Chapter 223: Chapter 108: A Resounding Victory! Lynch the Diabolical Strategist
Another officer, his face filled with terror, also tried to reason with him. "Sir, that Lynch... his main army is definitely pursuing us from behind! If we get held up here, they’ll surround us. Then, if the Undead inside the fortress charge out, we’ll be caught in a pincer attack... We... we’ll be finished!"
These words were like buckets of ice water, dousing the flames of rage that had nearly consumed Angus’s reason.
He clenched his teeth, staring at the fortress that was so close, yet so unreachable. He stared at the mocking silhouettes of the Undead on the walls, at the arrogant purple-haired woman on the command tower...
Hatred!
An overwhelming wave of hatred threatened to consume him.
But he knew his officers were right. Attacking the fortress now would be nothing short of suicide.
As things stood, there was only one path to survival left...
He slowly, painfully turned his neck, his gaze falling to the southeast. That was the path to Sardinia Province: Gray Claw Gorge.
"Retreat..." The word felt as if it weighed a ton, forced from between his clenched teeth. "We’re retreating to Gray Claw Gorge... to Sardinia!"
Although fleeing back in such a disgraceful manner would surely lead to harsh questioning and punishment from his superiors—he might even be stripped of his command and cast aside—it was still better than letting all these brothers, who had followed him for years, be buried in this foreign valley.
"Retreat! All units, turn around! Target: Gray Claw Gorge! Move!"
The exhausted and utterly demoralized troops began to move again, changing direction and fleeing in a panic toward Gray Claw Gorge.
From the command tower, Amadis’s relentless voice pursued them, carrying far on the night wind.
"Aww, leaving so soon? Brother Angus, don’t go! Come on, come on, just try attacking~ I’m very weak, really, super easy to beat! I’m not lying! These Skeletons of mine are just for show. They’ll shatter with a single touch!"
"Hey, don’t run away~ Come back! Let’s talk some more..."
Angus turned a deaf ear, not even glancing back, and simply urged his troops to speed up.
He wished he could cover his ears. That woman’s voice was more maddening than the whispers of the Undead.
Like a flock of startled birds, the retreating army surged frantically into Gray Claw Gorge.
Soon, the army was deep inside. The surrounding terrain grew steep, and the rocky cliffs on both sides became covered in dense forest.
However, they would soon understand the meaning of true despair.
The gorge became a corridor of nightmares.
SWOOSH! SWOOSH! SWOOSH!
They hadn’t gone far into the gorge when a sparse volley of arrows rained down from the slopes on both sides, taking out a few Soldiers who had fallen behind.
"Ambush!" Panic rippled through the ranks again.
"Don’t stop! Keep moving forward!" Angus roared, his eyes bloodshot.
’Stopping now means death.’
The men scrambled forward desperately.
However, they hadn’t run far before a small squad of Skeleton Cavalry suddenly charged out from around a bend up ahead.
They didn’t charge head-on, but simply harassed them by throwing a few bone Javelins before quickly disappearing into the dense forest at the side.
Immediately after, dozens of zombies surged out of a hollow to the side, roaring as they charged the army’s flank.
The exhausted, routed army barely managed to fend them off, leaving a dozen more bodies behind before repelling the zombies.
Then came traps, tripwires, and boulders rolling down from overhead...
The attacks weren’t fierce enough to block their path, but they were like a festering wound, relentless and ever-present.
Each attack claimed a few more lives, causing the army’s already-collapsing morale to drop even further. The Soldiers’ stamina was rapidly depleted, and terror spread through their hearts like wildfire.
It was as if that Necromancer, Lynch, had known all along that he would flee through Gray Claw Gorge. He had laid countless traps and ambushes. Though each attack was small in scale, they repeatedly bled the Angus Department, draining what little stamina and willpower they had left.
Angus didn’t dare to stop for a moment. He could only squeeze out his last ounce of strength, urging his troops desperately onward, ever onward.
He could feel Lynch’s main army following them, not too far and not too close, ready to pounce and deliver the killing blow at any moment.
They ran from the darkest hour before dawn, through the dim twilight, until the eastern sky grew pale and the first golden rays of the rising sun finally pierced the clouds...
The sounds of battle and the attacks seemed to gradually fade, and it felt as though they had put some distance between themselves and their pursuers.
Of the nearly seven hundred men Angus had when the retreat began, fewer than three hundred now remained by his side.
And every one of them was in tatters, their armor askew, their faces—caked with mud and blood—etched with exhaustion. Their eyes were numb and hollow, their legs moving only by survival instinct.
But no matter what, it seemed... they were about to escape!
Ahead lay the exit of Gray Claw Gorge.
They just had to pass through that narrow opening, and beyond it was a relatively open valley. A little further, and they would be in the territory of Sardinia Province.
Hope, like a tiny flame, rekindled in the hearts of the survivors.
Many struggled to lift their heads, their gazes fixed on the gorge’s exit, which grew ever closer—a symbol of freedom. Their chapped lips moved, and light returned to their eyes.
Angus also let out a small sigh of relief.
Though his heart was still filled with bitterness and unease, at least... he was still alive, and some of his brothers had survived with him.
He raised his head and looked toward the mouth of the gorge, preparing to give his brothers one last morale boost.
However, in the very instant he looked up, the flicker of relief and hope on his face froze. He went rigid, as if petrified by a tremendous shock.
In that moment, his mind went completely blank, all thought ceasing.
There, at the highest point of the gorge’s exit, a figure stood silently on a jutting rock.
Backlit by the morning sun, his silhouette was hazy and edged in light, but his deep black Mage Robe was unmistakable.
The hem of his robe fluttered gently in the morning breeze.
The large hood of his robe was down, revealing a young and handsome face.
A Skeletal Hellhound mount stood quietly by his side. A large contingent of elite Skeleton Guards stood motionless as statues around the rock.
And at that moment, on the slopes and behind the rocks on both sides of the gorge, a tide of Skeleton Soldiers had already taken every advantageous position. The spears and swords in their hands gleamed in the morning light.
On the higher vantage points, Skeleton Archers and Javelin-throwers were already in formation, and he could even see the figures of a few Skeleton Mage units among them.
Every route of escape was completely cut off.
But what chilled Angus to the bone was the sight of a tall Skeleton, its Soul Fire flickering in its eye sockets, holding the very War Axe that had belonged to Scarface in life!
That Skeleton... it was clearly Scarface Craig!
The sunlight was warm, but Angus felt as if his blood had turned to ice, freezing him solid where he stood, unable to move.
The young, black-robed Mage lowered his head slightly, looking down upon Angus and his battered remnants. His voice was as calm and casual as if he were just making small talk.
"Angus..."
"You’re a bit slow~"
"I’ve been waiting for you... for a long time."
...
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