Chapter 19
Gert gazed at the scene before him in awe.
"Aim for the head. If you can't hit the head, aim for the legs."
"Yes! Understood!"
If words could contain magic, this must be what it looks like.
At Aiden Starfive's command, the soldiers began moving in perfect unison.
Soldiers nocked arrows and aimed for the legs or the head.
"Brown hair, imbue sections of the wall with holy power."
"Not all of it?"
"Don't be reckless when you lack the ability. Blonde, use your money to bolster the soldiers across the board and assess the Necromancer's abilities."
"That'll cost a lot of money..."
"The Imperial Family will reimburse you. Pink hair, lead the mercenaries as a strike force and head for the dangerous spots first."
"Leave it to me! What about you?"
"I'll handle things myself."
The people who heard him ran to their assigned posts.
They moved in perfect unison.
Overwhelming authority.
The way of a tyrant who never listened to dissent.
But in a crisis, it was also the most efficient way.
Thinking so, Gert looked around.
Priests rushed toward the Saint Candidate.
"Saint Candidate Lydia! We'll help you!"
"As Lord Starfive instructed, inscribe holy magic into some of the stones!"
"Will that really be enough?"
"Don't doubt him. Just do it!"
"Understood!"
The Saint Candidate and the priests hurried about, infusing the stones with holy magic.
"Hand over all your gold!"
"Th-this is the wedding ring I was going to give my lover if I made it back alive...!"
"This is the money I saved to buy my daughter a dress...!"
"You need to survive before you can have a wedding or a dress! If you don't want your loved ones to receive these as keepsakes, hand them over right now!"
"Ghh... Sorry, Sydney!"
"I'm sorry, Rebecca! For being such a useless father...!"
The blonde princess was collecting gold trinkets, her red eyes flashing.
Only after even pulling the gold teeth from an old veteran whose teeth had all rotted away did the princess lay out the mountain of gold trinkets and take a single gold coin from her purse.
Her hand trembled as she held the coin, her gaze never leaving it.
Her face looked as if she were carrying all the pain in the world.
Watching the gold coin, Gert thought she might not react this strongly even if she lost someone she loved.
She squeezed her eyes shut, then shouted and dropped the coin.
"In the name of the gold coin of the Crown Kingdom, I offer this! May everyone here have swift feet and keen eyesight!"
The gold coin and countless gold trinkets vanished as if by magic.
At the same time, a lightness welled up in his legs.
His eyesight, too, improved as if by magic, until he could make out the faces of people far away one by one.
As he stared at his legs in bewilderment,
"Gert!"
Someone called his name.
It was Aila.
Before he knew it, Aila was looking at him, leading the mercenaries.
She, too, was looking at him with bloodstained gloves and eyes alight with excitement.
She'd activated her Stigma.
"Let's go!"
"...Yes!"
Gert ran after her.
His gaze shifted to the man issuing orders—or rather, the person somewhere between a boy and a man.
The man hadn't shown even a trace of tension despite everything that had happened.
'Dad!'
As he ran, it seemed as if a cheerful voice he could no longer hear was ringing in his ears.
Ignoring the dull ache in his heart, Gert pushed himself to run faster.
It felt as if only by driving his body like this could he forget the pain.
At last, he looked at the man again.
He was still giving orders with a steady gaze and expression.
To the very end.
*
I raised my head and looked at the Necromancer.
It raised its hand once more,
[The Necromancer has inflicted you with the Fear of Death!]
[You resisted with your high Mental Fortitude!]
[Your Stigma activates!]
[Everyone feels your oppressive presence!]
[The Fear of Death has vanished!]
The status window appeared again, then vanished.
An exchange of attacks and defenses, repeated over and over.
This is the danger of fighting the Necromancer.
Fear of Death.
A debuff that strikes at a random moment and stops allies from acting for one turn.
If fear makes your allies freeze, the game's difficulty skyrockets from there.
And, fortunately, I'm the one who can stop that fear right now.
Watching the status window repeatedly show that I've resisted, I let out a sigh of relief.
Thank goodness. I'm really glad I dumped everything into Mental Fortitude.
In other words, all that's left is to endure this attack.
Whether I can stop them or not is beside the point; one thing is certain: this situation is absurdly screwing me over.
Why am I being made to stop the Necromancer right from the start? Why am I suddenly being given a mission normally reserved for the commander-in-chief?
In <Dark Fantasy Saga>, defensive battles are basically about holding off waves.
Of course, those battles are still fought with a four-person party, but the course of a siege changes depending on the characters' traits and classes.
And those three are each pretty good in their respective roles.
It's just that they're all boss monsters.
As I watched them all do their assigned jobs, just as I'd asked, I opened my mouth again.
"Have the trenches been dug?"
"Yes!"
By now, someone who seemed like an adjutant had come up beside me, relaying updates.
The Necromancer's traits.
"They have no intelligence, so use the trenches as traps. Tell the mages to cast fire magic once the corpses fall in."
"Understood!"
The adjutant saluted, shouted loudly in response to my words, then ran off.
Nobody questioned me or voiced an objection.
Why was some greenhorn cadet telling them what to do?
No one asked that.
Why was the Saint Candidate sweating nervously and doing as he told her? Why was the princess also grumbling while going around spending all that money?
No one asked those questions, either.
They simply trusted him and did as they were told.
And that was exactly the trust I needed right now.
How long did we have to hold out?
I was thinking that when—
-Flap!
The sound of wings beating reached me near my ear.
I turned to look behind me and saw a pigeon flying toward me.
A pigeon?
I narrowed my eyes and saw a note tied to its leg.
Wasn't this the way party members in the intelligence unit often communicated?
Thinking that, I watched the pigeon,
The pigeon met my eyes, stopped in midair, then spun around and flew away at full speed.
As it fled, it deftly scraped the note tied to its leg loose with its foot and tossed it at me.
What was that?
I walked over and slowly picked up the note.
<It will take approximately an hour and a half from the time this letter is received for the main force to arrive and provide relief.>
<If necessary, we recommend fleeing. Do not forget that academy cadets always take precedence over others.>
Once again, pretty handwriting carried a message that was anything but pleasant.
Had this really been sent by someone in the intelligence unit?
To me? Why?
I kept squinting at the note, but that didn't mean I could figure anything out.
Besides, this handwriting looked awfully familiar.
Wasn't this the mysterious self-proclaimed childhood friend who'd been leaving me potions?
Could Aiden Starfive's childhood friend really be an intelligence agent?
If that's the case, at least show your face. I've got a lot to ask you.
In any case.
I put the note in my pocket, stood up, and looked ahead.
An hour and a half.
If all I had to do was kill time, that was no problem.
Thinking that, I watched the Necromancer approaching us.
We were now close enough to make out each other's faces clearly.
The army of living corpses was drawing just as near.
Unfortunately—or perhaps naturally—it didn't seem to feel the slightest fear of me.
I tightened my grip on my sword.
If it came to it, I'd have to go out and fight, too.
Run away?
I'd survive for now. But if the Southern Front fell anyway, it'd be no different from a slow suicide.
Especially with the defensive battles that would follow the Necromancer...
A woman's face, her neck split open and wearing an eerie smile, rose in my mind.
No, let's not think about anything bad. We don't know yet.
-Thud! Thud! Thud!
The sound grew louder, and before I knew it, the adjutant was standing beside me again.
"They're coming!"
"I know."
I climbed onto the wall. I needed to see what was happening on the battlefield, at least.
I turned to look around.
The archers, mages, mercenaries, and other soldiers on the wall were all looking at me.
No one said a word.
That was understandable. Their eyes were full of fear.
I couldn't tell whether it came from the Fear of Death or some other fear I didn't know about.
But one thing was certain.
I was the one who had to act now.
"Get ready."
At the sound of my voice, everyone prepared at their posts.
The archers nocked their arrows, the mages began chanting spells, and the soldiers raised their spears and shields.
The Necromancer's eyes flashed again,
[Your Stigma activates!]
A menacing aura poured from my body, suppressing the chill.
At the same time,
[Even a path only a tyrant can lead is still a path. You have begun walking it.]
[Awe rises!]
[Awe: 100%]
[VIT permanently increased by 1!]
[Awe: 0%]
Strength welled up in my body, and I clenched my fists.
I felt as if I had grown a little bigger.
I turned and met the eyes of the people around me.
No one was trembling with fear.
They faced it with a single purpose.
To not die.
To make it home alive.
I slowly opened my mouth.
"Fire."
"Fire!!!!"
No sooner had I finished speaking than the other soldiers shouted, released their bowstrings, and launched their spells.
The arrows, more numerous than the corpses, blackened the sky, and blazing red fireballs began to decorate the battlefield like stars.