Necromancer: Kingdom Building with My Legion of Undead Knights

Chapter 165: The Archers Hunt [2]

The sound cut through the forest like a wire being snapped, the sharp whistle of an arrow in flight, followed immediately by a solid THOOM! as it struck the Bogart in the neck.

The arrow buried itself deep in the thick muscle just below the creature’s jaw.

The Bogart’s hide was tough, thick enough that ordinary arrows often struggled to penetrate deeply.

It would penetrate eventually, given enough attempts, enough force and enough arrows hitting the same general area, but you would need multiple attempts.

One arrow, even a well-placed one, might only sink an inch or two before the resistance stopped it. The hide was thick. Swords seemed to be more effective though.

A hunter facing a Bogart with a standard bow would need to land several shots in the exact same spot just to get through.

But that was easier said than done when the creature was moving fast, attacking relentlessly, and not exactly standing still to make things convenient. Most people never got the chance to land a second arrow, because the first one hadn’t killed it and the Bogart had already closed the distance.

Yet this arrow punched straight through the skin and into the flesh beneath as though the resistance barely existed. The broadhead vanished halfway into the creature’s neck, and that was enough, far more than enough.

A wound like that wasn’t something a Bogart simply shrugged off. The arrow had struck deep and true, entering one of the most vulnerable places on the creature’s body. No second shot was needed. The moment the arrow landed, its fate had already been decided.

The force of the hit spun the creature sideways in midair. The Bogart jerked violently, its limbs flailing, its momentum shattered. Blood sprayed from the wound, dark and thick, and the creature let out a horrible choking sound: something between a gurgle and a scream, that echoed through the trees.

Then gravity reclaimed it.

Instead of landing on the knight, instead of crushing him beneath its weight and tearing into him with its claws, the Bogart crashed into the ground a few feet away. The impact was hard enough to shake the earth. Its body twitched once, twice, and then went still.

It was dead.

The forest suddenly became silent. For a moment, nobody moved. Nobody spoke either. Everyone simply stared at the corpse lying there, at the arrow protruding from its neck, at the dark blood slowly pooling across the forest floor. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant. They had all just watched someone narrowly escape death.

The knight himself was still frozen in place. Only seconds ago he had been convinced the Bogart would die from his spear. Instead, the creature had done something none of them expected, it had jumped. Not stumbled or dodged at the last second, but jumped. A massive leap straight into the air. The spear had passed harmlessly beneath it, and the moment that happened, the knight had known exactly what was coming.

The Bogart had been heading straight for him, and it had been fast, far too fast. There hadn’t been enough time to draw another weapon, not enough time to run, not enough time to dodge. In that brief instant, as the creature descended toward him from above, the knight had really believed he was about to die. His heart had nearly stopped.

Because this wasn’t some impossible thing. People died during hunts. People died during patrols. People died during wars. He knew that better than most. He had fought against Valdenmoor, stood on Percvale’s walls during attacks, survived battles that should have killed him. He had survived desperate fights, charging knights, burning arrows, and blood-soaked fields.

And for one horrifying second, he thought all of that had been meaningless. Was this really how it ended? Not on a battlefield, not defending Percvale, not fighting an army, but because he had escorted a group of archers into the forest? The thought must had flashed through his mind so quickly that he barely registered it.

Then came the arrow. And everything changed.

Several archers slowly lowered their bows. Their arms trembled slightly from the rush of adrenaline, and a few were still staring at the dead Bogart as if expecting it to suddenly stand back up. Others released breaths they hadn’t realized they were holding.

And only then did the knight realize the truth. He was still alive. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt, his hands were shaking, his legs felt strangely weak. But he was alive. The Bogart was not.

Now they all turned to look toward the person who had fired the arrow.

Because seriously...

Who the hell had made that shot?

A Bogart wasn’t exactly standing still waiting to be hit. The creature had been in the middle of a leap, moving fast enough that most people could barely follow it with their eyes. Yet someone had managed to put an arrow directly into its neck and kill it before it could reach the knight.

Who fired?

The answer became obvious the moment they turned their heads.

Several pairs of eyes landed on the same person.

The Bullseye lady!

She was still standing in the exact position she had fired from, her bow raised slightly, her posture calm and steady. Unlike some of the others, she wasn’t breathing heavily or looking shaken by what had just happened.

Instead, she simply stared at the Bogart’s corpse for a few seconds, silently confirming that it was truly dead.

Only after satisfying herself did she finally lower her bow.

The realization immediately spread through the group.

So it was her.

She was the one who had taken that ridiculous shot.

The one who had saved the knight’s life.

A few of the archers exchanged glances while the knight himself looked toward her with undisguised gratitude. Even now, he was still trying to fully process how close he had come to dying.

Had that arrow arrived even a moment later, things might have ended very differently.

The woman herself didn’t seem particularly interested in the attention. She simply reached toward her quiver and calmly adjusted it on her shoulder as if killing a charging Bogart with a single shot was perfectly normal.

Maybe for her it was.

No wonder Darion had mentally labeled her the Bullseye lady despite never learning her actual name.

She really was a bullseye!