
They could hide themselves and manipulate even someone as strong-willed as a fortress commander, a force of nature personified.
Among the minions of the Lord of the Dead, liches were considered among the three most troublesome.
The other two, of course, were disasters in their own right.
At any rate, Erich decided to head for the supply post. He'd handled it smoothly, but lingering here would only arouse suspicion.
― Slide.-
Heading for the supply post, Erich's group found a long line. Most soldiers were there to get supplies before returning to the front.
Erich quickly grasped the rotation system they used to send soldiers straight back into battle.
'... No one is really checking anything.'
Once equipped, soldiers simply turned and left. No one inspected them further. This was quite a windfall for Erich.
He spoke to Barnes and the Shadows, "We'll get our supplies here, find a way to stay the night, then search for the lich after dark."
"... But what if we're suspected?"
At Barnes's question, Erich nodded to King. King had already seen the undead army.
If they retraced that route, they could definitely get inside.
Barnes, grasping Erich's intentions, nodded.
"Next!"
After getting their supplies, Erich's group slipped away from the line. Now armed with new gear, they looked every bit ready for combat.
However, Erich needed something different—a way to stay here until nightfall without arousing any suspicion.
'Hm?'
Something caught Erich's eye: a massive building just ahead, used as barracks for the main force.
Seeing guards patrolling the walls as well, a slight smile curled Erich's lips.
'That'll do nicely.'
Erich glanced at the Shadows. In an instant, a handful of Shadows melted away.
In the blink of an eye, only Erich and Barnes remained standing there.
-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】