Once it had encompassed the whole expanse, blocking the light of the sun to cast the area into gloom…
The lizardmen looked on as countless undead slowly appeared at the boundary between the woods and the marsh. They couldn’t tell how many because of the trees. But the way they came one after the other made them seem endless.
The attackers consisted of 2,200 zombies, 2,200 skeletons, 300 undead beasts, 150 skeleton archers, and 100 skeleton riders—4,950 in total, plus the commander and his guards.
Defending against them was the five-tribe lizardman alliance.
From the Green Claw tribe: 103 warriors, 5 priests, 7 hunters, 124 males, and 105 females.
From the Small Fang tribe: 65 warriors, 1 priest, 16 hunters, 111 males, and 94 females.
From the Razor Tail tribe: 89 heavy warriors, 3 priests, 6 hunters, 99 males, and 81 females.
From the Dragon Tusk tribe: 125 warriors, 2 priests, 10 hunters, 98 males, and 32 females.
From the Red Eye tribe: 47 warriors, 15 priests, 6 hunters, 59 males, and 77 females.
In other words, 429 warriors, 26 priests, 45 hunters, 491 males, and 389 females—1,380 in total, plus the chiefs and Zaryusu.
A war where one side outnumbered the other three to one was about to begin.
It was a one-room wooden building.
There was no ornamentation. It was built simply, like a log cabin with the wood showing; however, it was easily twenty-one yards on each side and the ceiling rose over sixteen feet.
There were barely any furnishings—just a giant mirror hung on one wall; a huge, thick, sturdy table; and the chairs around the table.
Several people sat down, and on the table were a number of rolled-up pieces of parchment—magic scrolls.
“And thiiis is the laaaast one. A teleportation scrooooll.” Along with the high-pitched voice—high enough to plausibly belong to a young girl—another scroll was placed on the table.
The one who put it there was a human woman wearing a maid uniform. She was a dainty little thing, with her hair done in a chignon style like dumplings on either side of her head. But there was something strange about her, most noticeably in her eyes. They were cute enough, but they had no spark, as if they were made of cheap glass. Not only that, but she never blinked. The collar of the risqué maid outfit covering her slim body was high, covering her entire neck. In fact, the only bare skin showing was her face. She was a member of the Pleiades, Entoma Vasilissa Zeta.
“Now thennn, there’s alsooo a Message scroooll, so basically, there are quite a fewww. Maybe I could have them clear the table for nowww?” Entoma addressed the one sitting at the head of the table.
The figure nodded. “LET’S DO THAT.”
“Okayyy. Chop-chop, thennn! Please clean it uuup!”
With Cocytus’s approval and Entoma’s order, everyone around the table began to move at once. They were all grotesques. One looked like a praying mantis, another like a spider, another like a giant brain. Everybody looked very different from one another, but they had two things in common: They were all Cocytus’s minions, and they all served Nazarick. That was why they were taking orders from Entoma even though she was weaker than them.
The structure of authority in the Great Tomb of Nazarick was based not on who was strongest but on whether one was created directly by the Supreme Beings or not. In that sense, Entoma was superior.
Confirming that the table had been cleared, she mumbled, “Now thennn, I’ll give theeese to youuu, Master Cocytusss,” without opening her mouth, and picked up the bag at her feet. She took out a few rolled-up pieces of parchment. “Message scrooolls. Lord Ainz told meee they were made with skins acquired by Master Demiuuurge. He saiiid to report back if you have any trouble using themmm.”
“OKAY…UNDERSTOOD. I’LL SEE IF I HAVE ANY ISSUES.” He took several of the proffered scrolls with one of his four hands. “DEMIURGE HAS GOTTEN AHEAD OF ME AGAIN,” he said, smiling wryly at the minions in the room. Someone answered with a faint, sycophantic laugh.
With the parchments in hand, Cocytus fell deep into thought. He had also heard that Nazarick’s store of parchment for enchanting with low-level spells was running low.
Finding sources of materials to make various items was a very important project. Sure, they still had some leeway now, but if they just kept consuming items, they would eventually run out. That was why various people, including their master, were working on it. The apple trees he’d heard about, on the sixth level, were part of that plan.
However, the resource problem was something that Cocytus, who had been appointed to guard Nazarick, could do nothing about. Of course he couldn’t. There was no way he could go outside if he was tasked with guarding the base. It was completely natural that Demiurge, who had ventured out to gain them a foothold, should be the one to solve that problem.
Cocytus’s associate of equal rank had succeeded in his mission.
He should have been happy about it. And really, he was. He just couldn’t completely extinguish the flames of envy deep in his heart. He was so jealous that his colleague had been of use to a Supreme Being—a Supreme One worthy of their worship—that he couldn’t stand it.
His own job was to protect Nazarick.
It was perhaps more important than any other guardian’s job. Every minion he asked would tell him it was a critical task. They couldn’t allow vulgar rabble to set foot in the hallowed ground made by the Supreme Beings.
But with no raiders, there could be no proof of Cocytus’s faithful service. He wanted to do something that could show results. For a guardian, being useful to one’s master was a joy. Cocytus wanted to taste that joy, too.
His chance was here, right now.
Cocytus turned his head to gaze at the scene in the mirror as he gripped the scrolls. The reflection was not of the room he was in but a marsh somewhere. Yes. The view from the Mirror of Remote Viewing was the reason he’d spent two days camped in this log cabin, which Aura had built.
This war—no, from the point of view of the overwhelmingly powerful Great Tomb of Nazarick, this was no more than a slaughter—was merely a way to collect corpses. When Cocytus received this mission, which could also be termed a harvest festival, he was given a number of orders straight from the top.
First, he, Cocytus, would not face the enemy directly. Of course, that went for his underlings as well. He was to make do with the troops he was provided.
Second, he was to hold back the elder lich commander provided to him for until he absolutely needed to deploy him.
Third, he was to rely on his own judgment as much as possible.
There were a few other small things, but those were the main ones.
He needed to somehow claim victory with just the troops deployed around the lake. If he could succeed, he would be able to prove his devotion to his great master.
“NICE WORK. I’D LIKE YOU TO THANK LORD AINZ FOR ME.”
Entoma sluggishly bowed her head.
“SO…ARE YOU GOING BACK?”
“No, I was tooold to watch how the battle goooes from heeere.”
SO SHE’S OVERSEEING. Having concluded that, he felt a surge of excitement for the mission. THEN LET’S GET STARTED.
Cocytus cast Message and gave orders to the undead commander—to march.
Bonfires on either side of a raised platform cast a flickering light throughout the area. There were a few lizardmen on the stage—important figures like the chiefs and heads of each tribe.
In the open area before them were all the many lizardmen who had gathered to fight. A quiet commotion rose from them like sea spray. It was the buzzing of the agitation they couldn’t completely hide, even if they desperately tried to conceal their worry, panic, and fear.
This war was about to start. The close friends standing next to them might turn to corpses in the next moment. Or they themselves could be the ones to fall. That was the kind of battlefield onto which they were headed.
Shasuryu Shasha stepped forward
out of the line of chiefs to hush the crowd. “Listen to me, lizardmen!” His imposing voice filled the air. Suddenly it was silent enough to hear a pin drop, and his voice echoed even louder. “I’ll admit, there are a lot of ’em!”
No one made a sound, but it was obvious that the throng was upset by this.
Shasuryu waited a moment before continuing. “But there’s nothing to be afraid of! We five tribes have formed an alliance, the first of its kind in history. Because of this alliance, during this time, we are one tribe. That means the spirits of all the tribes’ ancestors—even the spirits of tribes not our own—will protect us! Head priests!”
Reacting to his voice, Crusch Lulu stepped forward, leading the five head priests. She removed her clothing, revealing her white scales.
“Leader of the head priests, Crusch Lulu!”
Responding to his call, she took another step forward.
“Call the spirits down!”
“Please listen, children of this united tribe!”
What was this newborn tribe? Crusch Lulu spoke firmly and eloquently on the topic in undulating tones, sometimes high, sometimes low, almost like she was singing.
At first almost everyone had been disgusted by the albino. But her bold, confident bearing changed their minds bit by bit as they watched.
As Crusch spoke, she twisted slightly this way and that. Her white scales glittered in the light of the fire, as if the spirits of their ancestors had descended into her body.
Unbeknownst to the audience themselves, their expressions became one of worship.
“Five tribes are now one. The ancestral spirits of every tribe will protect all of you! Look, lizardmen! Watch as the innumerable spirits of all our tribes descend upon you!” Crusch spread her arms wide and pointed to the heavens.
Many gazes followed her gesture, but of course there was nothing but a cloudy sky. It didn’t seem like any spirits were appearing. But someone murmured:
“That little light!”
The voices started small but grew bigger and bigger. Several of the lizardmen announced they could see something: Some saw tiny lights; some shouted they saw lizardmen just like them; some saw a giant fish; some were surprised to see children; others said no, they were eggs. The lizardmen couldn’t believe their eyes.
They thought it was truly the descent of the ancestral spirits. What else could it have been?
“Our ancestors are here to protect us!”
It was only natural that people would start shouting such things.
“Feel it! Feel their power as it flows into you!”
They could hear Crusch’s voice slipping into their hearts from somewhere far away or perhaps somewhere very close. Guided by that voice, many of the lizardmen felt something resembling power enter them.
“Feel it! Feel the strength of our ancestors coursing through you!”
All the lizardmen gathered there felt it for sure—a power bubbling up within them, an excitement that dispelled all their previous anxiety, a fountain warming their bellies like strong alcohol.
It was real proof that the spirits had descended upon them.
Turning away from the sea of rapt expressions before her, Crusch nodded to Shasuryu.
“Now, lizardmen. The spirits of our ancestors have come to walk among us. Our opponents may outnumber us, but will we be defeated?!”
“No!” Still entranced, the multitude of lizardmen responded to Shasuryu in chorus, and the atmosphere swelled.
“That’s right! The ancestral spirits are with us! We will not be defeated! Destroy our enemies and dedicate the victory to our ancestors!”
“Yeah!” Their fighting spirit blazed. There were no longer any anxious lizardmen, only lizardmen facing the coming battle as warriors.
The army hadn’t been dazzled by magic. Even with this many druids gathered, there was no way they had the resources to cast spells on this many lizardmen right before the big fight. The vision was the result of each lizardman being served a special drink right before the ritual.
It was a drink said to inspire bravery, a tradition passed down among the lizardmen, but its actual effects were short-term intoxication, euphoria, and hallucinations—an elixir made with a special roasted herb.
The drink brought about an altered state of consciousness. Crusch’s speech had been a way to buy time while the drink took effect.
Once the trick is revealed, it’s not very interesting. But for the ones who experienced those effects—the lizardmen who saw the spirits of their ancestors descend—the ritual really did inspire courage.
“Now we’ll pass around the paint. Normally each tribe would have their own color, but the ancestral spirits of the five tribes are in all of you. Decorate yourselves with all the colors!”
Priests carrying earthenware pots strolled through the crowd. The lizardmen took paint from the pots and began to paint their bodies with whatever patterns they liked. Supposedly it was actually the ancestral spirits within them painting, so they all let their fingers run wherever they might go.
Many lizardmen covered nearly their whole bodies, especially since this time the spirits of all five tribes had descended, but among them, the Green Claw tribe members barely painted at all. This was due to the fact the leading members, Shasuryu and Zaryusu, didn’t decorate themselves very much. Their tribesmen were like fans imitating their idols.
When Shasuryu scanned the crowd and saw that most of them had finished, he drew his huge sword and pointed toward the gate.
“To war!”
“Raaaaaaagh!” Their roars thundered in the air.
3
Stationed on the marsh, the Great Tomb of Nazarick’s army was split broadly into two corps. On the left, facing the lizardmen, were the zombies, and on the right, the skeletons. The skeleton archers and riders were positioned behind the front line on the right. The undead beasts, perhaps meant as the final line, were placed in the rear.
Meanwhile, the lizardmen were also divided into two battalions, despite being a small army. On the zombie side were the females and hunters. On the skeleton side were the warriors and males. The priests were inside the walls.
The lizardmen had come out of the village because they knew fighting a siege battle wouldn’t give them any advantage. Reinforcements weren’t coming, and their walls were far from sturdy. Meanwhile, the enemy army consisted of undead that needed neither food nor sleep.
At such a disadvantage, fighting under siege would have been the most foolish plan.
But forming ranks on the field gave the lizardmen a harsh awakening as to just how wide the gap in military strength was between the two sides. There were more than three undead for every one of them. More than thirty for every ten. The ratio didn’t change, but three thousand to one thousand felt overwhelming. The mere sight of three thousand undead forming ranks was strangely oppressive.
Still, even under those circumstances, the lizardmen were no longer afraid. Numbers were not an issue now that their ancestral spirits had descended.
Eventually, the undead slowly began to move. The first ones to march were the zombies and skeletons. Perhaps meant to serve as reinforcements, the skeleton archers and riders stood immobile in the marsh.
The lizardmen moved to meet them. “Yaaaaaaagh!” A thunderous battle cry echoed across the marsh. Along with it came the sound of countless splashes. Water sprayed and mud spattered.
With both armies on the march, their clash was imminent—and something unusual happened within Nazarick’s army. Although the zombies and skeletons had begun marching at the same time, a gap gradually opened up between them; zombies moved sluggishly while skeletons were quick. On top of that, the marsh bogged them down. Slow-moving monsters like zombies were sucked into the mud, which slowed them further, but lightweight monsters like skeletons weren’t affected as much.
This led to the first clash happening between the skeletons and the warrior caste.
The lizardmen had no formation. They just charged in recklessl
y and attacked with wild abandon. At the front of the pack were the five head warriors. These champions rushed out first. In some cases, leading from the front wasn’t a very tactically sound decision, but they were the highest-ranking lizardman warriors—if they didn’t fight out front, morale would suffer. This way, all the lizardman warriors were inspired and overflowing with fighting spirit.
The next to charge were the Razor Tail tribe’s eighty-nine heavy warriors. They had the highest defense out of any tribe’s warriors, clad in leather armor and even equipped with leather shields. They held up their shields, and their lines met the skeleton forces like a contiguous wall.
With a crash, the skeleton vanguard joined battle with the lizardman front lines.
And then—bones scattered as the lizardmen cut deep into the skeleton formation. Angry roars thundered, and the sound of breaking bones rang out again and again. At times, there were groans as the living warriors fell, but the clatter of bones greatly outnumbered them.
At a glance, the battle overwhelmingly favored the lizardmen. If they had been humans, perhaps the situation would have been reversed. Since skeletons had bone bodies, they were practically immune to stabbing weapon damage and had high resistance to cutting weapons. For humans, who primarily used swords, it would have been difficult to deal damage effectively. The reason the lizardmen had such an advantage was due to their unrefined primary weapons like maces made of rocks. Skeletons were vulnerable against crushing weapons.
Every time a lizardman swung, brittle skeleton bones crumbled. Even if they could stand one hit, they’d be completely demolished by the next. Meanwhile, the lizardmen’s thick scales often deflected the skeletons’ rusty swords. Occasionally one of the warriors was injured, but not so critically that it was life-threatening.
In this first skirmish alone, almost five hundred skeletons sank to their final resting place in the marsh.
Cocytus was dumbfounded by what he saw in the mirror.
This was still just the first wave of attack, but the ability of the lizardmen was beyond what he’d expected. Cocytus was a brilliant warrior, and he had been able to anticipate their strength to some degree. Certainly the gap in individual aptitude between skeletons and lizardmen was obvious—a lone skeleton had no chance of beating a lone lizardman—but he thought that such a numerical advantage more than compensated for that.
The Lizardman Heroes Page 12