Chapter 425: The Last of the Queen’s Guard

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com

In a sudden, tumultuous turn of events, the team found themselves ambushed by adversaries emerging from the depths of darkness. As they entered the winding tunnel, which felt like a sinister vein pulsating with malevolent energy, these foes seemed to materialize from the shadows, their numbers appearing endless and their presence deeply intimidating.

A chilling gust of wind broke the eerie silence. A sharp blade flashed towards Lawrence’s neck, but he dodged it with swift reflexes, grabbing the arm wielding the weapon. A mysterious green light flared from his palm, reducing the monstrous figure—clad in sea-themed attire with a grotesquely split head—into dust. Yet, before he could savor this victory, gunshots shattered the calm.

The new threat was a grotesque half-human, half-serpent creature emerging from a drainage opening. Its upper body was a distorted human form, while its lower half was a wriggling mass of terrifying flesh. Wielding a gun made of bones and tissue, it fired, sending deadly sparks flying.

Time seemed to slow for Lawrence. His senses heightened, he visualized the trajectories of the bullets and moved with inhuman dexterity, dodging three bullets while six found their mark. The sharp sting of the bullets heightened his resolve. He retaliated with two shots from his revolver, hitting the repulsive creature.

Looking down, Lawrence noted the fresh gunshot wounds on his chest. Normally fatal, these wounds healed rapidly under the luminous light of his supernatural aura. However, the pain and fatigue were taking their toll. The once-bright flame of his mystical power flickered, suggesting its limits.

The rest of Lawrence’s naval team was also deeply engaged in combat. Radiating with ghostly luminescence, they fought with fierce tenacity, using various weapons to fend off the continuous waves of enemies while advancing through the passage. Their ghostly forms, though powerful, required careful management of their spirit flames to avoid draining their vitality. The once-quiet sewer corridor had become a chaotic battlefield.

Despite their impressive healing abilities, the endless tide of nightmarish creatures slowed their progress. Overcoming this barrier seemed as elusive as catching a mirage. Among them stood out Anomaly 077, a mummified warrior. Despite his ancient appearance, he wielded twin scimitars with speed and finesse. He moved like a tornado through the chaos, his blades spinning effortlessly and retaining their shine after a relentless half-hour of combat.

The warrior, known as “Sailor,” became a beacon in the bleak tunnel. His blades glinted as they cut through the darkness, and his thundering voice dominated the battleground. “I am the storm that shreds the shadows with my blades!” he roared, his voice cold and haunting. “These nightmarish foes are no match for me!”

But Lawrence wouldn’t tolerate distractions. As the Sailor tried to breeze past him, Lawrence’s ghostly hand shot out, seizing the mummy’s throat. With ethereal strength, he yanked Sailor close, his voice a gruff warning, amplified by the eerie hum of the phantom flames. “Contribute effectively or stay silent!”

Face-to-face with Lawrence’s intense gaze, Anomaly 077 stammered in submission. “Un… understood, Captain!”

Lawrence flung the mummy forward into the swarm of horrors. Almost instantly, a sailor armed with a rifle dashed over. “Captain! Our bullets are nearly gone!”

Lawrence quickly assessed the situation. Most of his crew had forsaken their guns, now using close-combat weapons. Their indomitable spirit was their primary weapon, but they were effectively pinned in the corridor, trapped in a monstrous deadlock.

The corridor was alive with the cacophony of battle, a harrowing symphony of rending flesh and shattering bone. Malignant sludge seeped from the walls and ceiling, acting as a birthing pool for ceaseless waves of grotesque creatures. Lawrence’s spectral crew, pushed to their limits and on the verge of being overrun, found themselves in a dire situation with dwindling ammunition. The once radiant, ghostly flames surrounding Lawrence now faltered and waned. Overpowering weariness gnawed at his strength and muddled his thoughts.

Lawrence’s perceptions became increasingly skewed amid the torturous confines of this hellish sewer. A treacherous fog of confusion descended upon him, causing his grasp on reality to slacken. Memories of his identity, whereabouts, and even his mission grew hazy. The incessant ambush from the monstrosities and the looming dread of midnight… how long before everything would come to a head?

But as despair threatened to consume him, the voice of a trusted companion echoed from a small mirror affixed to his attire: “They are coming.”

These words acted as a lifeline, snapping Lawrence back to reality. In a fluid motion, he brandished his dagger, impaling an oncoming beast. He quickly dodged a spray of corrosive goo, then instinctively looked upwards.

The corridor’s foundation trembled under the weight of countless approaching footsteps, layered over the muffled din of distant commands and rallying cries. The noise intensified, heralding a formidable force barreling towards the frenzied melee where Lawrence and his crew were engaged.

Suddenly, ghostly figures began to materialize, appearing as though emerging from a temporal fissure. These apparitions coalesced into an imposing army of spectral soldiers. Armed with vintage rifles, their bayonets shimmered eerily in the weak light. They burst from the abyss, charging unstoppably towards their shadowy objective. Their seamless movement suggested an ageless struggle now manifesting before the living.

The spectral sailors, already deep in battle, were momentarily struck dumb by this unforeseen intervention. They gawked in disbelief as the phantom battalion lunged headlong into combat, their guns unleashing havoc upon the monstrous horde and their battle roars echoing menacingly. After a few stunned moments, one sailor managed to stammer out, “The last remnants of the Queen’s Guard…”

Lawrence, equally stunned, approached a youthful soldier hurriedly reloading. The young man’s attire, reminiscent of an ancient city-state long lost to time, was tattered and frayed, hinting at prolonged battles within these sewers.

Attempting to establish a connection, Lawrence said, “Hello, we’re here to help…” He reached out, meaning to offer a comforting pat on the soldier’s shoulder, only to be left bewildered as his hand phased right through the ethereal figure.

In the midst of the chaotic battleground, doubt crept into Lawrence’s mind. “Could all this mayhem be a mere illusion?”

Disconcerted, he lifted his gaze and was met with the haunting sight of ghostly soldiers fiercely clashing with the grotesque horde. Their guns boomed relentlessly, downing one revolting creature after another.

Suddenly, a particularly robust soldier lunged forward from the midst of the spectral army. Lawrence, taken off guard, tried to evade the advancing figure, but his reflexes betrayed him. To his astonishment, the towering soldier phased right through him as if he were merely a wisp of air. As the soldier proceeded, a stray shot from one of the monsters struck him, causing him to plummet heavily into the muck.

The relentless spectral Queen’s Guard seemed unperturbed by their fallen ally. They trudged on, indifferent, stepping over the ethereal form of their comrade as they doggedly continued their march deeper into the corridor.

A sailor sidled up to Lawrence, his voice a hushed whisper, “They’re ghosts…”

“Yet these ghosts can battle the creatures. They even have the power to annihilate them…” Lawrence mused, trying to wrap his head around the bewildering phenomenon before him.

Another sailor chimed in, “The monstrous tide seems to be receding.”

That revelation jolted Lawrence from his reverie.

For the first time since their arrival, the previously relentless torrent of abominations seemed to wane. With the sudden appearance of the spectral Queen’s Guard, the walls and ceiling’s putrid ooze, which spawned the creatures, seemed to have abruptly halted. The once endless onslaught was now discernibly tapering off!

Could it be that the mere presence of the Queen’s Guard inhibited the regeneration and proliferation of these nightmarish entities?

As a myriad of questions swirled in his mind, Lawrence recognized the pressing need for action.

“Stay on the heels of the Queen’s Guard!” He dramatically pointed forward, his voice echoing with authority, “Take advantage of the path they’re clearing!”

“Aye, Captain!” came the unanimous response.

For those that just want to support me, you can follow the link to paypal donating. Sadly you won’t be able to get the benefit of reading ahead 

[Table of Content]

[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter]