Chapter 212 Seventh Night

Chapter 212 Seventh Night

?From the vantage point atop a hill in front of the catacombs, Alan watched in horror as tens of thousands of previously lifeless corpses began to stir and rise from the ground. The undead units, a ghastly assembly of zombies and skeletons, rapidly amassed and filled the hillside. The eerie sounds of shrinking growls and the unsettling clattering of bone against bone only added to the dread that hung heavy in the air.

What terrified Alan the most, however, was the ominous figure that emerged on the opposite hill. Its eyes gleamed with an unnatural brightness, revealing its true identity – the necromancer responsible for raising the undead, none other than the Lich King himself.

Alan's heart skipped a beat as the necromancer's gaze fixed upon him. Fortunately, as he had expected, the game's mechanics played in his favor. The Necromancer turned its malevolent gaze away from him, directing its attention southward and leading the horde toward their real target, the Camelot City.

However, Alan knew all too well that he was not out of danger yet. He waited in anticipation, watching the hordes march away to the south. It didn't take long for his worst fears to materialize. A few hundred of the undead, and then more, turned their vacant eyes toward the catacomb where Alan and his group were located.

"Dammit," Alan cursed under his breath, his anxiety mounting. "They really are coming here!" nove(l)bi(n.)com

The realization hit Alan like a wave of impending doom – there was no doubt now that the horde was closing in on him, and the sheer number of undead made it clear that retreating into the chamber would spell certain death.

With a sense of urgency, he issued his command, "Get the horses; we're getting out of here!" Half of the Britannia knights immediately rushed back into the chamber to retrieve the horses, while Alan and the remaining members of his group readied themselves for the incoming onslaught.

"Kill them!" Alan shouted, steeling himself for the battle ahead.

Their odds were dire, with only 9 out of the 18 Britannia knights, 3 fey warriors, and his trusted allies Dagonet, Percival, Guinevere, and Merlin standing alongside him. This small, determined group would have to face the relentless horde of undead that was now climbing the hills, closing in on their position. The odds were stacked against them, but they had no choice but to fight for their lives and defend against the impending threat.

The initial waves of undead were manageable, and Alan's group swiftly dispatched several of them. However, the trickle soon turned into a deluge, overwhelming their defenses. Alan reacted quickly, employing his [Push] spell to knock a few of the undead back, creating some breathing room. Meanwhile, Merlin completed his incantation, unleashing his [Chain lightning] spell, which crackled through the horde, electrocuting several undead, burning others to ash, and knocking down dozens.

Moments after, the horses arrived and they were prepared to make their escape. However a sudden rain of arrows descended upon them, struck with deadly accuracy, killing some of the horses and wounding several of the knights.

Alan quickly realized that there were a significant number of skeleton archers marching within the horde. This made forcefully riding through the mass of undead and out of danger an exceedingly challenging task.

Seeing his men rapidly becoming overwhelmed by the relentless onslaught, Alan was forced to make a difficult decision. He shouted, "Retreat back to the chamber!" They had to abandon their initial escape plan and regroup within the tomb to reassess their strategy and find a way to survive this relentless assault.

Alan quickly formulated a backup strategy as he led his group deeper into the catacombs. Their plan was to create a defensive line between the tunnel and the chambers, taking advantage of the ten-meter-wide corridor to act as a chokepoint where they could make their stand.

"Form the line!" Alan commanded, and his NPC allies swiftly arranged themselves into a defensive formation. Despite their determination, he knew that they lacked both the numbers and the strength to hold off the horde for an extended period.

As Alan watched the hordes of undead approaching through the tunnel, desperation gnawed at him. He recalled the riddle from the ancient text, the part that mentioned how the door would close at nightfall and, presumably, open again at midnight.

"Midnight... that's 6 hours!! I don't think I can even hold it for an hour!" Alan muttered under his breath. The relentless advance of the horde through the narrow tunnel left him with few alternatives. However, he did possess a secret weapon, a special item he had requested to be crafted by a special unit: the

[Alan D'Angelo, Male, 27 years]

[Level 40: 301,200/325,000]

[HP: 365/370]

[Stamina: 79%]

[Spirit points: 125/130]

[Survival Points: 103,550]

His progress was undeniable, and his stats continued to climb. The elation of his accomplishments was swiftly followed by a stark reality: his gas tank had run empty.

Alan quickly stowed the flamethrower away and mentally prepared for the final stand.

With the [Ring Wraith] sword in one hand and the [Shield of White Knight] in the other, Alan positioned himself to hold the line. His strategy was straightforward: he would strike relentlessly while blocking and pushing the relentless hordes back with his shield.

In these dire moments, Merlin the wizard emerged as his primary damage dealer and the group's healer. Even with the assistance of legendary NPCs, the group began to feel the strain on their stamina, and within a few minutes, casualties started to mount. Britannia knights and a fey warriors fell one by one, making it increasingly challenging to maintain their defensive line against the relentless onslaught of undead.

Alan's mind raced once again as he desperately searched for a solution to their dire situation. Then, a memory resurfaced – the explosives charge that Cachellos had left behind. With few options remaining, Alan swiftly considered detonating the explosives. It was a risky move, one that could potentially kill the undead in the tunnels but also posed a significant danger to him and his group.

One primary concern lingered in his mind: if they blew up the entrance, they could potentially trap themselves, along with Axel and the rest of the group, inside the catacombs for the remainder of the night. However, this was not the time to worry about anyone's well-being especially that noble bastard.

Alan made the fateful decision, "LET'S BLOW IT UP!"

To execute the daring plan, Alan had to temporarily abandon his position on the defensive line to inspect the explosives. Unfortunately, without the necessary trigger, he had to improvise. Alan hoped fervently that his remaining men could hold the line while he swiftly modified the explosives and attached his dynamites.

Time was of the essence, and Alan didn't have the time to calculate the potential impact of the explosion. He witnessed the fall of one of his champion NPCs, Dagonet who turned into a Revenant, further exacerbating the dire situation.

"That's it! Everyone, fall back!" Alan shouted urgently, As he saw the defensive formation breaking down, he swiftly ignited the fuse.

"Get back! Get back!" he cried out, leading the frantic retreat. As everyone rushed to the rear, Alan heard a deafening, loud explosion behind him.

KABOOOOMMMM!!

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