Chương 358: The Call of the Midnight War

The four of them activated the third and final mechanism of the tutorial. Luke felt the weight of that moment settle deep in his chest. There was no going back now. What they had triggered couldn't be undone. The only path left was forward—face the final challenge, and either return to Earth or die trying. [Final Tutorial Event "Midnight War" has been activated.] [Good luck.] They exchanged tense looks as another notification appeared. [Time until Midnight War begins: 09 minutes and 59 seconds.] The countdown started, marking the beginning of the final trial that would decide the fate of all eighteen hundred souls in that world.

"We need to move. Now," said Allison, already sprinting down the corridors. The others followed. The four began using stamina to run faster, their boots pounding against the stone floor. The moment they burst out of the main building, a servant began ringing a cluster of small bells, her voice rising in alarm. In every watchtower, the alarm bells followed—loud, sharp, urgent. The sound spread through the fortress and beyond, reaching the people scattered across the field.

A raven perched nearby took flight, flapping its dark wings as it vanished toward the horizon. Evangeline's familiar, carrying her silent command, was on its way to the front. A few of Erza's attendants appeared beside her.

"Lady Erza, everyone's in position," one reported.

"Good," she replied curtly. Mason was already in the courtyard, shouting orders, urging people into formation. It wasn't just civilians gathered there. To meet the system's requirement of fifty-one percent participation, soldiers had been included too. Every life counted. Luke and the others sprinted out of the fortress and toward the battlefield.

Luke stood on the farthest row of the formation, beside Erza, Allison, Evangeline, Mason, Anne, several soldiers from the Haven, and a few of Erza's servants. The wind whipped across the field, carrying the cold scent of steel and earth. Charlie emerged from his soul; her form solidifying beside him. He had let her rest earlier to recover the mana she had spent during training.

"It's time, my friend," he murmured. She drew her sword from her inventory and took her place next to him. Through their bond, he felt her intent, steady and resolute: 'We'll face this together.' All eyes turned toward the same direction: the enormous translucent barrier in the distance. Cracks spread across its surface, growing louder with each passing minute. The battlefield was silent. More than a thousand warriors stood ready, yet not a single one spoke. Only the whisper of the cold wind filled the void.

Luke's hand went to the storage pendant around his neck. In his mind's eye, he opened the pocket dimension and saw her body, Angélica's. I'll make good on my promise. Once he escaped this world, he would bury her on real soil, so she, too, could finally leave this cursed tutorial behind. Erza's voice broke the quiet.

"You really think that bird of yours can help us, Evangeline?"

"Jerry will try to locate the Midnight Lord," Evangeline replied, "but don't rely on him completely." Killing the Midnight Lord was the key to evacuation. They didn't know if doing so would cripple the enemy forces like it had with the other Lords, but one thing was certain: as long as that creature lived, no one would make it out alive. They had to clear a path through the army, eighteen hundred people pushing toward the castle. Leaving a Lord roaming free while children tried to flee? That wasn't an option.

Allison gripped her Orc Lord katana tightly, her knuckles white around the hilt. Luke pulled Angelica's bow from his inventory. Mason stood ready, sword drawn. Erza's karambits gleamed in her hands, and Anne's blade, half sword and half shears, caught the faint light of the barrier ahead. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The countdown reached its end. [Time until Midnight War begins: 00 minutes and 00 seconds.] A new notification flashed across Luke's interface. From the glances exchanged around him, he could tell everyone else had received it too, not just the ones who had activated the mechanisms. Final Tutorial Mission: Midnight War The three mechanisms have been activated, each one breaking a seal of the castle and releasing the King from his bindings. Now fully awakened from his slumber, he awaits the challengers for their final judgment. Reaching the castle will not be easy.

The Midnight War has begun, and the army of the Midnight Lord is advancing to stop anyone from reaching the gates. Be warned, every mechanism that was activated also broke a seal within the kingdom's wall, the one that kept the Cursed Winter at bay. Now the merciless cold is spreading, and when the winter reaches its full strength, nothing will survive its frost. Objective: Survive the Midnight War, reach the portal within the castle, and return to your world. Duration: 6 hours. Good luck.

The moment the message faded, a deep, resonant crack thundered across the battlefield. The massive barrier that had enclosed them glowed once, then splintered all at once like shattering glass. The fragments cascaded down, flickering as they fell, dissolving into mist before touching the ground. Within seconds, the entire barrier was gone. And beyond it, darkness. It wasn't an ordinary darkness, but something alive, writhing like a black mist. When it finally dispersed, the sight that emerged was breathtaking.

The castle stood much closer than anyone had imagined, anchored to a vast floating mass of land suspended over an endless chasm. A single, massive stone bridge stretched toward it, the only path forward. Before them, the battlefield continued past the space once hidden by the barrier. Now revealed, it was crawling with enemies. Hundreds, no, thousands of them. They stood motionless at first, an army of the dead frozen in eerie silence. Corpses clad in rusted armor, faces half-buried beneath rot and bone.

Then, as if stirred by some unseen signal, their eyes snapped open, thousands of pale, soulless orbs glowing faintly in the dark. Among their ranks, dozens of crimson lights flared to life. The Midnight Wardens. Hundreds of them, scattered among the undead like living beacons of malice. A deep, hollow trumpet blast tore through the night, not from the survivors but from the enemy lines. The sound rolled across the field like thunder. And then, chaos.

The undead army erupted in motion, their guttural roars echoing through the valley. Weapons clanged as they charged, a tide of death and bone rushing forward, ten times larger than the living force that stood waiting to meet them.

"Hold the line!" commanders shouted, their voices barely audible over the thunderous advance.

"Positions! Get ready!" others cried, steel ringing, hearts pounding, as the Midnight War began. Luke's eyes swept across the field. Catapults, cannons, and ballistae—all fully armed and ready. Every siege weapon stood tense like a coiled spring. Around them, the survivors formed ranks: archers nocked their arrows, even those without the class relying purely on stamina to draw their bows.

Mages lined up behind them, their hands glowing as they began to weave epic spells, threads of mana shimmering like veins of light in the air. No one was holding back. The opening strike had to be devastating. Every group's plan hinged on unleashing their most powerful spells at the very start—some could even manage two. Mana would regenerate over time, about two hundred per hour, meaning each caster would recover roughly a thousand before the six-hour mark. But the first blow was what mattered most.

The first strike could decide everything. Luke reached into his quiver and drew a single arrow—Rare grade, its shaft etched with faint runes. This would be his contribution: one arrow charged with a thousand mana. He still had twenty mana potions in reserve, just in case. The air vibrated with the sound of the undead horde rushing forward, a sea of pounding footsteps and unholy snarls. He could see them now—Midnight Wardens sprinting with spears raised, their eyes burning crimson.

Behind them came twisted beasts, zombified monstrosities, including a creature resembling the mantis he had fought. Then came the signal.

"Now!" Commanders' voices echoed across the field as the first wave of undead crossed the marked line. The survivors roared as one. Arrows flew. Cannons thundered. Ballistae groaned under the weight of their payloads. Mages unleashed their spells in unison, and the battlefield became a storm of light. Luke released his arrow, infusing it with stamina and mana. It shot upward like a streak of white lightning. The sky ignited.

Fireballs in every hue tore through the air, some taking the shape of beasts, others bursting into swirling waves of flame. Water magic followed—massive torrents that rose like tsunamis, crashing down upon the charging undead. The explosions of impact mixed with the thunder of cannons and the heavy thud of catapults. The front lines of the undead army disintegrated under the onslaught. Blasts of fire and shrapnel ripped through their ranks, scattering limbs and bones across the scorched field.

Arrows rained down, cutting through the mob. A massive fire spell struck a zombified minotaur dead-center, detonating it in a blazing inferno. Flames spread across the field as barrels of flammable oil ignited, erupting into rivers of fire. Smoke billowed high into the air, a choking black curtain that swallowed the battlefield whole. The survivors screamed—not out of fear, but fury. Rage. Defiance. Each for their own reason. Then they charged, surging forward through the chaos.

They couldn't allow the enemy to regroup. Not now. Not while confusion reigned. Strike hard. Strike fast. That was the only path to victory. But from within the roiling smoke, red lights began to flare—dozens of them. Massive figures emerged, armor glinting faintly beneath the haze. [Midnight Warden General – Lvl 80] There were many. Advancing fast. The war had truly begun.