Wight

"It may not necessarily be a bad thing," the figure in the black robe chuckled.

"Oh?"

"Baldur's Gate has collapsed, Underdark Creatures are invading, and now there's a flood. Do you know how many dead are in the city right now? How many die every single day? It's countless. Our opportunity has arrived, haha..." The more he spoke, the more excited he became.

He had just used Speak with Dead on the deceased Amnian, so he knew everything that had happened in Baldur's Gate like the back of his hand.

His companion's mouth hung slightly open, eyes wide, wearing the expression of a bear that had just discovered honey. "Really?!"

"Heh, ask for yourself in a moment."

The companion's lips curled up, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Perhaps we should gather the believers and hold a grand Ritual; perhaps we might receive a response from my Lord..."

Ten minutes passed.

Anse followed the team as they retreated to a high ridge, where Brat and Finn were waiting for him.

"Why stop running?" he asked, puzzled.

"The undead didn't pursue, and the Amnians broke through..." Finn kept it brief, quickly relaying what the Gray Hawk had scouted.

Aside from a few Zombies still stubbornly chasing the scent of the living, the main force of the undead had been focused entirely on dealing with the Amnians.

Those Amnians weren't stupid; they had broken toward the camp not just to create chaos, but because there was a lake nearby.

They had mustered their remaining strength for one final breakout, and in the end, two of them managed to pierce the encirclement and leap into the lake.

The undead hadn't let them go and continued the pursuit, but they couldn't swim; the skeletons sank to the bottom, and the zombies lacked the coordination—they couldn't drown, but they couldn't catch up either.

In the end, the undead left behind a Death Knight to hunt them down, while the main force, led by the two black-robed figures, began a large-scale migration to the east, dragging a pile of corpses with them.

Judging by the direction, they were likely heading for Baldur's Gate.

"What kind of Death Knight? Is it fast?" Anse pressed.

"I didn't dare get too close, but it's probably not as strong as Noronos," Finn shook his head.

The Gray Hawk was a creature of the day, after all; it couldn't see clearly at night, and since the enemy had bows and arrows, it hadn't dared to approach.

Anse rubbed his chin, lost in thought.

The departure of the undead was within his expectations. This location had been exposed, and since he was wearing his Holy Symbol, the enemy wouldn't be foolish enough to wait here for death.

The undead disrupted the ecosystem and commerce, making them unwelcome everywhere. The Lords' Alliance, major churches, and guilds would all be willing to pay a bounty for someone to handle this task.

The origins and intentions of those Amnians were unclear, but there were no good people in an evil faction.

Since the greatest threat had left, he decided to check the lakeside; perhaps there would be an unexpected harvest.

"Have the Gray Hawk lead me."

"Understood."

Anse vaulted onto his horse and galloped madly toward the southeast.

Before long, the Gray Hawk flew over, circled above his head, and then slightly changed direction to guide him from the air.

Noronos understood instantly, adjusting his pace in sync and following closely behind on the ground.

Ten minutes later, a shimmering lake surface came into view.

Under the moonlight, two figures were hovering in the center of the lake, each clinging to a dead log, churning the water like a shattered silver mirror.

On the shore, a pale knight wandered back and forth, bow and arrow in hand, looking eager to strike.

"Quite clever," Anse thought with a cold smile.

The Amnians had clearly realized the undead had retreated and that there was a cavalryman on the shore, so they simply stayed in the middle of the lake.

As long as they waited until dawn, the undead would naturally leave.

However, they weren't having an easy time; the pale knight fired arrows from time to time. Though the distance was great, the accuracy was decent, keeping them in a constant state of anxiety.

Anse slowed his horse and approached from the other side. The dull thud of hooves immediately drew the attention of both the Amnians and the Death Knight.

Once the Amnians caught sight of him in the moonlight, their faces lit up with surprise.

"Sir, do you remember me? We met during the day! That thing on the shore is an undead; if you help me kill it, I am willing to offer one thousand gold coins as a reward..."

Anse sneered. Even now, the man was still playing tricks, trying to con him into a life-or-death struggle against an undead of unknown strength.

He stopped at the water's edge, focusing his gaze to observe the two parties.

[Amnian Elite, Dragonborn, Level 3 Barbarian (Berserker)]

[Amnian Captain, Human, Level 5 Fighter (Battle Master)]

[Skeleton Warhorse, Undead, Challenge Rating 1/2]

[Wight, Undead, Challenge Rating 3]

"Well, well, a Wight has appeared."

The Skeleton Warhorse was nothing to fear; the real trouble was the Wight.

Wights are transformed from the corpses of cold-blooded soldiers; they retain their memories from life and are intelligent undead creatures. Humanoids who die at the hands of a wight will rise again as zombies after one day, becoming its subordinates.

Whether they are mages of the Necromancy school or Clerics of Milkor, there is a limit to the number of undead they can control. They particularly favor transforming and controlling wights, using them as a foundation to build an undead legion.

At this moment, seeing that he had yet to respond, the two Amnians swam toward him while clutching a wooden stake, clearly intending to force him into the fray.

The wight immediately charged over, full of aggressive momentum.

Anse lightly patted the horse's back, and Noronos turned around to run, circling the edge of the lake.

If you chase, I run; if you stop, I stop. Noronos ran even faster, and the wight could not catch up at all.

The two Amnians retreated sheepishly to the center of the lake; they had just entered the wight's range and taken two arrows, and if they hadn't used the wooden stake to block, they would be corpses by now.

Anse was very patient, continuing to provoke the wight, and after a few rounds, it had wasted quite a few arrows.

He communicated quietly with Noronos, "Can you block its arrows?"

"Of course!" Noronos was very confident.

Anse took a deep breath, his magic surging. Orange-red energy gathered in his chest and throat, giving him an urge he had to release.

"I'm counting on you, charge!" He patted the horse's back while leaning his body low.

Noronos suddenly turned around and launched a charge toward the Skeleton Warhorse, the sound of its hooves like a dense, rhythmic drumbeat.

Seeing this, the wight was overjoyed and spurred its horse into a counter-charge, drawing its longbow to the full. As the distance closed, with a twang, a whistling arrow tore through the air.

Noronos's xiphoid neck armor unfolded layer by layer like petals or a folding fan, forming a semi-conical shape that firmly protected Anse and its torso, leaving no gaps.

The next moment, the arrow struck the armor's surface at a sharp angle; with a clink, it was deflected away, leaving behind a deep scratch.

The wight was stunned for a moment, then fired again. With a snap, the arrow shattered a few scales and bounced off into the unknown.

It wanted to fire again, but reached for nothing—it was out of arrows.

Noronos was already right in front of it, so it decisively drew its Necrotic Sword; this was its true specialty.

Just as it set its stance, Noronos suddenly changed direction, avoiding the brunt of the attack.

As the two were about to pass each other by a few meters, the warhorse's neck armor suddenly retracted, revealing Anse, who opened his mouth to roar.

"Whoosh—"

A scorching Dragon Breath surged forth, instantly engulfing the wight and the Skeleton Warhorse, hitting them squarely.

The wight was blasted away, and the Skeleton Warhorse lost its balance; after falling, it was carried by the powerful momentum and tumbled several times, its bones scattering everywhere.

[...Skeleton Warhorse hit, took 16 points of fire damage, 6 points of bludgeoning damage, critical hit, target killed, gained 100 Combat Experience]

[...Wight hit, took 10 points of fire damage, 4 points of bludgeoning damage, current HP 68/82...]

"Huh, bludgeoning damage?" Anse was surprised.

It seemed that breathing while standing and breathing while charging were different, or perhaps the target had simply taken a very hard fall.

This was an experiment for him, and he hadn't expected the results to be surprisingly good. Spellcasting while mounted was too difficult, but if it was Dragon Breath, it became much simpler; the drawback was that it required melee range.

Noronos slowed down, turned around, and launched another charge.

This time, the wight had no horse!