Chapter 143
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Chapter 143: Unending Infection
Infection.
This was the most powerful ability of the Pretenders, and also the most feared.
The Pretender race itself had been born from the infection caused by the God of Destruction and the God of Chaos. They once had vast numbers, but after the ancient Dark Holy War, most were driven out of Arad.
Now, their numbers were few, forced to hide their identities. Their factions and power paled in comparison to their ancient glory.
Yet these very constraints honed their mastery of infection as they survived in the cracks of human society.
Imagine this: your true enemies lurk in the deepest shadows, impossible to find.
Meanwhile, your companions, comrades, even loved ones slowly mutate into Pretender slaves through unavoidable scratches or countless unseen paths of infection.
Those with strong bodies kept their minds, becoming powerful Pretender servants.
The weak, unlucky, or gravely wounded transformed directly into Zombies under the dual curses—rotting to pulp within weeks even if left alone.
What chilled the blood was that neither paladins’ holy light nor skilled healers could halt this infection.
For it was no germ or poison, but a *curse*—blended with the wrath of the gods of Destruction and Chaos.
Most could only watch as comrades became enemies.
Worse, the infected could spread the curse despite not becoming true Pretenders. Once ignited, it spread like wildfire, doubling endlessly. A single night could swell the Pretender army to unimaginable size.
The only solution seemed to be cutting off infected limbs and destroying all sources swiftly.
The latest report soon reached the Hawk Brigade’s leaders.
"Over 70 of our 100 scouting teams were attacked and lost battle strength," Fina said, frowning at the numbers.
This wasn’t the Queen of Magic chasing glory—the report noted the Hawk Brigade’s vanguard had failed to eliminate a single Pretender unit. Seven hundred incapacitated, zero enemy losses.
"No deaths," Alice murmured thoughtfully.
"Such ambition. Sparing lives to turn our troops into theirs?" Midi looked up with a cold laugh. "If they love infection so much, let’s see how far they can go!"
New orders flew: the second wave advanced.
A hundred fresh teams pushed past their fallen comrades, driving the frontlines harder and faster—as if ignoring the dreaded infection.
"Think they can rush before the infection takes hold?" The massive black Werewolf sneered, cracking his knuckles. "Fools."
"Mortals never learn," the vampire duke sighed, sipping blood from his goblet. "We’ll teach them to fear divine curses."
Werewolves and Vampires—the Pretenders’ two largest factions—were led by this wolf king and "elegant" duke. Eager for blood, they’d cursed countless adventurers earlier.
Yet even they hadn’t expected Midi Asreks, the so-called genius commander, to counterattack recklessly.
Amplifying attacks during an infection? Madness.
"Midi wants to storm Dawn Garden and the Tree of Life before the curse fully activates," the Pretenders’ leader—the black-robed elder—smirked. "But impatience plays to our strengths."
The Pretenders held firm. Wolf king and vampire duke led their troops back into Hertonmar’s streets, alleys, and buildings. Battles flared, flames and explosions lighting the sky.
When the skirmishes ended, the Hawk Brigade had claimed a third of the city.
The Nibelungen Dragon Sealing Array was now within reach.
Yet Midi paid dearly for this progress. Nearly a hundred teams – almost a thousand Hawk Brigade adventurers – fell to infection again, losing all battle strength as they were evacuated to the rear.
But armed with prior battle experience, these adventurers managed to eliminate numerous Pretender elites during their infection. Unlike common infected servants, these carefully cultivated elites couldn’t be easily replaced – each loss struck deep.
When the casualty report arrived, even the black-robed elder frowned slightly. Still, he believed the Hawk Brigade had been thoroughly crippled.
Reality shattered his expectations.
After two thousand infections, Midi shockingly launched a third assault wave – fifteen hundred fresh warriors crashing forward.
The wolf king and vampire duke reluctantly returned to battle.
When the third brutal skirmish ended, Hawk Brigade forces stood just three blocks from Dawn Garden – close enough to touch.
Undeterred, Midi immediately committed another fifteen hundred troops.
The black-robed elder gaped in disbelief. His commanders exchanged bewildered glances.
The Hawk Brigade’s total strength barely reached five thousand. With three thousand five hundred infected – effectively 70% casualties by normal standards – any sane army would collapse. Worse, these infected would soon become Pretender slaves. How could this "genius commander" risk his entire remaining force?
Didn’t he fear total annihilation?
Didn’t he dread becoming a Pretender slave himself?
Suspicion flickered in the elder’s eyes. A veteran of countless shadow wars, he smelled monumental deception – yet couldn’t pinpoint Midi’s scheme. This unknown gnawed at him.
After lengthy consideration, the elder chose overwhelming force:
"Begin the conversion ritual! Turn twenty thousand Hertonmar citizens into combat slaves! Infect every remaining Hawk Brigade member! As for Midi Asreks…" His voice turned icy. "Kill him. Bring me his head."
As the commanders bowed to obey, both suddenly collapsed to their knees.
"Tainted…" the wolf king growled, clutching his gut. Through three battles, he’d consumed countless warriors’ flesh to spread infection. Now that meat turned against him, sapping his strength with vile toxins.
"Life force…" The vampire duke’s marble-pale face contorted. "How?"
Watching his generals writhe, the black-robed elder’s mind reeled. The Pretenders were being poisoned – an impossible reversal.
"First infection group fully recovered!" announced a medic artisan. "Second group nearly ready. Their bodies now produce natural vaccines!"
A stealth specialist added: "We’ve located their infection cauldron. They planned to zombify Hertonmar’s population for instant reinforcements."
Midi’s eyes gleamed. "Our cure becomes their poison. Now’s our moment! All vaccinated warriors – advance!"
A warhorn blared. The Hawk Brigade surged forward – no cautious waves now, but an unstoppable tsunami engulfing everything in its path.
