Chapter Ninety-Seven: The Strange Ice Mist (2)

“It’s a Garo fiend!”

Hearing those strange, rumbling roars, Scaoli immediately frowned and, in his mind, quickly calculated their present route against the usual places where other undead creatures appeared within the fog zone. The result was grim: apart from this road, there was no other way into the depths of the fog zone.

“Nasa! Can we force our way through?”

Scaoli gritted his teeth. The situation had completely thrown his original plan into disarray. It was plainly impossible now to slip quietly into the depths of the fog zone.

“No way!”

Perhaps because Weil was present, the two of them spoke in the human tongue. Nasa shook his head firmly and said to Scaoli, “There are too many of them!”

“How can this be? The numbers are far too abnormal!”

Scaoli frowned. Weil, who had been listening to their conversation all along, suddenly cut in. “If what you’re saying is true, and the places where these undead creatures appear, as well as their numbers, are this strange, then there’s only one possibility: the total number of undead creatures that pour out this time, during the ten-year cycle, may be more than forty thousand.”

Not only Scaoli, but Nasa and the others had long since considered that possibility. They simply did not wish to think in that direction. Yet hearing Weil’s words, his heart jolted violently, and he clenched his jaw hard. “If that’s really the case, then we have even more reason to go into the fog zone and see what’s happening!”

“Nasa, Daken, Feilo, I’ll need your help again this time. Go and bring back a few undead creatures... alive!”

“Yes!”

Nasa and the other two seemed to know what Scaoli intended to do. They nodded, gave a low reply, and led the remaining dozen beastmen swiftly back the way they had come.

“Hey, old man, what kind of devilish scheme have you come up with now?”

After the others left, only Weil and Scaoli remained. Weil was deeply unaccustomed to being alone with him. He scratched his head and asked with a hint of irritation.

“Heh, boy, are you really that afraid I’ll pry into your heart?”

Scaoli gave a strange smile, a flicker of mockery appearing in his eyes. “Relax. I’m not very interested in the little things in your head. At least, not right now.”

Damned old man!

Weil cursed inwardly, but Scaoli did not seem to care in the least. From his expression, it was impossible to tell whether he was truly probing Weil’s thoughts.

No one liked having their inner thoughts laid bare to others, and Weil was no exception. As for this old fellow Scaoli, Weil’s opinion of him could be summed up as three parts anger, three parts caution, three parts disgust, and one last part fear.

Yes, fear. Though Weil was reluctant to believe it, and though the old man had shown very little of his power, he still felt deep down that this fellow’s strength must be astonishing.

“About time, I suppose,” Scaoli muttered to himself, then turned to look at Weil and smiled. “Didn’t you ask what kind of devilish trick I was planning? You can know now.”

“Hm?”

Weil gave a puzzled sound, and at that very moment a faint hissing rustle came from behind them. He hurriedly turned around, only to see several slight figures dragging four gigantic shapes, inch by inch, toward them.

At last, when they drew near enough, Weil could make out their faces: it was Nasa and the others. What shocked Weil was that behind them they were dragging four enormous undead creatures.

Not rot fiends.

Seeing Weil’s astonished expression, Scaoli gave a quiet laugh. “This is called a greater rot fiend, an undead creature even larger than a rot fiend. Very strong, though a little stupid.”

Watching Scaoli describe them so calmly, Weil suddenly felt the urge to go mad. These four greater rot fiends were indeed huge, and not merely huge, but monstrously so. A rot fiend was already large enough, about the same size as a rhinoceros beast, but these greater rot fiends... even lying on the ground, they stood more than four meters tall by rough estimate.

Nasa was dragging one by the head, Daken and another beastman were hauling one by the head, and Feilo was practically carrying one on his shoulder. The other beastmen warriors worked together to drag the last one. In this way, with barely more than a dozen of them, they had managed to haul these four astonishingly massive things back.

Outrageous.

Weil sighed inwardly, but what concerned him even more was something else: how had they brought these four greater rot fiends back?

While Weil was wondering about that, Daken the werewolf clapped his hands heavily and grinned at him in explanation. “Knocked them out!”

“Can’t you explain that more clearly?” Weil asked.

“One punch to the head. That’s all there is to it!” Daken answered cheerfully, which only left Weil even more speechless.

“These undead creatures are a little peculiar. Creatures like insects generally have no head, but these undead are different. They have brains, though some of them are not very clever...”

This time it was Scaoli who explained. He glanced at Weil, then slowly walked up to the four greater rot fiends and extended a hand. From his nose he issued a bizarre nasal hum, a wave of sound. In just a moment, the four undead creatures suddenly opened their eyes and slowly crawled up from the ground.

The sight clearly startled Weil, but Daken, standing beside him, merely patted his shoulder carelessly and showed a row of white teeth. “Don’t worry. They’re... our own.”

Though Weil knew Daken had not used much force, that light pat still hurt enough to make him draw in a sharp breath. He rubbed his numbed shoulder hard and asked with some confusion, “Our own?”

“Yes, our own!”

Daken nodded. Weil looked ahead and saw that the four greater rot fiends were indeed very different from ordinary undead creatures. They stood motionless on the spot, as though being lectured, without a roar or a stir of violence.

Then Feilo somehow produced a pile of pitch-black sludge from who knew where. From a distance it looked disgusting beyond words, and the smell of it... enough to kill a person outright.

Weil frowned, but Feilo, the minotaur, seemed not to care at all. He handed some of the black filth to Daken, then grabbed a handful and smeared it over himself. He worked at it with surprising enthusiasm, as though he were taking a bath.

“Daken... what is that stuff?”

Weil held his breath and asked.

“Greater rot fiend dung!” Daken replied with a grin.