Wasteland Lord: Starting from Thirty Days to Live

Vittorio's pupils contracted sharply, and he abruptly looked away from the parchment.

He ran quickly to the window of the commander's room and looked down.

The night was pitch black, and no trace of any monster could be found with the naked eye.

Without hesitation, he quickly went downstairs and informed everyone of the monster attack.

Everyone was surprised because they had not heard any sound or seen any possible trace.

But Vittorio was, after all, a lord, and the lord's orders were beyond question.

So they all stood up and set up defenses as Vittorio had instructed.

The attack came from inside the territory, and unfortunately there was a huge gap on that side, just what Vittorio had just seen.

If monsters attack, this is the only way to enter.

So Vittorio assigned all his men to the gap and asked them to move all the nearby debris to form a makeshift roadblock.

Then the first row of five people held shields, the second row of four people held spears, and the last row of four people shot arrows.

Those who couldn't get in will stand on the sidelines as substitutes, ready to fill in at any time.

Eileen stood behind them, responsible for casting [Holy Light].

【Holy Light】 can slow down low-level monsters. When cast in such a narrow terrain, it is equivalent to a field debuff that only targets the enemy.

This is a simple, easy-to-defend, and difficult-to-attack pocket formation!

Having done all this, Vittorio began to wait.

At the bottom of the tower, everyone held their breath.

The only light source was the white light emanating from Eileen's hand, which barely illuminated the area obstructed by the pile of debris.

Beyond that, there was only an impenetrable night.

John stood on the left-hand stone steps, holding his spear, muttering complaints under his breath.

"They woke me up right after I fell asleep."

"Monsters? I didn't see any monsters."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a howl came from afar.

Everyone's expression changed.

Hans, who was next to John, sensed something and cursed under his breath.

"Damn...this stench."

A faint, stench like rotting flesh wafted from afar!

Then, the first pair of lights lit up.

Five steps away from the hole in the darkness, two murky, dark yellow lights suddenly appeared!

Then came two pairs, three pairs, four pairs... fourteen pairs of wild beast eyes.

"Stay calm."

Vittorio's voice came from behind the defensive line, as calm as if they were discussing the weather.

"Don't move, wait for them to come in."

The pair of lights at the very front moved.

It emerged from the darkness and stepped into the realm of holy light.

The light had a restraining effect on it, and it immediately took a step back.

But a low, menacing growl came from behind it, as if it were being urged to advance, so it had no choice but to continue.

John's breath caught in his throat for a moment as it stepped into the light.

He was familiar with this thing; in fact, he had dealt with it several times on the way here.

This is the kind of monster that all travelers least want to encounter in the wild—the Rotten Dog!

Like a leopard, like a wolf, like a mixture of rotting flesh and blood.

When standing, it is as tall as an adult's waist, with an abnormally thin torso, clearly visible ribs, and skin covered with ulcers and blackish-yellow scabs.

Its gaping maw, splitting open to the base of its ears, was slightly open, revealing jagged, yellowish-black teeth, with sticky threads hanging from between them—and this mucus was corrosive.

And those eyes were especially terrifying—no pupils, no whites, just two yellowish, ghostly flames embedded in their deep sockets.

This yellow light is a traveler's nightmare; it is said that anyone who is unsettled will fall into fear if they just glance at it.

This is not a description, but a fact!

For example, right now.

As the gaze of the rotten dog turned over, the soldiers' hands holding their weapons began to tremble slightly.

Vittorio felt a sudden, inexplicable unease as he was stared at by that yellow light.

It seems that the yellow light has a deterrent effect.

Vittorio unconsciously moved closer to Eileen, feeling slightly more relaxed as he was bathed in the holy light.

As the first one appeared, the second and third rotten dogs entered the aura.

This is quite normal; they are monsters that fight in groups, and once they appear, it's not just one, but an entire race.

They stopped two steps in front of the obstacle, their yellow eyes scanning the defensive line.

In that instant, John in the crowd had the illusion that he was being ripped open, torn apart, and devoured!

The shield bearer at the very front of the defensive line was making a slight clicking sound with his teeth, and his hands were sweating from gripping them too tightly.

Vittorio glanced around; this group of people seemed very nervous.

Just then, Eileen moved.

She didn't speak, but took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

He gently pressed his right palm against his left chest and whispered as if sighing.

"peaceful."

The basic divine spell [Calm Mind] slightly stabilizes the emotions of oneself or multiple nearby targets, resisting brief panic.

The sound was very soft, yet it strangely pierced through everyone's heartbeats.

A faint warmth emanated from her and spread to the crowd.

The rapid breathing of the shield bearers in the front row noticeably calmed down, and their fingers, which were tightly gripping the shield handles, loosened slightly.

Vittorio glanced at her, gave a barely perceptible nod, and then raised his voice:

"Don't be nervous!"

"These are just low-level monsters; physical attacks are effective against them! They're just beasts! They bleed and they die!"

As soon as Vittorio finished speaking, the first rotten dog that appeared lowered its body, exerted force with its shoulders, and charged fiercely towards the defensive line!

"Left side!" Vittorio shouted.

The rotten dog shot out with incredible speed, covering a distance of three meters in a single pounce.

This is under the influence of holy light; if it were in the darkness of the wild, they would be even faster!

But Vittorio was already prepared.

The rotting dog crashed into the shield at the front, and then the spearmen in the second row extended their spears from the gaps in the shields.

"Spear, thrust!"

The two spearmen thrust out almost instinctively.

The moment the rotting dog charged into the passage, two spear tips were already waiting there.

One stab pierced the shoulder blade, and the other pierced the neck.

The spear shaft bent, and the momentum of the rotting dog was forcefully stopped!

However, it did not scream, but only made a gurgling sound.

Instead of gushing blood, a dark yellow viscous fluid seeped from the stabbing wound.

It slid forward half a foot along the spear shaft, its sharp teeth aimed straight for the spearman's wrist.

"Shields, charge!"

The shield bearer on the left pushed forward with force, slamming heavily into the side of the rotten dog, knocking it aside.

At the same instant, the crossbowman on the right-hand stone steps finally pulled the trigger—not on Vittorio's orders, but out of fear-driven instinct.

The crossbow bolt pierced the face of the rotten dog, and the light in its eyes dimmed abruptly.

The first one died.

But the battle has only just begun.

Outside the hole, the remaining thirteen pairs of dark yellow light spots moved simultaneously.

A deep howl echoed through the canyon.

They're no longer probing; they're going to attack!

Three rotting hounds lunged at the shield in front of them, two of them attempting to leap over the obstacle, while the rest scurried around the perimeter.

"They're looking for weaknesses in our defenses!"

"Spears, hold the passage! Shields, absolutely no retreat allowed!"

The command is clear, but its execution has begun to distort.

On the right, a rotting dog dodged the spear and charged upwards with its entire body!

The soldier holding the shield felt a tremendous force, and then the shield slipped from his hand.

A gap has appeared!

The rotting dog landed, its dark yellow eyes locking onto a soldier wielding a spear.

"Protect him!" Vittorio's voice was urgent.

But the distance was not enough, and the spearmen hurriedly raised their spears, but did not have time to turn around.

Just then, a flash of silver light appeared!

Isolde had somehow arrived beside the threatened soldier.

The rapier thrust out with precision, the blade instantly penetrating the rotting dog's jaw, piercing its skull, and exiting from its parietal bone.

She swung her sword, and the rotting dog's corpse slammed against the stone wall like a rag doll, splattering blackish-yellow slime and dark red bits of flesh!

"Re-form the ranks!" The female knight's voice was as cold as iron.

The fear was temporarily suppressed, and the defenses were tightened again.

Vittorio glanced at the startled soldier, told him to step down and bring in a replacement, then quickly turned his gaze back to the battlefield.

The Rotting Dogs' offensive rhythm has changed—no longer blind charges, but organized probing.

A feint attack from the left flank draws the spear formation to tilt, while the right flank immediately launches a strong charge, with two spearmen constantly attempting to leap over obstacles from different angles.

Feint to the east while attacking in the west.

They are consuming resources, searching for a real breakthrough.

Vittorio saw through this.

"They are following orders."

He whispered, his eyes fixed on the hole.

"There's a dog outside that hasn't come in, and it's been howling. That's the alpha dog."

"All tactical changes happen after the howling."

"My lord, should I go find it?" Isolde asked.

"No! It's in the shadows, we're in the light."

Vittorio thought quickly.

"This insurmountable gap is our advantage; once we break through it, we'll be surrounded on all sides—that's something we absolutely cannot do!"

"But if we hold our ground, the lead dog must assess the battlefield itself...it will definitely come in."

He raised his voice and adjusted his instructions.

"Crossbowmen, focus on shooting the ones trying to get over the obstacle!"

"Spearman, you are allowed to take a half-step back to deflect the force, but you must thrust with all your might!"

"Ms. Isolde, please move to the rear center of the defensive line—I need you as the final trump card."

The order was given, and the defense line was adjusted again.

The crossbowmen stopped wasting arrows on the roaming rotten dogs and instead focused their attention on the top of the obstacle.

After being given permission to retreat, the spearman felt less pressured and his thrusts became more steady.

Isolde silently walked to the spot designated by Vittorio and stood still like a statue.

The rotten dogs launched two more attacks.

One of them successfully leaped over the obstacle, but was shot in the middle of the air by three crossbow bolts. It was barely alive when it landed and was finished off by spearmen.

The other one was pierced by two spears simultaneously in the passage, yet it crawled forward a foot before dying.

Casualties are also rising; a shield bearer was splashed in the eye by the slime of a carrion hound and fell to the ground screaming.

One spearman, gripped by fear, missed his target and was dragged along by a rotting dog that bit his spear shaft, nearly pulling him out of formation. He was saved only by the combined efforts of others who managed to kill him.

The tower was filled with the stench of blood, decay, and human fear.

But miraculously, the defensive line has maintained its basic shape.

Then, the howling changed.

The short, sharp command transformed into a long, slow, sustained low hum.

Outside the hole, all the wandering dark yellow lights stopped moving and retreated to the sides.

The largest pair of lights finally moved forward.

The first dog stepped into the holy light.

It is a whole size larger than its kind, with a shoulder height of nearly one meter.

The light in his dark yellow pupils became even more solid, almost like two miniature, murky flames.

It moved very slowly, and every step was extremely imposing.

Yellow eyes swept across the corpses of their kind on the ground, across every face on the defensive line, and finally locked onto Vittorio!

He knew that Vittorio was the commander.

Vittorio felt a chill run down his spine, but he did not back down.

Vittorio even slightly raised his chin in a defiant gesture.

"You're the boss? Come and hit me."

The lead dog let out a low growl, bared its teeth, and then it moved.

Instead of lunging at Vittorio, he charged at an astonishing speed toward the far left of the defensive line—where the shield bearers were most terrified.

"It's trying to break through the formation!" Vittorio understood instantly. "Stop it!"

But the first dog was too fast!

Even under the influence of the Holy Light, he was too fast!

It pushed off the ground with its hind legs, and its whole body leaped up like a spring.

He first jumped up, then used the gap in the wall as a foothold, and then jumped again, clearing the front row of shield and spearmen and heading straight for the spearmen in the back row!

Double jump!

"crossbowman--"

Before Vittorio could finish speaking, three crossbow bolts had already been fired.

But to everyone's surprise, the head dog was able to twist its body in mid-air!

Two of them brushed past, but the third one was driven into the buttocks.

It landed unsteadily, but its forward momentum did not diminish, and it crashed straight into the two spearmen.

One of them was John.

He stood at the edge of the spear line, frozen the moment the lead dog leaped up.

When those dark yellow pupils rapidly enlarged in his field of vision, his mind went blank.

who am I?

where am I?

What am I supposed to do?

All he saw was that enormous mouth splitting open to the roots of the ears, and smelled the stench of decay that assaulted his senses!

In an instant, he understood.

He will die!

The thought was like ice water poured over his head, leaving him completely weak and unable to even hold the spear steadily.

The exclamations of those around him did not rouse him; he was merely paralyzed, staring at the gaping maw of the alpha dog charging toward him.

dying.

A dark yellow light flashed in front of John's face.

The next second, he fell to the ground, the heavy body of the alpha dog pressing down on his lower body. Warm, foul-smelling slime sprayed all over his face.

He screamed and kicked wildly until someone dragged him out.

It's Isolde.

The female knight lifted the head dog's corpse with one hand, and her rapier pierced through the dog's eye socket.

She saved John's life.

She glanced coldly at John's trembling legs and wet trousers.

"Hold your weapon tight, because someone won't always be there to save you."

Ignoring the stunned John, Isolde turned to face the pack of rotting dogs, which had descended into chaos due to the death of their leader.

Vittorio's roar echoed throughout the tower.

"The alpha dog is dead! Counterattack! Give us a fierce counterattack!"

The defensive line began to advance.

Shields clashed, spears thrust, and crossbow bolts rained down from the flanks.

Without a leader, the rotting dogs either charge blindly into the spear formation or begin to retreat.

The battle ended five minutes later.

The last rotting dog was slain by the spear, and after it fell to the ground with a scream, only heavy breathing and the groans of the wounded remained inside the tower.

Isolde stood beside him, the blade of her rapier still dripping with slime.

"No one died, excellent command," the female knight said.

Vittorio didn't mind the compliment and returned the compliment.

"You weren't bad either, ma'am, a magnificent battle."

The surviving soldiers collapsed to the ground.

The fear remained, but mixed in with something else—a feeling of exhaustion and relief at surviving a catastrophe.

Vittorio let them rest, while he picked up the flag belonging to the Conaron family from the ground and casually stuck it in the ground.

The night was still deep outside, but a sliver of dawn had already pierced the darkness on the horizon.

He still faced a shattered territory, but this victory ignited a new hope within him.

"The situation is bad, but it's not that bad."

Just as he inserted the flag into the gap, a pair of eyes hidden in the forest took in everything.

A hunter, covered in black mud to mask his scent, lay motionless on the ground, a simple bow and arrows slung over his back, and prey tucked into his waistband, hidden among the dense grass.

He had come in pursuit of prey, but unexpectedly witnessed the entire battle and the moment when the flag was inserted into the gap.

"Red background, black griffins... They're back! They've actually returned?! I must report this to Lord Iron Rock immediately."