Chapter 207
Chapter 207
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 207
Chapter Title: Shattering the Black Armor
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Boom!
A deafening roar echoed, and Ian and Romandro turned their heads simultaneously. They had parked the carriage next to the corpse and were waiting inside for reinforcements from the palace. The temporary tent was too cramped to share with the guards, and besides, Romandro couldn't stand being near the body.
Ian pulled back the curtain of the window where the sound had come from. The surroundings were still shrouded in darkness.
"It seems to have come from the west."
"Have they found Barsabe?"
"Whether they've found her or the black armor, it has to be one or the other. I can strongly sense Captain Jeyrat's mana. It's a depth of power different from when he faced Berik."
Ian pressed his forehead against the cold window and murmured.
It wasn't just Jeyrat. Faint mana signatures from all directions were rapidly converging on one spot. It felt like they were signaling each other and assembling.
Romandro looked at Ian's pale face with concern.
"You should really head back to the palace first. You've accumulated fatigue, and now you've gotten caught in the rain too. I'm worried about your health."
"We all got caught in the rain. If I feel it's too much, I'll let you know, so don't worry too much."
Ian smiled and peered out the window again. Two guards were smoking by the corpse's head. Their breaths—or was it the smoke?—obscured their expressions.
Ian watched them quietly and called to Romandro.
"...I know there aren't many residents in the Chetur District, but is it usually this deserted?"
It was a place lined with factories large and small. There had to be night workers since there were day laborers. But since arriving, Ian had only seen a couple of people in several hours.
Romandro fiddled with his pocket watch and answered puzzledly.
"It doesn't seem like this is normal. The weather's foul, isn't it? If you're unlucky, basements flood and ceilings leak. Places here get torn down and rebuilt every time according to contracts."
The goods stored in warehouses changed constantly with the seasons. The buildings were constructed to be easily assembled and demolished, so who would stick around for overtime in bad weather? The next day, it was common to see repairs everywhere in the Chetur District.
"Truly inefficient."
"No helping it. The districts are finely divided, and it's practically the foundation of central commerce, so the tenants change frantically every year."
Tap, tap. Ian fell silent amid the rain pattering against the window. So that's why it was so quiet? Not a single building lit up despite the roar. Did they all mistake it for thunder?
Click.
The carriage door opened, and the wind and rain blew in fiercely. Romandro covered his face with his collar and grabbed Ian's sleeve.
"Ian?"
"Lord Romandro, wait here for the palace guards and guide them to the west."
"And you?"
"I'm going to check on the roar."
"Together! Can't we go together?"
"...I can't trust those guards."
The guards standing under the tent were staring at Ian, as if questioning why he was coming out of the carriage. Romandro frowned and whispered quietly. The wind and rain would drown it out anyway.
"What do you mean?"
"More precisely, not them, but their superior. Lord Romandro, stay here and hold the position. I'll be right back."
Whoosh!
While Romandro mulled over Ian's words, Ian stepped out of the carriage without an umbrella. Without hesitation, he turned toward where the roar had originated. With the strong mana presence, finding the way wouldn't be difficult.
Clop clop!
Swoosh—
Watching Ian's figure vanish into the rain, Romandro slowly closed the carriage door. Then he began surveilling the guards through the gap in the window curtain.
If only the rain would let up a bit, but the sky poured down as if a hole had been ripped in it.
* * *
One, two, three...
Jeyrat counted the black armors by eye. Roughly about ten, give or take. Assuming no more reinforcements from the enemy.
The palace guards who had struck first took up alert positions, awaiting their captain's orders.
Thud thud!
'It withstands five men. If our forces scatter, no chance of victory. Riama took on ten alone and died, right? Then...'
Zing. Zzzing.
Mana exploded around Jeyrat. The raging rain couldn't touch him, scattering on impact. A profound silence enveloped the area. The enemies hesitated, looking up at him as if he stood in another world.
Jeyrat reached toward the sky.
Rumble!
Boom!
Thunder tore through the heavens. A brilliant beam swirled at his fingertips, taking the form of a sword in an instant.
Flash!
Lightning struck down. It felt like thunderbolts from the sky had been seized in his grasp.
In the darkness, Jeyrat's eyes gleamed faintly. Resolve and fighting spirit burned hot, steam rising fiercely.
"Copent."
The prearranged tactic name. Individual combat offered no hope, so converge on the target around Captain Jeyrat for simultaneous destruction. They swiftly formed ranks and leaped into the air.
Slash!
It happened in a flash. Water streams split along their path.
Jeyrat swung the massive sword with all his might at the armor's nape. To empower the central strike, the guards channeled mana in the same direction, swinging together.
Boom! Crash!
Crack!
"Arghhh!"
Flash, flash! The wet street reflected the light mercilessly. One by one, but all together. The palace guards chanted "Copent" and struck down again.
Clang! Clang!
Finally, the helmet shattered.
The knight inside faced Jeyrat with a shocked expression. Without its shell, it was mere prey before sword-mages.
Jeyrat beheaded it without hesitation.
Thud.
The head rolled to the enemies' feet. Blood sprayed like a fountain but diluted in the rain, fading. Soon yours will vanish the same. Jeyrat raised his sword in silent warning.
Splat!
'Six of us, including me, need two strikes to crack the helmet.'
Experience yielded data. He'd tensed hearing it defeated Riama of the Three Great Commanders, but it might not be so hard.
Threatening, yes, but Riama had no intel on the foe, while Jeyrat learned their power with each clash.
'Against one, assign at least six minimum. For total annihilation, mobilize all palace guards, but picking them off one by one, we're enough.'
"Group up! Don't let them hit us all at once!"
"Watch each other's fronts and backs!"
"Damn, that's the captain! Careful with him!"
"Grab an arm or leg first! Once we do, we're golden!"
But facing life and death, the enemy found countermeasures. The flow had fully shifted. Now it was group versus group—which side's rhythm broke first?
Jeyrat roared and charged again.
"Argh!"
"Protect the captain!"
"Protect him! Copent!"
"Three left, two right!"
"Group up! We win if we stick together!"
Clang! Clang!
As Jeyrat lunged, countless attacks tangled, clashing and parrying. If one blocked for Jeyrat, armor pierced the gap, only for a palace comrade to shove back. In the blind melee, they locked and balanced.
Swoosh!
"Ah, shit."
"Damn. Captain!"
"Don't fall back!"
"Keep pouring it on!"
Rumble.
Thunder swallowed their clamor. Roars, booms, screams filled the air, but only the sky's howl reached their ears.
The palace guard protecting Barsabe had rushed to join the fray, leaving her collapsed, watching. Lightning flashes revealed comrades' backs intermittently—like photos flickering on and off. Fierce, relentless.
'If only I could move—'
If she could, she'd leap in and bleed with them. Lying here alone was utterly lamentable.
'If only I could bind those bastards—'
She could suppress them faster than the storm. Barsabe clenched her fist with desperate prayer.
Then, a calm voice rang out.
「Myriad Leaves」
Mana-clustered, it pierced any din clearly—Ian's voice. One of the Binding spells used to subdue Prince Marib at the palace.
Rumble!
Rustle.
Otherworldly magic trees swiftly ensnared the armor legion. At the sudden intervention, all turned toward the ancient branches.
Ian lifted Barsabe with one hand and smiled.
"How is there no one in the palace guard who can use Binding magic? Unless you're all enjoying the rain battle."
"That's Captain Riama's specialty."
"Does that mean no one else can?"
"You're the Magic Department Minister, aren't you, Lord Ian?"
Barsabe squeezed out her response. Like a scholar lecturing a student. They were sword-mages, not mages. No retort to the empire's top authority.
Ian glanced at her wounds and directed Jeyrat.
"Can't hold it long. As you see, I haven't slept in days either. Better wrap it up quickly."
Zing!
Ian's Golden Eyes darkened further. Proof he poured mana to sustain the magic tree.
The armors thrashed to escape the tree but struggled. Jeyrat and the guards stepped back, securing distance.
Leap!
"Oh, and among you, is there anyone who fought the red-haired swordsman from [Mailly Daily]?"
An abrupt question. The armors answered with fierce resistance, severing the magic tree.
Crack!
"Pity. I was going to spare you if there was."
Barsabe clutched her side, frowning. What did that mean? Ian met her eyes and grinned.
"Berik's the type who repays in kind."
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"He'll kick up a fuss searching for armor the moment he wakes. Nothing grows you like victory over your prior defeaters."
"...That kid didn't die?"
"Unfortunately, he barely survived."
"What about the extra edition or whatever?"
"That fortunately succeeded. Thanks to you."
Barsabe relaxed with relief. Survive here with comrades, return alive—mission complete. Her role ended here.
"...Hah. Haha."
"Jeyrat. Subdue them all. A few deaths are fine."
Splat!
The foes were bound. Jeyrat and the guards raised oath gestures to the sky, then unleashed simultaneous attacks.
Boom! Crash!
Flash!
"Gasp. What the..."
Romandro, watching west from the carriage, noticed the sky brighten momentarily. In the dark night, like a sun exploding in the western sky.
An explosion chasing away the long night.