Arrival at the Eternal Night Wall

After another seven days on the road, the convoy finally crept into the buffer zone of the Eternal Night Great Wall.

The sky's underlying color was quietly changing. From deep within the gray clouds, an unsettling dark red seeped out and spread over the wasteland.

There was no towering wall of brick or stone on the horizon, only a few twisted, withered trees and muddy hills that rose and fell like burial mounds.

To the people of the Inland, the Eternal Night Great Wall that guarded human civilization ought to have been a magnificent fortress wall.

But that was merely what the Church told them to put their minds at ease.

The real Eternal Night Great Wall was no literal wall. It was a defensive line pieced together from hundreds of territories.

Each territory was a point driven into the edge of the wasteland, where Sacred Flame and the flesh and blood of countless people protected the fragile peace of humanity behind the line from invasion by the Dark Races.

The farther they traveled toward the Long Night, the stronger the stench of blood grew. The horses and livestock began to step uneasily.

At first, the horses merely tossed their manes now and then. But the brown earth beneath their hooves gave way, bit by bit, to dark purplish-red Frozen Tundra.

Even these specially trained, blessed warhorses could no longer suppress their instinctive agitation. They pawed the ground again and again, snorting great clouds of white vapor.

The living were suffering under the Blood Moon's radiation too.

The all-pervading tainted mist slipped into their flesh with every breath, churning their stomachs and pulling taut nerves already stretched to their limit.

Shien sat straight-backed in the saddle, his expression calm as he gave the order. "Pass it on. Light every mobile Sacred Flame."

Fabien and several army chaplains swiftly dismounted and thrust their torches into the silver fire cages atop the supply wagons.

The specially prepared fuel caught at once. A platinum flame, so pure it was nearly transparent, slowly rose within each cage.

Every wisp of flame burning in those braziers came from the Most Holy Origin Furnace's original Flame Seed, separated out by the Church at enormous cost. It was exceedingly rare.

Along the Long Night Defense Line, a small jar of Flame Seed cost a hundred times more than the same amount of Holy Silver.

A platinum halo spread slowly through the Holy Silver Runes on the cages, forcing the thick Blood Mist back for dozens of meters.

To the Dark Races corrupted by the Blood Moon, that sacred power was poison. Even a brush from the edge of its light brought searing pain to their flesh.

For a thousand years, humanity had escaped being swallowed whole by the Long Night thanks to these Sacred Flames scattered across the wasteland.

The warmth of the Sacred Flames spread outward. At last, everyone could breathe a little easier, and the convoy resumed its slow advance.

But that was no guarantee of safety. Darkness still waited beyond the Sacred Flames' reach.

Something was moving deep within the Blood Mist.

Crimson eyes lurked silently in the shadows, following the band of light like a wolf pack, ready to seize an opening.

Sure enough, trouble soon struck. Nearly a hundred twisted shadows tore through the darkness at the halo's edge. Enduring the Sacred Flames' scorching touch, they burst out with shrill howls and charged straight for the weakest point at the rear of the formation.

Shien jerked the reins tight and looked toward the approaching enemy.

The Gray Fog parted, and a horde of twisted Ghouls lunged out.

By the faint platinum light of the Sacred Flames, he could clearly see rusty Chainmail still hanging from their grotesquely elongated limbs.

They were the most pitiful monsters beneath the Eternal Night Great Wall. Once, they too had been living people who guarded this line.

But without the protection of Sacred Flame, years of exposure to the Blood Moon's radiation had stripped away their reason bit by bit, until nothing remained but rotting husks driven by hunger.

Shing!

The sharp scrape of a greatsword leaving its sheath rang out beside Shien. Ivan's bones crackled like popping beans as the violent Battle Aura of the Third Tier Resonance Realm surged into his broad blade.

The high-ranking knights guarding the convoy instinctively raised their weapons as well, ready to form up and slaughter the low-tier monsters.

Shien's gaze stayed locked ahead. "Stand down."

Ivan froze for an instant. Though he did not understand what his lord intended, he still stepped back.

In this wasteland deeply tainted by the Long Night, Shien needed more than a handful of fighters who could crush enemies on their own.

He needed a war machine that could hold against a monster tide during Blood Moon Season.

If he relied on his strongest fighters every time blood was spilled, the recruits under him would remain a heap of useless mud forever.

These relatively weak monsters were perfect for training them.

Shing! Shien drew the sword at his waist and pointed its tip straight into the rolling Blood Mist. "Rear infantry, form ranks! Hold the line! Anyone who takes half a step back will be beheaded on the spot!"

The novice soldiers and knights forced into the front ranks could not stop their legs from trembling.

A foul wind rushed into their faces. The Ghouls were so hungry that they charged through the scorching light of the Sacred Flames.

Shien lowered his eyelids slightly and sank his awareness into his sea of consciousness.

The Lv.1 Basic Battlefield Awareness he had copied from Ivan using Reward Value, together with the Lv.2 Battle Formation Command Logic he had copied a few days earlier, instantly took over his thinking.

The chaotic battlefield swiftly broke apart before Shien's eyes into targets marked in red.

"Lower the spears! Thrust upward at forty-five degrees! Aim for the chest!"

The strict drills of the past few days finally paid off.

The front-rank spearmen thrust almost by reflex. Carried onto the weapons by the force of their own lunges, the leading Ghouls were pierced through their rotting chests and bellies by iron spearpoints coated with Holy Silver.

Thick black blood sprayed out. More than a dozen Ghouls were pinned in midair, their limbs clawing wildly as the Holy Silver swiftly ate into their wounds.

"Knights, flank them from the left!" Shien swept his gaze across the battlefield. "Smash their kneecaps!"

The new knights who had still been trembling in the mud days ago roared as they crashed into the enemy.

Their heavy Ironbound Oak Shields slipped past the flailing claws and slammed into the Ghouls' vulnerable legs.

Crack! Crack! The muffled snap of breaking bones sounded one after another.

Robbed of their speed, Ghouls collapsed across the Frozen Tundra. They could only crawl frantically through the mud, turned into living targets in an instant.

The fear that had weighed on the soldiers' chests turned wholly to savagery the moment they saw the monsters tumbling on broken legs.

Eyes bloodshot, knights and infantry swung greatswords and battle axes, chopping the rotting bodies still twitching on the ground into pieces, inch by inch.

The entire fight lasted no more than ten minutes.

Aside from a few scratches on the arms of the front-rank infantry, the line had suffered no deaths.

Foul black blood spattered the infantrymen's cheeks and breastplates. Panting hard, they looked toward the man behind them.

Shien still sat steady in his saddle. With an exceptionally crisp click, his command sword slid neatly into its sheath.

The recruits and knights gripped their blood-dripping sword hilts tight. The same thought rose in all of them: As long as we follow this lord's commands...

These man-eating monsters crawling out of the Blood Moon's Blood Mist are just rotten meat. Shields can smash their bones, and spears can pierce their guts.