Welf had this strange feeling, a prickling in the back of his neck.
As if half the town was watching his every move—and knowing Konrad and his tricks, that might have been the case, too. The alley was empty, but he had ways to keep an eye on them.
The boy sure didn't hold back, setting up this nightmareish scenario.
Because that was what it was—a simulation, a realistic training environment, no doubt.
And a good one at that.
He didn't even want to think about how much effort Konrad must have put into it.
Or what must have gone through his twisted mind?
Liliske and that boy were too much alike. They deserved each other. In a good way or not, he wasn't sure yet. But he had a battlefield to focus on, now that he was leading his men as well.
"It's the girl again," his tracker whispered, pointing ahead. "I smell another trap."
At least the men in question were smart—with or without him spoiling the surprise.
"Yeah, it won't get any more obvious than that," the blacksmith nodded, staying low. "But might as well walk right into it—we must be close, so stay alert and ready your swords."
There was no reason to keep pretending.
He had the decency to keep Konrad's secrets, but by this time, everyone had realised that something was off. Nobody spelt it out—but the air has changed long ago.
"Let me guess," a knight groaned. "Six zombies behind that corner, eager to beat us to a pulp."
He was the grizzled veteran who led their squad until he got injured.
That was a similar ambush Welf was now expecting, too.
Back then, Liliske showed up out of thin air to heal him. No surprises there—but Welf had to take over, and got stuck with the position. A lot has changed in the champions' attitude since.
The same men looking at him with suspicion during training now clung to him like shadows.
They wanted his opinion. Followed him.
Well, this was what he had predicted to happen, too, but why didn't he feel validated by it?
He only wanted to go home, take some well-earned rest—
Or have a fun sparring match with that princess if she were up for it.
Without her turning into a zombie, like all the men here, of course.
But leading warriors into battle wasn't his thing. He wanted none of it. And yet here he was, straining his eyes to spot the enemy disguised as monsters before they spotted them.
"How many did we beat so far?" he asked, his voice low. "This should be the last one, right?"
"How'd I know?" the knight snapped. "I've no idea how many zombies were here to begin with."
Right. Should he spit the beans? It has been long enough.
"Seventy-two," he said. "Including us. And I guess there might be only one more squad left."
Shock and quiet followed his claim, then a painful laugh broke the silence.
"So I haven't gone mad," the veteran wheezed. "Does that child we've been chasing even exist?"
"Oh, she does," Welf confirmed. "But that ain't her. I've met Brigida, and let me tell ya, she's scarier than these zombies—by a lot. With or without these nifty illusions."
"So who are we facing—and why?" the knight asked, the others gathering around as well.
"Each other, as usual," the blacksmith spat with a shrug. "With extra flair for motivation."
"Son of a bitch upstart noble wizard," one of them cursed under his nose, but the veteran could only laugh. "I knew something was off when you said zombies were slow and these weren't."
"Yeah. But hey, I can see why Lord Halstadt would trick us like this. It worked."
They looked each other in the eye, and rather than seeing rivals as this morning, they saw comrades. Whether they figured out the trick or not, they've recognised each other's talents.
Their dedication, loyalty, and drive—the common goals.
Konrad built the trust that was lacking until now.
All through a nasty lie and deception, but hey—
"I bet my wage that the last team standing will be the one with Count Rolalt's bastard."
"I'd be very disappointed if I couldn't face him," the veteran whispered.
"If we came this far, we should at least beat his ass," another knight added, looking at Welf with high expectations. "What do you say, blacksmith, could we do that?"
The redhead let a tired grin spread across his face.
"Makes me wonder if they also figured it out, or we could get a drop on them?" he pondered.
"Any other time, I'd scoff and say we don't need your tribal bastards' trickery, but damn the saints, that guy's tough." The knights behind him all agreed. "And he has your folks with him."
"Oh—"
That was something he forgot.
By the time the realisation hit, and he spun around—
Blood Moons ambushed them in the classic way they were all taught back home in the mountains. Welf's tracker was a fresh recruit, sure—but he should've anticipated this.
No time to beat himself over it now.
He raised his sword and, without a word, took up a tight defensive formation with the knights.
They didn't have shields, but covered every angle, diminishing the attacker's advantage.
No need for commands. They all knew what to do, working like a well-oiled machine.
But so did their opponents—all four of them.
"That's about tricks," the former leader yelled. "They beat us to your game."
"Means he also listens to his men," Welf shouted back, fending off a zombie-looking tribesman.
The illusions held, even if they knew who they were facing, but the magic was already lost.
He sparred with his tribe so many times that he had no issue coming up with counters.
And with every blade involved being blunt weapons, he held nothing back, either.
"Keep your eyes open," he barked. "Two are still missing."
At least with the illusions garbling his voice, the enemy didn't understand his orders. Same as them. They must've heard moaning, gurgling—horrifying sounds, but nothing useful.
"It's a distraction," the tracker yelled, a bit slow on the uptake. "They're retreating."
That wasn't exactly a retreat or a faint—it was them regrouping on the go.
Realising that the surprise was all but lost, the Blood Moons closed their formation. At the same moment, two more—much larger—zombies showed up from behind.
"There he is," the veteran knight gritted out. "If that's not Kade Enpe, then I don't know who is."
Classic diversion and division tactics. They couldn't ignore the four in front, but the two at the back closed in fast, and they were an even greater threat.
Welf had no illusions about them knowing who they were, either.
He was a head taller than the rest of his men, and Count Rolalt's champion seemed to aim right for him. Oh well, at least he didn't have to chase him down over that maze of a battlefield.
"I need one man to keep his buddy busy," Welf yelled. The veteran answered the call.
The rest fought the first four attackers.
They didn't even turn their heads, leaving all their trust in Welf and his leadership.
"Here we go then," he gritted through clenched teeth. "This is what everyone was waiting for."
He was tall and well built, but by the spirits—
The zombie resembling Kade Enpe was like a tower, rushing towards him with his blade raised.