Chapter 35: The Hidden One?

Chapter 35: The Hidden One?

“You can’t be serious? This situation? Could someone be trying to start the Undead War again?” Constantine frowned.

The youth felt little fear towards zombies… similar things had been shown so often in movies and TV. Though the real thing in front of him carried a horrifying impact thanks to its authenticity, the danger level still didn’t reach what he remembered from horror films. Constantine didn’t have a shotgun, but at least he carried the title of Warlock Apprentice. This wasn’t Earth, helpless against such monsters. Besides, this residence had powerful defenders like a Griffin Knight.

“You said ‘Undead War’? Don’t insult the intelligence of Necromancers! This mastermind is a complete idiot! If this qualifies as an Undead War, then Babau and Kurnem could become the three lords of the Abyss!” Hartdiel’s voice entered the youth’s mind through the Soul Amulet, flat and thick with disappointment… As an old hand at controlling the dead, his only assessment of this attack was utter scorn. “Even if launching an assault, why summon such lowly Zombies? What possible use are they? Useless except for frightening farmers! A few skilled, reasonably brave people could handle hundreds of these low-level things easily… they aren’t even as good as Skeletons!”

“Ah… seems not just an idiot, but a downright madman… He spread the Undead throughout the entire city. That way, they lost even the advantage of swarming. Besides giving Priests who rarely see real action some practice, these corpses have zero offensive power…” The youth agreed, his gaze sweeping the area.

As if confirming Constantine’s logic, before his thoughts fully formed, the gloomy night sky tore open… A long beam of white light burst first from the Temple of Pelo in the east. Then came the Temple of Heironius, the Temple of Cubest… Multicolored flares shot upwards like fireworks at a concert’s end. Though not at war, the scent of Undead in this city of light-worshipping gods ignited a battle alert as surely as if war drums beat!

To Constantine, the attacker reached a special kind of foolishness. Many dared use Necromancy on the Continent, but to try it here? The capital of its largest nation, right in the Noble district? Success seemed unlikely even before considering the consequences. Hayton was one of the Continent’s greatest cities, full of Temples. Clerics and Priests of all stripes were natural enemies of the Undead. The Paladins, with their Divine Magic and formidable skills? Forget it. Phoenix proudly called itself an ancient bastion of light. Its people feared Necromancers more than Demons from the Abyss. Unless the summoner fled immediately, he’d never escape the immense public surveillance… the usual watchful net.

But the limits of Necromancy meant the summoner couldn’t be too far away. Cut off from his energy, the Undead would lose their false life and turn to dust. Powerful Undead might be exempt, but Zombies definitely faced this restriction.

Did he have a death wish? An absurd thought popped into Constantine’s head.

The youth shook his head, bewildered… Generally, Necromancers clung desperately to life, few eager to meet their deity. Furthermore, dozens of these clusters existed across the city right now. Such widespread, low-level summons suggested more than one hand. A whole group of Necromancers courting death? Even less likely than everyone traveling to another world together.

“Besides giving citizens gossip, this attack has zero value. At this rate, long before the Paladins and Clerics of the Temple of the Three Gods arrive, these weak Undead Creatures will be swept away. Household Knights from well-equipped families might finish the job even faster…” The Lich stated flatly. His words proved true. Stabilizing, servants swiftly took cover in safe areas. The Griffin Knight moved freely, hacking down nearing Zombies like a storm scything wheat! A dozen fell before him.

Two more Griffin Knights rushed from the mansion just then, leaving the battle looking decidedly one-sided.

“Can you sense where the Zombie controller is? I know such low-tier Undead must be controlled nearby…” Constantine suddenly asked. An inexplicable alert stirred within him. The situation felt poised for something stranger. Scanning the area yielded no evidence to support this hunch.

“Can’t help. With a real body, such weak magic ripples would be obvious… But trapped in this cursed rock? Only distant sight works well; my other senses are weak! Unless he’s within thirty feet… Or you could give me your body?” The pupil-like mark on the amulet rolled lazily. The Lich sounded resigned but couldn’t resist that habitual jab.

The unusual happened while these two onlookers talked…

The first Griffin Knight stood amidst over twenty fallen Zombie corpses. Their slow speed left them helpless. A second knight now fought nearby. Yet Undead knew no fear. Even with their numbers halved, more slithered forward relentlessly from the dark, drawn by the living!

The Griffin Knight roared, charging several Zombies. He blocked a crude swinging club. His sword flashed back, slicing the Zombie at the waist. The blade entered as smoothly as cutting tofu. One graceful motion relieved the thing of both legs! It gurgled a cry, staggering backward to fall. The knight pressed on instantly toward his next foe, not bothering to check his work—such opponents meant as much as straw dummies, unworthy of attention…

He stepped forward. The bisected Zombie behind him suddenly moved!

The withered corpse billowed outward. In seconds, it inflated like an overfilled balloon! Grey skin stretched taut, hints of sickly red showing through. Its twisted form became more hideous!

The watching servants screamed in unison! Their cry alerted the knight. Shocked, he leaped back, raising his Shield defensively!

Too late. With a muffled plop, the balloon-thing exploded! Shattered bone, rotted flesh, and thick streams of rancid green liquid rained down over thirty feet!

Though swift, the knight couldn’t outpace the spattering. Landing, Constantine noticed several spots of ooze on his armor. Luck favored him; his breastplate and helmet shielded him. One splash hit his left forearm, barely skin deep.

Then came a scream as if bitten by the deadliest viper!

It became a choked gasp instantly. Wildly, he raised his sword… and hacked off his own shield arm at the elbow! Elite of the northwest, he showed no hesitation. His judgment was sound. Blood gushed crimson from the shoulder stump, but the severed arm oozed black, thick sauce-like liquid!

It wasn’t over. Reversing his sword, the knight slashed the leather straps of his breastplate and helmet, shedding them all! Onlookers gasped again—they saw white smoke rising from the discarded armor! Ground splattered with fluid burned black, releasing a stomach-turning stench!

“Oh… now this is no fool’s work…”

Boredom faded from Hartdiel’s tone. Interest sparked. His knowledge proved vast. One glance seemed enough. “A simplified version of a ‘death throe’ spell. Makes the dead explode. Normally weak damage, but this specially prepared corpse? Different. Much different.”

“Attacks metal this fast? The corrosion and poison are terrifying… Plus, it’s brilliant psychological warfare…” Constantine’s brow furrowed. Nothing like the undead Lich, he felt ice creep down his spine in those few seconds!

The Zombie master’s methods radiated chilling cruelty. Forget the unheard-of corrosive venom—the sheer unpredictability was nightmare fuel. Unexploded bombs have greater power than the blast itself. The U.S. coalition, top gear worldwide, floundered against Iraqi suicide bombers, fear rampant yet losses high… They had massive firepower. These knights only had swords, shorter range than a basic pistol Zombies outclassed terrorists in terror factor and fearlessness.

Luckily, Constantine’s window offered a close view… He moved his hands and began chanting the Magic Missile spell…

Colorful orbs streaked out, smashing into the heads of Zombies emerging from darkness. Heads burst in sickening crunches. The Undead fell, their feeble Soulfire guttering into final peace… Then thumps boomed repeatedly! Thick green liquid seared grass, billowing acrid fumes. Under the night wind, the stink alone proved a vicious weapon!

These explosives caused little harm. Constantine targeted distant Zombies.

“Fall back inside! Use arrows! Aim for the head!”

Shouting the command, Constantine turned from the window—he could do no more. As a Sorcerer just learning second-level spells, he’d exhausted his five allowed first-rank spells. Only a solid eight-hour rest or deep Meditation would replenish his power.

His one remaining spell slot? A Spellcaster always keeps a reserve. The value of it, Hartdiel’s recent lesson echoed.

But now, Constantine caught faint sounds. Footsteps. Slow, dragging. Leather scraping wood. Wind-rattled breathing… “Lowest Undead, Zombies hunt not by sight. They sense the life energy of the living. Beware…” the Lich warned.

“Damnation! Zombies inside? Back door breach?” Constantine cursed. Could it be servants? The Duke ran his Western Frontier household with military discipline. After the first sharp alarm, servants gathered in key areas. Frightened cries and running steps had swiftly organized back to ordered readiness. This new sound felt wrong.

He darted to the wardrobe. Swiftly, he armed himself: Scimitar at his waist, Sleeve Crossbow lashed to his forearm, scroll case clipped beside it. Over his hands went the wondrous gloves that enhanced agility… Remembering the corrosive poison, he dug out thick work gloves and pulled them on over the other pair. Speed was vital; losing it due to damaged gloves wouldn’t do.

“Young Master! Mr. Constantine! Are you there?” Pounding rattled his door. An urgent, familiar voice called outside. Constantine relaxed slightly: one of his regular servants. He started for the door. Hartdiel spoke first: “If I were you… I wouldn’t open it myself. Find a strategic spot. Mage Hand often settles troublesome surprises…”

The bolt clicked open under unseen force. The door flung wide. A panicked face peered in—a harmless-looking man in his thirties flushed with anxiety: “Master, apologies! Please come quickly! Down to the main hall! Unsafe even inside! Maybe Zombies at the windows! The knights say the large hall is safer!”

“Fine then,” Constantine muttered, securing the Sleeve Crossbow as he habitually stepped forward.

Instinct screamed danger the next second. He bent forward sharply!

His body acted before his mind. It saved him. A thin shadow sliced the air with vicious speed where his head had been! Those magic gloves proved their worth; enhanced agility saved him. He caught himself with one hand, rolling alertly into a crouch, other hand grabbing his Scimitar hilt!

His foe gave him no opening.

Another dark blur whistled past his face! Constatine jerked his head back purely by reflex. Missing by a hair’s breadth felt horrifying—enough to rip five bloody lines! He leaped back instantly. “You…” Constantine frowned. The servant was unrecognizable. His face twisted inhumanly! Body hunched, arms hung limply, fingers curling into monstrous claws!

The word hardly left Constantine’s lips before the thing became a blur! Panicked, Constantine ripped at his scroll case. An unsealed scroll ripped apart in his hand!

Simultaneously, the creature launched itself in another impossibly fast move! Limbs formed a cage mid-air! Constantine umphed! The thing landed, driving him backward! Gripping his shoulders, its throat produced a grating growl! Its mouth stretched open to snapping point!

Utter horror! Inside the servant’s deformed mug gaped rows of jagged, shark-like teeth! They lunged straight for Constantine’s throat!

CRACK!

The brutal bite met only thin air. An invisible shield sparked at contact. The monstrous attacker strained furiously, growling like a rabid animal determined to bite down!