154: The Dust Settles (Update)

Chapter 152: Dust Settles (Correction Update)

The undead never retreated.

Even as the morning light spread across the scarred fields, they continued their desperate fight on the road to Mist Town;

Even at the last moment, they still fought fiercely, trying to bring down the reckless individuals who charged at them with fire in their eyes.

Arthur moved through the battlefield, following a long and winding stream, leading his team up a small slope made of charred, broken wood.

As he strode forward, his boots sank deep into the churned mud.

Sweat dripped down his neck, splashing as he gestured with his hands while casting spells.

Only when the team reached the top of the slope, breaking through the remaining resistance, did he finally manage to stop.

On both sides of him, his loyal fanatics continued to surge forward.

Many of them were on the verge of death from their wounds, yet they still fought with the same joyful and savage vigor as when they first rushed out of the city gates.

Arthur looked back at the path he had taken.

Below, there were no enemies left on the land surrounding the town. The black earth around the city walls was piled high with bodies, both living and undead.

The last embers still burned, sending plumes of foul smoke into the rising haze of the morning.

The walls were covered in ash and smoking oil stains, but they still stood firm.

Some of Mist Town’s soldiers remained on the city walls,

but most had descended to the ground.

Under his gaze, teams of soldiers moved across the terrain, slowly making their way through dismembered corpses and shattered weapons.

The fanatics had won this arduous battle for them, but the townspeople still feared the last remnants of the undead.

They walked tremblingly through a ruin, seemingly arguing about something among themselves.

Arthur watched the soldiers for a long time, letting his breathing gradually steady, feeling the staff and holy book in his hands grow heavy.

He gazed at the squads, his eyes cautiously moving along their lines, and only after a long while did he withdraw his gaze.

He had his people gather their ranks — they had reached the edge of the Earth Vein’s protective power, and the rest could be left to Mist Town’s soldiers.

On the left flank of the team, there was a figure a head shorter than the others, with a messy head of hair.

She was small and thin, but her face was firm, just like all the excellent members of the Pioneer Group.

Just as Arthur watched her, she tripped over something — probably some half-buried remains or a pile of bones.

He vaguely heard her curses echo across the desolate wilderness.

“You are all safe, we won,” Arthur thought to himself.

His thin lips twitched slightly, and a smile slowly emerged, like the sun rising above the horizon.

Just then, there was a commotion behind him.

Arthur turned around, reflexively raising his staff, his face once again assuming a stern expression.

A man stood before him, emaciated and reeking.

His skin was ashen, like the dawn sky, and covered in ulcers.

Most of his teeth were rotten, and his tattered clothes hung on his bony frame, stained with blood.

His forehead was a bloody mess from a brand. He grinned, his expression like a child on his birthday.

Arthur didn't recognize him at first, then suddenly realized — he was the missionary, and also the first believer to brand himself.

“Priest!” the man shouted, his voice still immersed in the frenzy of slaughter.

He held a severed head in one hand, tightly gripping its dry hair with the other.

The green light that once flickered in the head’s empty eye sockets had long since extinguished.

“Kill them all!” he shrieked, “Purifying fire, earth mother, oh, Holy Mother Earth!”

A string of exclamations almost failed to form a coherent sentence.

As this seemingly madman rambled, others also arrived, joining his ranks.

They rushed towards Arthur, stretching out their arms, blood still dripping from their fingers.

My fanatics, my creations.

Arthur stood up, facing them, his heart filled with sorrow for their plight and current state.

He had used faith to ignite the hope within these people, and then amplified their anger with the power of the Wolf Pack and the Earth Vein.

Now, only anger and faith remained in their hearts.

Of course, before he came among them, they didn't even have that much.

“Priest, Avenger, Protector!”

Their words were chaotic, their linguistic abilities severely weakened by blind fury.

And it was this fury that drove them to acts both heroic and desperate.

Arthur mustered his last bit of strength, guiding the power of the Earth Vein to heal everyone’s injuries.

Overuse of magic had damaged his body, and blood flowed from his nose and eyes.

“You should conserve your strength,” the Wolf Pack’s voice echoed in his mind, “not waste divine power like this.

“The undead have not been completely annihilated, and the Dark Lord’s minions could return at any time.

“Mist Town is not truly safe and could fall at any moment.”

Arthur leaned on his staff and laughed, “Mist Town is right before your eyes, demigod.”

The Wolf Pack did not respond, only watching the young priest with a complex expression.

As time passed, even the fanatics would gradually calm down, succumbing to the need for rest and sleep.

When the fanatics awoke, the worst of the frenzy had passed, but they would never again be as muddled as before.

In their short lives, they had become the sharp tools of a god, giving everything to purify this land.

If Arthur allowed it, they would follow him to the ends of the earth, fighting until death took them.

This was the gift Arthur gave them — experiencing a baptism of death in exchange for hope in life.

They no longer complained about their pains, nor did they dwell on past suffering.

Instead, they dwelled in a vivid world made of pure belief.

The achievements they could make had long surpassed their former selves.

After waking, these fanatics gathered around the priest again.

Arthur extended his hands to them.

“Believers, you have triumphed,” he said, making the earth mother’s prayer gesture with his left hand, “Remember this day.

“Remember that you always possess the great power to overcome evil.

“It is within you, waiting for you to unlock it.”

His solemn gaze swept over the increasing number of supplicants, watching them look back at him with reddened eyes.

“You have always had the power,” Arthur said again.

His tone was more tired than before, yet still imbued with the belief that had awakened these people in Mist Town, “All you need is to believe in yourselves;

“All you need is someone to show you the way to yourselves.

“With Mother Earth, all things are possible.”

His voice then lowered, and his eyes lost focus, as if seeing a scene from long ago.

“All you need,” he said, “all any of us need, is faith.”