A Nightmare Spilling from the West
A Nightmare Spilling from the West
Wyverns were clever.
It wasn't only the domesticated ones that were clever. The premise didn't change just because a wyvern was wild. If anything, they became more cunning and adept at employing their own wits.
But separate from that intelligence, there was one particular trait that was not widely known: they were sensitive to Magic Power. The Human Race, unable to use Magic Power, didn't know it, and the Demonfolk, having only recently adopted the idea of using wyverns, hadn't yet systematically understood it. That trait was tied to the wyverns' origin.
Though nowadays they were treated as a somewhat troublesome monster and regarded as utterly insignificant, they were beasts that carried the blood of dragons—the very origin and ancestor of Magic Power and magic, however faintly. It would be stranger if they couldn't sense Magic Power.
It wasn't that wyverns could use magic or manipulate Magic Power. They simply feared beings that possessed Magic Power on an instinctual level.
Because of that, the wyvern that had been punched by Eldmia with a fist wreathed in Magic Power feared him.
That fear turned into submission. It took barely ten punches before it was following orders to the best of its understanding and no longer fleeing even when Eldmia let go. For the wyvern, that was enough.
And after several flights through the sky, the wyvern realized its judgment had been correct.
He threw weapons to kill, exploded something to kill them all at once, and suddenly leaped onto another wyvern to kill them directly. The fact that there were more dead enemies than living ones, even though all it did was fly, came as a novel shock to the wyvern.
There was no need to stab with claws. No need to crash into them. No need to bite.
It just had to fly, and the terrifying human took care of the rest.
Then it was safe.
For the wyvern handlers and knights of Itisel, forming a bond of trust with the wyverns—a core process learned through years of communion—was something completed with mere punches. This was that moment.
"Come here!"
No sooner had the human voice reached the ears of the wyvern—which had been drifting in a state of profound realization bordering on spiritual liberation—than the beast, circling in the air and waiting for the human, naturally moved toward the call.
◈
When I shouted while watching the wyvern circle overhead like a crow eyeing its prey, the bastard turned its gaze toward me so naturally and began approaching at high speed.
"Why the hell does it listen so well...?"
Honestly, I thought it might run away the moment I leaped off its back to assault another wyvern...
Run away, my ass. It listened so well that a stranger who saw it would think it was a pet raised for ten years. It was honestly baffling.
Well... with a mindset of 'whatever works is good enough,' the sky I looked back at after killing the wyvern I was riding and switching mounts was clean. Another wyvern unit taking off from the distant inner fortress came into view, but once the army advanced and entered the outer fortress, there would be no problems at all.
As I'd clearly felt during the last hijacking, the Demon King's Army's aerial forces—both the wyverns and their riders—were nothing compared to wyvern knights. Sure, just scattering these damn Magic Power bombs over people's heads to neutralize the mages' spell interference and then slamming magic down was threatening enough, but wyvern knights were on a whole different level.
The one who held out the longest had been the owner of the wyvern I'd just mounted. But even that guy, when I attempted a dive, died with an expression like he'd suffered all the world's unfairness at once.
"Hmm, what to do."
Anyway, I admired the wyvern's intelligence as it maintained altitude in place as if it were the most natural thing, since I hadn't given any other orders after zealously seizing air superiority. I crossed my arms and fell into thought.
The Magic Power bombs left in my possession: just one.
They weren't the kind of insanely dangerous things that just exploded the moment you smashed them, so it had been fine up to the point of carelessly crashing the Demon King's Army's wyvern unit. But naturally, I hadn't gotten a refill.
They were almost the size of a 500ml plastic bottle, so I'd only grabbed three. Now that I'd thoroughly benefited from the fantasy-style grenade's outstanding performance, I regretted it. Having to fight another twenty-odd wyverns with just this one left...
...was a real pain in the ass.
"I've definitely done more than my share..."
Standing at the crossroads of seizing total air superiority to help our forces or pulling back first to inspect the wyvern—a trophy that wildly exceeded expectations—I pondered for about thirty more seconds before driving the wyvern back toward the city.
Other things aside, this bomb was impossible to counter by any ordinary means.
Even I couldn't stop its activation itself.
If it were a magic tool that disrupted spirit arts or magic by continuously absorbing and releasing Magic Power in the area, I could neutralize it with my ability. But this thing's structure was closer to a self-sustaining generator, with no Magic Power leaking out, so my power couldn't touch it. My ability was more like cutting the power cord of an appliance receiving electricity from an external source, so it was endlessly pathetic against battery-operated devices.
But what if they just started detonating these things in the outer fortress to block the enemy's advance? More soldiers could die from the explosions and debris than in combat. Even the vanguard that died by my hand was only because the army was still in open terrain and they couldn't use it in time approaching me. If those bastards deliberately set them off in the city center, there would be absolutely no mercy.
This wasn't exactly some new weapon unveiled for the first time today, so battlefield veterans probably had countermeasures in place...
But solving a problem before it blew up, rather than deliberately blowing it up and cleaning up afterward, was a bit inefficient. Unlike the outer fortress, the inner fortress assault would make the tricks I'd attempted impossible, so minimizing our forces' casualties was the right call.
Having thus made my decision, I checked the point where the most people were massed among the follow-up wyvern units approaching at high speed, then accelerated.
Burning with the determination to absolutely get a refill this time was a bonus.
◈
Alt, who had been watching from the command post as the city's outer fortress was utterly smashed far faster than expected, gave the order after a brief moment of deliberation.
"Relocate the command post."
"What location do you have in mind, sir?"
"In front of the outer gate. We won't enter inside."
Normally, once a command post took a position, it didn't move until the siege was over. But long years of fighting the Demon King's Army had changed their field manuals from conventional wisdom in many ways. The prime example of that was moving the command post during a siege.
the Demonfolk never fixed powerful troops in place just to defend a single city. They kept them moving as much as possible to gain advantages. When a stronghold developed a problem, the defensive forces held out while the rest turned back to reinforce and strike the rear. That was why sieges against the Demon King's Army, more often than not, only truly began after breaching the outer fortress.
Such absurd responses—which the Human Race couldn't even dare attempt—were possible solely because they were Demonfolk.
Because they used Magic Power, and based on that Magic Power, they applied gates in far more varied ways than members of the Human Race, that was what made it possible. Even more, the individual strength of Demonfolk was generally superior to members of the Human Race, so the troops and supplies moved were relatively smaller, yet their firepower was often superior.
In the early days of the war, the damage suffered from that insane mobility had been immense. It was, in a sense, a natural progression that the command post—which had once merely observed from the rear—had transformed, creeping a little closer to the battlefield with the aim of issuing orders a single minute or second faster. Initially, there were many opinions that this exposed the command post to danger, but that counterargument no longer existed. Against Demonfolk, danger was the same no matter where the command post was.
But this assault on the outer fortress had unfolded in a way no one could have predicted, so it was clear the enemy hadn't been able to respond properly either. And Alt had no intention of squandering the enormous advantage gained from it.
"Contact the cities in the rear and tell them to move their forces. Report the situation to the royal family as well. Perhaps this time, rather than just taking Levien, we might be able to push the front line a little."
The achievements Eldmia had accomplished were that immense.
He had breached the outer fortress alone. Even the enemy's wyvern unit attempting bombardment had been counterattacked, resulting in almost no casualties. Thinking it was a siege without precedent in the kingdom's entire history, Alt calmly shifted his gaze to the Margrave of Levien, who was examining the battlefield map behind the subordinates leaving the command post to carry out the orders.
"Did you foresee this?"
He couldn't not ask. The situation was absurd.
If there was a member of the Human Race capable of such feats even in a siege against Demonfolk, there was nothing left to say about a war between Human Race nations. Alt himself couldn't even guess how swift and rapid the conquest would be if, in the future, the royal family and nobles, led by the Margrave of Levien, attacked another nation.
There were more people who were simply 'strong' than one might think. But those strong in a way that shattered existing common sense were few. On top of that, Eldmia had just become an adult, so he had more than ample room to grow further.
'That thing' was a strategic weapon. A strategic weapon that, in the hands of a single noble, could only bring about upheaval. If the Margrave of Levien had truly foreseen all of this, Alt intended to submit a report with words of warning to the royal family.
"If you mean breaching the outer fortress without any damage whatsoever... No. I couldn't have imagined it at all."
But the young noblewoman, adept at hiding her emotions, remained steadfastly noncommittal. Unlike her calm tone, life glimmered in her eyes. But whether it was the satisfaction of a commander achieving the expected result, or the euphoria of someone avenging the past loss of her house and territory—there was no way to tell.
What meaning did today's battle hold for a girl who had essentially lost her house at a young age?
The incident back then, swept aside by a rapid assault because they knew nothing of Demonfolk tactics, was a disgraceful and bitterly painful past even for the kingdom. This time, their side had swept the enemy aside with a rapid assault, so perhaps she felt a sense of accomplishment, as if revenge had been achieved.
"Even though we've spent a fair bit of time together, I truly can't figure him out at all."
Watching the Margrave of Levien smile as she finished speaking, Alt thought.
Somehow, it felt like looking at himself from back when Ranje had detonated both an incident and an achievement simultaneously.