Chapter 276: Ganging Up is the Way (3)
Chapter 276: Ganging Up is the Way (3)
Thanks to April defeating Cerberus, the tide of battle shifted drastically in favor of the Schneider Duchy.
The number of summoned undead dwindled, and most of the remaining forces were concentrated around the Fit Dead, who was currently locked in combat with Sanson.
As a result, the battle became much more manageable.
At least, on the ground.
"Watch out!"
"Don't stand directly in front of it!"
The problem was the sky.
An undead created from an Elder Wyvern.
The creature was a walking—or rather, flying—calamity, gliding freely through the air while spewing torrents of flame. The only ones capable of contending with such an aerial threat were the Magic Swordsmen.
While the mages' spells and the Elves' arrows provided some cover from the ground, they weren't a significant threat to a target moving at such high speeds.
Ultimately, it fell to the Magic Swordsmen to handle it, but…
"Aaargh!"
"Kailo!"
"Dammit, someone catch him! He'll die if he hits the ground!"
The situation in the air wasn't great.
The number of Magic Swordsmen, which had initially been over fifty, had dropped to forty. As their numbers thinned, the battle grew increasingly grim.
"Hell, I'd rather fight a living one. This thing is undead; it doesn't even get tired!"
While Soul Weapons were efficient tools in terms of output, the Magic Swordsmen were still human beings with limits.
An undead, however, never lost its strength, no matter how much time passed.
At this rate, defeat was inevitable.
And if the Magic Swordsmen failed to contain this mass of calamity, it would roam the skies at will, devastating the allies on the ground.
I can't let that happen.
Riman thought logically.
If the battle continued like this, they would lose. Therefore, the method of combat had to change. Even if the risks increased in the process, it was a necessary evil.
So, what I'm about to do is a logically sound decision.
Having convinced himself with his own logic, Riman accelerated and charged toward the beast.
"Graaaaaah!"
The creature spat a violent stream of fire at him, but Riman spiraled through the air, narrowly evading the flames. Then…
"Got you."
The moment he reached the creature's back, he thrust his sword in with all his might.
Squelch!
His blade sank deep into the soft, rotting flesh characteristic of undead monsters.
In truth, this didn't mean much. To an undead Elder Wyvern, such a wound didn't even itch. It merely twisted its body in annoyance, trying to shake off the human clinging to its back. However…
"You think I'll let go?"
Riman gripped his sword tight and grabbed onto the Elder Wyvern's body with his other hand, hanging on for dear life.
"Riman!"
"What are you trying to do?"
His comrades called out to him, but Riman didn't answer.
If there was one thing the Magic Swordsmen struggled with most while fighting the Elder Wyvern, it was a lack of decisive firepower. Their attacks landed occasionally, but they did little to shock such a massive frame.
What was needed now was…
A powerful finishing blow.
And Riman was a man who possessed such a blow.
"Ignil, Lagios, Turan, Aria."
He activated all four elemental Soul Weapons simultaneously. Then, he began to merge the four distinct attributes into one.
"Is that…?"
"Is that crazy bastard doing it again?"
Anyone who knew him recognized the technique. It was the skill Riman Sierra was obsessed with.
A technique that fused the four elements to extract Primordial Energy, utilizing that pure power.
However, it was incomplete.
He had failed spectacularly when he tried it against Patrick at Arcana, and despite countless hours of research and practice since then, the result remained the same.
Whenever loud bangs and explosions were heard from Riman Sierra's training ground or quarters, people would simply shrug and say, "There he goes again with that nonsense."
And now, he was deploying that very same incomplete technique in the middle of a real battle.
"You crazy son of a bitch!"
"You think that'll actually work?"
"Are you starting to take after Grand Duke Schneider too?"
Ouch. That last one was a bit harsh.
But to the other Magic Swordsmen, Riman's actions were nothing short of insanity. To suddenly try something like that in actual combat… unless…
"Wait, did he actually succeed?"
"What?"
"No way. He can handle Primordial Energy?"
The Magic Swordsmen were stunned. Riman looked back at his comrades and smirked.
Even as he was being tossed around violently while clinging to the Wyvern's back, and even while performing the high-difficulty task of gathering Primordial Energy, his expression was filled with certainty.
"That madman…"
"Is he actually a genius?"
The Magic Swordsmen trembled with excitement. They knew Riman Sierra had been putting sincere effort into his research. But for it to actually be possible…
Yes, Riman…
You are the future of the Tower.
His comrades looked at him with pride. And Riman…
"Heh heh heh. Did you really think I'd do something like this without any certainty?"
The Primordial Energy grew larger and larger. Riman forced that energy through his sword and deep into the undead's body.
The moment the Primordial Energy expanded to its absolute limit, Riman shouted.
"I am certain! This technique will definitely—"
Amidst the halo of light bursting forth, Riman's voice rang out.
"—FAIL!"
BOOOOOOOOM!
Ah, so you were certain it would fail? Then this was…
"A suicide attack?!"
"You crazy bastard!"
Along with a massive explosion, what the Magic Swordsmen saw was the undead monster falling, a third of its upper body erased without a trace—and Riman Sierra falling right beside it, casually pushing up his glasses.
"Ugh… I'll succeed one of these days."
He'd be dead before that if someone didn't catch him.
Fortunately, his comrades flew over and caught the falling Riman. As for the Elder Wyvern, whom no one bothered to catch…
CRASH!
It slammed straight into the ground.
Already half-destroyed by Riman's attack, the impact of the fall snapped its neck, breaking it further. Even so, it struggled to stand and move, but…
"Now!"
"Explosion!"
"Lightning Boom!"
A concentrated bombardment from the mages began.
Having lost its wings and fallen to the ground, the creature was now nothing more than a giant target. Between the mages' carpet bombing and the Elves' spirit arrows, the beast literally began to crumble.
"Phew… somehow, we managed."
Riman let out a sigh of relief at the sight, only to—
Smack!
"What the hell was that, you idiot?"
He got smacked upside the head by a senior. Riman clutched his head and complained.
"Don't hit my head. You'll lower the performance of my brilliant brain."
"A brilliant guy doesn't go around blowing himself up!"
"I calculated everything logically."
"The suicide blast?"
"Exactly. That's why I'm perfectly fine, isn't it?"
The senior holding him up paused at Riman's words.
Now that I think about it…
For someone who had just caused a suicide explosion using Primordial Energy, Riman's condition wasn't that bad. He had exhausted his strength and couldn't power his Soul Weapons, but other than that, he had no serious injuries.
How was this possible?
Riman pushed up his glasses and looked at his senior.
"Did you really think I'd act recklessly without thinking, like those Double Dragon idiots?"
"Yes."
Riman felt a bit hurt, but the senior didn't care. In fact, though Riman didn't know it, he was already considered one of the highest-ranking weirdos within the Tower of Truth.
Riman continued, "I made the Primordial Energy go berserk inside the Elder Wyvern's body through my sword. My logical calculations showed that I would be safe."
"Wait, does that mean… you actually controlled the Primordial Energy?"
"Ugh. What's the point? I still can't stabilize it… It used to just be a bomb, but now I can at least handle it like a time bomb."
"……."
The senior was speechless.
Riman spoke as if it were nothing, but that alone was an incredible feat. This genius had somehow managed to move Primordial Energy—something defined as absolutely impossible for humans to handle—according to his will.
This guy… maybe one day, he really will succeed.
Riman Sierra. He was truly a talent who would carry the future of the Tower of Truth.
"Heh heh heh. I will definitely succeed one day."
"Yeah. If it's you, it might be possible."
"And then, I'll pay back those 274 kicks and 462 punches I received from that illogical Double Dragon fellow."
"……."
He was definitely a weirdo, though.
*
The tide of battle had completely turned.
The moment the aerial threat vanished, the Magic Swordsmen, mages, and Elven warriors all concentrated their firepower on a single spot without hesitation.
"Gwaaaaah! You cowardly humans!"
The Fit Dead shrieked in rage, swinging his whip of flames while enduring a barrage of explosions and lightning.
But no matter how much of a demon from hell he was, it was impossible to handle this much power alone.
Spells and arrows rained down. The human knights and Orcs surrounding and attacking him were no pushovers either. To make matters worse, spirits were now beginning to manifest here and there.
The Fit Dead roared in frustration.
"You! Human warrior!"
"Why are you calling me in the middle of a fight?" Sanson replied.
The Fit Dead shouted, "Have you no shame? To let others interfere in a duel between warriors? Do you even call yourself a warrior?"
Sanson nodded and replied calmly.
"It's fine. I'm not a warrior; I'm a knight."
"……."
Doesn't that make it even worse?
The Fit Dead was momentarily flustered and tried to speak, but Sanson continued nonchalantly.
"And think about it from my perspective. If you could easily take down an opponent by ganging up on them, would you really risk your life in a dangerous one-on-one duel?"
Where had that once-innocent and righteous young man gone?
This is why it's so important for those in society to have a good role model at the top.
Seeing Sanson boldly declare his intent to gang up on him, the other knights around him felt no disappointment…
"He's right."
"Ganging up is the way."
"Tsk tsk. Imagine a demon being that naive."
…because they had all been corrupted together.
To reiterate, it is very important who is at the top. What's the point of pouring in crystal-clear, first-class water if the source at the very top is gushing out pitch-black ink?
"You wicked, despicable bastards!"
And so, leaving behind one final curse, the Fit Dead began to be brutally beaten.
A mere jailer demon who did nothing but whip prisoners in hell was no match for the combined might of the Middle World's forces.