Chapter 370
Chapter 370 of "The Villain's Story" starts revealing the story: 'How strange.'I commented. I was currently breezing past the streets of the capital city. The... Don’t miss it!
'How strange.'
I commented. I was currently breezing past the streets of the capital city. The only reason I could do this despite the large number of undead was simple. I was using the skill of my cape.
This skill was a lifesaver, due to it, I didn't have to bother with the endless amount of undead swarming me in the city, a place that would be disadvantageous for me anyway.
Suddenly, I heard the metallic voice of the tower again. It always asked the same question.
What will you do here?
Nothing other than that. Well…I guess it is its role to be an observer.
"What do you think?"
I questioned it. Thankfully, this thing responded instead of just being quiet.
I stopped in my tracks.
It continued to speak whilst I was stuck in shock.
Its metallic voice echoed in my mind, and my heart almost stopped,
It…knew?
The atmosphere shifted and a deathly silence enveloped the entire city…It was as if time had stopped when that Tower was speaking.
Its metallic echoes disappeared and I was brought back into the trial. I get it now…Whenever the tower talked back, it isolated me from the trial.
"...Truly a fearsome power,"
I remarked. I am unaware of what it can do in that isolated s.p.a.ce.
Nevertheless, Although my mind was still in turmoil I marched forward, towards the castle on the horizon.
Towards it large gates.
The undead could not sense my presence because of the chaotic veil skill, but when I entered the radius of the castle they all disappeared. No undead came close here.
It was an eerie phenomenon.
I approached the ma.s.sive gates of the castle and saw the corpse of a knight, once adorned in glamourous, archaic, and ornate armor.
The description from the tower appeared and conveyed the knight's story.
Amidst the eerie silence of the desolate city, a lone knight stands resolutely before the imposing gates of the castle. Clad in armor tarnished by battles long past, the knight's figure is a striking contrast against the backdrop of gray. The air is heavy with antic.i.p.ation, and the world seems to hold its breath in antic.i.p.ation of the coming clash. The hope of the Empire's survival rests on the knight's shoulders
The castle gates, towering and ancient, seem to groan under their own weight as the undead horde approaches. Thousands….tens of thousand sets of lifeless eyes gleam with a malevolent light, their relentless advance driven by the shadows that envelop them. As the first rank of the undead draws near, the knight's grip tightens around the hilt of a sword that has seen countless battles. He remains resolute. Though he may be alone his spirit and strength are equal to that of a thousand men!
The knight's armor gleams dully amidst the monochrome surroundings, a symbol of valor that defies the desolation, a beacon for the empire. The visor of the helm is raised, revealing a face marked by the pa.s.sage of time and the scars of battles fought in the name of honor. Eyes, determined and unyielding, meet the empty gazes of the approaching horde.
With a determined exhale, the knight steps forward, planting boots worn by countless journeys into the ashen ground. A gust of wind ruffles the knight's cape, billowing like a tattered banner of defiance against the sea of shadows. The clash is inevitable, the outcome uncertain, but in this solitary figure stands a last bastion against the encroaching darkness, the horde of corpses, which were once the citizens and n.o.bles of his beloved empire.
As the first undead creature lunges forward, the knight's blade sings with deadly purpose. Steel meets decay in a dance of clashing forces. The knight's movements are fluid and practiced, each strike a testament to years of training. The blade cleaves through brittle bones and unholy flesh, repelling the initial onslaught with a ferocity that surprises even the undead.
But the horde is unyielding, and for every undead creature felled, another seems to take its place. The air resounds with the eerie cacophony of sc.r.a.ping bones and moans that echo like distant whispers. The knight's movements become a blur of steel and determination as the struggle continues, the very essence of the castle seeming to pulse in time with the knight's heartbeats.
Time loses its meaning in the heat of the battle. The knight's armor bears marks of the undead's relentless a.s.sault, yet the knight presses on, driven by duty and an unbreakable spirit. The ground beneath the knight's feet is painted with the remnants of the fallen, a testament to the knight's unwavering stand. If he falls the empire falls! He cannot!
For the sake of his beloved emperor, for the sake of his loyalty! HE MUST NOT FALL!
The battle rages on, a testament to the indomitable spirit of a lone knight who stands as the final bulwark against the tide of darkness. The clash of steel and bone, the moans of the undead, and the knight's unyielding determination create a symphony of defiance that reverberates through the castle gates and into the heart of the land itself.
But he was human.
Fatigue was bound to come…after all. Willpower would not move the body, already injured beyond belief in the endless battle.
The knight's figure is consumed by the horde of undead, and he loses.
The castle is now wide open to the onslaught of the undead…The Mighty Empire is now reduced to but the imperial castle.
Decades pa.s.s, but the knight's corpse remains in front of the castle gates, refusing to give in to the shadow.
He waits for a challenger, to save him, to fight him…to give him freedom.
To give him death.
"Oh Challenger, What kind of death would you gift the knight?"