Chapter 106: The Undead Army
Through the shifting flames, Wade saw the Icelandic soldiers had killed all the slave demi-humans outside.
Suddenly, he understood why those Viking pirates had raided the slave merchants’ cave. The pirates were the army’s vanguard, ordered to clear out this stronghold.
The pirate group had arrived earlier with faster, more convenient sleds, engaging the merchant’s guards first.
Mercenaries were typically paid per head; the more they killed, the higher their rewards. So killing the people inside the cave wasn’t enough—they chased those black-clad men onto the snowy plains, intending to cut off heads for money.
Unexpectedly, the noise of battle attracted Wade’s attention.
The sounds of fighting echoed loudly across the desolate snowy plains; in such a quiet place, pirates shouting and chopping someone down made it impossible not to notice.
Skeletons were naturally sensitive to vibrations and sounds, and from afar Wade already heard the berserker’s fierce roar.
Wade quickly pieced together the whole sequence of events. Near the northern borders, demi-humans rarely appeared. During his days traveling with the Tanians, the only demi-human he had seen was the gnome York.
Those enslaved demi-humans locked up must have been captured by the slave merchants from other regions and brought to this hideout.
Most likely, they arrived by sea. The black-clad men’s skin looked tanned from sun exposure—long voyages transporting slaves on ships would darken their skin like that.
This area was coastal; slaves were shipped here by sea, then smuggled across the border through the unguarded wastelands of the Dragon’s Spine Mountains.
Before the icy sea froze, the slave merchants had secretly transported demi-human slaves to this base.
At that time, the war had not yet begun, and the merchants used this place as a transit station, waiting for secret auctions to be held. Some slaves might even have been custom-ordered by buyers.
Among them, including the Dragonborn before him, all the demi-humans in the cave were “exhibition pieces.”
There were always people in this world who wanted to buy demi-human slaves—those beings similar in build to humans but with scales, wings, and tails would inevitably pique some people’s curiosity.
The black-clad slave merchants had clearly been doing this dirty work for many years. They had mature navigation charts, specialized transport ships, money to arm their squads, and connections with various local forces.
The dragon beast tattoo on their foreheads was the slave merchants’ symbol.
Like gang members who tattoo their chests and arms, when conflicts arise, they show their tattoos to command respect and force concessions.
But the pirates and Icelandic soldiers gave them no respect. Behind the Viking pirates was an army backing them; the slave merchants were at best local bullies—no match for a national-level military force.
The slave merchants’ team was cut down like vegetables by the pirates; without involving the army, this would have been just a turf war between criminals.
But when the soldiers appeared at the cave entrance, Wade sensed something was wrong.
How could a group of demi-human slaves warrant such an elaborate operation by the Icelanders?
No matter how profitable the business, war profits always outweighed robbery.
They were not here to rob a group of slave merchants; their target was something the merchants possessed.
Inside this cave, the most special thing was the Dragonborn imprisoned in the deepest part.
Wade looked at the bound Dragonborn in the prison. Her hands and feet were chained with iron shackles fastened to the stone wall. Dirt and blood filled the gaps between the scales on her arms. On the ground lay scraped-off scales—her own wrist scales, removed from her struggles. Because she had tried so hard to break free, the shackles had scraped off her scales.
Her golden vertical pupils stared coldly ahead. Even though she was facing a skeleton at that moment, her gaze never wavered. Those eyes were like a hunter observing her prey.
She exuded a strong attacking aura, like a cat with raised fur. Her scales were bristled.
Footsteps grew closer behind her. Wade was at the cave’s deepest point; there was no path ahead, nor any secret exit.
If there had been, Wade was certain the slave merchants’ guards beside him would have rushed in immediately.
The marching footsteps echoed inside the cave. Heavy-armored cavalry and archers appeared before Wade.
Wade did not dodge; there was nowhere to hide here.
He turned to face the soldiers.
“Found her!” the lead knight declared.
This was not said to Wade, but to the Dragonborn behind him.
“Shoot! Kill that Dragonborn!”
The archers raised their bows, aiming at the Dragonborn behind Wade.
They completely disregarded Wade and the other skeletons. They had already encountered skeletons wearing Viking gear at the cave entrance and had dispatched them quickly. In their eyes, Wade was as weak as the two skeletons at the entrance.
The soldiers focused solely on their mission: to find the Dragonborn behind Wade and kill her.
To kill this Dragonborn, captured from far away by the slave merchants, they had specifically sailed to the remote Dragon’s Spine, hired Viking pirates, and dispatched this entire troop of soldiers.
All of it was to kill the Dragonborn girl, who couldn’t even break free from her shackles.
The Dragonborn girl in the prison snarled fiercely, emitting a low growl, but her voice was weak and powerless—no one was frightened by it.
The six black-clad men cried out, kneeling again, begging the Icelanders for mercy.
They knelt before the soldiers, pointing to the tattoos on their heads, crawling toward the Icelanders.
They remembered two skeletons guarding the cave entrance, but since the skeletons had failed to stop the Icelandic soldiers, they immediately switched their supplication targets.
But the soldiers ignored them.
Over a dozen archers simultaneously drew their bows and released a volley of arrows. The kneeling black-clad men were all struck down by wooden arrows.
The arrows struck the rocks, clattering beside Wade.
As the wooden arrows came flying, Mia unleashed her frost magic.
A wall of ice, formed from congealed blood, rose to block in front of the prison and Wade.
Too many had died in this cave; blood flowed like a river.
Inside this fire-lit warm cave, there was no snow or water source for Mia to manipulate, so she froze the blood instead.
The blood-red ice wall reflected the skeletons’ shadows.
The Icelanders involuntarily took a step back.
Wade glanced at the black-clad men lying on the ground. If those slave merchants had obediently stayed by Wade’s side, they would not have died.
Wade had not intended to kill them, but their loyalty was false.
Let them pay a little price for their betrayal. Wade allowed Mia to use magic on the corpses.
While the Icelanders were stunned, corpse after corpse shakily stood up. They were covered in blood or pierced with wooden arrows but still managed to stand firm.
“Damn it!” The knight’s voice turned frantic. “Form ranks, quickly form ranks! Retreat from the cave first!”
But it was too late; even the corpses behind them rose.
The soldiers had come too hastily; not a single person cleaned the battlefield or gathered weapons from the dead.
So those dead bodies, unaware of pain or fear, stood up again, swinging swords at them.