153: Day Will Come (Update)

Chapter 151: Daylight Will Surely Come (Catch-up Update)

“My Lord!”

For some reason, this cry pierced through the deafening sounds of battle, like a clear bell cutting through the clamor.

Arthur heard the voice, his steps involuntarily slowed, and his gaze quickly swept backward, towards the direction from which the sound came.

Amidst the fire-filled mist, the thick smoke from the Blazing Fire Glue permeated the entire battlefield, blurring all surrounding sights.

For a moment, all he saw was a group of people fighting with all their might.

Then, Vanka's figure appeared, clumsily yet fiercely hacking and slashing among the surrounding corpses.

Flora, along with the women and children of the Pioneer Group, followed closely beside her.

Each person's face held a determined expression, fighting with all their strength, trying to keep pace with the men.

Arthur did not drive them away; instead, he offered them encouragement and blessings.

At this moment, Drax timely slammed into another Undead trying to attack Arthur.

He was panting, covered in wounds big and small, yet his eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Everyone is here,” he said, “We will fight alongside you.”

Arthur saw Vanka laugh at him, her brown hair flying in the wind, and the sword in her hand danced deftly, as if it were just a stick casually wielded by a child.

“Mother Earth blesses!”

She shouted loudly, simultaneously blocking a cleaver's swing, then forcefully pushed away the Undead wielding the blade.

Flora quickly rushed to her side, blocking between her and her opponent, smashing the Undead's skull with a punch, then immediately pulled a child nearby, shielding her by her side.

The living and the dead still fought madly around them, tightly packed together in the brutal struggle.

“Keep moving forward!” Arthur shouted loudly, his eyes burning with anger.

Drax roared in response, and as a scrawny Undead staggered towards Arthur, he unhesitatingly charged forward, slamming his head into its face.

The Undead's loose legs snapped, and it fell to the ground. Holy flames rained down from above, landing on the evil flesh, instantly igniting a blazing fire, and the Undead screamed in agony.

Arthur quickened his pace, the tragedy in the church constantly flashing before his eyes.

The cries of fallen believers seemed to echo in his ears, and the stench of decay and blood filled his nostrils, making him feel nauseous.

As a modern man, he had never experienced such a brutal battle.

But he knew he could not stop, not just for himself, but for those who fought for him.

“We're almost there,” he muttered to himself, “I will save you all.”

Arthur strode towards the enemy, understanding that for every minute he delayed, someone would lose their life.

At this moment, he could already see that ugly figure.

As they drew closer to the core of the Night Mist, the Undead's resistance became increasingly frantic.

However, the power of the ley line protected them, preventing them from being confused or corrupted by the Night Mist.

The nauseating monster was desperately gathering the Night Mist.

It also saw Arthur—the human who had once defeated it—approaching step by step.

“Great King of Death!” Luke shouted loudly, “Grant me strength!”

“Your master cannot save you!” Arthur roared.

Luke twisted his body, trying to escape, but Arthur was like a sharp sword, plunging straight into the heart of the tide of corpses.

The light emanating from the priest's body kept the Undead creatures at bay, forcing Luke to use sheer willpower to compel them to obstruct Arthur.

He thought to himself, if only he was still here, he could have helped him relieve a lot of pressure.

Luke eagerly awaited the King of Death to grant him more power, but he only encountered the terrifying giant wolf.

The giant wolf, which had killed the flesh puppet, arrived to help Arthur, clearing the last of the Undead guards and blocking Luke's escape route.

The ugly monster waved its hands, trying to resist, but its frail body was a world apart from its brother's.

It had been transformed by its ancestor into an envoy for controlling the Night Mist, not a combatant.

Arthur channeled the power from the Holy Tome, once again shattering the lantern.

This time, with the help of the ley line's power, the lantern's power was completely dispersed.

Luke's body began to burn, and he screamed, attempting one last desperate struggle, but was knocked to the ground by the giant wolf's paw.

As he was utterly destroyed, the Night Mist finally dissipated completely, and the ley line's power was able to sweep across the entire area unimpeded.

Stripped of the Night Mist's protection, the Undead became incredibly weak, and many weaker beings were instantly incinerated by the ley line's power.

The sun was slowly rising, and victory was imminent.

Jessica led the Pioneer Group members, striding through the enemy's heavy encirclement, like the prow of a large sailboat, cutting through the enemies.

The Undead still hobbled towards them, trying to grasp at their weapons, trying to claw at their clothes, but were ultimately all killed.

Drax was still fighting tirelessly; fatigue seemed to have no effect on him.

He didn't know how long he had been fighting, at least several hours.

Yet he still moved as quickly and powerfully as he had at the start of the battle, using his own strength to wield the weight of his axe.

Once the Night Mist dispersed, the Undead became slow and dull in their actions.

Their numbers were no longer an advantage; without command, they were like fish on a chopping block.

Following closely behind were the fanatics, still screaming loudly, like a large group of frenzied children.

They charged fearlessly at the Undead, tearing them to shreds with their crude weapons.

Their eyes were wide, their mouths agape, immersed in ecstasy and boundless rage.

The fanatics swept everything before them like a storm, clad in tattered robes, stumbling yet steadfastly charging towards the enemy.

Arthur didn't know how many people had answered his call, but there were certainly over a hundred, and now less than a third of them were alive.

Their awakened fervent faith had not protected them from harm.

On the contrary, they charged unreservedly into seemingly impossible positions, into the blades that awaited them.

As if they were tender wheat, easily pushed aside.

Even when disemboweled and dying, they still crawled forward tenaciously, desperately clutching the dirt, intent only on charging towards the enemy.

So, though they died, they achieved great results.

Arthur cast magic to heal the wounded, while praying almost silently.

The ignited ley line power, as well as the power granted by the Wolf Pack, continuously supplied him with magic.

He murmured incantations, casting spells with the ease of eating and drinking.

“Guard the souls of those who have died,” he prayed to the goddess in his heart, “They once possessed mortal flesh, they are your treasures.

“Let them find peace in death, as all your children desire.”

Arthur healed a dying fanatic with magic.

Sariya, guarding by his side, smashed a weak Undead's bald skull with her shield, cracking its ribs.

Before other Undead could approach, she quickly swung her short sword again, preparing to sweep the blade in a wide arc, cutting those creatures down.

They fought for you, like every devout believer.

“Ignite your believers with the fire of restoration, let them kill in your name, to find their place in this world.

“For those who have fallen, please remember their sacrifice for the immortal glory of this land.

“Please guide their souls, just as you guide the devout believers.”