F-ranker Sword Saint: My Soulbound Sword is Secretly SSS-tier!-Chapter 238: Forged In Monochromatic Flames
"The frontlines are through!! Go, go, go!! Frontline parties prepare to switch with the rear parties. All party leaders, to the rear!"
Caleb’s orders, also serving as encouragement for the rear army, echoed through the white ribbon.
It could be considered unfair for the frontliners to relieve those at the back right after securing their own safety.
However, what else could Caleb do except juggle those in better condition to fight the enemy?
Daru and Elara were battling the two Ashbound Praetors — taking one each.
It would be impossible for them to help the struggling rear army.
Caleb and Lesha themselves were fighting fiercely at the frontlines at the rear, but their efforts were barely enough to keep those around them alive.
There was also the issue of temporarily slowing down as they passed the raging battles between the spearhead duo and the level sixty elites, and the party leaders holding off the Condemned Centurions.
Pathing too close to these fights might result in not only grave injuries, but death.
This was why the last push was so difficult — so lethal, especially for the standard wretch.
Then the dreaded time came.
Losing too much blood and nowhere near safety, a Damnedling was overwhelmed.
His sword arm was cut first, then he was stabbed three times in the chest almost simultaneously...then his head was cut off.
The severed head rolled on the ground for a moment, then settled, its abyssal eyes staring back at its comrades.
Caleb paled, and his heart sank.
The fallen comrade wasn’t just killed...he was brutally killed, resulting in a harsher morale drop.
Sure enough, those in quite similar situations despaired, and they only fell faster.
An entire row numbering a little over a dozen was felled, then another.
The lines didn’t crumble completely.
However, it was only a matter of time if nothing changed...and there was no way that something would change soon.
"Keep order! Keep order!! Don’t falter, or you’ll die quicker!!" Caleb roared in a desperate attempt to prevent a total collapse.
His words didn’t exactly restore morale, but it was at least effective in jolting his panicking comrades to their senses.
Some still died, but more forcefully gripped their wits and emotions tightly, forcing themselves to stay on the frontlines and continue the orderly retreat.
They just had to pass the wraith army guarding the staircase to the fourth floor.
And they are almost through!
"Keep order!! The frontliners are coming to reinforce the lines soon!!"
There was no grace, no stoicism, no real skills in the way Caleb handled his troops.
He even looked a bit pathetic.
After all, this was the first time he actually led them in such a perilous mission and ended up in such grim danger.
Their cemetery raids did not give him any real experience in handling such heavy situations.
His true inexperience now reared its ugly head.
Yet...Caleb didn’t shrink away, both from the frontlines and the responsibility.
He faced everything with nothing but determination, courage, and the little skills in leading that he had.
No excuses, just his clumsy best.
He didn’t have the luxury to notice, but...he was currently being forged in the monochrome flames of Limbo.
If Caleb survived today, then he would be a slightly better commander tomorrow, and with every battle he would survive, he would learn and become even better.
He just had to live and keep facing the challenges and the responsibility head-on.
Not to say that it was pleasant.
No. Far from it.
His incompetence and helplessness made his heart bleed, and with every loss of a comrade, his heart felt heavier, as though an eternal weight had been added to it — a burden that would stay there for as long as he lived.
To his right, a Damnedling was mangled to mere lifeless flesh.
To his left, two more perished almost simultaneously, their heads rolling on the cold, stone ground, swallowed shortly after by the howling tide of furious wraiths.
’Damn it! Damn it all!!’
He cursed, and cursed even more...anything to alleviate the pain of being an incompetent commander — to survive just to watch more of his comrades die.
But despite it all, Caleb was not willing to die himself.
At least not so easily.
His bony arms were heavy, and his entire abominable body was screaming for relief, yet he fought on, allowing those behind him to retreat to safety.
Then, it just happened.
A snarling tide of Damnedlings — fresher than the usual ones struggling for their lives — emerged from behind him, and for a few moments, the hateful wraiths of the Stone Castle could not advance anymore.
Somewhere beside him, the two colors in the gray world were fighting ferociously, their elite opponents deformed beyond recognition.
Clearly, the Ashbound Praetors were about to fall, and he...they...they’ve made it to the staircases to the fourth floor.
There were only battered and bleeding allies behind him and no enemy.
It was a hellish minute or two, but they succeeded, and things had indeed become easier.
Caleb thought that the reprieve would be minimal.
However, after what they just experienced — especially being forced to only take in the pain of his comrades perishing one after another just meters away from him — the current situation felt like they’d already made it out of the Underworld.
But he knew the current situation wouldn’t last too long.
After all, once the fresher frontliners falter, they would be dragged right back to hell, and perhaps he himself wouldn’t be so lucky as to remain only minorly wounded.
To make things worse, they still had an entire floor to check.
Their chances of succeeding are definitely not looking good.
’Damn it, what to do?!’
Only, he didn’t expect that the grace of the gods would finally reach them.
There was no more floor to explore.
A Damnedling who wasn’t too injured compared to the others and was lucky enough to be rotated to the rear to recuperate stood dumbfounded as she stared at something above them.
Instead of a vast lobby and more hallways, there was a massive door with the insignia of a black crown.
