The curse hounds were just about spent.

Fanilly’s blade sunk deep into the chest of one of the leaping beasts, and she swiftly yanked the black-stained sword from its body as she twisted, her shifting footwork allowing her to intercept the swing of an axe-wielding boar. Using the edge of her sword and a flick of her wrist, she guided the axe downwards and to the ground, widening her stand in the same motion before swinging her sword back up.

The mercenary was unable to react in time, his throat parted as crimson gushed from within, collapsing backwards.

The Boars’ numbers were undeniable. But even in the heat of battle, Fanilly was aware that they were low-quality troops.

Her mind raced.

Did they think the curse hounds would be enough to bolster their chances of success?

The Knight-Captain stepped back, the tip of a thrust spear just barely making contact with her armor and skittering to the side.

She drove her blade forward and pierced the attacker’s leather armor, driving the tip into his chest cavity. With a gurgle, he fell.

There was no way the curse hounds alone could have been enough. The Boars had to know as much.

So what was it they were doing?

It was elementary strategy in battle to reserve higher-quality forces for later in an engagement. That much was obvious.

Did that mean…

As Fanilly fended off and slew her attackers, keeping them as far from Lady Veilena as possible, it seemed as if Clarice had grown bored of simply inflicting pain upon the Boars.

Her grimoire floating in front of her, she reached into her bag once again.

“Ah, there you are~”

The curse mage smirked.

What she drew from the bag appeared to be a doll composed of dark straw, a red ribbon tied around its neck.

“My little fetch~”

A nearby Knight was embroiled in a clash with a large, greatsword-wielding Boar.

Glancing at her grimoire for a moment, Clarice raised the fetch in both hands.

“Gilbert Ransyde.”

As she said the name, she took the fetch’s head in her right hand and squeezed.

There was an ugly crunch. Blood poured from the eye slits of the large Boar’s helmet, and the knight watched in mute shock as he fell.

Clarice’s smirk grew wider, and she spotted another nearby Boar bearing down on the defensive perimeter.

“Argus Harvig.”

She gripped the doll in both hands and twisted its upper and lower halves in opposite directions.

With a crack, the Boar’s upper half violently jerked, twisting all the way around until it faced backwards. He collapsed moments later.

“Jarvik Calburn.”

A Boar’s neck snapped violently.

“Thorgon Kallenvert.”

A Boar’s arms and legs snapped backwards, and he fell screaming to the ground.

“Haddick Danson.”

A Boar turned his sword on himself, shocked as he thrust it through his own neck.

Clarice giggled, smirking as she twisted the doll to and fro, bending its limbs, squeezing its head, and watching as the Boars nearest to her were bent, twisted, and killed.

For a few moments, Fanilly couldn’t assemble her thoughts. She had never seen anything like this.

The vile curse used by the mercenary mage was relentless. Though it appeared she could not use it to reach across the battlefield, any Boar that came into range was dead in the time it took for Clarice to eye her grimoire, say a name, and twist the straw doll.

An indiscriminatory nightmare curse that allowed the user to bend the target to their whims.

It had to have limitations, but aside from range Fanilly hadn’t the faintest idea what they were.

And now wasn’t the time to try and speculate.

From here, even as she fought, she could see the tall, black-armored figure that was Haelstadt.

With each swing of the towering knight’s Zweihander, another Golden Boar died. It was as if they were unstoppable.

One light-armored Boar was split completely in half vertically, the others growing too frightened to even approach.

But then-

Something heavy had struck Haelstadt in the back. A mace, forcing the black knight down onto one knee.

As another Boar erupted from the foliage raised a heavy axe, Fanilly realized what was about to happen.

But she couldn’t reach across the battlefield. Nor could any of the other knights.

The axe fell.

With an ugly chunk, it found Haelstadt’s neck, and their helmeted head hit the ground.

Blood erupted from the stump that was now the Black Knight’s neck.

One of their allies was now dead.

Even as Fanilly caught the strike of another Boar, and their numbers steadily dwindled, her mind went over every failure point. She should have had someone accompany the knight. She should have done something. She should have asked Veilena to keep them closer.

Now the knight was dead. Veilena had lost her bodyguard.

However-

“If you expected my knight to perish so easily, you were sorely mistaken!”

It was Veilena.

The headless body stirred.

Even on the battlefield, one could become intoxicated by victory. The axe-wielding Boar had taken a moment to gloat over the slaying of the monstrous black knight.

As such, he was entirely unprepared for what followed.

Haelstadt’s left hand slammed into his cheek. The Black Knight’s backhand spun his head around on his shoulders, demolishing his vertebrae and leaving his face pointed backwards.

As his body fell, Haelstadt rose.

Briefly, it appeared as if the Black Knight was reaching for their head, but then they paused and stepped forward once more, raising their zweihander once more.

There was little time to express shock over the fact that the decapitated Haelstadt was still moving, for the axe-wielding boar was not the only thing to emerge from the foliage.

As Sir Fionn’s advance tore a line straight to the Commander, something erupted from the treeline.

A huge, human-like shape, fists raised and slamming down right into his path, threatening to crush the advancing knight.

It was not alone.

Four more of the hulking creatures emerged from the forest.

In height, they resembled trolls more than anything else, but they beasts were not trolls at all.

Their heads were puny, distorted, perched atop enormous, muscle-bound frames. Eyes seemed to have ruptured, shriveled lips pulled back to expose cracked teeth. In some places, skin appeared to have split, exposing muscle that had swollen too much for the rest of the body to keep up.

Where their skin was intact, veins bulged, and something else almost seemed to be seething beneath the surface.

The monstrous creatures advanced, and with them came the rest of the Boar’s reinforcements.

“What… what… are those…?”

Fanilly couldn’t help but be stunned by their appearance. They didn’t appear to be undead, but they were horribly disfigured nonetheless.

Clarice, who had been absorbed in using her Fetch to slaughter the mercenaries left and right, froze when she saw the monsters.

“They’re… that’s so many,” she murmured in shock.

“What?” Fanilly found herself asking.

“Curses,” grimly remarked Lady Veilena, her attention taken from Haelstadt’s headless rampage through the Boars, “Those things… there’s curses. Seething inside of them. Sliding around under their skin like maggots. It’s vile.”

The cursed abominations were charging for the knight’s perimeter…

And that wasn’t all.

“A vampire paladin, hm?”

The spear was suddenly thrust towards Dame Tyaethe’s side, piercing through her body and running her through. It happened so quickly, the wielder having used the other Boars as cover for his attack.

“Let’s see if I can occupy you for a little while!”

Just as swiftly as he had thrust his spear, the unseen attacker withdrew, using the other mercenaries as cover once again.

A dagger hurtled in Sir Steffan from his right.

“My, so little armor…”

The man who through it smirked, his long dark hair hanging to his lower back as he drew another set of knives from his hip.

In all likelihood, they were poisoned.

“My kind of opponent!”

A great hammer suddenly descended from Sir Gerard’s position.

It wouldn’t be unfamiliar to the former mercenary.

Even as it inevitably missed, almost as if that had been the intent from the outside, the plate-armored figuring stepped towards him.

The bulky, black and gold armor. The helmet baring the Boar’s visage.

It was quite possible that the knight would recognize it from days not so long passed.

“Hah! I recognize that kind of recklessness anywhere!”

The armored Boar raised the hammer once more.

“One of Franz’s Faceless? I wonder if I’ve met you, before! If I’ve killed anyone you knew!”

He lurched forward, hammer swinging down once again.

[@Rune_Alchemist][@HereComesTheSnow][@Raineh Daze][@ERode][@PigeonOfAstora][@Conscripts][@Crimson Paladin][@Creative Chaos][@The Otter][@Krayzikk][@Psyker Landshark][@6slyboy6]