Knights and Magic Wand
Chapter 545 - 545 261 The Dead Sea Surges to the Sky

545: Chapter 261: The Dead Sea Surges to the Sky 545: Chapter 261: The Dead Sea Surges to the Sky Kantadar Kingdom, Southern Mountain Territory.

In the heartland of Duke Ablo’s duchy, the oppressive storm clouds hung ominously low, as if poised to devour the fortress where the duke resided.

Duke Ablo dragged heavy steps into the castle’s meeting room.

The chamber, where not long ago grand plans had been deliberated amongst many nobles and commanders, now felt eerily desolate.

Ordering the attendants and servants out, Ablo seated himself alone on the wide yet cold chair, clutching his forehead with furrowed brows.

Ever since he retreated with tens of thousands of defeated troops out of the Ustato Kingdom and back south, the Urians were the first to abandon him.

Soon after, scattered southern nobles, bloodied and battered, followed suit.

Even the renowned Dragon Slayer, Valensis, severely wounded in the bloody campaign, now symbolized the bitter failure of the march to seize the Royal City.

Those noble lords who had once chosen to follow Ablo were now filled with unease, each scheming for their survival.

Ablo knew deep in his heart that morale had crumbled.

Now, all he had left were fewer than twenty thousand soldiers from the East Expedition Army under his direct command.

Even if he could muster forces from his duchy and allied lords, at best, he could recruit ten thousand militia—a ragtag army at that.

With such forces, taking the Royal City to kill that wretched Caso was out of the question; even daring another invasion into Ustato would be a gamble fraught with peril.

If only the blasted Orland people hadn’t meddled!

Clenching his fists tightly, Ablo struggled to suppress his anger and resentment over the failure.

What to do next?

Hold the current position?

Though his status in the duchy and the Southern Mountain Territory remained unchallenged, over time, the allegiance of his vassals would surely waver.

If that brat Caso were smart enough to offer a sweeping amnesty to the rebellious lords, how many would choose to betray me?

Or perhaps—just go for broke and crown myself king in the duchy right here and now?

Denounce Caso as a puppet king conspiring with the Northern Kingdom to betray our land?

…

Still immersed in conflicted contemplation, Ablo hesitated.

Suddenly, from the hallway outside, an urgent commotion erupted.

A guard rushed to the door, pounding and shouting with anxious urgency, “My lord duke!

Military news from the northern borders of the Southern Mountain Territory—there’s a massive…

a massive sighting of…

undead, corpse ghost armies, living dead forces advancing toward the duchy!”

The duke turned his head sharply toward the door, his face etched with surprise.

“Undead?

What kind of nonsense…”

His voice trailed off as a chilling memory surfaced—warnings and pleas for aid from the envoys who had recently arrived from the kingdom’s eastern Sobonitz Domain.

…

In the city’s tavern under the duke’s castle.

Thick with the stench of alcohol, the dim corner offered solitude to Mamor, slumped against the wall in deep frustration.

Several empty glasses stood before him.

Previously, his wife had spent the entirety of their family’s accumulated wealth—built over generations—to ransom him from the young captors.

Now, their ancestral manor was reduced to ruin and poverty.

He had suffered grievous injuries from a masterful young swordswoman, followed by prolonged captivity in a cellar without treatment.

Only recently, under his home village’s witch doctor’s grueling care, had his leg injury started to heal.

But that also left Mamor in heavy debt to the witch doctor.

Regret weighed heavily upon Mamor.

During his recovery, he missed Duke Ablo’s campaign against Ustato.

Even though he’d heard rumors of the rebellion-riddled campaign’s failure, the duke wasn’t the king, and knights weren’t required to serve without pay.

Had he been fit to join, even idling for a day on the battlefield would have earned him at least a day’s wages.

Now look where he was—no war, no chance to earn money.

Sighing, Mamor gazed toward the window, pondering whether to return to his dilapidated manor or venture further west for new opportunities.

Becoming a bandit was surely not an option….

Lost in thought, his musings were interrupted when he noticed an old friend hastily enter the tavern, spotting him almost immediately.

The friend approached quickly, clapping Mamor on the shoulder with urgency.

“Stop brooding!

The duke just issued a mobilization order—get to the barracks with me right away.

Looks like there’s another fight coming!”

Mamor froze briefly, his eyes soon glinting with newfound hope.

The sudden news felt like a ray of light piercing the darkness.

Springing to his feet, he drained the remaining drink in his glass, his vigor restored.

As a Knight of Valor and with a referral from his friend, Mamor easily joined the duke’s forces.

The army soon set out, marching grandly toward the northern edge of the Southern Mountain Territory.

Thousands of troops moved swiftly along the main road, reaching the fortress built to guard the mountain pass at the boundary of the duke’s lands in just a day.

Entering the mountain-bound stronghold, Mamor, along with numerous lords and knights under the duke’s banner, ascended the fortress walls.

He gazed far into the distance, and the scene froze the blood in his veins.

In the heavens, ominous clouds blanketed the horizon, their shadow threatening to consume the world itself.

Beneath the clouds, an endless black tide churned—a sea of decaying bodies surging forward, exuding a nauseating stench, crowding at the edge of the ominous skies…

…

Meanwhile, hundreds of kilometers away…

Eastern Ustato Mountains.

Loyal to the new king Caso, a Kantadar commander stationed at the eastern mountain pass of Ustato stood gripping the battlements atop towering fortress walls, staring out at the horrifying apocalyptic scene below the foothills.

Only recently, this impregnable fortress had repelled Ablo’s tens of thousands of rebel troops, forcing them to detour.

But now.

Under the shadow of storming clouds, no end in sight to the horde of walking corpses….

How many were there?

One hundred thousand?

Two hundred thousand?

Three hundred thousand?

Or more?

From the high vantage of the mountain slope, the commander gazed, stunned, at the plains below.

Though seasoned in warfare, he couldn’t estimate the sheer number of foes within this grueling, monstrous sight.

…

The bleak land was saturated with the stench of death and decay.

Tens of thousands of Kantadar civilians from the eastern territories, transformed in death into relentless corpses, crawled beneath the gloomy light, their tormented souls restless within flesh cages, starving for the blood and flesh of the living.

However, they remained bound by instincts from life, compelled to obey the will of corpse ghost lords and corpse witches riding bony undead warhorses, awaiting the orders of higher undead.

In the heavens above, corpse demons, giant bat ghosts, and undead knights mounted on skeletal lion scorpions soared freely through the skies, gliding amidst clouds with an eerie grace that terrified all who beheld them.

Within the boundless ocean of corpses, tens of thousands of corpse ghost soldiers and undead knights marched in disciplined ranks, raising tattered war banners bearing the emblems of their former lives, as if still faithfully guarding Kantadar’s Royal Court.

In this horrific undead legion’s center, three massive undead generals, riding skeletal lion scorpions, nightmare giants, and bat ghosts, led black-armored corpse horses ridden by death knights, escorting the newly ascended “Corpse Demon Lord” Aviout seated upon the undead war carriage.

The blood-soaked royal court steadily advanced along the road, eventually arriving at a massive burial mound at the base of the Ustato Mountains.

It was a place known by all Ustato people, Sobonitz folk, and every Kantadar citizen.

Decades ago, when “Lydwen II” invaded Kantadar, and his flying dragon had been personally slain beneath Ustato’s mountainous shadow by Great Knight Valensis.

Built as a monument to preserve the kingdom’s past glory and honor the slaying of the dragon, this grand tomb carried its legacy.

A royal carriage drawn by skeletal war steeds halted before Valensis’ dragon slaying statue.

The cadavers, under the corpse witches’ control, methodically unloaded heaps of flesh and remains from massive corpse wagons onto the tomb.

In no time, several corpse witches rode forth, chanting spells to channel the restless spirits hovering above ghostly soul bell carts to pour into the Dragon Tomb.

With their incantations, a tide of necromantic power surged like a furious wave into the lifeless soil.

The ground quaked violently.

The vast burial mound began to tremble without ceasing.

—WHOOSH!!

A terrifying burst of ghostly green dragon breath pierced outward through the earth.

Amid thunderous collapses, a colossal shadow forced its way free from shattered brick and rubble.

A massive undead flying dragon, adorned with scraps of flesh, spread its tattered wings as it clawed out of the tomb’s pit.

Its enormous body regrew under the force of necromantic magic, its bone spikes and exposed blood-red flesh filling out its shattered frame, glowing faintly with eerie green light as its fragmented form knit itself whole.

—ROAR!!!

A spine-chilling dragon roar bellowed forth from its skeletal maw, a tempest of rage directed at the ants daring to disturb it.

The corpse witches showed no fear.

Swiftly brandishing their bone staffs, the witch-doctors of the dead summoned soul bells, releasing spectral chains that wound tightly around the frenzied skeletal dragon.

Aviout ascended slowly from his seat, unsheathing the ominous black mist-coated “Fear Demon Blade” from his waist.

His figure, now magnified severalfold from his mortal form, descended the carriage step by step.

His macabre robe—stitched from wolf pelts and human skin—dragged across the ground as his dried ghost-fire eyes fixed unwaveringly upon the undead flying dragon.

Calm and deliberate, he approached.

The struggling skeletal dragon thrashed its lengthy neck, striving fruitlessly against the magical chains binding its movements.

The taut illusion chains threatened to shred the soul carriage into pieces.

But once Aviout reached the dragon, with quiet authority, he raised his hand slightly.

—BOOM!!

A crushing spiritual force surged into the dragon soul, pressing the flying dragon’s body violently into the dirt.

Dust billowed outward as Aviout lifted the Demon Blade, driving it swiftly into the chest of the skeletal flying dragon.

Granted by Demonic power, the blade unleashed an unstoppable force, pouring dark mist into its soul, gradually extinguishing the dragon’s resistance.

The skeletal dragon’s soul, now fully dominated, bowed to its new lord as Aviout ascended onto its back.

The spectral winds stirred chaos as the massive beast flapped its damaged wings, carrying its new rider into the skies.

The Corpse Demon Lord pointed the blade southward.

The undead flying dragon obeyed, soaring above the Ustato Mountains and over the countless restless undead below, heading toward the Southern Mountain Territory.

Aviout’s remaining consciousness had gleaned through his journey of reclaiming the Eastern domains the treacherous deeds of his half-brother.

Hatred boiled in the Demon Lord’s mind—he vowed to carve terror into the traitor’s soul.

This reclaiming of the Kantadar lands began with using Ablo as his first target, and eventually, his kingdom would return to his grasp.

On the earth below.

The ocean of death surged, roaring in deafening rage.