---Chapter Three: The End of the Army of the Dead
He was laughing, yet his eyes were widening with focus, trying to keep fighting despite his overwhelming exhaustion.
Both of them threw away their shields, feeling a sudden lightness that gave them more freedom to move. The stench of blood filled the air, clinging to the space between them and their enemies—but still, they kept on fighting.
But clearly, fatigue had overtaken them. On the other side, the summoner was in the same state. He realized the battle had spiraled out of control, and so he decided to use his magic.
That was his mistake.
Clark (noticing the shift):
"No! He's about to do something dangerous!"
Gene's body was barely functioning, moving with great effort, his eyes drowned in exhaustion. Meanwhile, Clark struggled to maintain his balance.
Suddenly, a massive fireball surged from the summoner's hand. Clark dodged it—but what shocked him was the soldiers. The ones summoned by the summoner were deranged, charging at them wildly, as if unafraid of the fire's explosion. It was as if the flames had only enraged them further. They didn't care for survival anymore—only to attack more violently.
---
Several trees caught fire around them. The blaze devoured everything in its path. Clark stared at it like it was their only hope of escape. Without hesitation, he pulled Gene behind him, slapped him hard across the face, and shouted:
Clark (furious):
"Wake up! I found our victory—just follow me!"
He grabbed a burning branch, wielding it as a weapon, while the crazed soldiers chased after them. Their steps grew faster, as if they had completely broken free from the summoner's control.
The summoner tried to summon lightning, but the magic only fed the flames, causing them to spread even faster. The fire scattered the soldiers—they dove into the inferno as if chasing something inside it. One of them was screaming, crying in the chaos, which struck Clark with a pang of shock—and pity.
Clark (softly, to himself):
"Their freedom… was in killing the summoner."
At that moment, Gene collapsed from exhaustion. Clark pushed forward, racing toward the summoner. He fought ferociously, dodging powerful magical blasts, until he knocked the summoner to the ground.
Clark began to punch him—over and over. But the screams of the soldiers distracted him. They were striking the fire as if remembering something in that moment, shouting in terror and sorrow.
Clark (furious, as he punched the summoner):
"This is all your fault!"
The summoner's appearance was horrifying. He had no eyes or lips, his face a shadow of death. His scream was strange, disturbing—like it came from hell itself, begging to escape it.
Clark kept punching him mercilessly, his right hand swollen and bleeding, yet he seemed to feel no pain. He had become detached from reality.
He kept going until the summoner's skull cracked under the blows—fifty strikes, each more brutal than the last.
Then he paused and looked around.
All the soldiers had fallen—except for one, who was lunging at him. But in the moment of death, his body suddenly stopped. Before collapsing, he said in a faint, strange voice:
Soldier (weakly):
"Thank you..."
The soldier fell to the ground, as if his body shattered like an empty shell. From his corpse, something rose—a drifting spirit—that simply fell, lifeless, to the earth.
Clark let out a bitter laugh, closing his eyes as if surrendering:
Clark (laughing sadly):
"Heh... I woke up three days ago... and now I'll die from blood loss. What a pitiful end."
He closed his eyes again, seemingly giving in to fate. His bleeding had reached a point beyond control. He kept laughing through the pain, as if death no longer mattered.
---
Somewhere far away, on a flowery green hill...
A blonde girl ran with her little brother toward a house that smelled of molten metal. Inside, an old man with a wild, thick beard worked at his anvil.
Fiona (panting):
"Uncle! One of the injured ones in the cave is awake!"
Blacksmith Frans (rising slowly):
"Really? Then prepare some food. I'll head there ahead of you."
He walked for half an hour to reach the cave—and there, he found Gene awake, sitting upright, barely conscious.
Gene (with a tired smile):
"Thank you, old man… for saving us."
Frans (calmly):
"Don't mention it. But where are you from? Another country?"
Gene (looking at Clark's body):
"We don't know where we're from. Clark and I… we only remember our names. Nothing more."
Frans:
"And when will your friend wake up?"
Gene (with confidence):
"Don't worry. Just bring me two buckets of ice. I'll handle the rest."
Frans (laughing):
"Alright, alright. But wait—I'll get you some real food first."
Gene let out a weary chuckle: "Hahaha, finally... Three days of raw, awful food."
Half an hour later, the children returned carrying food and two full buckets of water. When they saw the muscular bodies of Gene and Clark, their eyes widened in awe.
Little boy (whispering):
"How can there be two people this strong?"
Gene (laughing):
"Hahaha… full of ice... Perfect!"
He grabbed a bucket and dumped it over Clark's face. Water exploded from Clark's mouth and nose as he sprang up in panic, looking around in fury—then lunged to choke whoever did it.
Quickly, Gene shoved the bucket into the little girl's hands, all innocence—as if he'd done nothing.
Clark stormed toward her, furious—but Gene caught him and said:
Gene (mocking):
"You'd really hit the one who saved us, Clark?"
Clark (angrily confused):
"Huh? She saved us? Really?"
Gene (faking sincerity):
"Of course. Thank her with all your heart."
Clark:
"Screw off."
Frans (laughing):
"It's alright, it's alright... Come to my home, all of you—have some food. Then tell me your story."
Clark (calming down):
"Sorry... and thank you, old man."
Frans (with a warm smile):
"Don't mention it."
---
To be continued…