Our Family Has Fallen

"It doesn’t matter, it’s better than letting it slip away. Go back and prepare how to expand the range of the Holy Grail."

Lance understood that it was impossible to fully digest it alone in a short time, and he realized that he might not have such an opportunity for a long time.

His spiritual essence could only store a portion and needed constant consumption, but he currently had limited means of consumption. Excessive blessings could easily lead to an alternative crisis.

The Honor Guard had a foundation; it was originally set for supernatural power, and its small, controllable numbers made it manageable.

But the regular army was different; blindly pursuing supernatural power could drag Hamlet’s hard-won scientific development into darkness.

The allocation of resources tested his lordly abilities; he must balance this scale.

If he could transform it into spiritual crystals for storage, there would be no need to consume it hastily. As for corruption, it was all fed into the void to transform into spiritual essence, effectively preventing others from using it.

On the way, he briefly discussed with scholars to devise a plan of bleeding on the lower tier and cutting flesh on the third tier.

The dungeon environment, vastly different from outside, left them uncomfortable, as though suddenly moving from oxygen-rich areas to a thin-air high altitude, triggering various reactions.

This reaction was even stronger for Alhazred, the magician, than when he first entered, but for Lance, it was no surprise here.

Information about the dungeon must be tightly controlled; the loyalty of the Honor Guard was unquestionable, the legion was silent, and Alhazred spent most of his time meditating.

As for Beggby... nothing was shared with him when he came; he was brought along as a laborer.

Lance glanced at him, estimating a serious talk would be needed to calm him down.

"Forget about leaving once you’re here!"

It would take some time to sail back to Hamlet; Lance knocked on Beggby’s cabin door.

"I know you have many questions; perhaps we can talk."

With his reclusive nature, Beggby couldn’t utter a refusal, allowing Lance to enter.

Inside the slightly swaying cabin, Lance sat on a chair, his expression first dull as if recalling something, then covered his face with his hand. As he slowly lowered his hand, an expression of helplessness and pain surfaced.

"Our family has fallen..."

Lance directly engaged him with the story of Hamlet, only it was a processed version.

Starting straight from the evil cult to the apocalypse, it utterly shocked Beggby, leaving him momentarily unsure how to react.

"If you want to study alchemy, I can offer help. My family once collected a lot of related research materials.

Moreover, I can support you, whether it’s materials, facilities, or funding. More importantly, here you don’t need to worry about threats from the Church.

We can also help you control yourself, determine the real reason, and perhaps separate from that negativity once the technique matures. "

To persuade someone, you must appeal to their interests. Since you like research, then work for me. Lance has a lot of data needing application and lacks a capable alchemist.

Beggby was accustomed to silence; he wasn’t truly foolish. He knew the Lord was recruiting him.

More importantly, he indeed couldn’t leave Hamlet now, whether to evade the Church or control himself.

"Actually, there’s no need for such worry. Your current condition is very favorable for research. Do you know why your family members keep falling on the experiment table?

Because the toxicity of various heavy metals and potions alchemy needs to touch is deadly, yet you possess full resistance.

Moreover, your recovery ability is strong, enabling you to restore energy quickly and devote more time to research.

Since you were born in alchemy, solve it therein. All you need is a stable environment, with your talent, you’ll soon find the solution."

Lance was speaking the truth; it’s both a curse and an opportunity. With full resistance, a body that can digest metals fears no pollution.

Yes, alchemy, work overtime for me!

Beggby had no reason to refuse, as Lance had already planned the path ahead for him.

The ship soon docked at the navy pier, and Alhazred’s group returned to the city while Lance led the Honor Guard and legion to the town.

...

On the outskirts of the Hamlet ruins, several cavalry emerged; their raised torches marked their positions, gradually converging into a cluster resembling a fire dragon.

And behind them in the darkness, countless skeletons were drawn out from the ruins, greedily seeking the breath of the living.

Without the division of the building ruins, they too followed the cavalry’s gathering, slowly enclosing like a giant hand, seemingly aiming to capture the "fire dragon."

"Beep beep beep!"

The loud whistles echoed in the darkness; experienced soldiers didn’t need much thought to locate their comrades and begin redeploying.

The agglomerated cavalry accelerated to yield the frontal battlefield; this showcased they had been controlling their pace, trailing the skeletons.

Continuous whistling seemed to narrate something, but suddenly intensified, with urgency easily discernible.

But the skeletons could not understand and continued their ceaseless stride, pursuing the living until the whistle waned and the darkness erupted with booming sounds far stronger than before.

"Boom!"

The dark concealed the smoke, but the flames were notably glaring, momentarily illuminating the artillery positions as roaring war machines.

Countless sounds, countless booming noises left one dazed, but the lights revealed artillery positions strategically around the skeletons’ front left and right.

Shells weren’t waiting; the stoned projectiles tore through the air, described as destructive in their onslaught, like plowing a field devoid of standing forms, all reduced to fractured bone fragments.

The extreme darkness obstructed the sun, else this sight would’ve been immensely relieving.

But skeletons knew no fear; their high casualties streamlined their bloated ranks, abruptly hastening their advance.

Once they reacquired the air’s pervasive scent, they dispersed to search for the living, significantly reducing the artillery’s effectiveness.

Ensuring the safety of the artillery crew remains key; loading shells require time, and unloaded cannons are hefty scrap.

But hoofbeats reemerged, the returning cavalry encircled the scattered skeletons under torchlight, repeatedly pulling them together.

This maneuver demonstrated remarkable craftsmanship and an indomitable mindset.

Surrounded by rampant skeletons, being overtaken meant instant obliteration, precluding rescue by comrades, indicating the cavalry’s calmness and bravery.

As the whistles sounded, the cavalry accelerated to disengage, just as the artillery resumed, effortlessly mastering the routine.

Proximity enhanced the fireworks’ power, deeply marking furrows even piercing through the skeleton formations, cutting laterally for maximum injury.

Cavalry’s luring can only concentrate them but not halt their advancing.

With a hundred-yard distance, two or three rounds can be fired, even while cavalry interventions persisted.

Skeletons never feared death; only charging.

When the last salvo sliced through the skeletons, scattering remnants lacked the value of continued firing.

Cavalry regrouped under whistles, deploying not in arrowhead formation but a column, self-explanatory in their aim.

"We are Hamlet’s blades!"

The leader unsheathed his sword and pointed at the skeletons, his shout resonating.

"Cavalry, charge!"