Experimental Log of the Crazy Lich - Chapter 191

Chapter 191: Frigid Winter

Even the longest and darkest of nights would end, and no matter how cold the winter was, there would always be the spring, where life would be restored.

Yet sometimes, the morning following a long, dark night would bring not hope but despair. A snow-covered world wasn’t always as beautiful as it sounded—it instead made the frozen corpses even more frightening to behold.

When the first rays of dawn burst through the skies, the people who had been fighting throughout the entire, difficult night noticed that it had finally reached a conclusion. The few who had survived to witness the dawn were definitely lucky enough to be called “favored by fate.”

With the beastmen army not caring about sacrifices and insanely sending more reinforcements, the inner city district had already been lost, and all of the defending human armies had retreated to the final third defense line, which consisted of temporary defensive structures crafted from sandbags and earthen walls. It was also the last lifeline of this city.

The catapults outside the city had already stopped firing. In front of such a long distance, the catapults wouldn’t be able to maintain their accuracy, and the restoration of the light and the halting of the snow caused the beastmen’s air cavalry to fly into the blue sky once more.

It seemed that the beastmen had their victory in the bag, but the current Beastmen Sovereign Eron Bloodaxe didn’t have any joy at being on the edge of victory. His face, instead, was incredibly fatigued.

“…We’ve lost over 70% of our warriors, and countless are seriously injured. Only two of the major tribe leaders have returned, and they’re both gravely injured as well. Among the others, Hamar lost his life in the previous castle siege, and now, Fox King Ven, Wolf King Saustero, and Bear King Ronde have all died in battle. Kamala has disappeared, most likely also…”

Each wave of bad news increased the burden on Eron, but nobody could blame him—the stump of his severed arm, which had been cut off right at the shoulder, was still bleeding. Eron was severely injured from having lost an arm.

As the Beastman Sovereign for all the other tribe leaders, he didn’t avoid the battlefield. The reason that he was able to survive, apart from his outstanding personal combat capabilities, was more reliant on luck.

No matter what generation it was, cruel guerilla warfare battles in cities were the most fatal and dangerous of all. Legend-rank warriors could die at any moment in such chaotic battles, and a single sudden surprise arrow or flying rock could kill off a Saint-ranked mage. The pitch-black night and the pounding snow all over added to the chaos and increased the likelihood of such events occurring.

“We finally made it to morning.”

Eron’s sigh caused all the survivors to nod in agreement. During the battle of last night, the unlucky had died before even knowing what happened while the slightly luckier had at least seen their opponents before dying under their swords.

The sly and clever Fox Tribe Leader Ven was the classic example of an unlucky person. He had been killed by a stray catapult shot from his own side, and two of his personal bodyguards had died along with him, creating a scene that was simply unbearable to look at.

Yet actually, without them realizing it, the beastmen, who had lost themselves in the fervor of battle, had broken one of the most critical maxims of castle sieges—to never force your opponent to the brink of no retreat.

Surrounding the enemy on three sides and leaving one side open as a path of escape was a tactic in this world as well. Giving the opponent a chance to escape would also mean that your own armies wouldn’t be forced to the brink. Fighting against people who had no way out was undesirable, as they would furiously fight to their deaths or at least take you down with them.

On that night, the blizzard and the surrounding beastmen had blocked off all avenues of escape, giving the humans nowhere to retreat. And when they had no chance of escaping with their lives, even a cornered mouse could defeat a cat—so how could those trained military soldiers possibly allow themselves to die worthlessly without fighting back?

“If we can’t escape death in the end, then we have to at least die like warriors; we must take an enemy with us as we die!”

The allied human armies, who were forced to the edge, exploded with incredible combat potential as their fear of the falling of the castle walls transformed into hatred for their mortal enemies. Their spirits, which didn’t fear dying together with their enemies, coupled with the terrain advantage of the city finally started changing the rate of losses on both sides, making the beastmen suffer significant casualties.

Amelia’s flower garden of death named Humility was the rear support; it acted as a death trap again and again, and the sudden ambushes from human warriors within the houses succeeded in killing many beastmen. What happened to the Bear King Londe wasn’t the first example, nor was it the last.

But the beastmen’s rear support had already stopped arriving. When the night turned pitch-black and the combat situation became chaotic, their roughshod siege weapons turned into massive killing machines that wouldn’t separate friend from foe. No matter the generation, dying via friendly fire was one of the most unacceptable methods of death to anyone.

Large-scale hexes and combat magic? If they tried using these in a situation where they couldn’t even see ten meters in front of them, then there was a 50% chance that they would kill their own armies.

And the most dangerous enemy of all was that life-stealing winter chill which imperceptibly crept up on them. In this damned weather where any drop of water would freeze instantly, any cut in their anti-cold weather clothing was fatal, and this wasn’t even mentioning any injuries.

The freezing cold numbed the warriors’ sense of pain, and although those easily unnoticed small injuries wouldn’t become infected in the freezing cold, losing blood and energy because of those tiny injuries would end up being the most fatal of all. There were far too many beastmen who didn’t notice their own injuries and ended up collapsing and dying due to them.

When the beastmen forced the northern human allied armies to the brink, the beastmen also thrust themselves to the edge. The long, long lists of the deceased were shocking to look at— every family had lost some members with the serious amounts of injuries and deaths, and probably over 70% of the tribes would need to undergo restructuring after the war.

Even their current losses were enough for the beastmen to have basically lost in their goal of returning to their original homeland. Even if they won in the end, they would need several generations to rest and recover.

But if Eron and the other beastmen were given a choice right now, even if they knew about the unacceptable number of losses beforehand, they would probably still make the same decision.

“Victory is before us! Defeat them, and we shall be the new masters of the Northlands!”

With what they viewed as victory right before them, how could the beastmen possibly give up?

But their current goal of becoming the masters of the Northlands would have been laughed at as lacking willpower and courage a mere three months ago. After all, back then, the beastmen had fully been intending to conquer all the way back to their homeland and take the war to San Antonio.

Without them realizing it, the cruel reality had woken the beastmen up, and their current combat goal was only to conquer the entire Northlands.

The current beastmen no longer had the willpower to say that they could conquer all the human countries. Only the poor-seeming northern countries and San Antonio’s reinforcements had forced them to such a degree—this caused them to lose the courage to fight against the human mega-empires.

Of course, there was still some misunderstanding here. After this battle, perhaps each country would have to re-evaluate the Northlands’ combat strength, especially the astonishing performance of the East Mist Communal Country in this war. Perhaps even military analysts with the highest standards would no longer dare to call the East Mist Communal Country a weak country.

Princess Knight Reyne, the new generation of magic swordsmen, the Four Elemental Swordcasters, the large self-destructing Roland Titan mechas, the floating airship Borealis, and the cleaner of the battlefield known as Train King—all these new concepts and technologies would definitely help the Mist Kingdom rise to its former status in the Northlands.

Military might also represented diplomatic power. After their solid performance in this war, Roland’s Mist Alliance was also pushed one step to actualization.

And on another level, when the news about the veteran Earth Elemental God Emordilorcan being killed off in his own home turf started spreading, this familiar name of Roland Mist started drawing attention after remaining unnoticed for several hundred years.

Of course, they had to first get past this obstacle before them.

“The beastmen are coming again, aren’t they…”

I could see my own breath in the chilly air as I casually swung my Sacred Sword around to flick off the blood drops from it. This indestructible sword could basically clean itself.

For the northern allied armies that had been struggling all night, the sky’s lightning and the snow stopping were both bad news. This would mean that the beastmen could reorganize themselves again, and those damned air cavalry and siege weapons would be usable. While the humans might be able to have a temporary reprieve, the beastmen would surely come again with a destructive force for a decisive battle.

The movable medium-sized catapults were slowly pushed into the city, as the bloodied elite beastmen soldiers that had survived over a hundred battles treated their own injuries and watched their surroundings with a high degree of vigilance. Even the wind blowing some old tattered curtains would cause these veteran soldiers that had survived the bloody knight to chuck their spears.

And right now, the allied armies’ general commander “Black Bear” Ainro was right behind me, or perhaps I should say he was lying on the ground not far behind me.

Beastmen knew more than just to rush in head-on, but the Cat Tribe’s assassins had found the general command center and had ambushed Ainro. Even though he received assistance in time and managed to luckily survive, the one-eyed general had become completely blind. After receiving three stabs to the right side of his stomach, he was seriously injured to the extent that he was no longer even able to stand.

But luckily for him, he no longer needed to give any particular commands. The only thing he needed to do was shout a single word with all his might.

“Persevere!”

“Persevere! We have no path of retreat! If you want to live, the only way is to kill all these barbaric beasts!”

“Persevere! There’s only injured soldiers, the elderly, the widows, and the young behind us!”

“Persevere! If we lose this battle, our country isn’t even prepared for war—they’ll lose their territory! Our families will also get involved in this endless warfare.”

Yep, persevere. With the battle proceeding to this point, no tactics or arrangements of any kind were necessary any longer; resolute willpower was all that was needed.

“Persevere!”

If a street block was lost? The next street block was already prepared with a new defense line.

A temporary defense wall was knocked over? The next wall had already been constructed.

A squad was slaughtered, and there was an opening in their defense line? The elderly and women that had been ordinary citizens just a moment ago picked up the weapons laying on the ground and filled the gap without saying a word.

“Perhaps it’s the end of humanity and we will be defeated, but you barbaric beasts! You want to conquer this city and have a path to every other northern country? You’ll have to wring every last drop of blood out of each warrior in this city first.”

The young humans with tense expressions didn’t say much, but they used their actions instead to tell those proud and arrogant beastmen just what the northerners and the People of the Mist were like.

“The frigid winter is here, but us northerners have long gotten used to such winters! Even the coldest winter isn’t that difficult for us. Just tolerate it for a little while, hug each other for warmth, and play with our doggies—won’t spring come right after?”

Even though he was now blind, Ainro was making dirty jokes as always. The “doggies” in his joke earlier was actually referring to something perverted, and judging by the loud guffaws coming from the warriors, everyone understood what he meant.

When the sun finally rose slightly, the arriving sounds of footsteps and catapult wheels seemed to proclaim that the final battle was coming.

At this moment, even I had nothing else I could do. I had used every one of my cards. Antuen was too far from here to be of any help, I had used Annie’s squad to block those dark elves, I couldn’t control Xiluo’s forces to begin with, and I had used all of my newly developed war weapons. I had no more moves I could make.

“That damned Emordilorcan! If it wasn’t for him…”

Emordilorcan’s final attack had indeed hit us in our weak spot. If Red Maple Castle were to fall, then there would be nothing I could do.

“Sigh, if only the battle could take ten extra days…”

But there were no ifs on the battlefield. Innumerable famous generals had met their demise in the past due to “what ifs,” as accidents and misfortunes were the favored companions of failure. There was only a small difference between who went to heaven and hell.

I supported myself against the Roland Sacred Sword and stood up again. Ever since “Reyne” had left us unexpectedly, I had temporarily taken over her mid-level commanding position, but by now, I had already used up both the remaining summons of my Sacred Sword for today but still couldn’t overturn the situation.

“My Diligence and Temperance have both died; those damned moon elves! Only they can have such a disgusting control over nature!”

The green-haired witch wasn’t doing all that good either. She had used up all her mana in this battle, and two of her treasured Seven Virtues (well, she had only created three up to now) had died in battle, leaving only Humility alive. It seemed that she was at her limits as well.

Moon Elves were the priest-type tribe of the Elf Kingdom to begin with, and they excelled at communicating with the Spiritual Gods and even True Gods, borrowing their powers to use various high-level Divine Arts.

And since the Moon Elves’ original Guardian God was the Forest God, the nature priests who had used the Forest God’s divine magic for thousands of years naturally excelled in planting and controlling forests. It was only to be expected that eradicating unnatural plants was in the nature of their job.

That was why Amelia had met her natural counter against a nature priest like Atrion and suffered greatly.

“Senior Amelia…”

Her typically neat hair was now messy, and her eyes were filled with bloody red streaks. The witch who hadn’t slept all night was now even scarier-looking than before.

“If the beastmen come up here again, go ahead and leave. I don’t believe that you have no way to escape.”

“I can leave any time I want, of course, but what about you? Don’t tell me you intend to be like a certain idiot knight and die together with the city?”

“Me? I’m the Undying Roland; how could I possibly die here?”

“Hmph, I’m the ‘The Naughty Storm Lady.’ How could I possibly listen to your orders? I’m really feeling like giving it my all against those barbaric beasts today.”

“Heh heh, you think that I’m garbage without my summoned pets? I shall allow you to witness the greatness of a melee combat grandpa mage like me!”

From this angle, Amelia with her sleeves rolled up really did seem like that hot-headed senior from long ago, but I shook my head and decided not to say anything.

“Elisa?”

“Harloys has finished her preparations, but she told me to tell you to not use it unless you absolutely have to, or else all your efforts will have been wasted.”

I did prepare one final trump card. The only magic I had which could overturn the situation from the utter edge was the highest-level forbidden undead magic spell—Undead Calamity!

If I were to use this mega-forbidden spell that every country on the continent had banned, all the corpses around here would transform into brainless low-level undead, which would be something completely different from when I had summoned the dead previously. Back then, the ones that answered my summons were those who were unwilling to remain silent in death, but the ones under the control of Undead Calamity would forever become brainless, bloodthirsty undead.

This was a forceful and eternal servitude that was utterly disrespectful to all warriors. Perhaps all the warriors on my side would instantly change their attitudes towards me and attack me as an evil necromancer.

The moment I used this spell, the saying that “undead doesn’t equal evil” would no longer apply to me. Perhaps my Mist Alliance plan would go kaput, and the East Mist Communal Country would then be viewed as a new hub of evil and will be isolated diplomatically.

At that time, even if we were to win the war, we would have lost more than we gained.

“Anything is better than getting completely annihilated; if all these people die here, then there truly will be no more hope.”

Hearing these words from me, Elisa merely adjusted her eyeglasses without saying anything, but judging from her downcast expression, she seemed rather displeased and spiritless.

“What’s the matter?”

“Why aren’t you asking me if I can escape or not? Why aren’t you trying to convince me to leave?”

Okay, Elisa, who was pouting as she complained, was actually rather cute. Of course, she didn’t want to escape by herself; she was merely complaining about not receiving any attention or care. At the very least, Roland was still Elisa’s boyfriend in name.

I shook my head. According to my understanding of Elisa, I wouldn’t have to waste time telling her about such things.

“Why are you asking? Didn’t you tell me that you would follow me whether it be to the River Styx or to Hell? What, are you regretting it already?”

Just as I finished speaking, it was as if dark storm clouds had suddenly cleared as she smiled ever so sweetly.

“Of course not; I’ll never regret it. Then, let us fight alongside each other to the death. I’ll pick your corpse up from the River Styx.”

The abnormal conversation sounded somewhat illogical, but it may actually happen. Perhaps the emotional relationship between the undead was just that strange after all.

Seeing her emotions turn sunny again, I secretly wiped my sweat.

But looking at how Amelia was evidently unhappy and feeling Elisa’s eyes staring at my back, I suddenly realized that perhaps my luck with women was finally changing. Was I really starting to become a winner in life? But… Why was it that I only started getting luckier when I was almost about to die? Was I the type of person who was fated to shout, “After this battle, I’m going to get married in my hometown” and then die right away?

Hey, hey, hey, I don’t want beautiful women to only confess at my funeral as they cry and admitt that they liked me…

But the familiar footsteps from not far away interrupted my thoughts. The decisive battle was upon us.

The most surprising part was that the person leading the way wasn’t a beastman; it was, instead, a familiar figure. That long, slender physique and light footsteps could only belong to an elf.

“Atrion!”

Yes, even though he transformed into a gray blood elf, even though the years had left their mark on his body, I would never forget his familiar face. After all, back then, this arrogant rude elf supremecist who would never admit he was wrong was among those who had given me the final blow[1].

But at this moment, this cheap disciple of mine didn’t seem so well, as two ax-wielding beastmen were holding on to him. Atrion kept muttering to himself as if he intended to do something.

“Convince us to surrender? Is that even worth their time?”

This guess seemed reasonable, but there could only be one master of the Northlands, and the grudge between us now ran so deep that it could only be washed away by fresh blood. Trying to convince us to surrender was impossible from the very start.

But I shouted out in shock when I read the lips and noticed what Atrion was trying to do.

“Hurry; kill him!”

Yet in the sky, a dark, divine light was already descending as the forbidden ritual finished its final phase.

Those beastmen had said, “It’s time to prove your worth, elf.”

And Atrion had only said two words in response.

“God’s Descent!”

[1] This should have happened at the end of his 2nd Life, of which we don’t know that much yet