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Chapter 15.2: Orc Zombie
Chapter 15.2: Orc Zombie
Jesus Christ boys I am FINALLY DONE. If any of your are in uni, please submit your assignments and test revision requests on time. We TAs are human too, you know? I just came out of a one and a half hour long meeting with a student at 10PM, and boy this must have been the most DREADFUL thing I’ve ever went through. I’m sorry friendo, I can’t make points appear out of nowhere.
Anyways, onto the Ko-Fis.
Boys and girls, lemme tell ya, seeing the email popping up saying that someone had donated while I was completely buried in work was one of THE MOST motivating things ever, so thank you so much for contributing even though I wasn’t putting out content. I am so, so, SO grateful for your patience and understanding. HYUUUUGEEE capital ship sized amounts of gratitude to the man of many numbers 123321 (TWICE), the ever so dapper The Gentleman (TWICE AS WELL), the beefiest of greenskins Chad Orc-san, the loud and boisterous Boomhauer, and last but not least, the very regular sounding yet just as wonderful Lukas!!! Thank you so much for your generous contributions!
It’ll take a couple of days for me to get back into the translating grove, so temporarily expect a little bit of a longer delay between the releases compared to last month.
Now onto the content.
“It” was first noticed by a scout who had retreated to the rear to recover his magical power.
His long ears and sharp hearing caught the sound of footsteps coming up from behind him.
However, there shouldn’t have been any allies at his back.
Could it possibly be reinforcements joining them from Siwanasi Forest?
Or maybe a messenger, carrying further orders?
Believing there were incoming friendlies, the Elf looked back, only to see an Orc zombie barreling towards him, its rotten body moving at ludicrous speeds.
This particular Elf was a reconnaissance expert – a veteran scout with over 50 years of battle experience.
He immediately noticed, even with the wear and tear of time, that the Orc zombie wore an attire typical of the rare Orcish Assassins. He could even confirm that its skin, despite being mostly missing, had a yellowish tint to it.
And he understood that he didn’t have the time to dodge the dagger coming straight for his throat.
In a split second, he decided that informing his compatriots of the incoming threat was the only thing he could do to make his death worthwhile.
“Enemy att – !“
But he never managed to finish.
The sharp edge tore through his throat, blood flowing out instead of words.
Despite his fatal injury, the Elf desperately tried to find out more about the Orc zombie’s identity.
How did it ambush me?
Where did it come from?
Where was it hiding?
“…!”
Feeling his consciousness fading away, the scout hurriedly scanned the surroundings for more information.
And then…
He saw them.
Following behind the undead assassin was a horde of countless zombies, slowly closing in.
One of them held a flag, lifting it high.
A ripped, tattered standard, hanging on its pole by a few rotten threads.
And on the flag… was an image he recognized.
The symbol of the Orc General that once fell in Siwanasi Forest.
“Gen…Ba..ra…”
But he never got to finish that thought, as the dagger’s tip pierced into the bottom of his head, through the roof of his mouth, and into his brain.
“What?! The enemy is at our rear? How many?”
“There are reports of more than a thousand!”
“Give me the damage report!”
“Half of our scouts are dead… Sir, this is bad…”
Lieutenant General Calendula’s eyes widened at his subordinate’s report.
A group of zombies had suddenly appeared at their rear.
By the time the main unit got the news, most of the scouts who were recovering their magic laid dead, having not made it back in time.
The zombies in front of them numbered around 300, and he was trying to figure out how to best approach them and defeat the Lich while minimizing his losses when news of this disaster reached his ears.
It was too late now.
He had been complacent, thinking that there was no way mindless undead could outmaneuver the living, and had neglected to watch his back.
“Damn it… Where did they come from?”
“We don’t know sir. They just sprang out of nowhere…”
“Kuh…Shit!”
Lieutenant General Calendula was getting more and more frustrated by the second.
There were too many enemies.
He didn’t even know where they came from nor how they got here.
His men had been taken by surprise, and they had taken an enormous amount of damage.
This was a situation where the textbook move would be to withdraw.
There was no way around it – retreat was the only right answer.
“…”
Retreat.
That was Calendula’s decision.
However, his sixth sense told him something was off.
He felt that if he were to retreat now, everyone here would be wiped out.
“…”
His thoughts wandered, bringing to the surface a 100-year-old memory.
It was back when Calendula was not yet a Lieutenant General, only a Lieutenant Colonel.
He remembered his father, Catalpa, who was a Lieutenant General back then.
He had fallen into a situation not dissimilar to the one Calendula found himself in now.
Said to be the swiftest leader among the Elves, Catalpa’s troops were the most disciplined and organized, and their leader known to be most decisive and quick when it came to making tactical decisions.
One day, he found himself caught in a pincer attack.
Naturally, he promptly ordered a full retreat, leading his army through a gap in the enemy’s formation…
Calendula lost his father that day.
The now Lieutenant General had watched the whole thing play out from the top of a nearby hill.
So, he understood.
His father had not made a mistake – his response, according to the common sense of warfare, was right.
Considering the circumstances, Catalpa’s decision was the correct one.
However, the enemy moved into a perfect position to respond, as if they had read Catalpa’s mind.
As he watched from afar, Calendula shouted, “Why are you running that way?!” over and over and over until his throat was sore.
Eventually, his father fell, stabbed in the back as he tried to lead his remaining troops on one last dash to safety.
The circumstances surrounding him felt similar.
He absolutely had to retreat in order to survive.
But if he ran the wrong way, everyone would be annihilated.
So which direction should he go towards?
The levelheaded and standard strategy would be to slow down the significantly larger enemy army at his rear with the minimal amount of troops, send most of the force towards the front to crush the Lich, and break through to safety.
Search and destroy the Lich as quickly as possible – this was the best way to permanently deal with the undead.
However, the enemy came from behind them, meaning the Lich in front of them might be a decoy.
So, was the Lich in front or behind them?
They had to charge in the undead spellcaster’s direction.
If he didn’t, they would be defeated.
As long as it was alive, the undead would perpetually keep coming back to life, reanimated by its magic.
It would be a fool’s errand to attempt breaking through an infinite number of enemies.
They would just fight an unwinnable battle of attrition, and even if they won, it would be pyrrhic victory at best, and complete annihilation at worst.
Yes, they would end up just like former Lieutenant General Catalpa…
“…”
Calendula reflected on the situation.
Who was commanding these undead in the first place?
Obviously, it was the Lich.
But wasn’t the Lich supposed to be ahead of him?
He needed to order a retreat – but retreat to where? He didn’t have enough information to work with.
“Lieutenant General! Please, give us your orders!”
His soldiers pleaded.
But Calendula stayed mute.
He was at a loss, and time was running out by the second.
If he didn’t move right this instant, they would find themselves completely surrounded, and their last chance of escape would evaporate into thin air.
Even if his decision ended up being wrong, he had to issue a command.
He knew, yet he could not find the courage in himself to potentially send his men towards certain death.
“nOrRThaNiNgUH IzZuH tHrUrUe, EEeArVriEtIng IrStT pARmNittThEdD” – Zombie Orc Assassin’s Creed, year unknown