Karl stood atop the Saliva Demon's carapace, his gaze coldly fixed on Dagon, who was slowly rising from the icy pit, its body enveloped in billowing black mist.
He certainly had not expected the Saliva Demon to defeat Dagon in single combat — that was precisely why he had summoned it. Firstly, to relieve some of the pressure; and secondly... to serve as a powerful living shield and destabilising factor.
"Not necessarily to win — just to cause chaos, hinder it, and draw its attention."
"Don't let it concentrate its power. Leave the rest to me."
The Saliva Demon understood Karl's meaning. Though it remained wary, the constraints of the contract and the necessity of obeying its master outweighed its instinctive unease. It let out a furious roar, a howl to muster its courage. With a sudden surge of power from its numerous legs, its body, like a black chariot, charged fiercely at Dagon, who had just risen to its feet.
Meanwhile, on the shore, just as Dalton and his companions were about to engage the few mutated fish-men that had managed to reach the shore before the temperature dropped...
"FWOOSH!!!" A loud flap of wings, violently beating through the air, resounded.
A golden figure, so massive it covered most of the sky, swept across the battlefield at astonishing speed. The powerful air currents kicked up sand and stones, and some of the smaller deformed fish-men were blown away by the wind.
"A dragon? A giant dragon!" someone from Foltest's guard cried out in terror and disbelief.
"Oh god... it's coming towards us?!"
"Wait! It seems... it's helping us?"
Some observant people noticed that the golden dragon's target appeared to be the gathering place of the mutated fish-men.
"Hey! Watch out, behind you!" another knight suddenly shouted, but it was too late.
A guard, distracted by gazing at the dragon, was suddenly attacked by a mutated fish-man that leaped out from the side and knocked him to the ground.
"Ah!!" the knight cried out as his heavy armour crashed onto the ground with a loud clatter. The surrounding fish-men immediately surged forward like sharks scenting blood, hissing excitedly. They used their deformed claws and teeth to desperately tear, scratch, and gnaw at the knight's armour!
"SCREECH!!" A piercing metallic screech and deformation rang out as the finest plate armour, infused with magic-resistant gold, was torn apart. Under the onslaught of these frenzied, mutated fish-men, it let out a groan of unbearable pain. The plate armour gradually deformed and dented, and sparks flew from the friction of claws against metal!
"Help! Help!! Someone, help me!!" the knight cried out in terror, pinned to the ground. He felt the immense pressure and deformation coming from his armour, and fear gripped his heart. He had no doubt that without this plate armour, these monsters would have torn him apart in an instant.
At the most critical moment, the long blade of a halberd, sparking with orange electric arcs and raging flames, swept across the battlefield.
"BOOM!! THWACK! CRACK!!!" The dull impact, the sound of flesh exploding, and the sound of shattering bones all merged into one. Five mutated fish-men fiercely attacking the knight exploded simultaneously, like rotten tomatoes. Foul-smelling blood and shattered limbs flew in all directions, splattering the knight lying on the ground.
Dalton appeared beside the knight, holding the halberd in one hand. His other hand reached out to the terrified knight on the ground, and from behind his visor came a calm, clear voice: "Hand."
The knight, as if grasping at a lifeline, quickly grabbed Dalton's outstretched hand, clad in silver armour. A sudden powerful force easily lifted him from the ground.
The knight straightened up, his heart still pounding, as he saw the terrifying scratches and dents on his armour. Then, looking at the filth and debris around him, he felt relief and gratitude for having survived this ordeal. His first instinct was to lift his visor, covered in black blood and repulsive chunks of flesh, to thank his saviour.
"Stop!" Dalton's cold shout instantly froze him in place.
"Do not allow any physical contact between your body and these substances! Not a single drop!"
Dalton's voice came through his visor, somewhat muffled, but every word was clearly audible.
The knight froze, his hand holding the visor hanging in mid-air, his eyes filled with confusion and doubt. Why? It was just monster blood, wasn't it? Who on the battlefield didn't have blood-stained hands? Why be so cautious? Weren't these knights in silver armour themselves covered in blood?
However, Dalton had neither the time nor the need to explain in detail. Having stopped him, he didn't even glance at the knight. He immediately turned and charged toward his companions, who were surrounded by fish-men and in a desperate situation. The combat situation there was even more critical, and he had no time to waste words here.
The Knight of the White Lily watched Dalton's rapidly retreating figure, opened his mouth, but in the end swallowed his question. He shook the filth from his gauntlets and pressed his visor firmly, making sure the buckles were securely fastened and not loose. Though he didn't understand the reason, the solemn warning from the captain of the silver-armoured knights could not possibly be aimed against him.
He was about to step forward and return to his companions when—
"What?! Damn it, Jerry?! Have you lost your mind?!"
"Has he been infected?!"
"Oh no! He's attacking his own men! Quick! Hold him down!!"
"Oh god... his face...!"
Sudden cries and commotion nearby made him flinch and turn sharply. Several colleagues were seen pulling and restraining a knight named Jerry. In the chaos, Jerry himself or his companions had torn off his visor, revealing a disfigured and horrifying face.
His eyes were bloodshot, his gaze wild and erratic, devoid of all reason. His lips moved rapidly, emitting an incomprehensible, distorted muttering. It sounded nothing like human language — it was full of madness. Even more terrifying was that the skin on his exposed face was visibly blackening, revealing thin, fish-scale-like patterns. Similar scales began to appear on his neck, and even tiny fleshy buds, writhing and squirming, had emerged.
"No... no!" The knight who had just been saved by Dalton turned pale and retreated in fear, feeling a chill run from the soles of his feet to his head. He finally understood why he had been warned: the blood and bodily fluids of these monsters... were horrifically contagious. Such terrifying deformations could occur even from simply being splashed, or even from inhaling volatile fumes.
He didn't care about his image; he desperately shook his hands, trying to rid his gauntlets of the remaining filth. At the same time, he pressed harder on the edge of his visor, almost pressing the metal into his skin. Then, as if fleeing from a plague, he hastily retreated from this chaotic place.
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