But what terrified them even more was Goldilocks, who looked upon the scene with a broad grin plastered over his face. The man took pleasure in battle. That wasn’t to say that the peril and thrill of fighting and killing drew some deep, visceral ecstacy out of him. No, he found joy in seeing his capabilities used well, at seeing the fruits of his labor—an artisan’s pride in a fine day’s work. That was all. This outcome was the most efficient and satisfying method this man could think up.
“Right, let’s clean our plate.”
It was no real exaggeration to refer to the slaughter of soldiers in this way. The enemies approached with tottering steps, no longer bound by any sort of cohesion, their bodies unable to function thanks to their sloughing flesh. All the Fellows needed to do was stab these enemies to bits—Goldilocks’s wording wasn’t far wrong. However, this process had surprised the Fellows. They found that they felt pity for these flame-cloaked fools who could not die. Were they begging for salvation as they lurched ever forward?
Their pity quickly turned to confusion. Could people really continue to shuffle onward like this in such a state? Could they swing the molten remains of weapons?
Under Goldilocks’s command, the Fellows dealt with these festering bodies—so ruined that it was impossible to see what race they had once been. If they didn’t stop them from attacking, they would be pulled into a flaming embrace. There was no word that could describe the terror at seeing an enemy that, even put to flame, stabbed, and hacked apart, still came at them. Even the most seasoned adventurers among them—having passed through hell and crossed blades countless times—fell into the pit of fear.
So these were zombies—monsters they had only known from stories designed to scare unruly children. Kaya had warned them that this might be the enemy, but it took this bout for the Fellows to truly feel the heart-chilling terror of the undead. Every limb had to be dealt with—they were the soldiers of your worst nightmares.
The Fellows started to wonder: Without this mysterious magic trap, how many people would have died?
At the end of the battle, Goldilocks stared over the burning pile of bodies and muttered that it didn’t seem like there were any reinforcements. He ordered everyone to stay on guard, but even as they waited, it didn’t seem like the forest would produce any more enemies. After receiving a report from his calm partner, he ordered that the battle was over and those on guard duty were to return to their posts.
It was a horrible, gruesome scene, but they had learned one thing. The one in charge of these weapons that sent chills down their spines was on their side. They had always shown her respect, but every member of the Fellowship that day made sure they were extra polite to the Merciful Sapling from then on.
[Tips] Zombies appear in scary bedtime stories, and it is more likely than not you will go your entire life without seeing one.
The firepower was good for such a quickly made contraption. We could increase the number of catalysts and tweak the formulae to increase the range and burn our enemies even more effectively. Wait...maybe I was better off leaving it as it was. I didn’t want to have an accidental explosion on our hands, and they were powerful enough.
My Fellows had finished dealing with the corpses, their expressions showing how this didn’t feel like a proper victory, and I gave an order. War cries were an important part of battle. After the fight, they helped to remind us that we won and also reassure those we were charged with protecting.
“The battle is ours!” I roared.
“Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!”
In the Empire of Rhine, victories were celebrated with a simple three-shout. With raised spears and stamping feet, it rarely failed to get morale up. I was sure our cheers, echoing through the sunset, would tell the people of Mottenheim that they were safe.
It seemed like there were no incoming reinforcements. I had glared out at the forest, but it remained silent. The enemy might have sent out a small squad to watch us and signal for reinforcements if need be, or maybe they had another patrol on a shortcut here. However, as I expected, the enemy were protecting their remaining playing pieces. They had realized that it would be foolish to send their units in small, successive bursts and so had sent their forces all at once to try and take us down. They had made the optimal decision to crush their small enemy with the power of numbers and hadn’t underestimated us.
It was the right call, really. If you had a group with a massive amount of HP, knowing that your side would easily outlast the other, then a full-on frontal assault wasn’t just a foolish brute force solution. It was an attack that would continue to wear down the enemy by sheer numbers alone.
I wondered just how many losses there would have been if this had been a full-on fight to the death. The enemy needed to be chopped to bits in order to be neutralized. If they had gotten a decent counterattack in, even if it didn’t kill us outright, much of our number would be injured enough to have to retire, whittling us down until we were pushed into a corner.
I was really glad we didn’t meet a similar fate to the German soldiers on the eastern front.
I gave the orders for patrols to my people and cast another glare at the forest. It was evident from the lack of reinforcements that the enemy didn’t have anything else in store for us today, but there was something else I was waiting for. I waited there for about two hours. I was a bit on edge, but my own stress would serve to lower group morale, so I had been patient. Finally, Margit returned.