Surviving as a Knight in a Trash Game

Chapter 155

More than half of the 1,000 elite soldiers of Duke Yevgeny Volkov's proud sword, the once continent-ruling Changong Knights, lay as corpses, strewn across the gorge.

Countless crows covered the sky, intending to feast on the corpses filling the gorge, and the gorge, filled with blood and decaying bodies, was no different from hell on earth.

“This is serious.”

Even Karl, who rarely showed any expression, couldn't help but frown at the living hell unfolding before his eyes.

“Do you think there are any survivors…?”

“We’ll have to look.”

“The Uruks’ losses are not small either… However, the Eastern army’s losses are just too devastating.”

At least 300 Uruks had died.

It looked like 1,000 from the Eastern army, including the Changong Knights, had perished.

As he was looking around the mountain of corpses, a familiar piece of armor caught his eye.

“Commander…”

“I didn't think he would die.”

He had fully anticipated a major defeat, but he hadn't imagined he would see Marat’s corpse here.

“We’re going to Ankal Castle.”

Ankal Castle was the largest castle nearby, and it was the place where Karl and Marat had agreed to rendezvous if an unexpected situation occurred.

Even if Marat was dead, if there was just one commander-level officer, they would have led the troops to Ankal Castle.

Thus, Karl and the members of the Lighthouse Knights moved away from the mountain of corpses and turned their horses towards the Ankal Domain.

***

“…”

Boris looked around at his subordinates who had arrived at Ankal Castle with a devastated expression.

“Is this all that survived?”

“…Yes, sir.”

The image of Marat, who seemed like he would never die, being split by the Uruk leader’s axe was vivid in his mind.

The momentum they had when they first attacked them was gone, and they were powerlessly defeated, unable to even properly handle 1,000 Uruks.

In the gorge, the Uruks’ combat strength was beyond their imagination.

They should have heeded Rogério’s advice when he spoke.

Out of 300 Changong Knights, over 100 knights, 100 mercenary knights, and 400 out of 1,000 elite soldiers had become wandering souls of the battlefield.

The remaining forces also included many injured, leaving very few effective troops.

“The Uruk bastards will attack soon.”

About 700 of them had survived.

Moreover, the leader of those enveloped in blue flames remained.

If that one came at them head-on, could they really stop him?

Boris lowered his head in silence.

What punishment would Duke Yevgeny mete out?

Would the Duke really come to rescue them, who were all dead or nearly so, waiting for their deaths in Ankal Castle with so few remaining?

The imposing appearance they had at the start of the campaign was nowhere to be seen, only the appearance of defeated soldiers remained.

Boris climbed onto the ramparts, pondering how things had come to this.

“Vice-Commander Boris, so when are our reinforcements coming?”

“His Excellency the Duke will send reinforcements soon…”

Boris knew well that Yevgeny lacked additional troops to dispatch here, but he couldn’t tell the truth in front of the anxious soldiers.

With the distrustful gaze of the Lord of Ankal Castle behind him, all Boris could do was redeploy the troops and instill hope that they could win.

“Vice-Commander Boris, can we really stop those monsters with just us? Didn’t you say Commander Marat also died in the last battle?”

“We have to hold out somehow. We can’t just die like this, can we?”

“Well…”

It was a somewhat reckless statement, but as he said, there was no other way but to fight if they didn't want to die.

“Kuuuuuaaaaaargh.”

As always, the time one wished would not come arrived sooner than any other, and the terrifying cries of the Uruks were heard from afar.

Boris concealed his slightly trembling hands as much as possible, got up, and went towards the ramparts.

***

“…”

The interior of the conference room with a large barracks was steeped in silence.

No one among those present easily opened their mouths.

“Commander of the Changong Knights, Marat, killed in action. The scale of damage, including the Changong Knights…”

Yevgeny’s face, listening to the adjutant’s continuing report, showed utter disbelief.

“So… Vice-Commander Boris has requested support. The number of Uruks is still… unconfirmed, they say.”

“…Sir Karl Meyer?”

“Initially, he opposed Sir Marat’s opinion, leading to a clash of opinions, and he said he would move independently. His current whereabouts are difficult to ascertain.”

“…”

There was no worse worst-case scenario than this.

Yevgeny had intended to entrust command to Karl, who had much experience dealing with Uruks.

He had actually conveyed such intentions to Marat as well.

Since most of the total forces were Yevgeny’s, and entrusting all Eastern affairs to Karl would not only affect their prestige but also Yevgeny’s authority in front of the Eastern domain’s people and nobles, not directly handing over command became the worst decision.

Yet, he couldn't blame Marat, who was already dead.

He too must have made the best choice.

“Troops to send as support?”

“It’s not easy. The Uruks we have to face number 4,000.”

The troops Yevgeny had brought, scraped together, barely amounted to 5,000.

It was not a very generous number to face 4,000 Uruks.

“Are you telling me to abandon them?”

“Isn’t there Lord Karl Meyer?”

“It’s only a knighthood of 150… Those Uruks number over 2,000. No matter how great Lord Karl Meyer is, it will be difficult for him to be of much help.”

It was then, as everyone present looked at each other and sighed.

“My Lord! Urgent news!”

Everyone’s gaze turned to the adjutant who had newly entered to deliver the news.

Could there be news more shocking than the devastating losses of the Changong Knights?

“It is reported that 150 knights led by Lord Karl have defeated about 500 out of 1,000 Uruks.”

“…”

The pupils of those present momentarily dilated to nearly twice their size.

“By what means?”

“It is said they intercepted the Uruks moving in the plains through hit-and-run tactics. In the process, they also reportedly slew an Uruk great warrior named Red Sole.”

Recently, people in the West Continent had been calling Uruks capable of contending with Master-grade knights by the name of ‘great warrior.’

Thanks to this, it was possible to understand even more clearly how great Karl’s achievement was.

“To think that with only 150 knights, they inflicted such damage on over 1,000 Uruks…”

In truth, if Blue Fang had been there, Karl wouldn't have been able to achieve this much, but those present here couldn't know such detailed stories.

The only comparison the people gathered in the room could make was between Marat, who was crushed despite having 500 knights and 1,000 soldiers against 1,000 Uruks, and Karl, who crushed the same number of Uruks with only 150 knights.

“We’ll have to trust Lord Karl.”

Yevgeny made the final decision not to send support troops and to focus on the enemy at hand.

***

It had already been two days since they started battling the Uruks at Ankal Castle.

Boris, his face gaunt, received the news from Duke Yevgeny.

“What do you mean… there’s no support!”

Boris slammed the floor angrily at the news delivered by the Lord of Ankal Castle.

“…If the thousand Uruks that split off here rejoin, we won’t even be able to hold out! Are you saying you’re going to abandon us like this!”

“Well… Lord Karl reportedly crushed half of the 1,000 Uruks, 500 of them.”

“…?”

With only 150 knights, he had slaughtered half of the over 1,000 Uruks?

Boris felt an immense sense of disparity.

They had been crushed by 1,000 Uruks despite having so many knights and soldiers; how could he achieve such a result with 150 knights?

“Vice-Commander Boris. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look very unwell.”

“No, I’m not…”

“The Uruk bastards seem to be resting a bit too, so you should also go get some rest, Vice-Commander. You haven’t rested properly for days, have you?”

Boris had practically not rested at all, fending off the relentless Uruk onslaught.

“Then… I’ll just rest for a bit.”

Boris trudged into the castle and slumped down anywhere.

If he had handed over command to Lord Karl then, or if not that, if he had at least listened to Rogério’s words during the last meeting, things wouldn't have turned out like this.

Even if he survived here, what future would he have?

Wouldn't only the life of a failed Vice-Commander remain?

“Hmph… Useless thoughts. It’s uncertain whether I’ll even survive or not.”

He lightly tapped his head and shot up.

It was a situation where it was questionable if he could hold out even if he focused on surviving.

He had to save at least those who remained.

As Boris steeled his resolve and climbed back onto the ramparts, a vivid blue ghostly fire flared up from the enemy’s formation.

It was a blue flame he had seen before.

On the day he saw that flame, he had lost countless comrades.

Gulp.

Boris unknowingly swallowed hard.

At that moment, ghostly fires erupted from various places, and the battle began.

Kwoooong!

A massive blue ghostly fire among the Uruks suddenly flew high into the sky and fell onto the ramparts.

“Kurururururu. Kuuuuuuaaaaaargh!”

The roar of a savage beast erupted, and the bodies of the knights and soldiers on the ramparts froze.

The moment the Uruk, revealing its blue fangs and smiling, moved its axe, the knights around him were helplessly cut down.

Boris forcibly suppressed his trembling hands, raised his sword, and rushed towards the Uruk.

“Uwaaaaaaah!!”

Boris, shouting to overcome his fear, met the flying blue axe with his own sword.

Kwaaaaang!

Boris, who had been rushing forward with a tremendous explosion, rolled several times with a speed as fast as his charge and crashed into the rampart.

The impact was so great that he almost lost consciousness momentarily.

Tremble, tremble.

His legs trembled, but he planted his sword into the ground and somehow managed to get up.

“Not dead, I see.”

Listening to the fluent continental common tongue uttered by the monstrous face, Boris clenched his teeth and readjusted his grip on his sword.

“Still, I have my pride. I can’t die in one blow.”

Thinking it was a do-or-die situation anyway, Boris blustered in a way he usually wouldn't.

“Kururururu.”

Blue Fang let out a sound that was hard to tell if it was a cry or a laugh, as if he found Boris amusing.

“I like you better than that commander fellow. Baltara would also favor a human like you. However, human. I don’t have time right now. I need to clean this place up thoroughly before he arrives.”

Who was he referring to as he?

Then, the face of one person came to Boris’s mind.

A man with an indifferent expression and black hair, who seemed like he would survive any danger.

Karl Reitz Arthur Meyer.

He was now a living legend.

Kwoong!

The moment Boris’s thoughts were about to continue, the Uruk, engulfed in blue ghostly fire, kicked off the ground in front of him.

Boris, who had not yet become a Master, was certain that this clash with the Uruk would be his last.

“Uwaaaaaaah!”

Still, he let out another shout.

If not him, there was no one else who could stop that Uruk even a little.

Boris, like a knight, raised his sword.

A few more clashes echoed, and before he knew it, Blue Fang’s axe was embedded in Boris’s chest.

“Cough…!”

With his collapsing body, Boris tightly gripped the Uruk’s axe.

“You fought well, human. Baltara will look kindly upon you.”

Boris tried his best to keep his closing eyes open, trying to hold onto the Uruk even a little longer.

But he no longer had the strength to support his collapsing body.

‘Ah…’

The soldiers, including his members, came into his sight.

As his body collapsed, a brilliantly shining golden aura appeared in his eyes, which were filled with regret.

“Rest now. You’ve suffered greatly.”

At that very short, emotionless voice that seemed to end all worldly worries, Boris closed his eyes with a peaceful mind, unlike just a moment ago.