SWY 71

“Shit, that hurts like hell. Derry, are you okay?”

Sharhan, who had tumbled across the ground after a bad landing, winced from the throbbing pain as he asked.

“I-I’m okay.”

His voice was clearly pained to anyone listening, but there was no time to worry about injuries. The moving corpses, drawn by the sound of the jump, turned toward them with bloodshot eyes.

“Then get up, quick.”

Sharhan fought off the approaching undead, mouth wide open in exertion, as he made his way toward Lestel. Lestel was already slashing like a madman as he came toward him.

“You jumped from there?! Are you insane?! What if you broke your ankle or worse?! That was reckless!”

“You glad I’m alive? I’m glad too.”

Sharhan replied smoothly, and Lestel gave him a disbelieving look. He shook his head, then shouted, “Duck!” Sharhan quickly ducked, and Lestel’s sword sliced off the head of an undead lunging at him from behind.

“Let’s talk later.”

While Sharhan and Lestel exchanged words, Delos was throwing a fit above.

“Get them! Release more moving corpses! Sharhan must be captured alive!”

Sharhan swung his sword so hard his mouth went dry. He had never fought this many undead before. There had been countless crises from Luhas to Verden, but this was by far the worst.

“Fucking pervert Delos! Just how many corpses did he stockpile?!”

Kamil shouted in fury.

“No kidding. Shit, how’d he even gather so many?”

Sharhan agreed. Thinking about how many lives must’ve been sacrificed to amass that many only made him hate Delos more. No doubt he used innocent survivors as bait.

The arena doors opened again, releasing another wave of moving corpses. Sharhan silently cursed Delos as he kept swinging, his arm going numb from the strain.

Severed heads rolled across the floor like balls. Derry, squeezing out the last of his mana, hurled fireballs. They grew smaller and weaker, but he forced them out even as his lips turned pale.

The arena was thick with acrid smoke and the heat from exhausted survivors. Breathing became difficult, like suffocating.

Everyone instinctively gathered together. Their faces were drenched in sweat, visible white breath puffing out of gaping mouths. No one would be surprised if any of them collapsed at any moment.

“Shit, how many are there?”

Kamil gasped.

“I’ve cut so many they’re practically bouncing off my feet, but they’re still coming.”

“They’re spreading the fire everywhere. Soon we’ll run out of air. We have to get out. And Ras, he’s in no shape to keep going.”

The burning corpses, set aflame by Derry’s magic, spread fire to other undead and sometimes even the wooden walls. If this kept up, the entire arena could go up in flames.

“How do we get out?”

“There are only two doors. The one we came through, and the one the corpses came from.”

“The one with the corpses is too far, and we don’t know what’s behind it. That means we’ve only got one real option.”

“Right. The problem is getting it open…”

It couldn’t be opened from the inside. They had to make someone open it from outside. Just as the group stared at the closer door, trying to figure it out, a heavy iron ball whistled through the air. Lestel saw it first and yanked Sharhan into his arms, turning around to shield him.

The ball slammed into Lestel’s back and dropped. The pain was sharp, like his muscles had been torn. Lestel grit his teeth, and Sharhan’s heart seized up, but he forced himself to act normal. Pushing Lestel away, he sliced the head off a nearby corpse.

Then, without hesitation, he picked up the iron ball and hurled it at Delos with all his strength. The ball struck Delos in the eye, and he howled in pain.

“Aaargh!”

“Delos! Weren’t you going to fuck me until I couldn’t walk? What happened to that? All talk, huh?”

Sharhan shouted provocatively. Delos, seething with rage, clutched his eye and thrashed.

“Catch him! Bring him to me alive! Open the gates! Release all the corpses! You bastards, go down there and kill them!”

At his command, both gates flew open. More undead poured in from one side, and armed subordinates of Delos from the other. Sharhan’s group smirked.

“Nice work, Sharhan.”

Abel gave him a quick thumbs up. The moment the gates opened, everyone sprinted. Kamil grabbed limping Abel, and Renel hoisted Las onto his back.

Survivors followed in a desperate rush. Behind them came the ravenous predators. The arena was complete chaos, Delos’s men, Sharhan’s party, the undead, and the survivors all clashing at once.

“Where do you think you’re running?! You belong back there!”

“Kill everyone except the black-haired one!”

Delos’s men blocked their path, swinging weapons with bravado. Renel, having set Ras down, charged them first.

Wielding a spear longer than he was tall like a staff, he spun it with threatening force. The enemies flinched, hesitating to attack.

Sharhan grabbed the shoulder of a corpse that had reached Derry and shoved it aside.

“Derry, light this bastard up!”

Derry hurled a fireball, igniting the corpse. It flailed wildly, trying to catch fresh prey, completely ignoring the pain. Sharhan kicked it toward Delos’s men. It switched targets and lunged at them instead.

One panicked attacker cut its arm off, but it still latched onto another man and sank its teeth into his forearm.

“Aaargh!”

No one pitied him. Not even his own comrades. They pushed him away instead of helping. They had no camaraderie and no loyalty. They weren’t even worth fearing.

“Just don’t kill the one with black hair!”

Sharhan slashed at the enemies rushing him, intentionally avoiding vital spots. He cut at arms and thighs, sending up spurts of blood, creating just enough pause for the moving corpses to close in and feast.

Lestel copied him. The Red Wolves caught on and joined the strategy, slashing legs and handing the cleanup to the undead. The growing pile of corpses near the gate gave them a brief reprieve.

Delos’s men, who’d been so confident moments ago, now panicked. Poorly trained and without unity, they broke quickly once the tide turned. Instead of fighting back, they feared becoming food and began to retreat.

Sharhan’s group took the opening to help the survivors escape first. Then they rushed out the door, only to be met with grim reality.

Ahead of them stood Delos’s elite, his original followers. The Filthy Crotches bastards. Second Rank mercenaries, utterly loyal to Delos, and not to be taken lightly. Worse, Sharhan’s side was already exhausted.

“This is the end, Red Wolves.”

One of them sneered as he rested a mace on his shoulder, then lunged at Lestel. Lestel blocked with his sword. With a shriek of metal, the two weapons clashed.

“Who the hell are they?!”

“Where did these guys come from?!”

“It’s the City Hall and gambling den gangs! They’ve teamed up!”

“Protect the Lord!”

Shouts erupted from above. The moment the Filthy Crotches mercenaries flinched, Sharhan’s group struck. They were tough opponents, and the fight dragged on, until unfamiliar figures appeared behind Delos’s men.

At the front stood a tall woman with long blonde hair tied up. She wielded a massive greatsword with ease, cleaving through Delos’s lackeys.

“Human hunters! This is your grave!”

Her commanding voice rang out. And behind her, Sharhan nearly lost his wits when he saw who peeked out.

“Hey, handsome merchant. Long time no see.”

Rings on every finger, flashy earrings, a gaudy necklace, it was Yuel. His outfit was just as lavish as when Sharhan had last seen him at the Verden gambling den.

“Yuel?”

Lestel sounded just as shocked. Yuel waved casually like he’d just run into a friend on a stroll, then turned and said,

“Our client’s right here. Make sure he doesn’t die.”

At his words, what seemed to be Yuel’s men charged at Delos’s forces.

“Let’s go.”

A rugged man with a thick beard stepped forward. The Red Wolves turned to Sharhan, asking with their eyes if they could trust him.

“Go on ahead. I’m gonna go grab that bastard Delos.”

Sharhan shouted boldly and took off with Lestel.