Four Split Personalities

"Right away, Lord Black Fan!"

The ground trembled once, twice, thrice...

Half a second later, a muddy, endless deluge burst from afar!

It was nearly ten thousand frenzied Undead.

Raymond’s hand gripping the sword trembled as well. Even though he was nearly two meters tall, possessed muscles brimming with explosive power, and had gone from a common literary youth to a Middle Rank swordmaster in just half a year, his nature was ultimately not cut out to be a warrior. Neither adventure nor combat fit with this rather artistic young man. He simply couldn’t rid himself of fear or disregard death.

["So, as I said, dead old man, I am definitely not a natural-born adventurer."]

Raymond took a deep breath, stepped forward hesitantly yet determined, and laughed at himself with a touch of self-mockery, "But I did indeed take up your longsword in the end."

The Lizardman shield warrior ahead of him looked back and asked curiously, "Commander Raymond, what longsword are you talking about?"

"Nothing, just keep your eyes on what’s ahead."

Raymond shrugged with a somewhat stiff smile and said, "Try not to die, okay?"

The other laughed with a sly grin, along with everyone else in the front, they plunged their shields fiercely into the ground and said with a broad smile, "Haha, don’t you worry, Commander. Including those rotten flesh-heads up there, there’s not a single soul afraid to die within a hundred miles."

["Look, old man, anyone is more suited to this perilous job than your son."]

Raymond muttered in his heart, and then sincerely added, "I’m pretty scared of dying, though."

"Tsk tsk, Captain, you’re joking again..."

The Lizardman warrior crouched behind the tower shield made a silly face but was cut off midway by the loud voice of a commander nearby.

"Dawn—activate Devotion Aura, Healing Prayer for the front line, prepare for linked treatment."

In the next instant, over a dozen radiant golden lights spread through the ranks, and at the same moment, the warriors holding their shields at the very front ’lit up’ swiftly.

The dozen Holy Knights of the Church of the Dawn and the several dozen clergy behind the formation started praising the Goddess aloud. The moment Motan’s words fell, the blessings were bestowed.

"Fertile Sect—front line Thorns Armor, second echelon Fortitude Blessing, third echelon Life Growth."

Priests and Clergy of the Fertile Sect chanted divine names, casting a gentle radiance.

"Mages—ten meters straight ahead, prepare for wide-range attack spells."

Magic crystals atop the staffs sparked to life, as elements in the air stirred rapidly.

"Left-wing Thieves—Death Dust, Stealth, leave formation."

Dozens of slender figures ’whooshed’ as they drew daggers or short swords from their waists, then uniformly sprinkled themselves with a puff of gray dust, silently breaking away from the main force.

"Shamans—ten meters ahead, Earth-binding Totem; Stone Skin Technique for the front row and second and third echelons."

The combined force’s most powerful Shaman Priest raised a hand in a hollow grip, eyes closed channeling the spirit of the Earth.

"Magicians, Summoners—place low-rank summoned creatures at the Earth-binding Totem’s location."

Little imps ablaze with Evil Fire and featureless translucent mutants appeared from dimensional rifts or demon arrays, reveling around the newly risen Earth-binding Totem.

"Rangers—ready binding shots, ejection, three, two, one, release!"

Bowstrings twanged relentlessly.

Boom!!!

The first mutant to step into the Earth-binding Totem took an arrow to the knee and, propelled by momentum, toppled to the ground, only to have its neck severed by a dagger that appeared from nowhere,

For a middle-rank Thief, taking down an enemy with a composite strength several times that of a normal person, zero perception, and fallen on the ground, was as easy as breathing, even easier than avoiding friendly fire.

Wind Blade tornadoes that shot up from the ground, Flame Dance that descended from the sky, ice spikes that scattered in all directions, arcane barrages that materialized out of thin air—the spells continuously washed over the death flood that had crushed the Earth-binding Totem Array in mere moments, simultaneously inflicting casualties and slowing the mutants’ advance.

It was of little effect...

But expected.

A little Evil Fire Imp, in a hysterical cackling, clung to the nearest thick thigh, then rapidly swelled to thrice its size and exploded with a muffled bang, knocking down or flinging into the air all mutants within a meter radius; the rest of the summoned creatures hurried to scatter, igniting all the magic power and energy within themselves, creating ripples after ripples in this unstoppable tide of death.

Ripples of blood and flesh.

"Frontline Shield Warriors, brace for impact! You need to hold for at least two minutes."

Motan waved his cross and remotely cast a [Command: Barrier], immobilizing more than a dozen mutants that had clumped together, letting their peers trample them into a carpet, and called out gravely, "Second echelon, prepare to engage the enemy—free attack!"

Raymond gripped the rusty longsword in his hand, as a layer resembling burning blue flames of battle energy appeared on his skin, large sweat drops trailing down his forehead.

They were getting closer, even closer...

Bang! Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang!

Just as he could make out the half-rotted face of one of the mutants, a Lizardman Shield Warrior had been sent flying, crashing heavily near Raymond’s feet.

"Second echelon, move up—fill the gaps!"

Motan’s Holy Scripture fluttered without wind, shooting out two beams of golden light that quickly merged into the body of the Lizardman soldier, while he himself didn’t even glance this way, but instead bellowed, "All units engage freely, the enemy must not breach here! Medics and support must ensure their own safety, prioritize front line and second and third echelons, others pay attention to self-preservation, watch out for those who’ve broken through, right wing Thieves specifically target them!"

"Kill!"

Raymond, who had never seen such a grand battle, picked up a tower shield from the ground and planted it firmly in front of him, his sword turned into a whirl of blue flame, cutting two mutants at the waist into four pieces, yet he could not stem the tide of more monsters seeping through the defenses from all directions.

Even though this section of terrain was quite narrow, there were just too many mutants; even without the front line shield bearers falling, they could still clamber over their compatriots’ bodies, bypass the shields, and launch themselves at anyone exuding a hint of life.

Within a few breaths, Raymond at the far left of the front line found himself surrounded by seven or eight mutants. Although these mutants couldn’t do him much harm in a short time, their chaotic and reckless attacks were still chilling, and the force on the tower shield grew stronger—mutants crashing into it, and mutants crashing into those mutants, creating relentless pressure, leaving the middle-rank Swordmaster no chance to breathe.

If not for being blessed with four or five defensive Divine Arts or magic spells, including the Shaman Priest’s Stone Skin Technique, he could at most hold on for a few more minutes!

This was not just Raymond’s own endurance but it was also the outermost defense line’s lifespan in face of such a situation—just a few more minutes. If the trend continued, as soon as the number of mutants pouring in reached a certain threshold, the first layer of defense would exist in name only.

If it failed this quickly, what would follow?

The Requiem Plan would be a total failure, the united forces completely massacred, and innumerable Misha County civilians, who had seen a glimmer of hope, would meet their doom.

Could this be acceptable?

[Not really!]

"Get back!"

Raymond grabbed the throat of a mutant with one hand, using it as a weapon to smash out from behind the shield, wiping out a swath of monsters, then spun to deliver a double cross of sword light, quartering three undead that were about to clamber over the edge of the shield.

He was starting to understand a little of what that old man had said back in the day.

Although he didn’t feel particularly lucky, this desire to swing his sword despite trembling was not too bad.

Chapter 435: End