NOVEL NEXT Chapter 111: Gathering 3
With deep and hollow sounds, the bell tolled continuously. Once the myriad was done with the bell, he moved and got out of the area where the bell was. His eyes widened, and his anxiety spiked, as a few meters from him a ghoul suddenly emerged. He was frozen in place as fear and uncertainty gripped him.
However, despite everything else, he steeled himself and snapped into attention within a split second. He scoured his mind for moves and arrived at a single conclusion. The ghoul was already too close, and any large movements would result in a high margin of error and carry risk.
Without any hesitation, he moved his right foot to the side, followed by the other foot. He slightly raised his sword and twisted his wrist and angled the blade slightly toward the back. He pulled his arm and, just in the nick of time, the ghoul was within closing distance of him.
Using his upper and core muscles, he pushed strongly with his arm and hands and smashed the pommel into the chest of the ghoul; its body arched backwards, to which he immediately pulled the pommel back and slammed it again into the head of the ghoul.
Upon receiving two consecutive pommel strikes, the ghoul became confused and was thrown off balance. The myriad immediately took advantage. He twisted his wrist and angled the blade forward again. Once he was close, he directed it at the bottom and pushed it deeply into the already cracked skull of the ghoul.
Blood spewed out, along with bits and pieces of brain matter. His face contorted, his eyebrows narrowed, and his lips turned downward as he stared in sadness and despair at the face—a face that was once a myriad like himself, turned into what was now a monstrosity called a ghoul.
His mouth opened wide, and with force from his lungs and diaphragm, he breathed in a large amount of air as he sought to replenish lost oxygen and recover from exhaustion.
His ears perked up as terror suddenly dawned on him. A bone-chilling screech erupted near him. His head turned, looking for the location of the screech, and there it was. A giant screamer—his heart cooled like magma exposed to the cold dark ocean.
Sweat dripped down from his forehead and body; his hair rose one by one as goosebumps ran through his skin; his spine chilled as anxiety rose, and adrenaline pushed forth.
Unimaginable emotions ran through his mind. He glanced at the troops and saw that they too were frozen in shock. The fact that there was a giant screamer meant more ghouls would be coming over to their place, and so the not-so-inevitable defeat had genuinely become one.
He wanted to run, but deep down, he knew—he knew that he had to make a choice now. Risk himself and save the rest of the myriads, or abandon them and have their formation broken through, resulting in them being overwhelmed by enemy superiority.
With a heavy heart, he chose the former. With unfounded strength, he pushed with overpowering resolution. He quickly moved, his blade aimed downward. He moved and dodged until he was about to arrive where the giant screamer was. Three ghouls, with their facial expressions contorted, blocked his path.
Anxiety built up, adrenaline continuously being delivered and produced. He steeled himself, held his blade firmly, and pointed it at them, as if challenging them to come forward themselves. The ghouls furrowed their eyebrows and roared in anger at the audacity of the myriad.
Upon seeing the ghouls frustrated and angry, the myriad twisted his lips into a terrifying smile, which only served to enrage the ghouls further. Thus, one by one, the ghouls attacked. He waited and prepared his own counter.
Once the first ghoul was a few meters before him, he moved his right foot forward, and using all the strength he could muster in his core and leg muscles, he drove it upward into a slash. Blood came spewing forth as it splattered all over the surroundings.
Unfortunately, the cut was too shallow. Not trying to waste time, he immediately pulled his sword back while retaining the upward angle, lowered himself, and immediately thrust it forward into the stumbling ghoul.
The ghoul died for the final time, after which he pulled his blade back. As the blade was still angled up, he made a few adjustments with his position and wrist movements.
He handled the sword with two hands, then angled the blade back and drove it back down with a terrifying amount of force. In just the nick of time as the blade was being driven down, the next ghoul came out and entered the blade's trajectory.
The cut was too shallow but was enough to drive it down into the brain, thereby ceasing all brain activity and effectively sending off the ghoul permanently.
The third ghoul came almost immediately and quickly closed the distance. Terror dawned upon him, and he scoured his mind for possible counters, to which he then decisively acted upon.
With the force of two hands, he pulled the blade as fast as possible, removed one hand, and immediately twisted the wrist, thereby changing the sword's position, which was then angled toward the back.
With the force of his muscles, he smashed it as fast and strongly as possible at the ghoul that immediately closed the distance. The ghoul was knocked back but did not fall down. Upon seeing the opportunity, he took advantage of it.
He brought the sword back to the front and angled it upward, directed at the chin of the ghoul, to which he then thrust it forward. The ghoul was struck and died for the last time.
He breathed at last, as the battle was done; however, as his eyes landed on his sides, his face contorted, brows furrowing and mouth agape, as terror ran down upon him. A fourth ghoul went unnoticed and leaped toward him.
His eyes were filled with despair, but his eyes widened in shock once again as a thunderous sound echoed throughout the streets, and the ghoul that was lunging toward him was thrown backwards with a hole in its head.
He looked and stared at the source of the sound, and his mouth was left agape. It was the same mysterious individual that made everything that was currently happening possible, the very same redcoat.