It was commonly said that one knight could take the place of a thousand soldiers. What, then, if the enemy numbered ten thousand?

The count decided to treat his opponents as knights and kill them accordingly. Hence the ten thousand wraiths. 'Die.'

Become fertilizer. Become nourishment. Become food.

Become a part of me. The count's magic circle had one effect: manifesting his spell world in reality. Through it, the wraiths gained physical substance, becoming Wraith soldiers. They advanced in a wave of bodies made of black soot.

The wraiths rose when they fell, shoved against one another, and surged forward as a black wave. GROOOAAAN.

Horrible cries rose intermittently from the mass. They had no formation, simply running in a haphazard clump. That kept them from moving quickly. This was no orderly military advance, but a disorganized mass rolling toward them. Watching them, Encrid thought of a swarm of ants. Of course, each of these ants was the size of a human. Being swept up in them would mean death.

And would he be the only one to die? The soldier behind him, furiously scratching his forearm, would die too. "Mother! Mother! Where are you going?"

So would the hallucinating soldier who suddenly shouted into empty air. "Magenda, I shall join you."

And the soldier miming strangling himself, overcome by a sudden depression, would die too. It was a shitshow. Whether it was magic or a spell, Count Molsen's dirty trick had hit home. Not everyone had lost their minds, though. Some soldiers were fine. "Hey. Join her where, you dumbass? Magenda's my little sister. She never did anything with you, and she's alive and well."

One of the unaffected soldiers slapped the back of the self-strangling man's hand as he spoke. "What? What the hell is this?"

Another soldier looked from side to side in bewilderment, plainly rattled. He was fine, so he must have been wondering what was wrong with everyone else. Encrid didn't know exactly what spell the count had cast, but he understood the situation well enough. A single spell might encompass the whole battlefield, but the soot would cease to affect them once they left a certain area. The longer they stayed here, the more it would affect them.

With an effect this potent and widespread, wouldn't cutting down its source make it disappear?

It was an intuitive realization. He could think of no other solution than to force his way through and kill the one responsible. That was why they had to advance. Rem had heard his order, seen the wraith horde, and told them to form up.

"I refuse."

Ragna was the first to answer. He missed a step as he spoke and briefly staggered. He wasn't in good shape either. Overusing Will inevitably strained both mind and body. "Brother, has something unwholesome gotten into your head? Shall I take it out for you?"

Audin expressed his concern. It seemed Rem had fallen for that mage's trick, so he was personally offering a kindness.

Having reset his finger, Audin had quite a few wounds himself. Their opponents had been no pushovers. Was Jaxon any better off? He too had paid for his failed attempt to assassinate the count earlier: a small hole in his abdomen. He had hurriedly applied ointment and sealed it with a specially made bandage, but he was in no condition for a prolonged fight. The wound was in a bad spot. Worse, a chill was creeping up from his abdomen. Rem was no different. His stomach churned as the price of borrowing someone else's spells.

But Encrid was in the worst shape of all. Will had done him no harm, but he had treated his body far too harshly. It was only natural. Lierbart had grafted monster muscle onto himself and attacked in his pursuit of knighthood. To withstand him, Encrid had wrung out every last ounce of strength. Encrid himself thought luck had played a part. Had he failed to realize the Will-based art he named Eyes That See One Step Ahead, he would be greeting the morning sun by now, repeating today. Even as they spoke, the black wave crept inexorably forward. It was like an incoming tide from a sea of black oil, sickening just to behold.

Some Wraith soldiers in that wave rolled across the ground or collapsed, but still tried to reach them, clawing at the earth with their fingers. Kill. I will kill. Nothing but murderous intent showed in those souls. Above them lay a mass of wraiths with tangled limbs. It was more than repulsive. It was enough to make one retch. They could all refuse, but this was hardly a situation where refusal was an option.

"Let's take the shortcut."

Encrid added nothing else. Rem continued nonchalantly. "Captain goes first, me second, and the lazy bastard third. The alley cat and the religious nut can hang back, follow us, and cover the rear."

His tone was businesslike. The explanation was hardly helpful, but Encrid understood. All those days learning from him hadn't been wasted. "The three-wave formation?"

Rem nodded at Encrid's question. It was the name of a tactical formation they had faced once before, a maneuver performed jointly by the centaur colony and the horse monsters.

The first wave drew attention, the second inflicted damage, and the third broke the enemy. Each wave grew stronger. Rem intended for the three of them to switch positions and repeat the three-wave formation over and over. "Let's go."

Encrid didn't hesitate. Even if they explained it a hundred times and understood it completely, there was no time to practice. Besides, the wraith horde was already upon them. GROOOAAAN!

It sounded like a Ghoul crying from the depths of a well. 'Real combat is the best training.'

Recalling something Rem had once said, Encrid brought Silver down. Pivoting on his left foot, he executed a skull-splitting stroke from the Heavy Sword Technique. WHOOSH.

The blade claimed the space before him and fell. "Ease up!"

Rem shouted from behind, but the sword was already swinging. THWACK!

The first charging wraith's head caught on the blade and split in half. The black lump of a monster had arms and legs, but no visible eyes, nose, or mouth. As Encrid's sword cleaved its head, black mist gushed from within.

It was dead. He could feel it. Then the wraith behind it lunged at him. They never stopped. What did they care whether the one in front died? "Left!"

Rem shouted. Right before Encrid's eyes, a wraith was forming something like a sword and swinging it. Sidestepping wouldn't take him clear of its path.

He moved aside anyway. It took considerable trust to do that, but Encrid stepped without hesitation. Immediately, something dropped from his right like a shaft of light. BANG! CRUNCH!

It was the sound of Rem's hammer crushing the wraith's head. Then he swept the axe in his right hand parallel to the ground at a steady speed. R-R-R-RIP! RUMBLE!

Rather than delivering one forceful chop, he pushed the blade through in a continuous sweep. Every wraith it caught split apart. Even a glance revealed the extraordinary skill involved.

Building on his balance and arm strength, he distributed the weight through his abdominal muscles and even used the force of his feet pushing against the ground. That kept the axe blade moving without pause. After those two attacks, Rem slipped out to the right. Another group of Wraith soldiers filled the space he vacated. GROOOAAAN!

A badly chipped blade descended over the murderous cries. Ragna's sword, of course. WHOOSH.

His sword bisected the air vertically and cut through three wraiths tangled into a single mass. One flailed an arm, trying to clutch his collar. Its hand never reached him. Ragna withdrew after his swing. "Again!"

Even before Rem shouted, Encrid had recognized and understood the pattern. How many times had he sparred with these men? Well over hundreds.

He filled the opening, blocking the way ahead. By telling him to ease up, Rem meant he only needed to receive the attacks. In other words, withdrawing mattered more than striking. Having grasped the point, Encrid did just that. With a relaxed grip, he used the forms of the Flowing Sword to cut wraith heads, knock them aside, and push them away.

One wraith leaped up, but a long shaft came flying from somewhere. WHOOSH! THUD!

The shaft pierced the wraith and carried it far to the rear. It seemed someone was throwing javelins. In fact, someone had picked up a fallen spear and thrown it. "Press onward, brother."

It was Audin's work. Behind Encrid to the left, Jaxon's hands never stopped moving. With a single longsword, he stabbed and cut down the wraiths closing in from every direction, one by one. Their roles were clear. Encrid and Rem held the front, while Ragna cut from the center. Audin was the foundation supporting them all. Jaxon moved wherever a gap appeared and filled it.

With Audin and Jaxon guarding the rear, the other three needed only to strike straight ahead. The wraith horde surrounded Encrid and his companions and engulfed them. The world turned black. The sky vanished, leaving only darkness, but his keen senses told him precisely where the men moving in concert with him stood. Encrid relied on those senses.

So did the other four. This was nowhere near enough to make them cut an ally's back. Unless they did it deliberately. A wraith's claws descended. Between its elongated nails, it thrust out a long tongue with a tip as sharp as a spear. This one had an unusual form.

Rem's axe cut it down. The blade flew diagonally, shearing through its head at an angle. Watching the severed head, Encrid drew his gladius and struck another wraith's hand aside.

THWACK!

It felt like hitting heavy clay rather than iron. The gladius gouged a fistful from the hand. No follow-up was necessary. He turned aside, and Ragna's sword moved. Encrid forgot why he had needed to think things through. He simply pressed onward. The five moved as one, carving through the wave of wraiths. Rem and Audin bore the greatest strain. One served as the foundation; the other maintained their balance from the middle.

The five got along so poorly that they had quarreled like mad all this time. They had come to blows more than a few times too. Those quarrels ended in sparring and fights, but that made learning one another's habits all the easier. They would lose if they failed to read the other's rhythm, so hadn't they all done their utmost to learn it? Working in concert came naturally to the five. Though this was their first time, they were no different from a knight order that had trained together for well over a decade.

* * *

Krang saw it. Marcus saw it too. Pell and Aesia were seized by foreboding.

Anyone would have felt dread at the black wraiths, the soot, and the storm-cloud darkness covering the sky. All the more so after watching that wave of wraiths engulf Encrid and his companions.

Encrid and his Lunatic Company were going to die. That was how it looked from outside. "It's a spell. It won't last long!"

Aesia deliberately kept her shout cool. She was speaking to herself too. She was a proto knight of the order. She didn't wield spells, but she had faced her share of mages.

Forcing herself to think calmly, she considered it again. How long could a spell of this scale be sustained? Not long. She was right. But even if it lasted only as long as a candle took to burn, both armies would suffer near-annihilation, and the soldiers inhabited by wraiths would very likely become something other than human. Aesia had no way of knowing that. "We must break through and withdraw," she said.

Krang was still staring at the spot where Encrid had vanished. Was he really dead? "Damn it, Your Highness!"

Marcus shouted. The battlefield had gone mad. The count had clearly been possessed by something. Was this possible even for a mage? Should they have called in the knight order? Pell readjusted his grip on Idol Slayer.

'Should I go in?'

He thought it as he peered into the wave of wraiths. It seemed possible.

No. For now, the answer was to hold out. There were more than enough wraiths left over after engulfing Encrid's group. Pell had cut one or two and found them immune to Idol Slayer. In that case, he would simply have to cut them down and drive them back one by one. Aesia had her squires cluster into a circle, then stepped forward herself. She slashed left, spun all the way around, and thrust right. Two strikes killed two wraiths. Without even time to look at the creatures spewing mist, she somersaulted backward.

It was no feat to attempt in full plate, but Aesia wore only partial armor, including a breastplate, allowing her that acrobatic backward flip. Only after she had dodged did it strike.

BOOM!

A wraith leaped up and slammed into the spot where she had stood. Without a moment to catch her breath, Aesia drove her elbow to the side at a Wraith soldier that had closed in unnoticed.

THUD!

It felt like hitting a rock. Even the wraiths' bodies were anything but soft. She struck, then used that force to drive her sword down on the other side. The added power of the vertical stroke cut down another wraith. Aesia felt a dizzying dread.

'How long can I keep this up?'

If it was a battle against time, was holding out really the answer? Those around Krang were somehow holding their ground. The ordinary soldiers were not.

"Help me!"

"Aaaaargh!" The physically manifested Wraith soldiers lunged at the unaffected soldiers. Judged coolly on skill alone, they were nothing remarkable. Their numbers were the problem.

They never stopped. They kept coming. Wraith soldiers knew no fear. Yet crisis brought opportunity. Across the battlefield, people worthy of being called heroes emerged, displaying their abilities in the face of disaster.

An old but experienced commander was one. A young but courageous soldier was another. They gathered their comrades and held their ground. But how long did they have to hold? How long must they endure to survive?

A curtain of despair descended. The black clouds blotting out the sun seemed to foretell their tomorrow: death by wraith possession, or torn apart and pierced by Wraith soldiers.

* * *

In the darkness, Encrid forgot himself and his circumstances, swinging his sword again and again.

'This is exhausting.'

It was grueling enough to draw the thought unbidden. But it wasn't beyond him. As he kept at it, he got the knack. Rather than knocking attacks aside with force, he conserved his strength, twisting to deflect them. Rem made up for anything he missed. If that wasn't enough, Ragna filled the gap. Sometimes the fighting pushed them two or three steps back, but in the end, they advanced. If they fell back two steps, they took three forward. If they fell back three, they took four.

Most of the credit went to Rem, who coordinated the formation from the middle. Instead of dodging a wraith's descending hand, Encrid received it on the flat of his sword and deflected it. He cut as he deflected. Wraiths normally couldn't be cut with ordinary steel, but taking physical form had its weaknesses. It meant an ordinary blade could kill them just fine. Encrid endured and endured, repeating his thrusts and cuts. Nothing but blackness filled his surroundings.

Black soot. The wave of Wraith soldiers. Sheer darkness. Black masses filling every direction. Hands intent on murder.

The entire world was filled with such things. And yet.

"Ah."

A sigh of pleasure escaped him. He was content simply to swing his sword again and again. "Are you out of your mind?"

Rem's voice reached him amid it all. He had clearly seen Encrid's face.

Smiling at a time like this? They never stopped fighting their way forward, and before they knew it, the darkness around them lifted.

Encrid swung once into empty air and stopped. There were no wraiths.

No, there were. Behind them lay countless Wraith soldier corpses, spilling mistlike blood onto the ground. Only then did Encrid realize they had pierced straight through the heart of ten thousand wraiths. He raised his head.

There sat the count in his black chair, glaring at Encrid with wide eyes. The man who had fought that fierce battle wore a quiet, composed gaze. Encrid simply looked at him, steadying his breathing.

But the gaze of the man who had waited was colored with bewilderment. People tended to react much the same way when the incomprehensible happened.

"How?"

The count was no different. Something beyond everything he knew had just occurred.