152: Brutal fighting

Chapter 150: A Brutal Battle

The column of flame reaching for the sky was slowly fading.

Vanka knew that the Undead had not been completely eradicated.

The Night Mist was re-forming, and many ghouls had used the mist to escape the previous impact.

Soon, a new horde of corpses would attack again, like rats fleeing a burning building.

However, in that brief moment, she reveled in her victory.

She was no longer afraid of them.

Once, she, like those fanatics, lived without dignity.

But now, she stood firm, a resolve she couldn't quite articulate welling up within her.

We are strong.

The night is a place without light, but we will fight it with power.

She placed her foot on the skull of a ghoul warrior and crushed it down.

The bone first bent, then cracked, and finally shattered into fragments.

The eerie smile on its rotting face also shattered, turning into a pile of debris and dust.

“For Mother Earth,” she said, making the gesture of Mother Earth across her chest.

Though she had uttered these words countless times in her life, sometimes as a lifeless murmur, sometimes even as a blasphemous question.

But this time, she truly believed them from the bottom of her heart.

It was Arthur who made her believe again that the gods still favored them, these pathetic mortals.

Then, she pushed aside the soldier she had saved earlier and hurried along the wall towards the ladder leading down into the city.

As if by unspoken agreement, Flora made the same move.

“Where are you going?” the soldier called out behind her. The wall was temporarily safe, and he was planning to rest briefly to prepare for the next assault.

“The city gate is open!” Vanka shouted back.

Her hands gripped Arthur's sword tightly as she continued down, as if that statement alone answered all questions.

The fanatics continued to charge, roaring with words filled with power and hatred.

They poured out of the city gate, led by the veterans, driven by a thirst for slaughter, rushing towards the still-forming mist.

In the mist, the Undead emerged, fully armored ghoul warriors ready to fiercely protect the mist.

The giant wolf cleared a path for the fanatics, then engaged in a fierce struggle with several terrifying flesh golems.

Arthur's party successfully reached the Night Mist.

The fanatics charged at their enemies, pouncing with astonishing savagery.

They hacked with crude weapons, kicked with festering feet, and tore with calloused fingers.

The Undead were slow to react and incredibly weak.

The first wave of ghouls was swallowed by this sudden torrent; some were knocked to the ground, others trampled into pools of blood.

The fanatics also sustained injuries in the melee, either infected by the mist or pierced by enemy blades.

The two armies, like two great rivers, burst through fragile dams, merging into a tangled mass of struggling limbs and flashing metal.

Arthur pushed into the heart of the enemy, advancing with firm steps.

Drax and Jessica stayed close by his side.

“What is salvation? What is honor? What is self?”

Behind him, a thunderous response echoed from the crowd, making the air tremble and the ground shake.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

After the initial charge subsided, the fanatics began to fall one after another.

Under the cover of the Night Mist, the ghouls attacked them with a grim, almost silent brutality.

It proved that the further away from the ley line power, the harder these ghouls were to kill.

Only by beheading them or almost completely dismembering them could they be stopped.

Even when severely wounded—diseased limbs torn from their torsos, or swollen bellies ripped open—they would still press forward, extending long claws or dragging rusty blades.

However, the fanatics were equally unstoppable. Unlike the townsfolk and warriors of Mist Town, they faced their enemies without fear.

They ignored almost fatal wounds, chanting madly and charging desperately, just to deliver the next blow.

Even when cut down, they would crawl on all fours in the mud, biting at enemy ankles and tearing at tendons and bones.

When their cleavers and meat hooks were knocked away, they used their fingers and teeth as weapons, just like their enemies.

This slaughter-like battle was horrifying.

Neither side had any concept of fear, retreat, or restraint. Eyes were gouged out, throats ripped open, ribs hooked out, jaws smashed.

A ghoul warrior stabbed a screaming fanatic through the abdomen with a sword, then twisted the blade, carving a huge gash in his torso.

The man's upper body exposed a glistening mass of internal organs. He let out a bloody roar of defiance, desperately grabbing the assailant's ankle and dragging him to the ground.

With his last surge of fanatical strength, he snapped the enemy's skull clean off its spine with a 'crack'.

Both fell together, becoming an expanding pool of flesh and bone fragments.

Perhaps left unchecked, these two armies would eventually destroy each other.

But there was one difference between them, and that was Arthur.

On the battlefield, wherever he went, the fanatics' fighting became even more fervent.

They shouted his name as they fought, still battling even as their limbs were paralyzed and their weapon swings became wild and uncoordinated.

He always led them, even as they charged forward with all their might, he always remained at the forefront.

His staff and holy book shone brightly, and the divine spells he cast left trails of destruction across the battlefield.

And his guardians worked hard to ensure their lord could reach the center of the mist. Drax tossed ghoul bodies high into the night sky, tearing them to pieces, then ignored the remaining ghouls, leaving them for others to clear.

He himself continued to advance, striving to keep up with Arthur's pace.

They moved further and further from the city gate, carving a long path of ruin through the ranks of the corrupted.

As more and more ghouls were drawn into the confrontation with the fanatics and their unyielding priest, the attack on the city walls gradually weakened.

A lumbering figure lumbered towards Arthur, gripping a heavy halberd with both hands.

This fellow must have been a giant in life, his moon-pale flesh still adorned with a tattered legion uniform.

He must have been a member of the Amn army that campaigned here a century ago.

Its heavy jaw hung open, a faint light spilling from its mouth like a candle in a lantern, and its remaining skin was covered in black ulcers and contusions.

It let out a silent roar, swinging its halberd directly at Arthur's throat.

Jessica quickly brought up her warhammer, blocking the blow and shattering the halberd shaft.

Before the monster could react, he lunged forward, swinging the hammer in a wide arc again, sending the monster stumbling backward.

The terrifying creature nearly fell but somehow regained its balance.

This allowed Jessica to free one hand and smash her clenched fist hard into its face.

Its skull instantly shattered and scattered, revealing a mass of dried brain.

Jessica delivered a kick, and the headless corpse crashed to the ground. Then, he turned and swept aside two other advancing ghoul warriors.

He narrowed his eyes, searching for Arthur's figure.

Seeing two veterans still guarding Arthur, his heart relaxed slightly.

The halflings led by Old Joe threw Blazing Fire Glue at the surging Undead to prevent being completely surrounded.

Everyone understood that once the Night Mist was dispelled, these unprotected Undead would weaken under the influence of the ley line power.

Then this seemingly impossible battle could be rewritten.

And everyone also knew that only Arthur could stop all of this.