Chapter 545

Clank—

As he twisted the hilt, he felt the clasp securing the greatsword release. Ian tilted the greatsword diagonally to the side and slowly drew it.

Schwing—

The cloak slid smoothly down the back of the blade without snagging, and finally, the fang-like, pointed tip of the sword was fully revealed.

Clip-clop, clip-clop—

As Moro charged forward with its head lowered, Ian held the greatsword in one hand, tilted it diagonally, and stared ahead. Beyond the billowing, wavelike fog, the battlefield was becoming clearer. There was still a considerable distance, but that wasn't a problem. Ian's eyesight was already on par with an eagle's.

"Hold them back! Maintain the formation so they don't break through!"

"Get out there, you cowards! Keep shaking like that and you’re all dead!"

"Aaargh! Cut it off! Cut it off quickly—"

Armed guards formed a semicircle around the cargo wagons that were clustered haphazardly on the side of the road. Most of the spear-wielding men looked like porters, but in any case, this was not a scale a single merchant would command.

Are they three groups traveling together?

The figures standing sparsely on top of the cargo wagons, in the highest and safest spots, were likely the merchants. It was impossible to tell whether they had been traveling together from the start or had joined up along the way, not that it mattered much.

"Grrrk!"

"Gwohk… ugh—"

What mattered was the enemy they were facing.

They were facing reanimated corpses, bloated and covered in bite marks, with long, red tentacles writhing all over their bodies. The tentacles sprouted from what looked like scales covering the corpses’ bodies. Ian soon realized each one was a large barnacle.

What a disgusting sight.

And it wasn't just humans. The corpses of unknown bipedal monsters were mixed in as well. Of course, the only difference was their size. Their actions all seemed similar.

Crrrk—

The writhing tentacles lashed out like whips, trying to coil tightly around the guards. Most fought back fiercely, swinging their weapons, but a few had their limbs caught and were dragged up into the air. There, more tentacles wound around them, wrapping so tightly that it was as if they were being swallowed whole. He could almost hear the cracking of bones and the sound of dying breaths.

"T-This is insane…"

"Eric! Dammit…"

"You cowards! Get forward! We're next after them!"

The movement of the swarming corpses wasn't particularly fast, but the armed porters only trembled, too terrified to even think of charging at them. It seemed all they could manage was to hold their ground without running. They were likely even more terrified because most of those who had died were the porters who had stepped forward.

Of course, not everyone was like that.

Crash! Rumble—

The heavily armed guards were fighting desperately against the corpses, letting out roars. Those armed with magic weapons, like swords blazing with fire or spears with glowing red tips, were leading the fight. They were likely the personal guards of each merchant.

Snap—

Just then, a blue lightning bolt flashed in the center of the fight. With a one-handed ax in his right hand, the Northern guard's left fist crackled with blue lightning as he struck a corpse. Other guards behind him battered away the tentacles that tried to ensnare him.

I didn't expect to see him here.

Ian recognized the Northern guard’s face. He was the same man who had fought alongside Ian against the minions of the cursed sorcerer on the day the Hexagonal Alliance was formed.

Was his name… Regin?

As the thought passed, a quest window popped up in front of Ian’s eyes.

[The Drowned Hosts]

The objective was to deal with the vanguards of the deep sea and eliminate the source of the corrosion. The reward was a moderate amount of experience and one stat point. It seemed to be one of those random side quests that popped up in the game.

Well, I guess there’s a named enemy mixed in here.

He closed the window, and his gaze suddenly shifted back toward the wagons.

"What in the world is that?"

"A black knight? Is he the one controlling these monsters?"

"Oh, Lu Solar… Please do not turn away our offerings…"

Having heard approaching hoofbeats, a few of them had turned in his direction and were crying out in alarm. Ian’s brow twitched as he took in the faces of the merchants standing on the cargo wagons again.

That man is…

Sure enough, he recognized someone among them. But it wasn’t the sharp-featured Imperial man he’d been expecting—it was a tall, well-built Vantruian with dark skin.

He was the head of the Lighthouse Trading Company, a member of the Hexagonal Alliance. Even so, with his freshly shaven head and resplendent ceremonial garb, his face showed nothing more than the same level of surprise as the others. He clearly hadn't recognized Ian yet. Given the darkness, with the fog rolling thick, it wasn't surprising.

Why isn’t the head of the Windmill Trading Company there?

Ian lifted his left arm and pulled down his hood. There was no need to reveal his identity unless necessary. It would only lead to troublesome incidents. That was why he had let Thesaya take the lead throughout their journey. This time would be no different.

Whoosh—

Even as Moro galloped at full speed, the hood stayed firmly in place, casting deep shadows over Ian’s face. It was no mystery why—the Cloak of the Undying had shielded him even in a sandstorm.

Neigh!

Grasping the reins again, Ian angled Moro slightly, aiming not for the front line but to cut straight through the middle of the drowned corpses’ flank. It would be far less hassle to break through them himself than to help hold the line with the guards. Besides, the front line was holding.

Gallop, gallop—

Once off the main road, Moro picked up speed. Even in the form of an ordinary horse, the creature showed no signs of fear. In fact, it seemed thrilled to be fighting again after so long.

Alright, let’s hit them head-on.

Ian released the reins and twisted his body to the left, letting the greatsword in both hands hang low at his side. His eyes, however, never left the mass of drowned corpses rushing toward him. He held his breath and gritted his teeth for a moment.

Crash!

Moro drove straight into the heart of the drowned horde, the bladed horn jutting from its barding at the lead. As if it didn't feel the considerable impact at all, the creature pushed its way through the swarming monsters.

Swish—!

That was when Ian twisted his torso hard to the other side, both arms swinging wide. The greatsword’s razor-sharp point swept out in a wide arc like a bursting wave.

Crack, crack, crackle!

Its path tore through the surging tentacles and kept going, slicing apart every drowned corpse caught in its sweep. Those that weren’t cut clean through were ripped to shreds as they tangled with the creatures beside and behind them.

Screech!

Even as the arc of the greatsword passed over its head, Moro continued forward. Though its speed inevitably dropped, it didn't hesitate to trample the dismembered parts that fell in its path.

Crunch—

Tentacles sprouted from the severed stumps and whipped toward Ian. However, they couldn’t pierce his cloak, nor coil around him. The Cloak of the Undying simply made them slide away, and the same went for the thick, spurting fluids.

Grrr…

Moro’s irritated breath came when the drowned, even in pieces, refused to die. Tentacles lashed out, striking at its legs and trying to coil around them. Moro answered with sharp kicks, shaking them off or tearing them free.

Even in this form, it’s no match for an ordinary horse.

Ian halted the greatsword, and in his eyes, a formless ripple surged for an instant.

Fwoosh—

The outstretched Willful Grasp swept through the surroundings with force, like a scythe through grass. It didn’t kill the drowned corpses, but it was more than enough to shake off the incoming tentacles and fling them away in all directions.

Readjusting his grip on the greatsword's hilt, Ian turned his head again.

"Screech!"

"Grrrrr—"

Beyond the wreckage sent tumbling away, the drowned corpses came into sharp view, twisting and turning in a writhing mass. The degree to which they’d been blown apart varied, but all of them moved with the same sluggish, unnatural motions. In contrast, the sticky-looking red tentacles swayed and darted with unsettling agility, only adding to the grotesque sight.

Of course, it was nowhere near enough to strike fear into Ian.

As I thought, just slicing them up isn’t enough to kill them.

He thought calmly, readjusting his grip on the greatsword's hilt. He had seen and endured far too much for something like this to make him afraid.

Swoosh—

The next moment, a faint light emanated from his left steel gauntlet. It ran along his arm in a shimmering stream, gathering faintly at the blade of the fang greatsword.

It was the Blessing of Light, a skill imbued in Saint Damiel's Ring. The effect didn’t last long, but that was hardly a problem.

"You go and help that side. Don’t get yourself hurt by getting caught up in this," said Ian.

With one foot on the saddle, Ian launched himself into the air. The sight of him springing upward, greatsword wreathed in light and raised high over his head, was plain for everyone watching from the other side to see.

"A-A paladin?"

"We're saved! We’re going to live!"

Unlike the porters, who cried out in astonishment, the merchants already had their hands clasped before their chests in reverence. Standing atop their wagons, they had seen the entire scene of Ian charging straight into the drowned corpses.

"Lu Solar has saved us. Glory to the radiant light…"

"Thank you for sending your apostle… O Goddess…"

I wasn’t sent by a god.

While inwardly scoffing at the awe and praise that reached his ears, Ian didn't even spare them a glance. His gaze was sweeping over the tentacles that were reflexively flying at him from all directions.

Clang!

The Willful Grasp pushed them back like a wave. Of course, Ian's speed, falling in a parabola, didn't decrease at all.

A moment later, the greatsword’s blade came down, trailing a faint gleam in its wake.

Crackle.

The blade, which had pierced through the groin of a drowned monster corpse, split even the fog and embedded itself in the ground. The drowned corpse, split in half from the crown of its head, fell to either side. A porridge-like fluid poured out from between the severed surfaces, which burned yellow.

Fuck… my nose is going to rot, seriously.

The area, littered with dismembered corpses, was filled with a stench that could make one’s nose fall off. Frowning slightly, Ian stood up, casting the completed Wind Blade.

Woosh—

A wind mixed with fog and stench rushed toward him. Of course, he was faster, charging forward before the wind could fully gather. The greatsword, held in both hands, drew a straight horizontal line.

Crack, crack, crack!

Everything caught in the blade’s path was torn apart, regardless of its form. The bodies of the drowned corpses were surprisingly tough, and the same was true for the barnacle tentacles. However, even they couldn't withstand the blade, which was enhanced with strength, divine power, and even a spell.

The greatsword was already among the sharpest of its kind—perhaps that explained its lower durability. Still, as always, Ian didn’t mind.

Creek—

Only after his swing carried through to the opposite side did he stop the blade with brute force.

Splat— Squish—

The severed corpses and tentacles crashed to the ground in heaps, the edges of their wounds still smoldering yellow. Even so, they twitched, refusing to die instantly. But Ian’s gaze had already shifted to the other drowned corpses filling the space.

Named or not, I’ve gotta kill them all anyway.

Coming to a simple conclusion, Ian took a breath and threw himself into the center of them once more.

Crunch.

The greatsword, infused with holy light, etched wild arcs through the air, each stroke leaving a brilliant, chaotic curve in its wake.

"By Lu Solar…"

The merchants on the wagons watched the scene, mesmerized. It was only natural, as the swarm of monsters that had brought them fear and despair was now being torn apart like paper.

"Truly… the apostle of god is a superhuman…"

"May he forever spread light across the world… Glory to the radiant light…"

It was a scene sufficient to evoke not just simple admiration, but also faith and reverence.