Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Witnessing the defiler's suddenly turn completely silent, dead serious completely out of the blue was certain a surprise for everyone, especially the puppeteers who had had the displeasure of having them as neighbours for much too long, their reaction to the odd occurance lasted a bit too long, leaving them static, target of well placed strikes that decimated their numbers.

Not every group of student had followed the same tactic, though, all of them had been able of recognising how valuable having defilers being themselves was, the crafted abominations were dangerous enemies, few had what it took to withstand their sharp edges, and it was not like they aimed randomly, each of their graceful attacks were meant to kill or cripple, since many could not reliably block their strikes, they had to run around constantly, using the defilers as props to disrupt the performance of the puppeteers.

Curiously, despite some of them, the majority, simply trying to carve through both allies and foes, it was like an invisible force prevented them from doing so willfully, and with of much intent they put into the slightest of their movements, doing anything without thoughts was a mountainous task for them.

"Looks like they have a rather tight pact of non-aggression" remarked Antieeld to the students around her, under her directive, the fighting was already going well into their favour before the defilers sudden movements, but now, they had been able of wiping the floor with the distracted puppet worshippers.

"It looks like they are heading tow-" the soon-to-be general suddenly halted, her mask of composure replaced with a pale visage.

"Go help the others, be careful!" she suddenly shouted, rushing off into another direction, not leaving any time for anyone to question her, especially when giving them an order using all her expertise with her talent.

"No, no no no no, no!" she unconsciously muttered arriving into a section empty of any students or enemies, a large pit carved in the center, as if waiting for a time cue, the ground further away erupting into debris, a figure familiar to her coming crashing into the side of one the earthen walls.

Quickly jumping off to meet him, she rose her valiant knight from the rubbles, his armour battered, covering in scratches, bends, parts burnt away and others seemingly rusty, a vile odour clung to him, enough to make her gag, something she could only describe as fleshy moss growing over him, crimson red in colour, Gelter tried to say something to her, but he only coughed up blood.

A loud cracking noise emerged from the dust rising up, a knight of no clear allegiance stepping out, busy with recalibrating his helm it appeared.

Planting his halberd firmly into the ground, he stood tall, staring straight at Antieeld, she felt like looking away, meeting this man's gaze planted a seed of fear into her heart, like she had just dared to look at death.

The fear was much less intense than her bubbling anger however, having sensed the state of her most loyal knight had consumed her with worry, catching a single glimpse of the reason for Gelter's situation was all that was required to turn concern to a wish of eradication.

"Name yourself!" she demanded, not offering her own name.

The ancient knight's set of armour was similarly battered as that of her bodyguard, in fact, he looked somehow worse for wear, the way his chestplate was caved in could only mean that the majority of his ribs had to have been crushed, his helm was similarly damaged, he was even missing an entire arm, there was no way this man had not sustained dreadful injuries.

A gruff voice answered her.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"I was not graced with a name, but if you truly wish to refer to me in some way, you may call me a knight of plague, my services were hired to occupy this knight…"

He lifted his halberd, making the blank banner swirly in the air, summoning a small group of foggy soldiers.

"...But I will not deny your will to fight me, little girl"

Antieeld remained silent, eyeing the knight's summons.

It might look similar to spirit creation, but it was naught but a battle art, the specificities could not be made out in their entirety, but it was clear that the movement and banner played a significant role.

"Hold on Gelter" she only addressed her faithful knight, unsheathing her sabre, placing its blade close to her face, the back of it lingering closely to her nose, the metal shining with an odd colour.

It was not a mere coincidence that Gelter was one of the few outside of Tochi that utilised battle arts, not everyone had completely discarded their utility here, this included the house of Antieeld, whomst prized this particular art very much, despite its steep requirements to even make use of, it was one of the reasons they had favoured Antieeld above all else, not only was she the holder of a talent, a rare occurrence, she held a particularly impressive one, which coincidentally, also made her the perfect candidate to wield the family art.

Army Slash, a battle art reserved to leaders of armies, that only grew more and more potent as one's force expanded, grew more powerful, an interesting art that required only to maintain a simple pose for a brief instant to activate, what was initially demanded of one to learn it was already difficult enough to allow such a thing.

And right there, this was the proof that Loimos, as Osworth, had not been quite as trusted as it seemed, he had not been made privy to this little piece of intel, otherwise, he would have not opted for this strategy at all, there was no doubt that he was overall stronger than the youth, her skills were lesser than his, her strength abysmal in comparison, but the slash that was travelling right at his midsection was another story.

He could tell, there was no way for him to slow this thing without putting in his one hundred percent, but was not supposed to utilise anything that marked his status as an undead out in the open, it was already a bad thing that Gelter managed to slip out of the underground, forcing Loimos to switch the look of his rot, turning it into some sort of crimson, fungus-looking thing.

'No matter, victory is already assured' the undead made a peculiar noise, causing the ground beneath his feet to swallow him up, leaving the mist soldiers to be halved.

He simply retreated, his job here was already done.