The Lord: Raising a Maiden in the World of Torment

"Killing these undead isn't so bad after all," Field said, his confidence swelling as he casually flicked the foul blood from his sword.

"Watch out, my lord!"

Another zombie, this one missing the lower half of its body, had crawled up during the brief pause. It lunged for Field's ankle, its rotting teeth snapping hungrily.

At the critical moment, Ashina grabbed a pitchfork from the cart and drove it hard into the zombie's spine, pinning it to the ground.

"Phew! Well done!"

Field broke into a cold sweat and staggered back a few steps, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. That had been way too close!

While the church's clergy could cure corpse poison, the price was astronomical. Without at least a hundred gold coins, survival was out of the question.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Field exhaled heavily and ruffled Ashina's hair in gratitude. "For saving my life, I'll reward you with one gold coin, Ashina!"

Ashina's face lit up with joy, her eyes sparkling as if they'd been filled with gold dust. She'd never seen so much money in her entire life. "Eh? Really? But it's my duty to protect you!"

The undead were not like the zombies from horror movies. Any weapon that pierced their bodies could inflict damage and slow them down.

More undead surged forward, clawing and snarling as they attacked the barricade of wooden carts.

However, the slaves behind the carts soon noticed that the undead were not as fearsome as they'd initially thought. Unable to reach them over the barricade, the undead posed little threat from a distance. Seeing their lord and even the frail-looking girl fighting back gave the slaves courage. Many of the men picked up farming tools and joined the counterattack against the zombies outside the cart wall.

Field wasted no time either, raising his sword and continuing to strike down the advancing undead.

With each swing of the sword and thrust of the farm tools, sprays of blood painted the battlefield. More and more corpses piled up, felled by the combined efforts of the slaves and Field's blade.

"Argh!"

A sudden scream pierced the air. One of Connor's cavalrymen, caught off guard, had his cape grabbed by a zombie dressed like a village woman. With a fierce tug, the rider was yanked backward, his legs kicking helplessly as he toppled from his horse.

"Crunch!"

The unfortunate soldier's head struck the ground with a sickening crack, and he went completely still.

"Damn it! Useless fool!" Connor cursed furiously, his anger flaring.

What infuriated him even more was that Field wasn't cowering in fear as he'd expected. Instead, the baron was calmly directing the slaves.

"Cut off the head of every corpse and pile them up. Burn them on the spot," Field commanded, his tone steady. During the journey, he had made a point to study up on corruption. He knew that the bodies of corrupted humans posed a severe environmental hazard after death. If left unchecked, they could quickly become a new source of contamination.

Frowning, Field cast a wary glance toward the horizon, where the gray mist stretched endlessly across the sky. "We haven't even reached Nightfall Territory yet, and there are already this many undead. This isn't a good sign."

Though Field already knew his family detested him and wanted him exiled, sending him straight into a pile of corpses felt especially cruel.

"Thank you for your assistance, my lord," one of the fleeing refugees said, crawling forward as though he'd just seen his saviour. The man prostrated himself before Field and kissed his boots.

"May the God of War light your path!"

Field accepted the gratitude without much reaction. His gaze swept over the ragged group of refugees, who looked more like beggars, and he asked,

"Where exactly are you from? How did this many undead come to be? Corrupted creatures like these should have been stopped by the towering walls of Kassan Fortress, shouldn't they?"

"It's the Death Miasma!" The villager's voice trembled as if reliving a nightmare. "The gray mist from the Northern Frontier seeped through the fortress walls and enveloped our village, Oak. Most of us were asleep when it happened, and the mist turned nearly everyone into undead in their sleep. Only a handful of us managed to escape."

The gray mist, also known as Death Miasma, was widely believed to be the root of corruption. It mingled with the air, and once inhaled by living organisms—be they human, animal, or plant—it swiftly killed the host and transformed them into corrupted monsters.

Only those with lordly abilities, or Chosen Ones, were naturally immune. Alternatively, one could use Redemption Lamps sold by the church to repel the mist. But those were prohibitively expensive—Field had spent 50 gold coins to acquire just two, and that was only because of his noble status.

Field listened carefully to their account, his brows furrowing as the full weight of their plight sank in. "What about your lord? From what I know, every border fortress is supposed to have a Chosen One stationed there. There's no way the Death Miasma could have breached the defenses without resistance."

"The baron and the Chosen One went to investigate traces of a cult. Only the baron's son remains in the castle."

"Let's go meet the lord of this place," Field said, mounting his horse after everyone had finished regrouping.

To reach Nightfall Territory, they would need the local baron's permission.

As they approached Kassan Fortress, Field was awestruck by the imposing stronghold. The sprawling stone walls and circular towers, seamlessly integrated with the surrounding mountains, formed an impenetrable defense. The fortress was equipped with massive ballistae, trebuchets, and cauldrons for boiling oil, all positioned along the wall wide enough to accommodate galloping horses.

Even an army of a hundred thousand would be left battered and bloodied against such formidable defenses. Everywhere, the banners of the Gryphon flapped audibly in the wind, proclaiming the majesty of the old empire.

But there was one glaring problem.

"Where is everyone?"

Field stood stunned. The outer walls were completely deserted—barren as far as the eye could see.

Connor, too, was visibly shaken, his face pale as he muttered, "Could it have been an orc raid? If the orcs breached Kassan Fortress, the entire province would fall in an instant."

"That seems unlikely. If that were the case, it wouldn't be this quiet," Field reasoned, though the eerie silence unsettled him.

Fortunately, after advancing further, they spotted torches burning on the inner walls of the fortress.

"Stay back! Who goes there?" A voice called out from the wall. In the flickering light, the outlines of many soldiers became visible, suggesting the castle's inner defenses were well-manned.

Why would they abandon the outer defenses, such a critical military position? Field wondered, a sense of unease creeping into his thoughts.

"I am Field, Baron of the Ross family. I'm on my way to assume my post in Nightfall Territory. Open the gates of Kassan Fortress and allow us to pass through," Field called out.

The officer on the wall looked troubled. After a moment's hesitation, he summoned a younger man—the son of Baron Bull.

"No way! My father isn't back yet, and no one's going to trick me into opening the castle gates. Leave now, or we'll shoot!"

Hearing the young man's resolute refusal, Field's eye twitched. He's probably scared out of his mind by the undead, Field guessed. Trying to reason with him, he shouted, "It's me, Field! Remember? I donated money to this place. I'm not your enemy."

"Donated money? Ha! As if your measly handouts mean anything. The whole empire sends funds to the border—you think you're special? Get over yourself, you nobody. And you've got the nerve to show up here in Bull's domain, embarrassing yourself like this?"

"Unbelievable. Of course, there's no shortage of awful nobles." Field clenched his teeth so hard it felt like they might crack. So much for the original's last acts of kindness. If he'd had soldiers under his command, he might have stormed the fortress then and there. But instead, he forced himself to keep his cool.

"These villagers, I rescued them on the way here. They—"

Before Field could finish, he was interrupted by a stream of curses from the wall.

"Damn it! Are you trying to empty my castle's food stores? Who told you to save those idiots? Meddlesome fool! If you bring them one step closer, I'll shoot without hesitation!"