Hearing this, the red-haired knight, Eutelfo, pushed away the bowl-cut knight who had his sword on Eesselwoff's neck. "Mordred, as a knight, you should restrain your violent habits!"
Mordred, who was pushed away, continued to stare at the red-haired knight with an even more sinister look. "Hmph, this is why Lord William asked me to lead the team instead of a coward like you who should have returned to your old profession as a court poet. Eutelfo, is it because this is the homeland of your ancestors that makes you weaker? You better be careful. Don't let me catch you doing anything wrong. Otherwise, you know how we in Normandy deal with this kind of people and their families. "
Eutelfo did not say anything else. He just glared at the bowl-cut knight, then turned around and placed his hands on his knees. He leaned over and looked at Eesselwoff. "Where are the warriors? Where are the men? "
"My lord, they went to the north." Eesselwoff looked at the familiar red-haired knight. He knew that even if he did not answer, the others would. In the end, he answered the knight who looked a little kinder.
"The Norwegians really did attack," Mordred confirmed to herself.
"Yes, my lord. They went to fight the Vikings," Eesselwoff answered truthfully. "All the young men followed His Majesty to the north."
"Thank you." Eutelfo patted Eesselwoff's shoulder and continued to walk towards the captive area.
The bowl-cut knight, on the other hand, cleanly cut Eesselwoff with his sword. Before Eesselwoff could react, only some skin was left on his upper body.
Judith could no longer hold it in. She screamed in despair and fainted. However, her scream attracted the attention of the red-haired knight. He turned around and saw the bloody scene.
Although he was furious, he knew that Mordred was a ruthless killer, so he didn't say anything else. The reason why the old man was killed was because Mordred was dissatisfied with his attitude and wanted to give him a warning. Who knew what Mordred would do if he aggravated the conflict?
The red-haired knight walked toward the corner where the captive women were piled up. He first adjusted the unconscious Judith so that she wouldn't suffocate. Then, he looked at a woman who was hugging her child and crying softly in the corner. Eau Tayloff put her index finger to her lips, warning her not to make a sound.
Merlin, who was still hiding in the wooden house, saw the body of his father, Eesselwoff, lying on the ground in a bloody mess. He clenched his fists and did not rush out to seek revenge. Instead, he stared at the face of the bowl-cut knight through the wooden window. He wanted to remember the knight's appearance. When he had the ability to take revenge, he would make the knight pay for today's atrocity.
At this moment, Mordred glanced at the wooden window where Merlin was hiding. He beckoned his soldiers to take over a torch. He looked around at the panicked captives and said with a mocking smile, "This … is the punishment for your king's treachery."
Mordred had discovered Merlin hiding in the wooden house when he captured Eesselwoff, but he did not expose him. He glanced at the red-haired knight in the captive area and continued, "This is a punishment for your soldiers and the men who abandoned you. What do you mean by going to war with the Vikings? They probably won't return! "
"Am I right, my Lord Utaylov?" Mordred looked at the red-haired knight.
Utaylov's eyes betrayed a look of pity. However, this was part of Duke William's battle strategy that he had sworn an oath to. He could only stand there silently.
The houses of the villagers were set ablaze by the raging fire. The desperate village women screamed as they watched their homes being destroyed. Raging flames, billowing smoke, and ear-piercing screams filled the area. Mordred pretended to use the torch in his hand to set Merlin's wooden house ablaze. He smiled cruelly at the little boy behind the wooden window.
The night was like a curtain. The hazy moon hung high in the sky with a halo. In the stillness of the night, muffled chants of incantations resounded. The chants echoed sorrowfully in the cool breeze. Coupled with the flickering flames, the pitch-black weeds, and the crooked tombstones, it was a bone-chilling sight.
Above the flickering flames was a clay cauldron. Thick black potions bubbled and bubbled within. Some dead Viking berserkers were soaked in the cauldron.
On the empty ground beside the cauldron, a dark red pentagram glittered on the ground. However, the radiance did not bring warmth or comfort. In an environment like the graveyard that was filled with negative energy, it added to the eeriness and coldness.
A drenched corpse flew out from the cauldron and hovered in the centre of the pentagram. That corpse belonged to the Viking berserker leader, Lynch, who had died on the bridge.
Allen stood at the periphery of the pentagram and raised his staff. Following his movements, similar patterns appeared on the corpse. When Allen finished the last stroke, the patterns on the corpse glowed and merged with the radiance of the pentagram.
All of a sudden, the corpse's eyes opened. Two orange glows sparkled in his eye sockets. When the radiance dimmed, he fell from the sky and knelt on one knee. He lowered his head. "Master."
The corpse of the Viking berserker leader had been personally turned into a death knight by Allen. His voice was much colder than before, like an echo from a deep valley.
When Lynch raised his head, apart from his complexion being unnaturally pale and blue, he looked exactly the same as before. Apart from his skin being tougher than before, and his knotted muscles strengthened under the influence of negative energy and magic potions. It was as though he had obtained a layer of innate armour.
This death knight was surrounded by a frightening aura that symbolised death and evil. If he didn't retract the aura of dread that Allen and the Soul Eaters possessed, any creature that stood within 15 feet of the death knight would feel fear and despair from the bottom of their hearts, affecting their performance in battle.
Allen's gaze wandered over the tattered bearskin and outdated chainmail on his body, before he shook his head in dissatisfaction. Although he had expended a great deal of effort to concoct a potion, allowing his skin, which was more or less rotting like the majority of death knights, to maintain its normalcy, the poor viking's appearance wasn't that great. It was just that Allen didn't have any good materials in his hands that could support the creation of equipment that was more in line with Allen's aesthetic and functional requirements.
As undead creatures, they wouldn't be plagued by non-corrosive poisons and diseases. All spells that were used on living creatures were ineffective against them, and they wouldn't lose their fighting strength when their vitals were attacked. They didn't even have to worry about their stamina and breathing. However, direct spells and magic weapons could still injure them. Like ordinary warriors, these death knights required weapons and equipment to fully display the weapon skills they had learnt in life.
Allen couldn't help but recall the village called Crowhurst that he had first encountered when he first arrived in this era. The village had a small blacksmith shop that could only produce farm tools. He hoped that he could find some iron ingots in the shop after crafting this batch of death knights. After that, he could use transfiguration spells to craft full-body armour for them. Moreover, with their enhanced strength, they would be able to withstand weight that far exceeded what they could bear when they were still alive.
But first, Allen had to hurry to Hastings to set up the magic circle that he had previously set up near Stamford Bridge. Only then would he have the leisure to deal with these secondary matters.
Thinking of this, Allen instructed Roland to stand to the side and continued his work. As time passed, the corpses of viking berserkers were crafted into death knights. Thirty-three death knights lined up neatly in front of a row of graves, exuding an imposing aura. If Allen was willing, he actually had the time to rescue more corpses that met the requirements to craft death knights. However, the number thirty-three was too much of a coincidence. Allen had always been superstitious about the number 'three', so he didn't collect any more.
Looking at the army that he had crafted, their skin so white that it was glowing blue but dressed in tattered clothes, Allen shrugged and mocked himself, "At least I don't have to rely on you to attack the Great Wall of Despair …"
After saying that, he waved his staff again. The ground began to tremble. At the location where the pentagram array had disappeared, the empty air suddenly began to burn. Then, it split into two flames and began to move in an arc from top to bottom. Countless skulls that seemed to be screaming silently appeared after being burned. When the flames finally converged into a huge ring, a tall arched door made of skulls appeared.
Suddenly, Allen turned his head to the right side of the arched door. Two skeletons and a ghoul that only knew how to eat spiders and moths from Weasley's attic had been attracted by the death knights. They staggered over. If Allen was willing to let the death knights receive them, they would become their undead followers.
However, Allen clearly had no intention of accepting these low-ranked or undead creatures that didn't have any intelligence. They were of no help in battle, and instead looked terrifying and disgusting. That ghoul also emitted a rotten stench. In fact, this had happened many times over the past few days. The Magus had no choice but to order the death knights to stop them.
Looking at the grotesque ghoul that was forced to stand motionless and moan incessantly, Allen couldn't help but feel puzzled. "Why didn't Weasley get the Mysterious Creature Management Department's ghouls to chase away the ghoul in their house? Instead, they kept it as a pet at home. Could it be that the ghoul was transformed from an ancestor of the Weasley family?"
The sound of burning flames from the Otherworld Gate brought Allen back to his senses. He summoned the Phantom Colt and nimbly mounted it, charging into the gate. The viking berserkers also used the abilities they had obtained after becoming death knights to summon their own skeletal horses. They followed behind Allen and charged into the Otherworld Gate.
These 33 death knights didn't seem to have much of an opportunity to ride a horse when they were alive. Unlike when they stood on the ground, even without the Halo of Terror, they appeared even more disorderly on horseback. There were even two viking death knights who fell from their skeletal horses and were trampled over by their comrades. Fortunately, although their horsemanship wasn't good, their resistance to attacks wasn't bad. After the cavalry passed by, they bounced back up from the ground. Without even patting off the dirt and dust on their bodies, they once again mounted their horses and chased in.
The sound of horse hooves shook the entire graveyard. When the last death knight stepped into the portal, the Otherworld Gate closed and disappeared. Only a few skeletons and ghouls were left wandering aimlessly in the graveyard.
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