Musou Knight: Crow of Cinders

Chapter 85: Crow VS Thousand Phantoms (2)

Chapter 85 - Crow VS Thousand Phantoms (2)

Bullet time activated. My halberd blurred, slicing Troturre thirty times in succession. His phantom horse vanished. Several nearby phantoms strayed too close and were cleaved in half.

I lost count of how many times I spun as momentum carried me. Fatigue grew every second, especially with only one arm to support the weapon. Still, I pushed through.

After a forty‑hit combo, my final strike slammed into his belly, knocking him airborne.

My arm trembled. I planted the halberd into the ground, needing a moment’s rest.

Behind me, the mob formed a half‑circle, encircling me. They couldn’t advance as the sea of flame from my ultimate still burned. An open gap stretched ahead, offering retreat.

I inhaled deeply. Fire filled my lungs, refilling stamina. One minute of rest here was worth twelve hours of sleep.

The flames faded. The troops resumed their charge.

Sorry for you. My stamina was back.

I turned toward Troturre, who slowly rose. I hated Heavy knights. These guys had absurd HP pools, especially at level four or higher.

Near him, I spotted a tall vase. I was reminded that nine vases existed across the map.

Risky, but worth it. I dropped the halberd, switching to the mist sword for mobility, and sprinted, not toward Troturre, but toward the eastern edge near the glowing walls.

Troturre recovered, though his phantom form cracked. His body turned red as he leapt, landing five meters behind me like a missile. The ground erupted.

Who do you think you are? General Radahn? You are too small, bruh.

I reached the vase at the eastern edge, smashed it, and a roasted pig appeared. Heavy, greasy, glorious. I bit into it, clamped it in my mouth. With sword in my only arm, I ran toward the northeast vase.

Don’t mind me if I farm.

Troturre screeched, unleashing another wind‑blade musou. I was already out of his reach. None of his twenty blades touched me.

Unsheathing the sword, I grabbed the roasted pig and chewed properly. My lost arm began regenerating. Bone structure formed first, then strings of blood vessels, nerves, and muscle fibers knitting together. Incomplete, but functional.

Another bite. The skin crunched perfectly. It felt like a waste by swallowing whole. The oily, juicy belly meat slid down my throat like melted ice cream.

My arm regained muscle, though still skinless. Shoulder and chest wounds fully healed.

Behind me, Troturre stood where he had launched his musou. His troops regrouped at the center.

No pursuers. I laughed. At the northeast vase, I smashed it, which dropped a small weapon token. Free +1 permanent attack attribute. Barely mattered, but hey, it was an honest work.

I headed north next. This time, I walked since there was no stage timer, or time limit.

Right?

Or was there?

The stage walls fluctuated, as if reading my mind. Outside, phantom troops emerged. Based on my visual estimation, over ten thousand men appeared.

Yikes.

The pots and vases vanished from the edges, reappearing in the center. The walls shrank. Outside troops formed a shield wall, pressing inward with the shrinking cube.

That might be my stage timer. Screw you, phantom world!

I scanned the field, noting the vases and pots.

At the center, Troturre returned. He raised his halberd, and a hundred cavalrymen plus two hundred archers rose from the ground.

Oh, shit. He could call reinforcements?

Well, the sacrifice for my recovery was worth it. If I had killed Troturre earlier, the stage might have ende, and my arm would have stayed missing.

I took another bite of roasted pig. Accidentally, I circulated water musou energy to cleanse my palate. The energy touched the pig, and it melted into crude oil.

Nooooooo! My food!

The oil refilled my musou energy. Instantly, my cores surged, ready for action.

Musou gauge: full again.

Checking my arms, both were healed. Vitality and stamina refreshed.

Round two, then.

I unsheathed the mist sword, eyeing my halberd’s location. East side of the troops. Coincidentally, three vases had teleported there.

Gotcha. But first...

The archers. Always the most annoying fodder.

I turned west, heading toward their ranks. Two vases lined the way. I smashed them, pocketing two talismans.

The two hundred archers formed up, bows drawn. A volley loomed overhead as two hundred arrows blotted the sky.

In the game, one button blocked everything. Here, it was artillery bombardment. PTSD was a guaranteed after service.

I measured distance, activated bullet time, and sprinted like my life depended on it.

One second at full speed drained half my musou energy. The arrows flew harmlessly overhead, landing far behind.

I reached the archer line. Mist sword was set aflame, as I swung wide. Five cut down instantly. Ten more caught sparks and burned. The rest panicked, and their formation crumbled.

Chasing them, I slashed, slashed, and slashed. Black flame trailed behind me. I lost count of how many I killed.

Hooves thundered. Phantom cavalry charged, spears leveled. Their massive horses threatened to trample me.

"HAH!"

Countering the charge, I unleashed an ULT, sword carving a half‑circle shockwave of flame. Cavalry and mounts ignited, blasted airborne. Stray archers and nearby troops caught in the blast.

KO Count: 728.

My musou meter was depleted. I tore a green talisman. Stamina surged back. Lungs, spleen, liver filled with energy. My thorn thigh muscles healed.

I lunged at the scattered archers, no longer afraid of them.

Constantia’s men rushed to support, and bodies glowed red. Shield bash charge incoming.

I leapt back, escaping their range. As their momentum died, I vaulted over them, cutting five down from behind. Charging forward, I hit another layer of swordsmen.

BOOM!

The shrinking cube thundered. Troops outside stepped inside the field.

Oh, no. I had to hurry. Farming phantoms to refill my musou bar was no longer an option.

A thought crossed my mind. If my water core could transform food into dinosaur blood, could it also convert living people... or phantoms? Would that count as cannibalism?

I sidestepped, dodging a swordsman’s strike, then grabbed his neck to test the theory.

The phantom flinched, dissipating into dust. Only a spark remained, refilling my musou bar slightly.

Slightly disappointing.

What about Aki’s moves? Could I create water masses or crude oil masses by consuming my water core’s energy?

I pictured the effect, visualizing it. In midair before me, a small black bubble formed. My water core stirred, and my fire core fluctuated, becoming unstable.

I frowned, backstepping to dodge another swordsman’s strike.

Since the effect was unstable, I tried both cores together. I added fire energy.

The oil mass shifted into a small fireball. Then it condensed and expanded, becoming a miniature sun.

Another inspiration dawned.