Chapter 67

Frost Comes

Preparations for the battle were in full swing. Tenner and Derrek managed to rally some twenty-five able-bodied men, some of them even servants and were doing their best to beat the people in shape. Though both knew that these twenty-something lads largely won't contribute to saving the castle, if they even managed to kill one Ghoul per person, it would be seen as a victory.

At the same time, they were fixing up ballistae and trebuchets, making ammo for the two behemoths that would actually be their primary form of defense. That was also where most of the talismans that Ryne and Sylas were making would appear. In fact, Sylas had learned more about the various types of talismans in the last few days than all the days prior. The list was extensive, going anywhere from blowing up the arrowheads to act as shrapnel on the receiving end to accelerated descent, where the spear or the rock gain extra acceleration—and, thus, far greater impact prowess—toward the end.

Both Ryne and he worked tirelessly, sleeping practically in 20-minutes naps. However, their relentless beating of the bodies didn't come with nothing—by the end, they had over sixty talismans to show for it, the record number. At least it seemed so by Ryne's ecstatic reaction. The young girl was jumping up and down, hugging him, running back to the table, and counting the talismans all over again, ensuring they hadn't made a counting error somewhere.

“Sixty!” she exclaimed. “It really is sixty. Sylas, it’s sixty!”

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first few hundred times,” he replied, smiling. His face was overcast, the mind’s tiredness evident on it.

“But still… I can’t believe it’s sixty,” she repeated yet again. “If I told my Master… she’d lose her marbles, I swear! Even she can’t do sixty in less than four days!”

“Yes, but remember—you didn’t do it alone.”

“Yes, yes, you deserve some credit as well,” she quickly dismissed him. “Good job.”

“If you’re done celebrating,” Sylas said. “We still have to hand these out and prep them.”

“Ah, yes! We don’t have much time to lose! Let’s go!”

"… you don't want to take a bath first?"

“No time, no time!” she began quickly—but still carefully—packing the talismans, hurrying him to help her. In the end, electing not to take the bath and leaving the basement with both looking like they had just spent a few weeks roaming the streets, they hurried over to Derrek who was in charge of preparing the long-range artillery. At the moment, he was going over the details of using them with some of the servants of the castle who’d be responsible for them—largely maids and old butlers, in fact. If someone who wasn’t in the known were to see the sight, Sylas had no doubt they’d think someone was putting on a skit.

“So, when I give the signal, you…?”

“Pull on this wheel,” one of the women replied. “Until I hear a snap.”

“Precisely. And then?”

“And then I swing my ax at his rope!”

“No, no,” Derrek sighed. “You wait, again, for another signal.”

“Oh, right. Yes, I wait…”

“How’s it going?” Sylas asked with a faint smile as the two approached.

“Well, the good news is that we might never need to face the Ghouls,” Derrek replied. “The bad news is… it’s ‘cause we’re likely to get shot by our own folk.”

“Eh, I have faith in them,” Sylas said. “We got the talismans ready.”

“Oh, wow. That seems like a lot. How many?”

“Sixty?”

"Sixty?!!" even Derrek was aghast at the number, expecting, at most, fifteen-twenty talismans. Sixty… was a game-changer, that much he knew. “What types?” he asked.

"There are twenty explosives," Ryne explained, separating each type into a different, leather bag and handing them over to Derrek. "Stick them onto a rock or a ballistae spearhead, and set the timer—each tick of energy represents one second. If you don't want that, you can also remotely activate the talisman but that will consume more energy. When charged, the talisman will cause the object to explode into sixty-four pieces, each coated in tiny patches of energy, but still strong enough to almost cut through a foot-deep stone.

“Fifteen of them are accelerators,” she continued. “It’s simple—stick ‘em on an object, and adjust the threshold of speed. When the object crosses that threshold, it obtains a monumental burst of speed for a moment.

“Ten are shielders—they cover roughly six by six area, so it’s not like you can utilize them for much, but they can take a decent beating before breaking.

“Another ten are mistifiers," Derrek had a strange look in his eyes as he watched Ryne and Sylas. It wasn't just the number of talismans… it was also the diversity of the make. At best, he expected most of them to be accelerators since he heard those were on the 'easier' end to make. And yet… "I don't know how much these will be useful, but they create a mist within forty or so yards of where they are used. It's not just visual, however—they mask all other forms of identification, such as smell, noise, and even heat.

“And the last five are sunboons," she handed the bag with the last five somewhat reluctantly and with great care. "They are… a bit special. You apply them to a weapon—a sword, mace, even a shield. Then, with each swing, you naturally charge them slightly—depending on the arc, strength, and breadth of the swing, it can take anywhere between three to six swings to charge it fully. The fully-charged swing, then, will also shoot forth a cone of fire. As it uses natural energy to charge, it's not a one-time use, but it will still break after around five-six uses. I recommend either you or Captain Tenner take all five since you can likely make the most of them.”

“… huuuuuuh,” Derrek exhaled deeply, beyond shocked at not just the quantity, but also the quality of talismans. He’d heard of the ‘sunboons’—they were a type of enhancement talismans, often applied to weapons, that had special effects after a charge. And though he didn’t know how difficult they were to make, the fact that he once saw a pair being bought for over a hundred thousand coins—enough to buy a mansion in the capital—likely meant that these five… were priceless.

Once again looking at Ryne, he couldn’t help but sigh; though the Witch’s means were awful and disheartening… her results were unparalleled. After all, across all of the peninsula’s Kingdoms, only she was capable of producing such a monster at such a young age.

“You should take them, Derrek,” Sylas said. “It will all be on you.”

“…” Derrek shot him a glare for a moment before sighing helplessly and, once again, going through the routine with the servants.

While Ryne went back to take a shower and rest, Sylas found an empty place and sat down. He held the blade by the handle, closing his eyes, visualizing the strike. He wasn’t confident in many things when it came to who he was—wasn’t confident in his smarts, his heart, or much of his courage, at that. But if there was one thing he was beyond confident in… it was the strike. The tenth one. The penultimate one.

He knew that, if he could freely stack them, the tenth strike could puncture through graphene without an issue, let alone the flesh of that giant creature. That was why he was planning on assisting Derrek rather than cleaning up the castle. If the two of them could deal with the Thrall… then the army could easily dispatch the Ghouls. Even if their wall fell, the castle would stand. All they had to do was kill the monster.

Sylas' dreams, however, were short-lived.

The dawn of the next day came and the trumpet cried out into the misty sky, and all men rushed to the walls where they saw, just beyond the first patch of trees, the ghoulish invaders approaching. For a moment, Sylas got a sense of déjà vu, recalling the very first night in this world, where he saw the rotted faces of the corpses marching toward the wall.

He sharpened his gaze and looked beyond the slow-moving, languid corpses, searching for anything that stood out—and he found it. Just like Derrek described them—the Infernals. Or, well, an Infernal. It stood mixed in with the rest of the Ghouls, clearly attempting to blend in—showing at least a minimal level of intellect—but it wasn’t that smart since anyone looking closely enough could easily spot it.

To the side, he saw that Derrek had also spotted it, and was already pulling back the string of his bow. The gleam of silver shone against the arrowhead as he stretched it taut, taking a deep breath before letting go. The arrow whizzed through, breaking the heavy, terrifying silence, easily finding its mark, lodging itself into the beast's head. What caught Sylas unprepared was that the arrow didn’t… stay lodged. Instead, it continued, lopping the head clean off and stabbing it directly into the tree behind.

“HOT DAMN!” he exclaimed into the silence, startling everyone. “That’s some good shit, man!” his quite childish outburst, however, seemed to lessen the tensions significantly as everyone chuckled at it, even Derrek.

“HERE THEY COME!!” it was Tenner’s voice who brought everyone back to reality. “ARCHERS, GET READY!! YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE ACCURATE, JUST SHOOT WHERE THERE’S A LOT OF THEM!! WILL WE HAND THEM OUR HOME?!!”

“No!”

“I ASKED—WILL WE HAND THEM OUR HOME?!!”

“NO!!!”

“THEN LET US STAIN THIS GROUND WITH THEIR FILTH!! FIRE!!”

The battle began immediately, with arrows flying off the wall and toward the horde. Unfortunately, it was hardly a heroic sight—most arrows missed, and even the few that hit, hardly did much damage. That was to expected—archery, by default, was an extremely difficult skill to even just pick up, and with less than four days altogether to practice, there was only so much Tenner and Derrek could do.

The two of them prioritized the flanks, trying to guide the horde to be more centralized so that the others could more easily land shots. Sylas regretted slightly not having picked up archery himself—after all, it was a skill that relied on, well, skill, meaning that he could likely take his practice of it through the loops. Tsk, I want to become too many things… hah. Good thing I have an eternity, I guess…

More and more Ghouls poured out of the woods, heading for the walls. The day, in the meantime, began to slowly clear up, the songs of the birds, however, deafened out by the gnarly cries of the corpses and the excited shouts of the young men who managed to land their first kill on the infernal enemy.

It was around half an hour into the attack, during which the Ghouls were unable to do much except pile on in front of the wall, attempting to create a ladder of sorts, that the atmosphere changed. Sylas and Derrek were the first to notice it, and their gazes met—it was faint, the shaking of the ground, the change in the natural energy. It was growing colder, they realized.

A moment later, almost everyone forcibly sneezed as the onset of cold air irritated their nostrils. Nobody took it to heart, however, chalking it up to the winter, too excited about killing ghouls to care.

“It’s coming,” Sylas mumbled as the ground began to shake. “EVERYONE, GET OFF THE WALLS!! RETREAT TO THE INNER COURTYARD!” his sudden order was met with abject confusion. Even Tenner was out of the loop as to why Sylas called it out. Though he knew that a Thrall would attack, he had no perspective—unlike Derrek—on what a ‘Thrall’ was. To him, it was just another Ghoul. Nonetheless, he knew not to doubt the ‘Prophet’.

“DID YOU ALL GO DEAF?!! RETREAT!! GO, GO, GO!!” Tenner’s orders, though still confusing, got everyone moving, emptying the wall shortly after. The only two who remained were Sylas and Derrek.

“What are you doing here?” Derrek asked.

“A cheerleader,” Sylas replied.

“And here I thought you stayed to help.”

“Buy me time,” Sylas said. “I need you to disturb its heart.”

“… let me get this straight,” Derrek said. “You want me to disturb the heart of an undead creature?”

“Yes.”

“…”

“It’s not the literal heart,” Sylas rolled his eyes at him. “I meant his instincts—I need you to make the creature believe you will blow a hole through its ass and up its nose. That will be my opening.”

“Opening for what?”

“To turn the goddamn thing into a skewer.”