Journey to Become the Zenith

Chapter 268: Defiance Before the Endless Dead

Defiance Before the Endless Dead

Lane answered honestly.

"Yes."

Brinda stared at her for several seconds.

Then she sighed.

"Victor really attracts strange women."

The Elder Necromancer and his army were frightening, but what frightened them more was Victor.

The memory of that black-haired monster remained deeply engraved in their minds.

Many of them had witnessed what happened in Fantom City.

Some had seen Victor personally.

Others had only heard rumors.

Yet every version of the story ended the same way.

Victor won.

Always.

The others, on the other hand, had different thoughts from Eon and Brinda. In their point of view, if they left without Brinda and Eon, they might be killed on the spot. Thus giving the result of no one leaving.

A young adventurer scratched his head awkwardly.

"To be honest..."

Everyone looked toward him.

He immediately became nervous.

"Well... if those two aren’t leaving..."

He pointed toward Eon and Brinda.

"...then I’m definitely not leaving."

Several others immediately agreed.

"Same."

"Absolutely."

"I’d rather face undead than those two."

Brinda’s eyebrow twitched.

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

The adventurers instantly became quiet.

Nobody wanted to answer that question.

Lane stared at the group.

For the first time since the battle began, genuine surprise appeared within her eyes.

These people were exhausted.

Wounded.

Terrified.

Yet none of them had chosen to run.

"So you people will not retreat... I see you people are truly worthy of being Victor’s subordinates. Fine, if you wish to stay then do what you must and destroy the enemies you see before you. If you feel at any given time that you could no longer handle the situation I want you all to retreat."

The battlefield fell quiet once more.

Though Lane still sounded indifferent the others could actually feel the affection in her voice as she said those lines. The people present weren’t sure if what they felt was real or simply a delusion their minds came up with because of the stress they were having, but they chose to believe the former.

A veteran warrior smiled.

A genuine smile.

Perhaps his first one all day.

"Did she just compliment us?"

"I think she did."

"Write that down."

"We’ll never hear it again."

Even Brinda looked amused.

Lane ignored them completely.

But a faint warmth appeared in her eyes before disappearing again.

"HAHAHAHA! BRING IT!" Eon joyfully shouted as he held his Giant Battle Axe. The others shouted random battle cries as they waited for the undead to reach their location.

"COME ON!"

"LET THEM COME!"

"WE’RE STILL ALIVE!"

"TRY KILLING US FIRST!"

Their voices echoed across the battlefield.

Fear still existed.

But now it mixed with determination.

The desperate courage of people who had already accepted death and decided to fight anyway.

...

The Elder Necromancer sat comfortably at the rear of his army, observing the battlefield through the eyes of his undead servants.

What he saw amused him.

Before an army of several thousand undead stood barely more than thirty humans.

Some wore expressions he knew well.

Fear.

The delicious terror he had witnessed countless times throughout his long existence.

Others wore the excited grins of battle maniacs, men who seemed eager to throw themselves into death.

There were also those carrying reluctant expressions, the look of soldiers who wished they were anywhere else but had no choice except to stand their ground.

The old necromancer chuckled.

A dry, rasping sound escaped his throat.

"Interesting."

His pale fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his throne.

"Very interesting."

Yet one face immediately drew his attention.

A young woman stood calmly at the front.

No fear.

No excitement.

No despair.

Only quiet indifference.

The Elder Necromancer narrowed his eyes.

Even seasoned veterans reacted when confronted by an army of this size.

Even heroes displayed tension, determination, or dread.

Yet this girl looked as though none of it mattered.

As if the endless sea of undead before her was nothing worth acknowledging.

His curiosity deepened.

Most people begged for mercy.

Most people cried.

Most people broke.

Yet she remained composed.

Why?

’Hmm...’

A thoughtful gleam appeared in his eyes.

’How can she remain so calm before such overwhelming numbers? Does she possess some hidden trump card? Or has she already accepted whatever fate awaits her?’

A twisted smile slowly spread across his face.

’Either way, I’ll find out once she’s in my hands.’

The Elder Necromancer immediately sent a mental command throughout his army.

Lane was not to be killed.

Captured.

Only captured.

The undead could injure her as much as necessary, but her life was to be preserved.

At the same time, he ordered the Dullahans under his command to lead the assault.

The undead formation moved at once.

The ground trembled.

Massive undead warhorses surged from the front ranks.

Armored Dullahans rode upon their backs, each carrying enormous black blades.

Ghostly green flames erupted from their severed necks, creating a horrifying sight.

For ordinary soldiers, the sight alone would have shattered their courage.

The Elder Necromancer leaned forward slightly.

’Show me what makes you so confident.’

The Dullahans lowered their weapons.

Then charged.

The battlefield shook beneath their advance.

Trees splintered apart.

Dust exploded into the air.

A mere thirty-something humans stood before an army of thousands.

And the first wave had arrived.

Lane watched the charging Dullahans without moving.

Then she quietly closed her eyes for a brief moment.

’I will never pray to any God or Goddess. You told me never to rely on them.’

Her grip tightened around her weapon.

’So instead...’

A faint smile appeared on her face.

’I pray to you, Victor.’

’Please grant me strength.’

For the first time in a very long while...

Lane closed her eyes.

Not from fear.

Not from hesitation.

But because she was remembering someone.

The man with black hair.

Golden eyes.

The man who always walked forward no matter how impossible the situation became.

The man she had chosen to follow.

A small smile appeared on her face.

Then she opened her eyes.

And stepped forward to meet the charge.