Lord of Rot

Kleino made short work of his breakfast: meat-strip soup and cold bread.

Once the number of mercenaries swelled past forty-five hundred, he could no longer get freshly baked bread—only stale leftovers.

The cold bread was hardly better than a rock, a formidable challenge for his teeth.

’The soft, delicious bread made from finely milled flour that the nobles ate would never find its way into our bowls. I’ve heard a single meal for a lord costs five Silver Moons. With that kind of money, I’d rather go to Leon City and enjoy myself. If I saved just a bit more, I could even buy a decent-looking female slave.’

He didn’t dip the cold bread into his soup, either. The bread would just absorb all the broth, and while the texture would improve a little, it would still be nearly impossible to swallow. Worse, he’d lose his hot soup. It was his habit to get the nasty food out of the way first so he could savor the good stuff.

He slurped down the last of the hot soup, chasing away the lingering chill from the night before.

The desert sun at dawn threatened to bake a man alive, but once it vanished and the moon rose, the cold seemed intent on freezing him solid in an instant.

Just as he set his bowl down, Kleino heard a commotion nearby. The men were speaking in hushed, urgent tones—loud enough for those in the immediate vicinity to hear, but not so loud as to travel far.

”Not even forty-five hundred pigs would just sit here waiting for the slaughter! There are over forty-five hundred of us mercenaries, so why are we just sitting here meekly!”

The speaker was the leader of a small mercenary corps, with about twenty men under his command. Like Kleino and the others, they had planned to ride the Wild Boar Mercenary Corps’ coattails into Mama City, hoping to cash in—doing the bare minimum but still expecting a payout.

But they never expected the Wild Boar Mercenary Corps to be wiped out so quickly.

And the Extraordinary mercenaries, legendary figures who were famous throughout the Desert Area, had surrendered at the first opportunity. Now they were the ones acting as peacekeepers, managing the rest of them.

They had been trapped here for too long. The man had been trying to incite a faction of the men to stir up trouble.

’Four thousand five hundred pigs in this situation would know enough to behave. Why does everyone assume pigs are dumber than people?’ Kleino wondered.

’At least a pig knows to accept its fate when it can’t win. It certainly wouldn’t try to provoke the butcher who can slaughter it at will.’

’Or do they think that if over forty-five hundred men scatter in every direction, Baron Porcupine will be too flustered to know who to chase?’

’The most likely outcome is that he wouldn’t chase anyone. He’d just watch them march to their deaths and save himself the trouble of feeding them.’

Mama City was several days’ journey from the nearest town or village—and that was on horseback.

’Let a bunch of idiots with no supplies, no weapons, and a habit of infighting escape together? Idiots who even had sworn enemies in their midst? The most likely outcome would be all of them dying in the desert.’

Kleino’s own enemy was here, too: the bald-headed, big-bearded Will. Some people called him ’Tall-man Shorty’ Will.

Every hometown has its folk beliefs: touch a snake on the head if you see one; spit if you step on a grave mound; never serve poultry at a holiday feast, or your good luck will fly away.

In Will’s hometown, the saying went, ”big feet mean a tall man.” From childhood, Will’s feet had always been larger than his peers’, but he was a head shorter than the average man, standing just over four feet tall.

And so, he’d earned the nickname ’Tall-man Shorty’.

The feud between Kleino and Will could be summed up in four words: unequal division of spoils.

When you’re a mercenary, you’re risking your life for money. An unfair split isn’t just a dispute; it’s a grudge to the death.

Speak of the devil. Just as Kleino thought of Will, he saw the short man glance his way. Kleino scowled back.

”What are you looking at!”

”What’s it to you if I look!”

”You looking for a fight?!”

Disputes like this erupted constantly, but with the Transcendents stepping in—and with troublemakers reportedly receiving severe punishment—the arguments had yet to escalate beyond shouting matches.

’Greedy, but cherishing life and fearing death. That’s a mercenary for you.’

The other men, grinning, cleared a space, ready to watch the show.

SKREEE—

A piercing cry suddenly echoed from the sky. Kleino fell silent. So did Will, who had been in the middle of shouting at him.

They all knew what that sound meant. Looking up, they saw exactly what they expected: a winged steed, a Magical Creature known as a Horse-headed Eagle.

Then came a shout from the rider, whom they called ”Princess Sophia.” Unfortunately, her voice was too faint to reach every ear.

But through the passing whispers, Kleino managed to piece it together.

A great war for the very survival of humanity was upon them, and everyone would have to give their all.

The mercenaries scoffed. What did the survival of humanity have to do with them? Even if a world-ending catastrophe struck or an Abyss Demon appeared, that was a problem for the King and the various Dukes and lesser lords.

They could have run. If Leech hadn’t forced them to stay, they would have scattered long ago.

A sense of unease crept over Kleino. He finally understood why they had been forced to stay.

’They were going to be forced into a war! A war they probably wouldn’t get paid for!’

The vast majority of the mercenaries came to the same conclusion almost instantly.

Someone yelled at the top of their lungs, ”What’s this got to do with us!”

”I’m not one of the Desert People! Let me leave!”

Another man just laughed, reveling in the chaos. ”The end of the world, you say? Hahaha, sounds fun!”

The gates of Mama City swung open, and a troop of fully armed cavalry charged out, more than two hundred strong.

Their mere appearance silenced the crowd. No one wanted to go head-to-head with armored cavalry. Even with their overwhelming numbers, no mercenary was foolish enough to start that fight.

The Transcendents appeared next, their presence radiating an undeniable power.

All of Mama City’s soldiers had been assigned warhorses, turning them into cavalry clad in piecemeal armor. A large number of them were also issued firearms. After a few test shots, they quickly grasped the basics. Firing into such a massive crowd wouldn’t require any aim.

These two hundred-odd men were the main force.

The number of their own Transcendents was small. Leech’s Corpse Ghosts, his subordinate Transcendents, the captives, and the few scraped together from Mama City were all they had. Compared to the two hundred Transcendents in the Half-Beastman army, they were outnumbered nearly ten to one. Their only hope was that the Magic Cannons could make up the difference, with artillery fire substituting for Transcendents to inflict more damage.

Leech, riding his Horse-headed Eagle Rocket, landed on the ramparts and turned to look at those who remained there.

Manning the cannons on the wall was Tangkx Scholar. Leech had press-ganged her into service, using a combination of appeals and coin to persuade her to help fire on the enemy. A small squad remained with her, tasked with loading the ammunition.

But the cannons and the wall were the last line of defense; Leech hoped he wouldn’t have to rely on them.

He had only discovered the Half-Beastman army two days ago. That left no time for Leech to dig trenches or build fortifications. The terrain wasn’t suitable, and besides, with two hundred Transcendents on the enemy side, such minor obstacles would be meaningless.

The only preparation he’d managed was to select a corpse. In a desperate, last-ditch effort, he was attempting to fuse it with that flower to refine a Palace Level Corpse Ghost.

There was, however, a huge risk.

The flower would resurrect the corpse. But instead of creating an obedient Corpse Ghost for him, it was more likely the flower would first create its own puppet, reverting to the unstoppable form Leech had previously been unable to defeat.

But no matter which state it took, it was guaranteed to give the Half-Beastman army an unforgettable, bone-deep lesson.

Unlike Leech, who needed time for the refinement process, a Palace Level being created by the flower could reanimate corpses on the battlefield instantly.

The Corpse Ghost refinement was still in progress.

Even having drunk a Lucky Potion, Leech wasn’t sure it would succeed. Luck might tilt the odds in his favor, but it couldn’t help him accomplish the impossible.

The weapons had been distributed.

Now rearmed, the mercenaries grew restless. They wanted to flee, and Leech’s three hundred-odd soldiers could never hope to stop them.

Leech paid the mercenaries’ restlessness no mind. He looked to the sky, where his vultures circled high above, and his perspective shifted to follow them.

Ever since the enemy’s last attack, he had been exceedingly cautious. But even so, he couldn’t completely avoid their Spiritual Power assaults, which had destroyed many of his undead vultures and severed his connection to them.

The sand on the ground began to tremble.

A dark, oppressive mass appeared in the distance.

Everyone present stared into the distance. On the horizon, an army was marching their way.

The crowd was still in an uproar. Even with the enemy in sight, not a single mercenary was willing to die for Baron Porcupine.

The first wave of over a thousand Half-Beastmen appeared, but they didn’t attack. Instead, they halted about a mile and a half away.

”It looks like they’re building something!” Lisu Muma, mounted on her warhorse and clad in a set of exquisite plate armor, said to Leech as he flew to her side. Her expression was grim.

Leech nodded. ”They’re trying to secure a high vantage point.”

Unlike Leech, the enemy had no undead vultures circling overhead, so their field of vision was limited.

By building a tower now, they could gain a clear view of the battlefield and use it to direct their attack.

Once their full force was assembled, a commander on that tower could direct his flanks, advancing and retreating at will. In contrast, Leech’s forces were a disorganized mob, ripe for the slaughter.

Furthermore, Leech already knew their general strategy. This first thousand-man detachment would secure the position and build the tower. Another thousand would circle around to the west, flanking them from the blind spot behind Mama City’s dunes. The final two thousand Half-Beastmen, only half a day’s march behind, would serve as the hammer blow to end the battle.

They must have been in contact with Prince George; otherwise, they couldn’t have such detailed intelligence.

’I don’t need to worry about their strategy,’ Leech thought. ’We strike first. We take their Half-Beastman corpses. For every one we kill and recover, we gain the power of an Extraordinary Half-Beastman, and they grow one fighter weaker.’

Taking the lead, he flew low over the heads of the mercenaries.

The two hundred-odd cavalry and the contingent of Transcendents followed close behind.

”Charge!”