The Undead Corpse Dog had long lost the instinct of a living creature to be wary of injuries; the relentless spirit, deprived of rest for so long, desperately craved the breath of life. With jaws full of sharp teeth, it aimed straight for Leon, vowing to swallow up the fresh flesh and blood.
The ghostly fire in the Living Corpse's eye sockets trailed two terrifying streaks of blood-red color as it charged. In the blink of an eye, Leon gripped the shaft tightly, thrusting the Wooden Spear head-on into the mouth of the charging beast.
The maddened hound, with no intent to dodge, predictably crashed straight into the spear's point.
Just as the sensation of the spear piercing flesh returned through the spearhead, before Leon could rejoice in his success, the unstoppable force from ahead pushed him back several steps. The rough shaft, dragged by that force, chafed against Leon's palm, drawing out several bloody scratches.
With a crisp snap, the Wooden Spear's shaft broke in response, and the Living Corpse Dog's massive jaws snapped closed, crushing the foreign object in its mouth like a pair of giant pincers.
Its solid and sharp teeth, like a wood chipper, easily ground the Wooden Spear head in its mouth into scraps.
Leon, startled, kept increasing the distance between them.
He stared at the fierce hound that chewed wood as if gnawing sugarcane, watching the splinters it spat out, his emotions fluctuating wildly like a roller coaster.
Indeed, the brain of the once-dead Undead Corpse Dog was no longer effective, and its straightforward attacks were easy for him to predict; however, death had also brought it incomparable advantages. If a living creature were stabbed in the throat with a Wooden Spear, even the fiercest of jackals, tigers, and leopards would be gravely wounded or killed.
But to the already deceased Undead, such lethal injuries from before death hardly inflicted any damage. The young girl's voice had said that due to the Spirit-like Field's characteristics, the Undead here were even harder to deal with than in the outside world. Even if they were cut at the waist or beheaded, it was difficult to destroy their "mobility". One must destroy the physical structure or the brain of the Living Corpse to stop it from being a vessel for the Undead spirit, only then could their "physical" form be defeated.
Leon, holding a broken piece of wood, approached the location of the trap behind him with a grave expression, daring not to turn and run away. A regular person's speed couldn't possibly escape the pursuit of the beast; exposing his back would only lead to a swifter death.
What to do? Should he simply recite the incantation and activate the Spirit Repelling Rune to extract the soul of the Corpse Dog?
No, that was not an option. They had already spent too much time and effort setting up the Array; to waste the ritual hastily and have to gather materials anew would introduce too many uncertainties.
Without anything that could be considered a weapon, he was now unable to continue fighting the fierce Living Corpse Dog.
Just when Leon was out of options, he saw Azeryan quietly approaching behind the Living Corpse Dog.
The dull-witted Living Corpse, with no capacity to anticipate a sneak attack, set its blood-red Undead eyes menacingly on Leon, with no intention of a confrontation. It immediately barked ferociously and lunged to bite.
The terrifying fangs reached him in the blink of an eye; Leon, helpless, could only use the wooden shaft in his hands as a baseball bat, stepping back defensively, and with hands clasped around the stick, he struck forcefully at the hound's head.
Shouting the Dog Beating Stick Technique in his mind, Leon swung his club with precision, hitting the hound's head squarely, his forceful strike successfully knocked the ferocious beast's skull to one side.
Raising his hand to repeat the trick, however, before the second strike could land, the war dog lunged and bit down hard on the middle of the wooden staff, its sharp teeth easily snapping through the fragile wood like a cookie stick, leaving Leon with a short stick no longer than two palms.
As the stick broke, the war dog's momentum did not wane, its massive and powerful body charged through with fierce force, knocking Leon to the ground, its terrifying maw snapping towards Leon's neck with a foul wind.
At this life or death moment, the will to live overshadowed the fear of possibly losing an arm, and with his right hand, he quickly jammed the remaining piece of the broken staff into the gaping bloody maw before him.
The upright stick barely managed to prop itself against the war dog's snapping jaws; with his life hanging by a thread, Leon finally saw Azeryan's figure leaping onto the back of the war dog.
The noble youth mounted the living corpse war dog's loin, both hands gripping the inverted dagger blade as he thrust with all his might into the hound's head below him.
The dagger pierced the war dog's dry skin, but the tip failed to penetrate its hard skull. The rebound almost knocked the weapon out of Azeryan's grip; it merely scraped off the contour of the war dog's skull before sliding ineffectively aside.
The long dagger's tip was severely dulled by the excessive force, cursing the poor quality of his weapon in frustration, Azeryan didn't give up after the unsuccessful strike. He lifted his right hand, following through with the remaining force, this time driving the dagger hard towards the war dog's eye socket.
However, the violent shaking and struggle beneath him caused his lethal stab to miss the mark. The dagger's chipped tip only pierced into the war dog's neck. If it had been a living creature, severing the artery and windpipe would have been a deadly blow, but they were facing an undead living corpse.
The war dog opened its mouth to spit out the short stick that was clogging its bite, then crazily shook its body, easily tossing Azeryan off its back.
Not waiting for it to bite again, in a split second, Leon, with quick reflexes, reached out his left hand and grabbed the dagger in the dog's neck, pulling it out forcefully—puchi!
With the blade in hand, he changed the angle; the long dagger, smeared with black blood, was thrust from below upward into the dog's head. Leon pushed the dagger tightly against the gap in the war dog's lower jaw, merely inches away from its brain.
The undead hound shook its body even more furiously, while Leon desperately gripped the handle—this hard-won opportunity would be utterly wasted if he let go now.
"Ah ah ah ah!" Roaring, he shoved the war dog's body with his right arm, his knees propping him up to flip over with all his strength.
Leon tried to push the struggling beast into the pit trap beside him.
A sudden force came from the right, it turned out that Azeryan had charged back and slammed fiercely into the side of the war dog.
Finally, this slight imbalance caused the fierce beast to topple toward Leon's left side.
The mindless Living Corpse naturally lacked the capacity to ponder the enemy's strategy, and its heavy body collapsed the thin layer of disguised earth as expected, falling into the pit trap.
Leon, who was flipped over, didn't let go. Clutching the handle of the dagger, he was dragged down into the not-so-deep pitfall.
The stubby wooden cones at the bottom of the pit easily penetrated the body of the Warhound as it fell under its own weight, while Leon's body suddenly felt a jolt, and his left hand, using the force of the fall, pushed the Dagger Blade all the way into the warhound's brain.
...Gradually, the Living Corpse ceased its movements, finally becoming a true corpse.
"Leon! Are you alright?"
Azeryan was leaning over the edge, looking down into the pit.
"Heh... I'm fine, thanks to this dead dog cushioning my fall, I'm uninjured," Leon replied with relief, looking up.
Turning his head to look at the warhound's blood-red eerie eyes, which had already extinguished its glow, he stirred the dagger once again uneasily, and then pulled it out, before stabbing it back in through the corpse's eye socket, repeating the action several times until he confirmed that the brain had been mashed, and only then did he stop.
Standing up and stepping on the dog corpse, Leon grasped his companion's hand, which was extended from the mouth of the hole, and climbed out of the trap with difficulty.
But as soon as he and Azeryan had a moment's rest to catch their breath, they were immediately startled by a noise ahead.
Somehow, a tall and majestic humanoid shadow had emerged from the shadows of the woods with an eerie stride.
The resounding clash of metal Armor pieces and footsteps sounded as though each step was trampling over Leon and Azeryan's hearts. With each pacing step, the extravagant long sword swung back and forth in his hand, flashing an eye-dazzling cold light.
What came into view was a Knight Armor neatly worn.
The thick and solid plate armor components were intricately and exquisitely crafted, with a Thorny Rose emblem carved on the Shoulder Shield to symbolize the family, and the helmet of the Armor had long since vanished, revealing the bald human skull beneath. The shriveled skin stretched tightly over the skull was wrinkled, and the icy cold and sinister blood-red fires in the dark eye sockets declared his identity.
A human Knight turned into a Living Corpse.
Even though they had already encountered the dangerous and ferocious Undead Corpse Dog, this undead creature transformed from one of their own kind exuded a bone-chilling coldness that was even more alarming than the previous warhound, a sense of inexplicable danger rising in Leon's heart.
The Corpse Demon Knight, who resembled a Corpse Ghost, seemed to have sniffed out the scent of living beings and began to hasten his steps.
"I fucking..." Leon wanted to curse; they couldn't catch a break—could it be that the dead dog they had just encountered belonged to this guy?
He and Azeryan did not dare to delay and scrambled to their feet, fleeing helter-skelter.
But as they ran in the opposite direction, trouble arose again—another familiar roaring sound that seemed to herald death came from another part of the dense forest.
"....Kill!.... Kill them all!.... Exterminate all of Kantadar!.... Everyone who blocks me from saving my sister... must die... Kill! Kill!..." The voice filled with Hate tainted by the Angry Demon grew closer and closer.
Leon stopped in his tracks; his heart was filled with complaints.
A blood-soaked Lokhak was making a mad dash toward this clearing!
The strong young man with a ferocious face clutched a bloody sword in one hand, while the other hand held the decapitated head of a Living Corpse.
His Chain Armor, which had been through who knows what fierce battles, was full of large and small gashes and pierced holes in the armor chains and iron pieces.
Leon came to a halt, realizing that, at the very least, they wouldn't have to dodge the pursuit of the Corpse Demon Knight while awaiting Lokhak's approach.
They changed direction and ran towards the edge of the Array.
"The rest is up to me. While they are distracted by the Array, you need to quickly hide in the woods on the outskirts!" Leon instructed Azeryan to disperse, then stationed himself on the edge of the Array.
Turning around, he nervously watched as Lokhak neared the range of the Array.
Even the Corpse Demon Knight entered the boundary from the opposite end.
Good, I'll finish all of you off in one fell swoop.
Leon raised both hands, orienting his palms toward the core of the Array, and began chanting:
(Ancient Lorelette Language) "The True Word is here! By the command of my name! Call upon the Netherworld gate to open! Call upon the decree of the Dragon of the Dead Sea, ever frozen!"