Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 654 - 391: Fleshcrafting_1

Balistan, who was sinking into oblivion, suddenly felt an anomaly, as if a hand had abruptly seized him, then contended against the sinking force and even gained the upper hand.

His heavy body no longer sank, and the oppressive feeling from all directions gradually vanished, along with that suffocating sensation...

Balistan snapped open his one eye, taking deep breaths of air. His blood surged through his body, continuously clearing his mind and bringing unprecedented clarity.

"You've done it. You've held the line and led your soldiers to victory!"

"I've done it..." Hearing the familiar voice, Balistan snapped back to reality. This time, he had finally not let everyone down.

"But now is not the time for rest. Hamlet needs you, and I need you too," said Lance, extending his hand to Balistan.

Seeing the Lord reaching out his hand from beside the bed, Balistan gripped it and felt a firm strength pulling him up from the bed.

If it had been before, getting out of bed would have caused his old bones some pain, but this time there was nothing of the sort.

An indescribable expression emerged on Balistan's face as he felt his body was no longer decaying but instead surging with unimaginable vitality.

That youthful, squandered physical talent seemed to awaken, and his vibrant body could finally support the experience accumulated from countless battles.

"We might face death, but not today, for our mission is not yet complete."

"That's right!" A resolute look emerged on Balistan's somewhat aged face. "The grand plan is not over yet. I cannot simply fall."

Balistan's condition rapidly recovered. When he picked up the Shield and Morningstar Hammer, the old soldier, unbowed in hundreds of battles, returned.

The mending and strengthening of his body were purely physical. Without the support of conviction, even the strongest are but mere walking corpses.

When he reaffirmed his conviction and picked up his weapons once again, in that moment, the Balistan who held the line truly stepped into the realm of the Master!

They were not the feudal army of nobility, which turns headless upon the death of a noble.

Within Hamlet's Army, there was a proper procedure. If Balistan fell, two squad leaders would step up. If they were lost, the team leaders would take over. Consequently, all subsequent handling of affairs did not descend into chaos.

And Lance learned the current situation at the outpost from those soldiers.

Eleven soldiers killed, eighty-six injured, among whom the twenty-odd seriously wounded had already been saved by Lance.

Damn it, only a hundred soldiers were stationed here to begin with. Virtually everyone still alive, aside from the fallen, was injured.

These were not just mere numbers to him. Lance had just come from the temporary hospital. He had seen with his own eyes the soldiers groaning in agony from their wounds, crying out in pain as their injuries were sutured without anesthetics. Some, influenced by the sorcery, were not fully lucid and remained trapped in nightmares.

They were just ordinary people; they could be injured, feel pain, and experience fear.

And the eleven soldiers who perished, whose sons were they? Whose brothers? Whose lovers? Whose fathers?

The safety and stability of Hamlet did not come from nowhere but was due to those soldiers who shielded it from threats with their very bodies.

Their sacrifices should not be forgotten... That would be the greatest betrayal of him, and of Hamlet.

"I understand... Prepare yourselves. I brought them here, and I will take them home..."

Lance's heart grew heavy; he was uncertain how to face the families of the fallen soldiers.

This wasn't a matter of money; he only felt the burden on his shoulders growing heavier.

Originally, his decision to develop his strength was purely to better contend with the Old Ancestor. These people were merely pawns in his game against the Old Ancestor, no different from the heirs in a game.

But as the situation grew more complex...

Compared to the Old Ancestor, the pressure from this despairing world weighed even more heavily on him.

Lance didn't know if he had the power to change the world, but the Old Ancestor was clearly the immediate obstacle before him.

In the following reports, Lance learned that a few soldiers had distinguished themselves in the battle.

Sharpshooter Barrett and 'Bomb Kid' Sobray had particularly outstanding performances and had made a significant impact on the battlefield.

"Good!" Lance finally showed a smile on his face as he looked at the battle report.

Good. The seeds he had sown for so long had not only sprouted, but a few had grown exceptionally well. His investment had not been in vain.

Lance was intrigued to learn that the monster was not completely dead—a chunk of its flesh remained, along with the eerie Magic Wand of the evil cult's spellcaster.

Soon, he went personally to see Geralt and the two items he was guarding.

"If not for you, these soldiers would probably not be alive. I thank you on their behalf."

If Balistan had withstood the monster's charge, stabilizing the line and preventing its collapse, then Geralt was the one who had focused on the evil cult's Spellcasters, interrupting that critical sorcery.

Others might not have realized its importance, but Lance understood its terrifying potential. If it had possessed power similar to what demolished the high walls, a single strike could have virtually wiped out all soldiers present.

Probably only Geralt and Junia would have remained standing, as the others were ordinary people. Lacking the strength granted by Extraordinary Talent, they would naturally have struggled to counter that soul-striking sorcery.