Chapter 187: The Battle to Reclaim Zestrad (3)

"The forces stationed in each village keep getting wiped out."

"Increasing the number of undead hasn't helped."

"We've deployed over a hundred undead per village, but they're still being crushed."

As he listened to the reports from his necromancers, Maloka let out a faint groan. For three days now, his forces had been suffering defeats across the territory. Undead soldiers that weren’t controlled directly by necromancers simply couldn't match the enemy rescue teams. So, he had even tried sending special units that included necromancers.

"But in those cases, they just refused to engage us directly."

What baffled him the most was the fact that the reclamation army had suffered almost no casualties.

"I have no idea what tricks they're using."

"Even if the automatically commanded undead are weaker than directly controlled ones..."

"But the numbers are five or six times in our favor!"

"There's no way we should be crumbling like this!"

Maloka silently clacked his jawbone together. His subordinates might not realize it, but he had encountered a situation like this before.

This brings back unpleasant memories.

The tactics being used were eerily similar to the ones Lapicel Crotium, the Martial King of Cyphras, had employed when she took his head. Back when Maloka had been the eastern governor of the Necropia Empire, Lapicel's human resistance forces had constantly appeared across imperial territories, wiping out stationed undead troops and rescuing enslaved humans.

The losses had grown too severe, and an enraged Maloka had made a decision truly befitting an archlich.

—If there are no more humans left to save, they'll have no reason to continue this!

He had ordered that all living humans in the areas where she was active be slaughtered and turned into undead. It was meant as a warning. Further resistance would only lead to greater suffering.

So, he had dispatched his necromancers to purge multiple regions, expecting to stamp out the rebellion. And yet, what did Lapicel do?

She attacked my completely empty governor's office instead.

A mere ninth circle master was no match for a martial king. Maloka had lost his head before he could put up much of a fight, only managing to resurrect thanks to the grace of Tesranach.

That was when he realized something. Sending his subordinates away from him was a fatal mistake. So, the next time, he had led his entire force personally to crush the human resistance. But once again, the results had been... less than favorable.

Lapicel had lured him into a trap, and before he knew it, he had lost his head a second time. Tesranach had resurrected him again. After all, no one handled the governor's duties as well as Maloka did. Maloka had racked his brain after returning to his post.

Sending his subordinates alone hadn't worked. Leading them himself hadn't worked. So what was left? After much deliberation, he decided to transport all surviving humans to his headquarters.

If he executed them all in the safety of his own base, there would be no risk of interference. Or so he thought. The result?

Lapicel had disguised herself among the enslaved humans. She had taken advantage of the transport and infiltrated his stronghold, ambushing him on his home turf. And once again, Maloka had lost his head without even putting up a proper fight.

Three times. He had died to the same woman three times. The only reason there hadn't been a fourth was that Tesranach had personally intervened and eliminated Lapicel once her influence had grown too dangerous.

As for Maloka himself? He had achieved nothing in that conflict. He had only suffered humiliating loss after loss. It was truly a terrible memory.

Maloka groaned again, sinking into deep thought. He had no idea how the Eustil Kingdom's forces had learned to replicate Lapicel's tactics. But it wasn't entirely impossible to explain. Perhaps Lapicel herself had once studied these strategies from old human military texts.

The important thing now is figuring out how to respond...

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t think of a perfect solution. In the end, he defaulted to a strategy straight out of the war manuals.

"Forget about the serfs. Let them take them if they want."

He had been caught off guard by their relentless attacks, but thinking about it rationally, losing the villagers didn't matter. After all, their goal wasn’t territorial control, was it?

"Our objective is Karnak, not the barony itself. As long as we capture him, we win."

He ordered all forces to withdraw and concentrate at their stronghold, the Zestrad mansion and the castle village. Then, all that remained was to wait for the Eustil Kingdom's army to come to him.

"Stick to the original plan. Everyone, focus on defense."

***

Scouts dispatched across the barony had returned with reports on the enemy's movements. "They've abandoned all the towns and are concentrating their entire force at the mansion and the castle village."

After listening to the report, Leven clicked his tongue in amazement. "They really haven't deviated an inch from your predictions, Lord Karnak."

Karnak nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I told you, he's predictable."

Maloka was a competent governor, administrator, and mage. But he was neither a skilled warrior nor a talented commander.

"In terms of combat ability alone, Demphis was far superior. Maloka may be highly proficient in magic, but his battle instincts are nonexistent."

Of course, that didn't mean Maloka was weak by any stretch. He was still a ninth circle master. Facing him head-on would be a losing battle.

"But since they're moving exactly as expected..." Karnak glanced around at his companions and motioned with his chin. "It's our turn to move."

***

In preparation for the impending battle, Maloka and his necromancers fortified their defenses with meticulous precision. They layered multiple necromantic barriers around the mansion, positioned undead forces in long defensive lines around the castle village, and summoned powerful monsters to patrol every alleyway.

The plan was simple: the moment the Eustil Kingdom's forces stormed in, they would turn the battlefield into complete chaos. And in that chaos, they would snatch Karnak.

The next day, a necromancer who had just returned from scouting the enemy's camp approached Maloka with an odd expression. "Lord Maloka, sir."

"What is it?"

"They're retreating."

"What?" The ghostly light in Maloka's hollow eye sockets flickered. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I said. The reclamation army is withdrawing."

Instead of advancing north toward the Zestrad Barony, they were pulling back southward. The other necromancers erupted in confusion.

"That's ridiculous!"

"Their lord is abandoning his own land?"

"His estate, his wealth. Everything is here!"

To them, it was unthinkable. But Maloka saw it differently. "Perhaps we've been mistaken."

He had jumped to conclusions because of his memories of Lapicel. But when he really thought about it, their opponent wasn't some righteous hero of humanity. He was just an ordinary backwater noble, and one who practiced necromancy in secret, no less. That alone proved he wasn't some paragon of justice.

"Maybe, from his perspective, he's already fulfilled his duty as a lord," said Malkia.

The expressions of the necromancers stiffened.

"What?"

"Now that you mention it..."

The reclamation army had already rescued a significant number of serfs, and from a domain occupied by an infamous cult, no less. So why would Karnak take additional risks? To a noble, serfs were just property attached to the land. Wouldn't it make more sense for him to abandon the remaining ones, gather reinforcements, and return later to reclaim his land properly?

"That's it!"

"He's just another rotten noble!"

"He did enough to maintain appearances, so now he doesn't care anymore!"

Most of the necromancers present had once been commoners, abused by nobles throughout their lives. Their voices rose in anger.

"We need to send them a warning!"

"We must kill the remaining serfs!"

Maloka, unimpressed, asked flatly, "And what would be the point of that?"

With the reclamation army withdrawing, the ones left behind had already been abandoned.

"If we turn them into undead soldiers, what exactly do we gain?" Maloka questioned further.

"If they fail to save the remaining people, surely even he would feel some guilt..."

"But he already abandoned them. If anything, he'll probably feel relieved."

"Then how about we threaten to kill them if they don't return?"

Maloka scoffed in exasperation at his subordinate's suggestion. "Let me say this again. He already abandoned them. Why would he care what happens to them now?"

In fact, this situation was incredibly favorable for the Cult of the Black God. Abandoned by their own lord, the remaining people were now the perfect candidates for conversion. There was no better time to bring in new devoted followers. Under normal circumstances, Maloka would have been thrilled at the opportunity to expand the faith.

But he had been given one specific order: Capture Karnak. And there was only one way left to accomplish that.

"We need to chase them down," he concluded.

One of his subordinates hesitated. "It could be a trap."

"It might be," Maloka agreed.

But there was one crucial difference from his past experience with Lapicel.

This time, I'm the stronger one.

The tactics she had used had all been possible because she had been the absolute force. She was a martial king. But this was different. At best, the strongest warriors in the reclamation army were a purple knight and an eighth circle mage.

Right. There's no need to be intimidated by such meager forces.

Resolving himself, Maloka issued his command. "Prepare for deployment. We can't just let him escape."

***

With a vast undead army at his back, Maloka pursued the retreating Zestrad Reclamation Army. He had left behind only two necromancers and three hundred undead to guard the estate and the castle village, meaning it was an all-out mobilization for the chase.

And so, half a day passed since Maloka and his forces had departed from the estate. As night fell, a group of humans emerged at the outskirts of the castle village.

"Good. Most of them are gone."

It was Karnak's party, accompanied by fifty elite soldiers. They had been waiting the entire time for Maloka to vacate the area.

Serati glanced up at the pitch-black sky and murmured, "It's going to be difficult to evacuate people in this darkness."

"We don't have a choice. Maloka isn't going to step away at our convenience."

Slowly, Karnak's group and the soldiers advanced toward the town.

Leven, scanning the surroundings, spoke up. "I really thought the plan was to lure them outside the barony and crush them there."

Karnak shook his head. "There were two problems with that strategy."

First, it would have been difficult to lure Maloka into a prepared trap. Drawing in an enemy who was already on high alert before battle would have required a great deal of luck.

And second, "This is the real reason."

The necromancers left behind in the barony could do anything to the remaining serfs. Of course, Karnak himself didn't particularly care what happened to them...

—But this time, I'm following Lapicel's example, remember?

Switching to their private transmission, he glanced at the silver-haired girl standing beside Serati.

—Ignoring whether the serfs live or die. That’s something only someone like me would do.

The girl, gripping her longsword with a serious expression, was already preparing for the battle ahead.

—If it were Lapicel, she would have struggled to save even one more person, no matter what it took.